Jump to content

Cyril Figgis

Members
  • Posts

    531
  • Joined

  • Last visited

Everything posted by Cyril Figgis

  1. I asked the artist to use Nikki as a base for the left, yeah. But that's just on a physical level--her character isn't really like Nikki's at all.
  2. Not sure if you're looking for stories with original characters, but I've had an ongoing story for the past few years all about female wrestlers gaining weight.
  3. Hey, party people. I wasn't sure if I should post this in each of my current on-goings or not, but since I've got so many projects open right now, I figure the best place would be on its own so it doesn't get lost in the shuffle. You may have noticed that my posting here has slipped as of late. Part of that comes from my own having issues with willpower and working on my projects, but another part of it is that I am focusing more on my DeviantART page. It's where I get the most activity: likes, comments, and views, and it's where I also engage the most. I'm grateful for all the attention I've gotten over the years here, but as interest has waxed and waned, I've decided to focus exclusively on DA. I don't know how many people will read this or care to follow me, but I do hope you'll check out my other page. I've got content there that hasn't dropped here, and I'm working on a couple things that you're not going to want to miss. I'll still be browsing on here and chatting to anyone available, but if you're looking for more material, you'll need to head on over to https://www.deviantart.com/thecyrilfiggis I hope to see you there!
  4. THE TUBBY THIEF AND THE GUARD (2/3) While Tiphany had hoped to get some sleuthing done after breakfast, she could barely breathe after her massive feast, let alone skulk around Mossholme. All she could do was lean back on her bench and rub slow, gentle circles into her stomach to ease some of the pressure as if she was a mother to be. She had no idea how the other women at the table could stand to keep eating, especially since they got started sooner than she did, but she was in no position to care. “Why, Winnie, you’re positively green in the gills,” Dienna remarked after finishing a spoonful of grits. “Been a while since you’ve eaten that well, eh?” Tiphany stifled a belch before answering, “Indeed—that was unlike any meal I’ve ever had. What sort of cooks does Jathut have back there to make such masterpieces?” One of the other women replied, “Honestly, I don’t think he’s gotten anyone new since the last time Montey and I visited. Perhaps they’ve just taken some lessons since then? It doesn’t matter to me one way or the other, honestly, just so long as I can have my five square meals per day.” Any other time, Tiphany might have lashed out at the flippant remark, but she was too bloated to care. Instead, she bowed her head and softly told the group, “Well, ladies, I hope I shall see you at the next course; I think I need to get a bit of air and some elixir before then.” “Take care, Winnie! We’ll be saving a space for you,” Dienna replied as her new friend awkwardly sidled off the bench and waddled out of the dining hall. For someone who was so used to being light on her feet, Tiphany was in absolute misery as she plodded along with all the grace of a prized pig. Sweat beaded across her brow and her curly locks clung to the back of her neck as she made her way down the halls in search of somewhere private. She had to reconvene and reevaluate her plan, lest she get sucked into the strange whirlwind that lingered in this place. While she had no doubt that the pampered elite were perfectly happy to stuff their faces, she thought that she was better than that, yet she had somehow eaten more in one sitting than she had at her last three family meals combined. “Peculiar,” Tiphany muttered to herself as she leaned against a wall. “Most peculiar.” “How’s that, mizz?” asked a thick, familiar voice from behind. Tiphany tiredly glanced over her shoulder and spotted Gordie standing just around the corner, poking his head out like a child spying on someone. She sighed, “It’s nothing, Gordie. I was just thinking that I could use a little air.” The hilleck beamed at the comment and replied, “Sure’n I know the bestest place for air in this whole fort. Follow ol’ Gordie, mizz, and ye’ll be righter than rain.” He then turned and marched down the hall, blissfully ignorant of how full his charge was and how slow this made her. Perhaps he could have bounded along the length of the fort before realizing that Tiphany was long gone, but he fortunately looked over his shoulder and saw the diminutive woman lagging behind. With a sheepish grin on his face, he returned to her side and knelt down to tell her, “Sorry, mizz…are ye feeling unner the wevver?” “A little,” Tiphany huffed in reply. “Perhaps you could just tell me where this spot is, Gordie? I’d hate to take you from your patrol, after all.” “Hrm…’fraid I hain’t much good wif direc’ins,” Gordie apologized, his cheeks pink with embarrassment. “But never ye fear, mizz! There’s more’n one way to skinner bear, as me marm says. Pardon me reach ‘ere.” Before Tiphany could ask what the guard had in mind, she found herself scooped up by a hand the size of a shovel blade and hoisted into the air. A mousey squeak made its way past her lips as she realized that Gordie had picked her up and now carried her like she was a bride—though, given the size difference between them, it was more accurately like a babe. Either way, she turned a hot red and slapped him on the shoulder, doing little to help with her infantile appearance. “Gordie! Gordie, put me down this instant,” Tiphany demanded. “Sure I could, but this works fer us’s both,” Gordie replied with a dopey grin on his face. “Ye needn’t worry ‘bout keeping up wif me, n’ I needn’t worry ‘bout gettin’ ye lost!” Much as the little thief wanted to argue, it was a logical answer; she could barely walk at the moment, and she did not want to run the risk of running into a less friendly guard. Tiphany begrudgingly accepted the ride, though she crossed her arms and pursed her lips like a child in the midst of a tantrum. “Fine—but let’s not make a habit out of this,” she grumbled. A little time outdoors in the garden did help her mood and bloated stomach, and it also gave Tiphany another clue as to what was going on. The garden, grass, and trees inside the fort were faring well enough, though there were no fruit-baring trees, berry bushes, or vegetables to be found. This helped confirm the cause of this abundance, but she still needed to find what exactly Jathut was using. That meant avoiding Dienna and her friends and focusing solely on the task at hand; the last thing she needed was to slip into another gluttonous fog as she had that morning… *** “This is very bad,” Tiphany muttered before hiccupping, which led to a groan as her packed stomach threatened to pop with the slightest move. ‘The best-laid schemes of halflings and flies often go awry,’ as her grandfather used to say, and never was a proverb so true. As much as Tiphany had tried to stick to her plan, she found Mossholme to be much more difficult to prowl than she imagined. Whenever she attempted to sneak around the fort, she found it to be more carefully guarded than she imagined, and she was forced to make her way back to the guests or her hiding spot in the cellar. She might have attempted more subterfuge in the dead of night, but her belly was too packed at the end of the day to do anything but sleep. This led into the biggest hurdle she faced in her job—the abundance of food. There was something to eat around every corner: from the tables stocked with bowls of sweets and chips to the snacks for any occasion to the massive feasts that seemed to go on forever. The entire fort was rich with aroma, and despite her best efforts to restrain herself, Tiphany found her resolve crumbling time and again. Dienna Berliene did not help, as the woman seemed determined to track her down and force her company on the beleaguered thief—and since she had that absurd game going on with her friends, that meant Tiphany would eat far more than she ever would otherwise. She would have snapped at the older woman by now were it not for the need to keep up appearances and that she was too bloated to think by the end of each meal. Filling one’s stomach to maximum capacity on a regular basis would make anyone gain weight, and Tiphany was no exception despite her impressive metabolism. Like all the women in her family, she carried her weight in her lower body, especially in the hips and rear. She developed a firm waddle even when she was not full, and her hips swung out in such an alien fashion that she had to adjust how she walked. All her handmade outfits needed to be readjusted to accommodate, as the balloons she was packing in her rump made them look scandalous otherwise. These plump features—along with thick thighs that ground like teeth whenever she moved—only made her sleuthing that much harder. Growing into a plush pear was bad enough, but the pounds did not stop below the belt. Tiphany found that her belly developed a permanent bloat—a bubble of fat that refused to shrink no matter how much sucking in she did. The trim on her arms was coated in a pinchable layer of pudge that hid any trace of muscle (not that she had much to begin with), and her breasts went from almost nonexistent to soft handfuls that filled her palms. She never thought that she would gain weight, and the added stress of packing it on so quickly only made her more anxious. “Honestly, Gordie, I’m turning into a right piglet,” the thief complained to her favorite guard as he carried her once more to the garden. While she was initially reluctant to be hauled around, Tiphany had to admit that it beat wearing herself out. Gordie gave a throaty chuckle in return and replied, “Hoots, marm, but ye’re no pigelit. Why, them piggies we raised back ‘ome would put ye to right shame.” That was small consolation for Tiphany, who felt like a lump of dough squeezed into a cocktail dress but could do nothing about it in her current condition. She put her head against Gordie’s shoulder and heavily sighed, “Can’t believe I’ve gotten this fat in…what’s it been, three months? Four?” “Ah, no, marm,” the guard answered as he ran the numbers in his head. “I reckon ye’ve only been here about four days, aye.” “…shit.” *** It was a truly impressive feast that spread across the table: a nye of golden-brown pheasants resting atop pillowy mounds of mashed rutabaga, thick stalks of broccoli smothered in a blanket of melted cheese, and hearty beef stew served in soda bread bowls; roast trout stuffed to bursting with buttery lobster, sweet potatoes coated in cinnamon and sea salt, and twelve-layer trifles filled with more sugar than a candy shop. The gathered crowd eyeballed the food like starving dogs, while the help licked their chops in anticipation of the binge that was set to begin, but for Tiphany Fledermaus, it was almost enough to make her stomach turn. “Come on then, Winnie! Show that poncy peacock what you can do,” Dienna cheered as she rubbed her ‘friend’s’ shoulders for support. Tiphany had no idea how she had been talked into this, but she found herself seated across from a dandy from the north in an eating contest. Even though she had failed completely in keeping her appetite in check, she told herself that she would never get wrapped up in one of these silly games the nobles put on. She refused to celebrate and make merry while countless people starved out in the fields, but her decision changed when she found out that Baron Jathut would be offering a prize. The sluggish baron presided over the contest in a throne far too small for his corpulent frame, slabs of slimy blubber overlapping the arms and the legs creaking with the slightest shift. He clapped his hands and announced to the audience, “Friends, it has been brought to my attention that I have been remiss in my duties as a host. My advisors say, ‘Baron, your guests are grateful for sanctuary and food, but they fear you are distant. You greet them as they arrive and at mealtimes, but that does not make you a host—it makes you a head servant.’ “Well, let it not be said that I don’t listen to suggestions. Starting today, I will be opening my doors to whoever wins my daily eating contests! If you manage to outeat your opponent, you are cordially invited to my chamber to dine and spend the evening with me. After all, what better company than with the man who has weathered this horrible famine?” Jathut boasted, his grand gut quivering like pudding as he laughed. Tiphany despised the idea, but she also knew that her pathetic attempts at investigating thus far had come up with nothing. If she was ever going to get to the bottom of this mystery, she needed to take a chance and risk further damage to her waistline. Thus, she tied a napkin around her neck, picked up her fork and knife, and edged forward as she waited for the command. The dandy across from her did the same, his tongue darting across his lips in anticipation. Jathut began the contest by lazily waving his arm and announcing, “Now, let the games begin!” Just like that, Tiphany and her opponent tore into the massive feast as the crowd roared with cheers and jeers. As much as Tiphany wanted to hate the food she wolfed down, the bouncy belly on her waist was proof that she enjoyed everything the baron offered. She attacked her meal with skill, quickly slicing apart a trout and spearing several bits of food on her fork before taking a massive bite that filled her cheeks to capacity. A low moan rumbled up from her throat as she gobbled up the fish and lobster, and her eyelids fluttered despite herself. Across from her, the dandy was making far more of a mess than her, keeping in line with how much these elitist swine threw out their etiquette once they were alone. He was unremarkably handsome—attractive when isolated, but easily lost in a crowd—but his finer features were blanketed in a layer of soft adipose that grew thicker by the day. His garments were stretched tight around a pillowy chest, plush stomach, and wobbly hips, though with how much sauce splattered along the threads, he did not seem to care for looks. Like so many others at Mossholme, he only cared about satisfying his own carnal desires, regardless of the effect it would have on him or the world at large. There was something there for Tiphany to be furious about, but she did not focus on the plump princeling on the other end of the table. She ate voraciously but methodically: she dissected a pheasant with all the skill of a butcher, scooped up spare cheese from the broccoli with stew-soaked bread, and made a mash out of her sweet potatoes to make them go down even easier. While the dandy ate like a savage, quaffing his stew like a flagon of ale, the thief worked like a surgeon and whittled her way through the feast with aplomb. When she first sat down at the table, the only thing that kept Tiphany going was the chance to get to Jathut, but she lost her focus somewhere around her third trout; she would have forgotten where she was, save for the din of the crowd. Pleasant little coos and purrs passed her lips as she ate, her thoughts drifting back to her family and the many hearty meals she missed out on. How could she have ever passed up delicacies like this? Everything was better with butter, salt, and sugar, especially in such large amounts! She could eat like this forever and a day, if it were not for her mission…what was it again? Something to do with a salmon? “Don’t slow down now, Winnie! Dolphen’s catching up to you,” Dienna warned Tiphany from her seat on the sidelines. “Whu-huh?” the thief mumbled before shaking her head and clearing her mind with a gulp of wine. Sure enough, her rival’s feasting was catching up to her despite her head start, which propelled Tiphany to dive back in and refocus her attention. This proved easier said than done, as her belly was packed so full that she looked like she had swallowed a cannonball whole, leaving her unable to reach her plate without considerable effort. Thankfully, her fans were quick to lend a hand as Dienna took a bowl of trifle and placed it on Tiphany’s bloated gut. She winked and teased, “If you can’t reach the table, just use what you’ve got!” Tiphany forced down a belch and dug into the trifle, scooping up thick spoonfuls of custard, cookie, and fruit and shoveling them in her mouth as quick as she could. It had taken much of the feast, but she threw her table manners to the wind as well and happily glutted herself with reckless abandon, regardless of any mess she made. Taking this as a sign that the contest was entering its final phase, the audience bellowed and cheered on the two munching maniacs. It was a neck and neck race to the finish, with the food diminishing bit by bit as the two contestants ate like starving dogs. The audience was all too eager to join in the debauchery and assist their entertainment, first by passing plates to them and then cramming the meals down their gullets when both Tiphany and the dandy grew too tired to lift their arms. Tiphany felt a tingle of humiliation in the back of her mind, but she was too ** on wine and food to care what was happening—she just wanted to keep eating. Eventually, the food stopped coming and the thief felt her arm tugged into the air. Her lips smacked out of pure reflex, eating through a meal that was not coming, and only when she realized she was not eating did she stir. Tiphany blinked as if waking from a dream and rolled her eyes down to see a mess of plates and bowls—or she would have, were her vision not blocked by a massive stomach. Even pregnant heifers could not compare to her swollen belly: so packed with morsels that it was a veritable larder; so full of wine that she resembled a cask. It would have been a truly horrific sight, were it not for the pleasant haze that filled her head and left her smiling dopily. “What a fantastic showing! The lady eats like my old ma-ma,” Jathut guffawed before clapping his hands. “Guards, will you kindly take Madam Bockland to the baths to rest?” Before any of the able-bodied guards could take the task, Gordie stepped forward and waved his hand in the air. “I’ll do it for ye, baron-sir—wif one ‘and, no less!” Same as he had done since she arrived, Gordie scooped Tiphany up in one of his shovel hands and cradled her with ease, though he was even gentler this time around. Tiphany was dimly aware of the revelry around her and the praise the nobles threw at her, but she was too tired to do anything but daintily wave. Even though she had eaten enough for a family reunion, the bloated thief still found her thoughts drifting to her next meal—wherever and whenever that might be…
  5. Thank you! There's going to be a few twists and turns here--as usual with one of my stories--so stay tuned!
  6. Glad you liked it! I don't often write scenes like this, but they're really a lot of fun.
  7. CHAPTER 90 “Mickey, I’m home!” Ray called out as he walked into his and Mickey’s apartment with an armful of groceries—an armful that grew larger with each successive trip. “Bienvenido,” Mickey replied from the bedroom. Ever since she crested the 400-pound range, her voice had grown thicker and duskier thanks to the thick necklace of flab accumulating around her neck—just one of the many lovely surprises Ray discovered as his princesa plumped up. “Did they have those black and white cookies?” Ray answered with a chuckle, “There weren’t any on the floor, but when I told the manager that I had a very hungry and greedy piglet at home, she managed to get me one last box from the back.” “Te callas, sabelotodo,” Mickey retorted with a laugh of her own. “Why don’t you bring those cookies back here and I can show you just how much I appreciate you.” The promise of what awaited him sent shivers down Ray’s spine and encouraged him to put the cold groceries away as quickly as possible. While their relationship had never been lacking in sex, being a far better way to deal with the stress of the wrestling business than others, their bedroom time had grown dramatically ever since Mickey started to put on weight. It seemed that Mickey had a new, fun idea every few days, which had led to them exploring almost every square inch of their apartment while exploring each other. They had tried countless positions, dozens of roleplay concepts, and filled Mickey’s ever-growing belly with a metric ton of food, and they were not slowing down any time soon. If anyone had asked a younger Ray Valdez if he could ever see himself with a woman over 200 pounds, let alone 400, he would have laughed in their face. Time and maturity had opened his mind to experiences he would have never dreamt of in the past, but he was still surprised sometimes with how taken he was with how big Mickey had become. While he had become appreciative of bigger women, sharing in his girlfriend’s compliments on the gains of others, none of them held a candle to his princess. There was just something else about Mickey that made drove him wild in ways that no one thin or fat was capable of doing. That was why he had that ring waiting for just the right occasion. Ray had been holding onto the engagement ring for the last couple months, waiting for ‘the right moment’ that his managerial brain always told him was coming without giving ideas for when. First was Christmas, but that was too busy with family visits; then New Year’s, but the two of them were too ** by the end of the night to do anything but cuddle on the couch. It could not be any ordinary day of the year, no, because someone as amazing as Mickey deserved something special, and that was why Ray had settled on Valentine's Day. But that was still a couple weeks out, and he had a lover that needed pleasing right away. Once everything was put in its place, Ray collected the cookies and a gallon jug of whole milk before making his way back to the bedroom. His mind drifted to the things Mickey had in mind and the things she was able to do with that blubbery body of hers, and he only got more excited with each footstep. The very lovely answer was waiting for him on the bed, where Mickey lay lounging in schoolteacher attire that was achingly tight on her. The white blouse would have been like a blanket on the average woman, but it was stretched to max capacity and creaked with every slight movement. Her black skirt fared little better, and Ray was certain that he heard a thread pop when she rolled over to greet him. She had somehow managed to squeeze her rotund legs into stockings, but they were already giving up the ghost and breaking under the stress of her blubbery body. A pair of fake glasses adorned her face, though her chubby cheeks made them sit awkwardly, and her hair was tied up into a professional bun—the only thing that looked professional about the whole attire. “Oh, Mr. Coleman, I didn’t hear you come in,” Mickey teased, her lips pouting but her eyes flickering with excitement. She plucked a chocolate from a box and popped it in her mouth as she continued, “I just needed to take some time to myself. You won’t tell anyone, will you?” Ray knew exactly how this game was played, as Mickey had a sizeable cast of characters she cycled through in their games. Currently, she was playing the role of Ms. Buttershaw, a high school teacher that was oblivious to her weight gain and lived in perpetual denial. Ms. Buttershaw was one of Mickey’s favorite characters, making frequent appearances in the bedroom while remaining clueless about her weight even as she grew to gargantuan sizes. She was also one of Ray’s favorites because Mickey seemed even lustier when she donned those plastic glasses, which made him all the more eager to play along. “Oh, I won’t tell a soul, Ms. Buttershaw,” Ray hummed as he approached the bed. “By the way, I just picked up some cookies and milk at the store. Would you like some?” Mickey glanced over at the cookies and licked her lips, only to ultimately shake her head. “I shouldn’t: I’ve been doing so well on my diet; I can’t afford to backslide now.” Ray made a point of ogling his girlfriend’s curves as he retorted, “You’re on a diet? Could have fooled me, considering you’re wrist-deep in that box of chocolates.” “I know…I’m so bad,” Mickey whined even as she popped a peanut butter cup in her mouth. “But Susan got me this as a gift for covering her class last week, and I couldn’t just say no! It’s rude to turn down a gift; it’s not my fault that people give me so many.” “You could also spread them out and not wolf them down as soon as you get them. But that’s just it—you can’t help yourself,” Ray teased as he poked the thick slab of blubber that rolled over her waistband. “You see food and you just have to eat it. Do you know what I call that, Ms. Buttershaw? A piggy. A big, fat, porky piggy.” Even though Mickey knew exactly what she was doing, she still blushed and pretended to be the sweet and naïve teacher. She scowled—which was far less threatening thanks to her chubby cheeks—and told Ray, “Mr. Coleman, I am not a piggy! I’ll have you know that I do have self-control; I’m not just some mindless eating machine.” Ray continued to trace along his lover’s side, sinking her finger into her flabby middle and giving it a wobble. “We both know that’s a lie. If you really could stop eating, you would have done so long before you turned into a four hundred-pound porker that can barely waddle down the hall without getting winded. If you were serious about losing weight, you wouldn’t have waited until you were wearing clothes with four Xs on the tag.” “Mmm,” Mickey purred, her eyes closed and her toes curling as her boyfriend toyed her with her abundant body. She knew that Ray was good with his hands, but she had no idea he was this good. “Well, you’re still wrong about me, sir. I can stop whenever I want, and I can lose weight.” “We’ll see about that,” Ray teased as he cracked open the box of cookies and gallon of milk. Glancing over at the mountain of woman that was sprawled out on their bed, Ray found it hard to believe it had been less than a year since this whole experiment began—when Mickey was just barely able to finish a steak dinner on her own. He knew that she had dreamt about this for years, but he had no idea the lengths she would go to get the body she desired. Her stomach had stretched to inhuman proportions, aided in no small measure by the constant food challenges she put on herself; they still talked about the night she finished a wedding cake by herself. Mickey Ramone was many things—loud, proud, and determined—but Ray would never have guessed what a glutton she truly was. And now, he was doing his part to lead her even further down that path as he held a cookie in front of her. His voice was a low growl when he explained, “I’m going to feed you every last cookie in this box and this entire gallon of milk; if you want me to stop, all you have to do is say the word.” “Oh no, I couldn’t,” Mickey purred, licking her lips and wiggling her overfed hips on the bed. “That’s a lot of milk, and there are so many cookies there.” “There really are,” Ray replied as he slid the first cookie into Mickey’s mouth and watched with barely contained glee as her chins rippled slightly with each bite. “There’s over a thousand calories in this box. Do you really need those?” Mickey shook her head but still opened her mouth for more. After the second cookie, she whimpered, “What am I doing, Mr. Coleman? What are you doing? You’re going to make me the fattest woman in this whole city!” “You were already on your way there, Ms. Buttershaw,” Ray answered in a soft grunt. “You can make excuse after excuse and deny it all you want, but we both know that the one who started you on this road was yourself. But you don’t want to stop, do you?” “I have to,” Mickey replied after her third cookie. “Please, Mr. Coleman, you have to help me! I’ll get too fat to fit through the classroom door. Too fat to squeeze into my car. Too fat to even leave the house! Please, please don’t make me eat any more.” Ray shook his head and ran his hand over her belly, sinking his finger into the gaps between buttons. “I’m not making you do anything, Ms. Buttershaw: if you really want to stop gaining weight, all you need to do is stop eating.” There was no helping the glimmer of excitement in Mickey’s face at those words, but she quickly dipped back into her role as she scarfed down cookie after cookie. She pleaded, “Please, you have to stop feeding me! I can barely fit in the biggest clothes I could find; soon, I won’t have anything to wear! I’ll just be this naked blob of a woman!” “Unable to hide your greed and pretend you’re anything but an out of control fatso,” Ray taunted his lover while she ate everything he put in front of her. “You’d spend your whole day doing nothing but eat and grow, your only purpose to serve as a monument to hedonism and a lesson about being such a greedy hog.” Mickey stifled a guttural moan and licked the crumbs from her lips, pausing only to whisper, “Querido, pasa la leche, por favor.” Ray quickly obliged and tipped the gallon jug to Mickey’s mouth, allowing her to guzzle the whole milk like a frat boy at a keg. As gluttonous as she was, Mickey still retained some modicum of decorum whenever she stuffed her face; even when eating ribs or chicken wings, she always took time to wash her hands and face as soon as she was through. The moments when she did allow herself to stay messy were reserved for when she wanted Ray to clean her by licking the sauce from her fingers, but she much preferred taking a shower with him instead. “You’re a real cow, Ms. Buttershaw,” Ray teased as he continued to pour milk down his lover’s gullet. “I had you pegged the moment I saw you go back for thirds at your first potluck. You were still pretty thin then, but there were little hints of growth if someone looked hard enough. Your shirt was just a smidge tighter in the middle, your pants a little snugger, and the button on your slacks was stretching ever so slightly. Most people would have stopped there, but not you…no, you decided to keep going and going, even though you knew the damage you were doing to your waistline. “Soon, you were snacking in between classes, eating larger lunches than anyone in the staff room, and filling your car with wrappers from the drive-thru. You developed a little swagger when you walked down the hall, but not because you were suddenly confident; no, it was because you were so bloated that you were starting to waddle. Even when you tore your pants and had to borrow a jacket from the lost and found, you still didn’t slow down, did you? “You might have ignored it, but anyone with eyes could tell you were turning into a human blimp, Ms. Buttershaw. You were getting winded just walking with your class or using the staircases, and you were even eating during classes. You couldn’t walk between desks or stand on your feet for long, so you just started lecturing from your chair. Your clothes were big enough to fit two students comfortably, but they were still tight as can be on your flabby body. You were fast becoming the biggest butterball anyone at this school had ever seen, and you did it without a second’s doubt.” As Mickey drained the gallon jug, Ray ran his free hand up and down her body, gently squeezing at her fattest parts. While anyone would think La Princesa Violenta was just a weak marshmallow at a glance, she was far thicker and firmer than she looked. Her time spent away from the ring had been spent eating and working out in near-equal parts, cultivating a hard body underneath a fine layer of pudgy padding. Take away all that blubber and one would find hard muscle that could bench the moon, give or take a few pounds. But that was not their game, and Ray knew that Mickey loved having attention heaped on her plush, lavish curves. “My god, woman, there isn’t anyone here that recognizes you,” Ray scoffed playfully. “Your face alone is round as a meatball; it’s a wonder you can still wear those glasses with cheeks that fat. These arms of yours are even bigger around than your waist when you started, you know. And these breasts…it’s like you crammed two beachballs down your shirt every day. They’d probably sag to the floor if they weren’t sitting on a gut the size of a beanbag chair. Your hips are so wide that you’ve got to enter your classroom sideways, and it won’t be long before we have to squeeze you through double doors. Your legs are so big around that just one thigh would probably fill your chair to capacity, but none of this bothers you, does it?” Mickey purred around the last of the milk as Ray concluded by patting her stomach. “You keep talking about how you need to lose weight—how ‘this time for sure’ is when you start dieting—but I think we all know the truth, don’t we? The truth is that you want to be a pig, Ms. Buttershaw, and you’re just putting on an act to hide that. Well, I think it’s time you stopped pretending and started living the hog life, porky, because you’ll never be thin again.” As soon as she swallowed the last few drops, Mickey swatted the empty jug from Ray’s hands and pulled him in for a fierce kiss. The sudden motion and the belly full of milk and cookies caused two buttons on her blouse to pop, which only excited the massive woman further. Ray returned the favor by running his fingers through his lover’s hair and snapping the waistband on the skirt, allowing a thick glob of flab to escape. “Oh god, Ray, you’re too good at that,” Mickey murmured when she finally pulled away. “You really know how to make a fat girl feel special.” “Only because you’re already pretty damn special, Mickey,” Ray hummed as he pinched her love handle between his knuckles. “But if you think that’s all I’ve got, then you ain’t seen nothing yet.” Ray gave his lover a gentle push onto her back before climbing onto the bed and straddling her legs—or rather her leg, since doing both would require someone much more flexible. Once he had his spot, he leaned down and planted kisses on Mickey’s bare flesh while helping her clothes to their demise, tugging at the outfit until it gave. The more pudge that spilled out, the more there was to love, and Ray gave little kisses and nibbles to every new inch that appeared through the tattered clothes. All the while, Mickey writhed about on the sheets and stifled a groan with a mouthful of cookies. In between his tender kisses, Ray murmured, “Mi amante grande y hermosa, eres tan maravillosamente gorda. Tus pechos son como montañas, tus caderas son tan anchas como el mar, y tu vientre es tan grande y espléndido como el sol.” Between Ray’s deft hands and Mickey’s wiggling, the voluptuous woman was soon stripped to nothing but lingerie and felt like she was ready to explode. Mickey reached up and cupped a hand on one of Ray’s cheeks, softly stroking his beard as she whispered, “I love you so much, Raymundo.” “And I love you, Mickey,” Ray replied as he held her hand. “You’re my whole world.” His thoughts turned to the nightstand on his side of the bed, where the ring was hidden at the very back. He had been putting off the big question for so long, waiting for a moment that he was not sure he recognized, and he wondered if this was it. All he had to do was reach over and open the drawer…but those thoughts were dashed when there came a knock on the door. “Mierda,” Mickey cursed under her breath. She looked up into her lover’s eyes and asked, “Could you get that? I ordered a new DVD set and it’s supposed to be coming in today.” “Gladly, but remind me to order a Do Not Disturb sign later,” Ray chuckled, equally put out but hoping they could pick things back up as soon as he was finished. After adjusting his clothes to make sure he still looked decent, Ray walked to the apartment door, answering another knock with a gruff reply. “I’m coming! Just a second!” If he had only known what was waiting on the other side of that door, he might have paused a little longer, but he was stunned to find Sadie Storme waiting on the other side. The diva had a wild look in her eyes—the same look she had whenever she was scheming something—and she gave a curt wave before asking, “Hey, Ray…can Mickey come out to play?”
  8. Thanks, man! Natasha is fast becoming one of my favorite characters to write, and it's going to be a blast to see how things progress with her and Rose.
  9. ((Sorry for the delay on this one, folks--the old brain was really struggling for a bit there. But I'm back and better than ever, so I hope you enjoy this new installment!)) PART 2 Rose should have bolted the moment she heard Natasha drop that bomb—that she was a new member of her school’s basketball team without so much as asking—and she would have been forgiven for doing so. She was so stunned at the prospect that she simply froze in place though, her brain struggling to process what had happened to her. What was expected to be a simple meeting of some new people had turned into one of the most unexpected twists in her life, and she had no idea what to make of it. Thankfully, the other members of the team proved to be less duplicitous and offered Rose the chance to hang out for a practice to see what she thought. That was far easier on the bewildered blonde, and she agreed to stay that morning to see just what practice was like for a collegiate athlete. After all, it was her second day at Ridgewell University and classes did not start for another week; outside of getting to know her roommate a little more, she did not have anything on her schedule. The easiest part of the practice came when the girls worked on their footwork, which Rose excelled at just as Natasha had expected. The rest proved to be a challenge for the former dancer, whose understanding of basketball stopped at recognizing what a basketball was. Fortunately, the team was quick to give her pointers and show her how to perform a variety of shots, with Natasha displaying an aptitude for trick shots in particular. Rose was still a rookie by the end of the practice, but she found her curiosity piqued by the new sport and especially by her new friends. Thus, her college basketball career began. Ridgewell, being such a small school, did not compete on the same level as other universities, but they still played against some talented teams during the season. Rose was primarily relegated to the bench for the first season, switching out only when a teammate was injured or was penalized, and this suited her just fine. The Ridgewell Pumas were a lovely bunch and more than encouraging, but she knew that she was leagues away from them in experience. No, she was content to sit back and learn; it certainly beat stressing herself whenever the possibility of playing came up. Rose had no idea how she managed to get so lucky with making friends so soon into her college life, but she was not about to jinx it with second-guessing. No one could truly replace her pals back home, but the girls on the team all made her feel welcome and helped to ease the homesickness that plagued the blonde for the first couple months. While none of the players were as wild as Nicole’s rugby team, each had their own charm, be it Audrey and her fondness for gardening or Ricki and her vast knowledge of comics books. And then, there was Natasha. Rose was grateful for the misfit introducing her to the basketball team, but she had no idea what to make of her as the days went by. Natasha was everything Rose was not—loud, brash, and more than a little forward—but unlike Nicole, there was something she could not put her finger on. It might have been cliché and a little judgmental, but Natasha gave off an air of danger whenever she was around; she constantly had her eyes on Rose, and the toothy grins she flashed were almost like a hungry cat eyeballing a canary. And yet, she never made a move towards the blonde outside of the occasional bump of the hip, which only served to confuse Rose even more. Maybe one day, Rose would understand Natasha, though that day seemed far off. At least her roommate was easier to understand, even if by a slim margin. Fumiko was not the chattiest girl in the world, often absorbed in her own world with her eyes glued to her phone or computer, but she was easy to get along with. The key was knowing when to try making chit-chat, as Fumiko tended to be much snippier when she was engrossed in a project; in the rare moments when she was free, she was polite and courteous if not the most enthusiastic. It took some getting used to for Rose, who often relied on the reactions of others to see how she was doing, but her stoic roommate was always quick to assure her that everything was fine. “You don’t need to try to impress me, Rose,” Fumiko told her one night as Rose faltered through an anecdote about her days in Australia. The two sat at a table outside the Student Union Building, which doubled as a food court for those craving something branded. “I assure you that you’re quite impressive on your own.” Rose blushed at the remark and twiddled her fingers with her gaze fixed on her lap. “That’s nice of you, but I’m really not—” Her typical reply was interrupted when Fumiko interjected, “You’re even impressive at self-deprecation. If there is anything I’ve learned since we started to live together, it’s that you are very quick to speak critically about yourself. Why is that?” “I…I don’t really mean to,” Rose answered, trying not to fidget as her roommate stared intently at her. “It’s just a force of habit; my brain just defaults to the worst.” “Yes, I’m aware,” Fumiko replied matter-of-factly, her standard mode of operation. “The brain is a peculiar thing: I know that I can be very blunt and formal; I have to force myself to not do that, which is brainpower that can go to far more productive places. But I do know that such psychoanalytical discussions are not considered ‘table talk’, so let us talk about something far more pleasant.” She speared a piece of lettuce and tomato from her salad and pointed it at Rose as she said, “Let me talk about why you should not think so poorly of yourself, for there are several desirable traits that your brain tends to overlook.” “Th-That’s really not necessary,” Rose mumbled through a mouthful of chicken sandwich. If there was one thing that the anxious blonde dreaded more than an insult, it was a compliment simply because she had no idea how to take it. “Your remarks say otherwise,” Fumiko rebutted while chipping away at her salad. “You’re very considerate and patient with me, you’re always punctual to class and practice, and you’ve got very charming handwriting—the way you dot your I’s with little diamonds is particularly adorable.” Rose grew increasingly pink in embarrassment and shrank into her seat, still nibbling at her lunch as she curled into herself. It was impossible to put into words just why she felt so awkward with compliments, but her lips echoed how conflicted her mind was as they shifted between a smile and a pout with each word. She had trouble accepting praise from her friends back home; hearing niceties from a girl she had only known for a month or two left her cheeks blazing in blush. Despite the meek protestations and bashful shivering of her roommate, Fumiko continued, “I know that I’ve been complimentary of your wardrobe but I cannot stress enough that your fashion sense is very cute. You have a very nostalgic style, and I think that you wear it perfectly—especially that poodle skirt of yours. This is to say nothing of how they complement your figure, because they pair perfectly with everything about you. I could…” The clinical girl paused and studied Rose for the first time since their conversation started. It took a few seconds for it to register, but Fumiko finally said, “I apologize, Rose…in my eagerness to remind you of your positives, I fear I made you uncomfortable. Is it really so embarrassing to hear someone say something nice about you?” “Like you said, the brain is a peculiar thing,” Rose replied softly. She glanced over from her meal and told Fumiko, “I think it’s just too much for my mind to take sometimes, like an animal that’s lived in the dark all its life; when you bring it into the sun, it can’t handle all that light.” Fumiko pursed her lips and furrowed her brow—the same look she always got whenever mulling over a problem—before nodding. “I see. That is unfortunate, but it does give me some excellent insight into how you work, Rose Pillar. May I hold your hand?” At that point, Rose was not sure she could have blushed any harder if she tried, but she went along with the request all the same. Fumiko’s hands were tiny compared to hers, but they held tight as the petite girl declared, “I am committing myself to helping you walk in the light, Rose, whether it takes a month or our entire time at this school.” Rose found herself at a loss for words again, unable to respond one way or the other to the bold statement. All she could do was meekly nod her head and squeak, “Okay.” That seemed to be sufficient for Fumiko, who let go of Rose’s hand and sat back down in her seat to pick at her lunch as if the last few minutes had not happened. Though her mind was popping like corn, Rose followed suit and returned to her lunch, albeit at a much faster pace than her roommate. In fact, she did not even realize she had finished until she heard Fumiko ask, “Would you like me to get you anything else, Rose? You seemed rather hungry today.” Rose glanced down in front of her and realized that her chicken sandwich and veggie fries were all gone—there were only the tiniest of crumbs remaining. Despite eating a perfectly normal lunch, she did feel a little more peckish than usual; whether that was her heart playing tricks on her or something else, she could not say. “M-Maybe just a smoothie for the road,” the blonde requested quietly, not wanting to seem greedy but still wanting something to settle her brain. “I need to get to class soon.” “Then I will get the option that should provide the most energy,” Fumiko replied before getting up and quickly shuffling away from the table, leaving Rose to digest her meal in peace and try to stave off an oncoming case of hiccups. Maybe Fumiko was not as easy to understand as she first thought…and perhaps it would be better for her to avoid these sorts of conversations over food. *** “Here’s to another great game, Pumas,” announced Leslie, the captain of the basketball team. This was followed by a round of cheers from her fellow players, including Rose—though she made hers softer than the others. Though they came from a smaller school and were far better behaved than other teams—especially the Cape Fear Bruins, as Rose had found out on Nicole’s Instafeed—the girls at Ridgewell still knew how to get down when the mood struck them. They had just won a game against another regional school and were celebrating with a party that was pumping so hard, Rose could barely hear herself think. It was far from her usual scene but she did not want to disappoint the team by not showing up, even though when she did arrive, she stood in the corner for a good hour. Eventually, she made her way upstairs, where there was a little more peace to be had in the coat room—or there would have been, if not for someone else already occupying the room. “Funny running into you here, pretty bird,” Natasha hummed while sipping from a cup of liquor so strong, Rose could smell it from the doorway. “Need to hide in your nest for a bit?” Rose nodded silently and remained frozen in the doorway, mumbling, “I can find another room; I don’t want to disturb you.” Natasha blew a raspberry and waved the blonde over. “Nah, you’re good company, Rosie. Come on over here and enjoy the view with me; I promise I don’t bite hard.” The joke—and hopefully it was a joke—brought a small smile to Rose’s lips and she tiptoed over to where Natasha had parked herself atop the pile of coats that covered the bed. She sat down on what little mattress was still free, not wanting to get even a hair on someone else’s coat, and glanced over to her green-haired ‘friend’. The quotation marks were necessary, as there were some days where Rose honestly had no idea what to make of the loose cannon. Sometimes, things were perfectly normal and even pleasant; other times, Natasha eyeballed her like a cat to a canary. Those moments gave Rose goosebumps and sent her heart pounding, even though her teammate never did anything unwarranted. So what was it about Natasha Patterson that made her feel like this? “You need a drink?” asked Natasha as she waved her cup at Rose. She received a quick shake of the head and crinkle of the nose in reply, which made her chuckle. “Suit yourself—more for me. Hey, you want to see something cool? Lay down.” Rose cocked an eyebrow at the suggestion, hesitant as she was in everything, but acquiesced when Natasha scooted over to give her room. As she slowly lay down, she realized that there was a skylight in the bedroom, allowing a perfect view of the stars and a particularly bright moon; it was like the glow in the dark stars she had in her room as a kid, only ten times better. Natasha rocked her head to the side and caught the smile growing on Rose’s lips. “Cool, right? I love to come up here whenever we’re at Leslie’s place, just so I can stare at the stars or the clouds through that window. You should join me sometime, pretty bird.” There it was again: that coy suggestion and nickname, which Natasha used more than Rose’s actual name. The blonde had wondered about that since the day they first met, and she could no longer let it sit. She rolled her head over and asked, “Why do you call me that?” The instant the words left her mouth, Rose quickly sat up and put her hands in her lap as she added, “I mean, it’s not a problem or anything! It’s just that you’re the only one who calls me that and I don’t think I’m really like a bird and…” Her nervous rambling was interrupted by a deep laugh from Natasha, who almost spilled her drink on the coats. The guffawing girl composed herself just enough to answer, “That! That right there. You’re exactly like a bird, Rosie.” Natasha downed the last of her drink and threw the cup across the room, missing the trash can by a country mile in the process. She rolled onto her side, propped her head on her elbow, and explained, “That’s the first thing I thought when I saw you dancing in the woods. Here’s this tall, beautiful creature moving gracefully and quietly and all that shit, and I’m thinking that you’re just about the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever seen. And then, I walk over and open my big mouth, and you damn near jumped ten feet in the air.” She punctuated her point by walking her fingers step by step to Rose and tickling her wrist. “I thought you were like a crane in a costume—beautiful to look at but ready to fly off at the drop of a hat—and damned if you haven’t proven me right every day since then.” Despite her usual reticence around Natasha, Rose blushed and let the girl continue to tickle at her wrist before asking, “I’m not that bad, am I?” “You’re pretty skittish, Rosie,” Natasha cooed, her eyelids drooping as she sidled closer to Rose. “You’re like a skitty kitty, but nah…you’re the prettiest birdy I ever seen.” Rose felt like a steamed vegetable as she struggled to process everything going on—and she was not even the one that had been drinking. She was sorely tempted to disappear, be it under the pile of coats or back down into the party, but something else held her back. Curiosity joined the tumult of feelings in her chest, and she asked definitively, “Natasha, do you like me, or are you just teasing me because you know it’ll get a reaction?” “Both,” the drunken girl answered without a second of hesitation. She brushed her fingers along Rose’s hand, gently stroking the knuckles as she clarified, “You know me, Rosie, and you know that I love to get a rise out of people, but I wasn’t lying when I said you were beautiful. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a girl as cute as you, and the way you move sometimes makes me want to scream because I don’t know what else to do. I like teasing you because you’re so damn adorable when you blush and get all fidgety, and I just want to do so, so many things that’ll make you blush like you’ve never blushed before. Does that answer your question?” It certainly did, but Rose had no idea how to respond. With cheeks beet red, she silently got up from the bed and shuffled out the door in search of something to munch on and clear her mind.
  10. Thanks! I try to pride myself on having entertaining dialogue and interactions, so I'm glad that worked out here.
  11. CHAPTER 89 Theresa had fretted for the last few weeks over how she would be received at the show, fearing that she would be mocked for how fat she had become. The last time anyone had seen her in a ring, she had been dozens of sizes smaller and able to leap from the top rope; now, she would likely cause the ropes to snap if she tried the same stunts. Her depression crept up on her then, threatening to derail all her hard work with stress eating and days spent in bed, but the former wrestler managed to push them back to the shadows of her mind. This was no time for her to wallow in self-pity; she had a show to put on and students to promote. But as she stood under the lights of the tent and surrounded by an almost full house, those worries seemed miles away. The great cloud that had been hovering over her for years was gone, chased away by the spotlight that she had missed so very much. It took her back to her first days in the industry, when she busted her tail in bingo halls and high school gyms just to make a name for herself. It took her back to her days overseas, when she honed her craft wrestling luminaries from every corner of the world. It took her back to the Global Wrestling Federation, where her matches were still talked about and regarded as some of the finest in women’s wrestling. So what if she was a few years older and a lot of pounds heavier? She was Theresa Hartley—Queen Heart—and she was home. “Did you miss me? Because oh, I have missed you all,” Theresa told the crowd to a round of applause. “It’s been a long time since I stepped foot in the squared circle—too long, really. I left so I could start a family and live the normal life my folks always wanted for me, and you know what? The last few years have been some of the happiest of my life, and I wouldn’t trade them for anything in the world…but that love of professional wrestling never died, my friends. Oh, it flickered and dimmed, but it never faded from my heart. “What was it that revived me though? What was it that convinced me it was time to reclaim my throne? Well, a lot can change in almost eight years—especially in the world of wrestling—and I watched as a new crop of talent rose through the ranks and called themselves ‘superstars’. I’ve seen them all: Sadie Storme, Hana Reborn, and Nightshade; Jocelyn Brown, Terri Li, and Bianchi Veleno; so many misfits who think that they know their way around a ring.” The crowd booed and cheered alternatively at the names Theresa dropped, most of whom she did not recognize; she could thank the girls for giving her the most noteworthy names in the business. Even as the crowd continued, Theresa carried on, “I thought I was leaving my queendom in good hands, but I see that it’s gone to the dogs since I’ve been gone. They’ve forgotten what a real superstar is like—what a real superstar is supposed to be—and that made me angrier than I’ve been in a long, long time. “So, I reached out to my mentor—the Immortal Drill Sergeant, Rose Manson—and I told her, ‘Sarge, I can’t stand it anymore: all I see in the ring today are a bunch of punks that aren’t fit to lace the boots of real superstars. I know you’ve got a wrestling school in town and I’m sure you’re teaching them right, but I want to help make them the best wrestlers on the face of the Earth. The Drill Sergeant and the Queen Heart herself—what do you think?’” In the back of her mind, Theresa’s nagging doubts bit at her will, trying to tell her that she had no right to be in the squared circle again. Her overblown tits were going to flop out of her corset, her leggings would pop around her thunder thighs, and the seat would split around her fat ass; even if she did not suffer a wardrobe malfunction, all anyone would focus on would be her double chin. Despite all those pesky thoughts trying to weasel into her mind, the Queen Heart was on a roll and could not stop even if she wanted to—and she definitely did not want to. She had a captivated audience, a hot mic, and a ring all to herself; she was going to enjoy herself come hell or high water. “Well, folks, you’re about to see just what two icons can do when you give them diamonds in the rough. For your entertainment today, we present five matches featuring a dozen women that are bound for glory in the wrestling world. The divas and knockouts today might have forgotten what it takes to be legendary, but these girls are going to show the whole world what it means to be a superstar! And when they’re inducted into halls of fame across the globe, you can tell all your friends that you saw them right here in beautiful Montpelier, Vermont!” Theresa flashed the crowd a beaming grin as the tent filled with applause and cheers. She threw her arms wide open and announced, “Now, without further ado, let’s get the show on the road!” *** As strong as her opening promo had been, it would have meant nothing if the action that followed did not match expectations; Theresa had been in countless shows that started strong and ended with the audience throwing trash in the ring in protest. Thankfully, she did not have to worry about people walking out or demanding a refund, as her students were more than ready to deliver. The show started off hot with Vidya and Conner going at it in a ‘David and Goliath’ match that not only saw Conner throw her smaller opponent through the air like a piece of paper, but also featured Vidya twisting her massive enemy in knots. By the time the referee—one of the girls’ boyfriends—hit the 1-2-3, the crowd was cheering for more. And more they received, as the students gave each match their all for the entertainment of the crowd. Each match had something different to offer, from technical challenges that saw the wrestlers making pretzels out of each other to high-flying maneuvers that saw girls leaping from the top rope like acrobats. They even had a tag match that left the crowd torn between both teams, despite the Nightmare Sisters being textbook heels throughout. There was still the occasional botch, as expected from a group of rookies, but they were quick to roll with the punches and mask them as best they could. What impressed Theresa the most was how the girls moved and worked despite their recent uptick in weight. The wrestling industry was not kind to women in general, and Heaven help any that dared gain so much as five pounds, so to see her students flourish only helped bolster the warm feelings Theresa had been feeling since the start of the night. She knew that she was still twice as big as any of the girls and had a fraction of their athletic ability, but maybe there really was a place for her in the industry after all. Finally, the show came to an end, and the crowd showered the wrestlers with one last standing ovation before making their way back out to the festival. There was some sadness now that the highlight of the last few years was over, but Theresa chased that away with the knowledge that she and the girls had knocked it out of the park. She tried to go in with modest expectations, though her mood swung to wild extremes in the lead-up to the show, but they had blown clear past them. There was only one thing left to do after such a successful show, which was more than welcomed by the weary wrestlers nursing their aching bodies in the trailer. “Dinner’s on me!” Theresa announced to the girls once the tent had been cleared out. “Nothing like a little Chinese food to reward a job well done!” And so it was that the girls found themselves back at Carolyn’s place, munching their way through a party platter of fried, saucy foods as if they had not worked their tails off just an hour prior. Scripted rivalries were forgotten and aches ignored as they celebrated their first showing in the ring, and plates were filled to the brim as the amateur wrestlers nursed their healthy appetites. Just a month prior, the girls might have excused their gluttonous feast as a reward for a job well done or needing to refuel themselves after working so hard, but not a single word was shared on the topic. Eating well for the last few weeks had not only thickened their bodies, but also caused a change in their mentality when it came to food. “Conner, pass the—ulp,” Vidya paused to stifle an undignified belch. “Pass the lo mein.” “Coming with an extra spring roll to boot,” Conner replied as she plopped a crispy roll in the box of lo mein and passed it to her friend. “OMG, you are the best,” Vidya replied as she eagerly filled her plate with noodles. Across the room, Zahara was engaged in the fight of her life as she tried to out-spice Candy Cox of the Nightmare Sisters (who were far less Gothic and menacing away from the ring). They were both eating from the same box of Hunan beef, which was already made extra spicey by the restaurant and only became worse when they added more hot sauce to it. Sweat beaded on both girls’ brows as they ate the fiery dish and their shirts clung to them like white on rice—though the tops were far from loose at the start of the night. “You ready to give up, Z?” asked Candy, even though she eyeballed the ‘forfeit’ glass of milk at her side. “Come on, bae, we both know you’ve got no stomach for spice.” Zahara tugged at collar to relieve some of the heat and help stop her shirt bunching up underneath her bosom before retorting, “You might pull off a sick suplex, Candy, but don’t forget who tapped out tonight; I beat you in the ring and I’ll beat you at this table too.” Both women glowered at each other and shoveled another chunk of beef in their mouth before turning their attention to Candy’s sister, Becky, who was eating a slice of ice cream cake. Their pleading eyes said more than either could manage, and Becky answered, “Mr. Hartley just got back with an ice cream cake; you might be able to snag a couple slices if you hurry.” “Truce,” Candy and Zahara agreed before quaffing their milk and dashing off in search of cake. As the girls feasted to their hearts’ content, their teachers were enjoying a quieter meal in the privacy of Carolyn’s home gym/office. The partnership between the three women had not been an easy one between the clash in mentoring styles and Carolyn being an outsider to the world of wrestling, but one thing they could all agree on was that they had put on a fine show. Of course, like any booking committee, they were not content with the success of a single night; they had to make plans for the future and ensure the continued development of their charges. “I’ll reach out to a few of my contacts in the northeast, see if I can’t get these girls some dates,” Rose said while picking at her dinner. “Christ, you think they put enough broccoli in this?” “What are you, five? Put on your big girl pants and eat them,” Carolyn teased the elderly ring veteran. “I’ve been thinking about some new diet plans for the girls after tonight. We should encourage a high protein diet for some of the heavy hitters—Conner especially—and I’m thinking we go with something a little leaner for the technical ones. I’ll start working on a new plan after I drop the boys off at school, and you just let me know what you think.” “You know what might be fun for the next stage? Promos,” Theresa suggested in between bites of moo goo gai pan. “I know this place that has green screens so people can get edited into their favorite shows and movies. I’ll see if we can’t rent one of the screens or just borrow the space from time to time so the girls can work on their mic skills.” The sentiment might have been lost on Carolyn, but for Theresa and Rose—two women whose lives had revolved around the industry—the impromptu meeting took them both back to their primes. It reminded them of days gone by: when the booking for an entire territory was done from the sanctity of an office no bigger than a broom closet; when you might visits your boss’s house and have a cookout while getting to brass tacks. Theresa felt right at home again, and she did her best not to show such sentiment around her crotchety teacher. Their meeting was interrupted by a knock on the door, followed by JJ poking her head in, long hair framing her chubby cheeks. She apologized, “Sorry to, like, interrupt, but could I borrow Mrs. H for a minute? It’ll be super-quick, promise.” “To be continued,” Theresa told her fellow coaches before getting up from her chair and trying to hide just how difficult that still was for her. She waddled over to the door and walked out with JJ, where she found that the lackadaisical girl was joined by Nina Nevinger, who was the happiest Theresa had seen her since the Black Friday brawl. “Well, girls, what can I do for you?” “Well, like, we really, really appreciate how much you’ve taught us, dude—sorry, Mrs. H,” JJ managed to say after stumbling over her words. “Right, Nina?” The punk girl nodded and nibbled at her lip before adding, “Yeah. I know that we were—really, I was—not the best student, so I wanted to thank you for not…not giving up on us. That’s why we want to be the ones to give you this.” Nina passed Theresa an envelope, inside of which was an out of season Mother’s Day card covered in flowers and flowery prose, and inside of which was a gift card for a spa trip. The rotund redhead gasped and put a hand to her lips as tears threatened to trickle from her eyes, but she managed to save face in front of her students. “Like, we got gift cards for Mrs. B and Sarge, but we wanted to be the ones to give you yours,” JJ explained, doing her best to stand straight despite her slacker nature and sizeable chest drawing her forward. “You’ve been so good to us ever since we met you in the gym, even when we would miss class or botch a move or—” JJ did not have a chance to finish, as Theresa pulled both her and Nina in for a bone-crushing hug. The queenly woman chuckled through tears as she told her students, “Goddammit…and here I was, trying not to be a complete wreck. You two really know how to push my buttons, you know that?” “You only tell us that every day,” Nina replied with a cheeky grin, though she was also choked up. “We’ve got to keep things interesting for you, y’know? If you didn’t have a couple fuck-ups making things difficult, how much fun would that really be?” Theresa snorted, “You two might be a pair of knuckleheads sometimes and damned if I haven’t had to chew you out, but it’s because of you two that I came out of retirement and I can never thank you enough for that.” After a moment, Theresa let go of Nina and JJ, and the three looked over each other as though they had been working together for three years and not a few months. They had all come a long way since they met at the gym, between Nina and JJ’s in-ring ability and Theresa’s willpower, but there was something far more obvious that could be gleaned with just a glance. Theresa was still exceedingly heavy, but she had managed to lose an enormous amount of weight since September; the same could not be said for her charges, who were far softer than they had ever been before. If one looked at Nina’s face alone, they would never have been able to tell she was closing in on 180 pounds. She still had fairly sharp cheeks, her arms still had a hint of tone, and her breasts were not much bigger than they were back in September; all in all, she still looked the same from the chest up. That all changed as the eyes made their way to her belly, which was big enough to earn the name as the plush mass oozed over her waistband like a dollop of cream; compared to her hips though, her stomach seemed petite. Her mother’s genes carried on in her, giving her a wide pair of hips that wobbled with a mind of their own and thighs that touched almost to the knee. At least she could take pride in her bouncing booty, even though it was dotted with enough cellulite to resemble cottage cheese. Unlike her punk friend, JJ carried her new weight in her upper body, starting with a face that sported a burgeoning double chin and chipmunk cheeks. She only grew softer from there as her shoulders grew more padded by the week and her arms became squishy enough to hide her muscles. Her crowning achievement was her immodest breasts, which jutted out proudly from her chest like two stars floating in the sky. Beneath her bountiful bosom was a round gut that looked permanently bloated, as if she had just swallowed a watermelon whole. Though she carried most of her weight above the belt, she was no slouch in the lower body, as her legs sported a nice pair of saddlebags and cankles to complete the look. “Guess we might have gone a little overboard with ‘bulking’,” Nina chuckled nervously, admitting for the first time ever that she had put on weight. “We can work on losing it now that the show’s over; no one’s going to want to pay to see a couple pigs in the ring, right?” Theresa immediately clapped her hand on Nina’s shoulder and squeezed gently as she told both girls, “You don’t have to change anything you don’t want to, ladies. If you want to lose weight, I’ll be right there with you; if you want to stay the same weight, we’ll work out a new diet plan. But I don’t know…you two carry it pretty nicely.” “Dude, stop,” JJ murmured as she bowed her head and played with her sleeve. “Swear on my life,” Theresa said before giving JJ a wink. “After all, you’re not the only one that likes marshmallows, kid. We don’t have to talk about that tonight though; go enjoy yourselves, and we’ll be down in just a bit.” Nina and JJ gave Theresa one last smile and hug before departing, with the former asking if the latter felt like splitting the last of the kung pao chicken. The redhead remained at the top of the steps and shook her head with a smile, wondering what she had done to get so lucky with this class. Words could not express how proud she was of each, and she could not wait to see how far they would go…
  12. Thanks for giving it a read! I know some of the stories I post aren't for everybody, but I'm glad you enjoyed it all the same.
  13. ((I hope that everyone's still in the mood for fantasy, because I'm returning to this little world of mine and adding a new chapter to it! This one's going to be different, with not only a new cast but also a primarily BBW gain. I hope you'll follow along for the ride!)) THE TUBBY THIEF AND THE GUARD (1/3) It was a truly impressive feast that spread across the table: a nye of golden-brown pheasants resting atop pillowy mounds of mashed rutabaga, thick stalks of broccoli smothered in a blanket of melted cheese, and hearty beef stew served in soda bread bowls; roast trout stuffed to bursting with buttery lobster, sweet potatoes coated in cinnamon and sea salt, and twelve-layer trifles filled with more sugar than a candy shop. The gathered crowd eyeballed the food like starving dogs, while the help licked their chops in anticipation of the binge that was set to begin, but for Tiphany Fledermaus, it was almost enough to make her stomach turn. She had heard rumors about the decadence in Mossholme, but they paled in comparison to the truth about the seedy fortress. When famine and blight had broken out in Marshland, the lords and ladies abandoned their dying lands and people for the open arms and booming larders of the local baron, Jathut. West Tantris might have been in the throes of starvation and illness, but anyone with a title to their name was welcome to Mossholme; if you were a farmer without a farm, then Providence help you, because Baron Jathut would not. How was it that this one fort was able to thrive while the land decayed around it? That was the million-doubloon question, and Tiphany set out to answer it. As an ordained thief of St. Duncan’s Academy, she had a duty to uncover the truth and take whatever was granting Mossholme this boon so that it might help the afflicted. There were plenty of theories as to what was granting such a bounty, from an overworked agrimancer to food-giving portal, but no one had been able to find the source…yet. It was child’s play for the magna cum laude student to sneak into Mossholme by clinging to the underside of a carriage as it rode through the fort gates. Once night came, she snuck around the grounds and inspected the weathered structure for any weaknesses that she might use to slip in. There was little in the way of access, save for a cellar window that was just big enough for a child—or a halfling, which worked in Tiphany’s favor. Quick and quiet as a mouse, she slipped through the portal and slunk around the cellar until she found stairs leading to the surface. While she had been fortunate thus far, any good thief will say that the easiest part of a job is getting into a place; the hard part is not getting caught or trapped once inside. Tiphany was eager to help, but without knowing what was creating this bounty for the inhabitants, she would need to find a way to blend in. Masquerading as a servant was out of the question, since the staff were far more likely to keep track of who’s who than the guests. It would be easier to hide herself as one of the bourgeois visitors, though it was still hardly foolproof, since she hardly looked like a resident of the upper crust. Unlike many halflings, who were stout and doughy, Tiphany was spritely and petite, almost to the point that one might mistake her for being ill. She had a homely face with a flat nose, beady eyes, and a brow that was a bit wider than she preferred, but at least she could hide the latter with her curly brown bangs. When she smiled, it was with a crooked mouth that looked more like a sneer than a grin, and learning the ropes of combat had left her with a couple missing teeth that were replaced with pearl insets. Her favorite features were her elfin ears, which she decorated with a number of earrings and jewels—the one bit of glamor she allowed herself. The rest of her outfit was very basic and plain—just the way she preferred it. Tiphany wore a simple white shirt underneath an olive vest, brown riding pants that flared out at the hip, and her feet were mostly covered by a pair of spatterdashes, though her toes and soles were left bare. Her petite form lacked the voluptuous curves that most halfling maidens carried: what should have been a full bosom, plump belly, and childbearing hips were a flat chest, lean stomach, and narrow hips that gave her a boyish appearance. Was she given guff by her family for not sticking to the seven meals a day diet? Absolutely, but none of them could do what she did; in fact, how many of halflings could say that they had studied under some of the finest thieves in the world? Through stealth and skill, she slunk through the halls of Mossholme, keeping to the shadows and nooks while searching for the items she needed. These were found in the guest chambers, where the many nobles that Jathut entertained rested their heads after a long day of revelry. It would be highly unlikely for her to find clothes that fit her just right, and even more suspicious if she pilfered a single wardrobe. Thus, Tiphany plucked a dress here, a shawl there, and by the end of her hunt, she had a little bit of everything from every armoire in the fort. She returned to the cellar and spent the entire night stitching together outfits from the various pieces she pilfered. It was no easy task, as it was not enough for the dress to look professionally made; it had to resemble the elegant garbs that only the finest tailors crafted. Thankfully, Tiphany’s mother was a seamstress herself, and combining that knowledge with further education at St. Duncan’s made her one of the greatest designers the world would never know. By the end of the night, she had assembled a wardrobe fit for a princess, and she could finally begin the fun part of the job—studying the fort for its secrets. When morning rolled around, Tiphany strutted out of the cellar in her best impression of a noble while trying to keep her disdain for the bourgeoisie from showing. She had not made it far before she heard a deep voice call out to her, “Lost, marm?” Standing further down the hall was a guard, who was easily the tallest man that she had ever seen, having to actually stoop to avoid bumping the ceiling. He had a head full of shaggy hair that all but hid the top half of his face, but Tiphany could still make out enough to tell that he was young. Though he tried to wear a regiment uniform, it was clearly too small for him and made him look like a father trying on his son’s clothing. Likewise, an otherwise average spear looked like a toy in his hand, all of which served to make him one of the least imposing guards the young thief had ever seen. “Oh, I’m afraid so,” Tiphany answered, putting on a ditzy giggle and twirling a lock of hair. “This place is just far too big! How’s a girl supposed to get around without a map?” The big lad chuckled and replied, “Sure tis a right puzzling place. Most folks is at brekkist now—will ye be joining, marm?” “That would be wonderful; I am frightfully peckish,” said the thief. “Would you do me the honor of escorting me? I want to make everyone jealous by showing up with the handsomest soldier in the fort leading me down the hall.” She might have been laying it on a bit thick, but Tiphany’s charms worked, as the guard blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh gosh, yer the only one to call me ansome since me mum! Ye just stick by Gordie, and I’ll see ye whever you want.” Tiphany followed quickly behind Gordie, who moved slowly but took long strides thanks to his lanky legs. They chatted on the way to the dining hall, with Tiphany learning plenty about the fort and her rustic companion while sharing plenty of lies in turn. Gordie was a hilleck—half-giant mountain folk—who had come down from his woods to make money for his family in this time of need. He was not the only one, as most of the fort’s new guards were locals trying to make a living while the famine raged on outside. Of course, that was not what the galoot wanted to do with his life (that would be “acting onna stage”), but he had to take care of his own somehow. “An’ that’s why me kin-folk stay clear o’ mines,” Gordie said, putting a cap on a rambling story. “Right, here we are! Lookin’ like we’s just a mite late, but there’s still aplenty to go ‘round.” That was an understatement, as there was more food available in that room than Tiphany had ever seen before—even more than her family’s spread at Gratia Day. There was a cauldron full of prawns and grits bubbling away over a fire, thick ribbons of bacon sticky with glaze, and cornbread soaked in butter; fruits coated in honey and chocolate, potatoes swimming in cheese, and eggs as fluffy as clouds. If they served anything close to this at the academy, the petite thief might have attended more breakfasts, but the bounteous spread was ruined by the people consuming it. Tiphany had always been of the opinion that the only thing separating the nobility from common folk was their lack of want, and this was proven true by the spectacle before her. The threat of starvation had thrown etiquette out the window, and most of these dukes and duchesses ate with all the grace of a barbarian. The floors and tables were riddled with crumbs and scraps, regal garments were stained with sauce and grease, and the repugnant sounds of sloppy chewing and slurping filled the air. Worst of all was how so many plump bellies and thick rumps filled out their owner’s clothes to the point of bursting, which made Tiphany sick when she thought of how many people in the region were tightening their belts to fight their hunger. “Thank you kindly, Gordie,” she told her guide. “I hope to see you again during my stay.” “Oh, I hopes so, Mizz Flitter...Flutter…marm,” Gordie replied, blushing red as a rose when he fumbled over Tiphany’s last name. The thief giggled and gave the guard a pat on the knee before sashaying into the dining hall proper. This seemed as good an opportunity to find out what was going on in the fort, as the source of this abundance had to be close by. It was tempting to get a plate of food, especially since she had lived off jerky and hardtack for the last few days, but Tiphany kept her head down and focused on her search. The sooner she found whatever she was looking for, the sooner she could leave this den of hedonism behind and get a good drink. Unfortunately, despite casting her keen eye across the room, there was not a trace of magic to be found in the entire room; it was as if the food truly was all-natural, despite how impossible that seemed. Tiphany was ready to pack it in and venture back out into the fort, only to be held back when a bejeweled hand patted her shoulder. She traced the hand up a soft arm to a padded shoulder to a round, womanly face that was caked in makeup ostensibly to hide its wearers years (though it only served to make her look older in Tiphany’s eyes). The matronly woman exclaimed, “Why, if it isn’t Madame Bockland! What’s it been—seven, eight years? Whatever it’s been, it’s been far too long.” “I’m terribly sorry, but I think you have me mistaken for someone else,” Tiphany apologized hastily. “Enjoy the rest of your meal!” Her words went unheard, and the painted woman dragged Tiphany towards her table with a surprising amount of strength. “Oh, Winnifer, you think I’d ever forget a face as lovely as yours? I’ve had a little summer wine so far, but I’m not that **! Come, come, join me for a spell, won’t you?” It did not matter what Tiphany said—she was going to the table whether she wanted to or not. Though it put a pause on her scouting, the thief went along with the woman rather than put up a fight, as that would attract even more undesirable attention. She found herself seated at a table alongside other women of a similar age and look to her new “friend”, and Tiphany found their perfume almost negated the pleasant aromas of the food. “Oh, Dienna, who is your friend?” asked one of the women in between bites of sausage. “Ladies, this here is Winnifer Bockland of Palmerstone,” Dienna explained incorrectly. “We met when my husband and I visited her lands some years back—a little after the Dark Flood, I believe—and she has one of the best gardens in the north.” Tiphany bit her lip and dug through her encyclopedic mind for any tips on this woman she supposedly was. If memory served, Palmerstone was a rather poor castle with nothing but weeds surrounding it and the Bocklands were a lonely couple who lost their children one after the other. It was a sad case of mistaken identity, but perhaps she could have some fun on Madame Bockland’s behalf. “Unfortunately, the garden isn’t what it used to be,” Tiphany fibbed as she willed tears to her eyes. “And ever since we lost Bryant in the Duneland Battles last summer, Palmerstone has felt far too cold and empty. I told Nichulas that I needed some time to myself, and so I came to Mossholme looking to get some peace of mind—and maybe a good meal, which is hard to find these days.” Dienna let out a sob and pulled her new friend to her bosom in a bear hug. “Oh, you poor, poor dear! I heard rumors that things were poorly in your realm, but I had no idea they were so bad. Well, don’t you worry: the Young at Heart Brigade will help you chase those woes away. Eveline, be a dear and grab that server!” A buxom blonde across the table tapped the arm of a serving boy and asked, “Pardon me, laddie, but could you bring a platter for our new friend?” “Right away, ma’am,” the young man replied before glancing over at Tiphany, who was at a loss as to what to order. After glancing around the table at what her acquaintances were having, the thief asked, “Could you bring a plate of bacon, eggs, and cornbread and a cup of cider?” “Right away, ma’am,” the server answered as though that was all he could say. “Excellent choice, Winnifer,” Dienna told Tiphany. “The food is always delicious here, but the bacon is especially delectable today.” That was as good a segue as any for the tiny thief. She asked, “You don’t say? When we heard that Baron Jathut was so prosperous while all this blight was going ‘round, Nichulas and I had no idea what to make of it. I just got in last night myself, so I’m still learning my way around the place, but has he said anything about how he became so fortunate?” Dienna glanced among her friends, who all shrugged and shook their heads. “Can’t rightly say, my dear; Jathut has been generous in all but that. Perhaps you can ask him when he arrives to break fast? He’s usually here around this time.” It was what Tiphany expected, but it was still a disappointment. She would have given anything to leave Mossholme as soon as possible, especially to avoid having any meeting with the master of the house. Unfortunately, she would have to bide her time before getting any answers, but at least the food would be good in the meantime. While waiting for the server to return with her breakfast, Tiphany made small talk with the ladies at her table, if for no other reason than to add to her wells of knowledge. Their conversation was interrupted by the metal ping of a button striking the wall, followed by a deep guffaw. “Told you them trousers wouldn’t hold much longer, Asher,” a potbellied man laughed at his companion, a redheaded man with a rather feminine bosom. “That’ll be fifty gold pieces, thank you!” As Asher fished out the gold from his coin purse, Tiphany nudged Dienna and asked, “What in the king’s name are they doing?” “Oh, it’s just a game they like to play,” Dienna explained after swallowing a mouthful of biscuit. “You’ll find that there’s a lot of that here: seeing who can eat or drink the most, who can eat the fastest without using their hands, or, like the gentlemen over there, seeing how long a piece of clothing will last. In fact, the girls and I have a wager going on as we try to see who can gain the least weight while we stay here. I’m in second right now, but I think I might just take first if Milandra keeps putting away bacon like she had been all morning!” While the women tittered amongst themselves, Tiphany balled her hands into fists and squeezed until her nails dug into her palms. She figured that the selfish prats that holed up here were up to no good, but hearing that they used this bounty to play games and make bets made her blood boil. This sparked a change of plans for her: when she found the source of the magic here, she would not simply stop at stealing it away; she would bring down the wrath of the gods on them. “Would you care to join in our wager, Winnifer?” asked Dienna, who noticed that her new friend had been rather quiet for the last few minutes. “That’s not fair! She hasn’t even had a bite of the food here,” Eveline whined through a mouthful of biscuit. Tiphany wished she could kick herself for what she said next, but she replied, “Oh, don’t you worry, darling: us halflings soak up weight like a sponge does water; I daresay I’ll be waddling by the end of breakfast! By all means, count me in!” “Splendid! Simply splendid,” Dienna clapped, sending her soft frame jiggling. “Oh, and here comes our boy with your food.” Tiphany gave the server a courteous smile as he set the plate and cup in front of her, though her eyes almost bulged out of the socket when she saw just how much food was on there. Even three people would have had trouble with the spread, but for a light eater like her, it seemed nigh impossible. If she truly could not finish everything, she could always foist the rest onto one of the doughy dingbats she sat beside; despite their game, they did not seem to care how much they ate. Perhaps she ought to play their game after all, seeing as she would be a surefire winner. As the thief nibbled at her eggs, a clamor rose through the hall and she glanced over her shoulder to find the source, only to gag when she realized it was the baron himself. Jathut was a slugite, one of the slowest and most unpleasant of insectians, and he was unsightly even by their standards. His skin was slimy and pale, making him look like a glob of phlegm with limbs, and his body was the flabbiest of anyone in the hall. He wore a tunic that looked almost painted on and left nothing to imagination as thick rolls jiggled like jelly with every bobbling step he took, and the kilt he wore around his lower body highlighted the lower half of his bulbous belly. “How now? Is everyone having a good time?” Jathut belched, his voice thick with mucus. When he was answered with cheers, he grinned with yellowed teeth and exclaimed, “Marvelous! Eat plenty, my friends, for you never need worry about hunger in my halls! Let the world outside fall to ruin; Mossholme will stand triumphant above all!” Tiphany’s cheeks turned red with anger at his uncaring words, and it took every ounce of will to not stab him as he slithered by. At least she was not alone in her disdain, as Dienna leaned over and whispered to her, “Honestly, I don’t much care for the man; I had to wash my hands about ten times over after he kissed them in greeting.” That remark helped ease some of Tiphany’s frustration, though she still glowered at Jathut as he took his seat at the head of the room. She likely would have glared at him the entire time were it not for the server returning to the table and asking, “Beg pardon, miss, but will you be wanting any more?” The thief was about to reply that she was still working on her mountain of food, only to find that her plate was empty of even the smallest crumbs. Her eyes went wide once more, which elicited a giggle from the ladies, and she put a hand to her stomach to find there was a little bulge to it. Had she really eaten so much without realizing it? Was this one of the side effects of the enchanted food here? And more than anything, why did she still feel hungry? “Perhaps just a little more,” Tiphany answered meekly. “Would you be so kind as to bring some of the grits and biscuits?” “That’s the spirit, Winnie,” Dienna gleefully exclaimed. “Looks like it was a good idea to bring you into our game after all!” Tiphany gave a small smile but cringed underneath her façade. How could she have let herself get so caught up in eating that she lost all track of time? This did not bode well for her stay in the fort, especially since she had no clue as to where this food came from. She tried to think of plans as the next part of her meal arrived, but she still ate up everything faster than she thought possible. This was followed by another plate, and another, and another until she finally could take no more and leaned back in her seat. “No…no more,” she huffed, her hands tenderly rubbing a belly the size of a pumpkin. What had she gotten herself into? Dienna smiled sweetly and placed a hand on Tiphany’s stomach as she hummed, “Looks like someone’s in trouble! Better be careful, my dear, or else we’ll be rolling you home!”
  14. Much appreciated, mate! I wanted Rose to feel different from other protagonists of mine and really play off the anxiety angle, so I'm glad to see I succeeded on that front. And I think you'll be delighted to see how it pans out!
  15. CHAPTER 88 The Ice on Fire Festival in Montpelier used to be a fairly lowkey event: music, games and puppet shows for the kids, and warm refreshments to celebrate winter and community. As time went on, the small affair grew into a carnival of sorts, sporting rides, games, and other forms of entertainment. Yet, of all the changes to the festival, few could have predicted professional wrestling to make its way onto the attractions. But there, on the eastern part of the grounds—conveniently placed right next to a food truck and a popcorn stand—was a wrestling ring inside a large tent. For some, it was a chance to come out of the cold and watch a show; for others, it was a novelty and curiosity. For the girls in Rose Manson’s wrestling school though, it was a chance to show off what they had been working on since they started, whether a couple years prior or just a few months. They had spent the last month and a half training for this day, putting in long hours and late nights at the gym to make sure they were ready to finally make their in-ring debut. However, those hours were not all spent lifting weights, jogging on a treadmill, or practicing their jumps… “Conner, come on, quit hogging the jerky,” Tara Green whined as she tried to swipe a bag of beef jerky from the resident giant, who held it well out of her reach. “Get your own bag then,” Conner Trent huffed before tipping the bag to her lips and dumping the remnants in her mouth. “’Sides, not like you need any more after those fries you had earlier.” The students were assembled in a double-wide trailer converted into a locker room/dressing room as they prepared for the show. Some, like Conner, kept their attire simple and casual, wearing a tank top, cargo pants, and combat boots; others, like Zahara Morgan, were going the distance with face paint and colored contact lenses. It was not the most auspicious setup, but for a group of amateurs on their first show, it would suffice. At the center of the chaos were the girls’ teachers: the head of the school, Rose Manson; her protégé, Theresa Hartley; and the school’s unofficial nutritionist, Carolyn Brown. It was pure chance when Theresa and Carolyn wound up becoming a part of the school, but ever since they attended that first class, they had endeared themselves to the students. Even though Theresa had not been in the ring in almost a decade and had ballooned in weight since then, she still had half a life worth of experience and wisdom to offer. Carolyn, on the other hand, was the bubbly soccer mom that brought snacks and encouragement for everyone, which was most helpful in balancing out Rose’s harsh command. It was not the most harmonious team, but they felt they had done their job well. Of course, they did not feel like that as they bustled around to make sure everyone was ready, which was no small task considering how Theresa was still clocking in over 300 pounds. Her puffy cheeks were almost as rosy as her hair as she moved from student to student to make sure they were ready, either by helping with their attire or going over spots in their match. Carolyn and Rose did much the same, which made them both feel less like coaches and more like pageant moms, but at least they were not as encumbered as the former Queen Heart. “—and then we end with you rolling Conner up in a small package for the win,” Theresa hurriedly explained to Vidya before casting her eyes around the trailer for anyone else that needed help. “Let’s keep it rolling, ladies—we’re just a few minutes away from showtime!” “We’re ready, Mrs. H,” assured Jamie ‘JJ’ Jacobs as she finished slipping on a pair of cowboy boots. “Or, like, I am; Nina still needs a minute!” “And concentration!” hissed the spunky Nina Neverland as she put the finishing touches on her own makeup. Unlike her lackadaisical friend, who was dressed in a very basic set of street clothes, Nina looked like a gothic Tinkerbell, complete with a death’s head moth painted on her face. While she often tried to seem like she was too cool for school, the truth was that she was not going to let anyone else show her up, whether it be in prowess or in looks. Theresa gave the girls a thumbs up before circling back around to check in with some of the other students. She would never admit this to Rose, but there had been plenty of times between the announcement they had a show and the present. All the girls were eager to show off what they had learned, but the body had to keep up with the spirit when it came to wrestling; it was one thing to want to pull off a moonsault and something else entirely to actually do one. And that was where Theresa’s greatest concerns lay—in her student body’s bodies. While Rose was prone to hyperbole and rhetoric, she was not entirely wrong when she said that the girls had put on weight since Theresa and Carolyn started hanging around. Taut stomachs had grown into soft paunches, pert breasts were now swollen and bloated, and tight backsides had plumped into plush, jiggly mounds. There had not been a visible dip in their prowess, but it had become clear that if a change was not made, it would not be long before their fat would become a problem. With a show coming up, they could not hope to lose their weight without starving, so a new routine was designed for them. Theresa and Rose pushed the girls to their limits in the ring, while Carolyn pushed their stomachs to the limit in an effort to bulk them up. It was a risky measure, but desperate times called for it. At first, it seemed like they would be laughed right out of Montpelier, but little by little and day by day, the girls began to improve. Awkward and clumsy moves were hardened into well-timed and expertly performed feats, and their bellies expanded to keep up with their regimented caloric intake. Almost every student was bigger than she had ever been, but they were better athletes than when they started at the school. It almost made their teachers hopeful for the show ahead…almost. A knock on the trailer door almost went unnoticed by the occupants, but Rose was close enough to check who it was. The elderly woman cracked the door open and saw Noah, Theresa’s husband, waiting outside with a clipboard in hand. Just as the trailer was a makeshift locker room, so to were friends and family drafted to assist with setting up the show, from setting up chairs to spreading the word around the festival and counting tickets. It reminded Theresa of how she cut her teeth on the independent circuit back in the day, working for promotions that had all the professionalism of a garage band and who paid their talent in food and beer. Those were the days… “Five minutes to showtime, Rose,” Noah informed the old coach. “We just about ready?” “We’re ready enough,” Rose answered, sparing a glance over her shoulder at the ragtag rasslers running around like chickens with their heads cut off. “This ain’t the Garden, but we’re going to make people feel like it is.” Noah nodded and checked his clipboard for the hundredth time that day. He helped set up so many Cub Scout events and birthday parties over the years, but this took the cake—and if he was feeling the crunch, he could only imagine how Theresa was doing. He asked Rose, “How’s Theresa holding up? Think she’s got a second to talk?” “Coming!” Theresa called out while waddling to the door. “I’m coming!” “There’s your answer,” Rose replied before scooting out of the way and allowing her biggest student to step outside. “Make it quick—we’re almost on.” The Hartleys made quite a pair as they stood out in the snow, with Noah in a standard snowsuit and Theresa in the same outfit she wore for her coronation as ‘Queen Heart’. It was not the exact same gear, as that was tight even before she gained a couple hundred pounds, but it was a custom job from an old friend in the area that was an exact copy. A heart-shaped corset boosted her prodigious chest up and out while also masking her impressive belly, a flowing skirt trailed in the snow behind her while still exposing her thunderously thick legs, and a regal coat helped to keep out some of the January chill. With her hair done up in an elegant beehive and imitation jewelry adoring her figure, Theresa looked like she had not missed a beat in the last several years, minus one glaring exception. “I look ridiculous, don’t I?” Theresa muttered as she pulled her coat around her to keep out the cold. “Be honest, Noah, I look like a tub of goo in this thing.” Retirement had not been kind to the former women’s champion, as two pregnancies and a never-ending battle with depression had caused her to balloon to an ungodly degree. Theresa constantly found herself looking at old pictures and footage of herself, and she wondered just where the woman in them went. The answer was right in front of her: that taut stomach took on a mind of its own and became a marshmallowy blob; the breasts that she flaunted so proudly had become hefty zeppelins that caused her back more pain than any trip through a table; that ass she shook for the camera was so big that she almost took up the entire loveseat in the family room. Being fat made her depressed, which caused her to eat and gain more weight, which only caused her to get more depressed, and on and on. Then, she was reunited with her old teacher and became a part of Rose’s wrestling school, which helped to spark a fire that had long been buried under a mountain of flab. For the first time in years, Theresa had an actual goal to work towards as she pushed herself to set an example for the students; in turn, they helped her to regain some of that youthful exuberance she had in her prime. The last five months had been nothing short of amazing, pulling Theresa up out of the depths of depression and back into the highlife again. There was a time when she would not have been caught dead in a remake of her iconic gear, but with the support of the students and Carolyn, Theresa found the strength to wear it. Still, there were little doubts that plagued her and tried to whittle away at her newly regained confidence; it took everything she had to not eat her nerves away. That was why she was grateful when Noah kissed her and ran a gloved finger over her plump cheek. “Tess, you’re as beautiful now as the day I married you,” Noah murmured while he pulled her close. “You look amazing no matter what you wear, whether it’s spandex or sweatpants. I can’t say enough just how proud I am of you, and I can’t wait for you to show everyone in that tent that you’ve still got what it takes.” Theresa blushed and fiddled with a stray lock of hair as she gave a nervous giggle in reply. “Well, not when it comes to the actual fighting; don’t be expecting a Sheer Hart Attack at this size. You’re sure it doesn’t look bad? Oh, but where would I find a replacement when we’re right about to go on? God, I can’t go out there with my fat tits wobbling around and my muffin top hanging out and—” Her anxious rambling was cut short as Noah put a finger to her lips and gently shushed her while stroking under her plump chins with the other hand. He gently whispered to her, “They are going to love you: you’re the one monarch people can’t get enough of; they’ve been asking for you to come back for years. You’re the total package, Tessie, and if you can’t do the same moves you did in the past, you can knock them out with just a few words—and that’s something your weight can’t take from you.” The world seemed to freeze around Theresa then, the music and noise from the festival fading into the distance and the snow hanging like ornaments in the air. She glanced over to the tent and caught a glimpse of the wrestling ring that waited inside, and she heard a new sound—a familiarly welcome one. It was the cheer of fans filling arenas and screaming their lungs out when she leaped from the top rope. It was the thump of her body hitting the mat, the announcer’s desk, and the concrete outside the ring. It was her heartbeat racing faster than a drum solo, thundering in her ears as she remembered everything she had left behind and realized just how close it was. “You’re right,” Theresa muttered before turning back to Noah. “I’m not the same athlete I was, but there’s absolutely no one in the world that can match me on the mic and it’s high time I reminded them of that. The people need their queen, right?” “Damn right, they do,” Noah replied with a warm smile. He gave her one last, lingering kiss before parting and telling her, “Knock ‘em dead, Queen Heart.” After giving her husband one last peck on the cheek, Theresa marched back into the trailer and clapped to get everyone’s attention. All the chatter and worked died out in an instant as a dozen heads turned to face the redhead, who stood with more confidence than anyone had ever seen from her; even the rebellious Nina had to admit that Theresa had a commanding aura about her. Her voice was crisp and sharp when she spoke, and no one else but Rose could have commanded the room like her. “All right, ladies, show’s almost on—that means it’s time to make your Wrestle Moms proud. Carolyn and I have only been here for a few months, but each and every one of you has improved in leaps and bounds over that time, especially in these last few weeks. Whatever the crowd is expecting out there, we’re going to go above and beyond by showing them the best damn wrestling they’ve ever seen. If you’re ready to leave everything in that ring tonight, let me hear it!” “Hell yeah!” the girls shouted back. Theresa smirked and crossed her arms under her billowing chest. “Yeah, I think you’re ready. Get out there, give them everything you’ve got, and make them feel like they just got back from the Showdown Supreme. Show them that you’re able to stand with the very best in the business!” The trailer was filled with the sounds of clapping and stomping as the students showered their teacher in applause, and it took everything Theresa had to not shrink into herself in embarrassment. She looked over to Carolyn and Rose to see if they had any words to add, but both women shook their heads, with Rose even giving her a very rare grin. “Looks like you’re back in the game, Hartley,” the veteran told her pupil. “I knew you still had it in you the minute you waddled into my class.” “Sure didn’t seem that way when we showed up,” Carolyn grumbled before perking back up and flashing a thumbs up at her old friend. “Go get ‘em, Mama Bear!” Theresa nodded to her fellow teachers and looked out over the class. “All right, Vidya and Conner, you’re up first; the rest of you get your fat butts in gear and make sure you’re ready.” Both girls were chomping at the bit and practically skipped out ahead of their instructor while the others put on their finishing touches. As Vidya and Conner walked ahead of her, Theresa could not help but notice the changes that both had undergone since she had joined the class. They used to barely say a word to each other, and while many only saw them arguing over this and that, they were missing the playful side of the banter. Vidya has more down to earth and less image-conscious, while Conner was more open with the others in class—something the once stoic girl would never have thought possible. All those changes were shocking enough, but the most impressive of all was in just how much they had filled out, especially since the start of the month. Conner was always thicker than others in the class, being taller and already fairly muscular, but her bulk took on a different meaning as she gained weight. Her chest softened and rounded out into plump handfuls, and she was carrying a good bit of jelly in her caboose, but it was in the stomach where she had gained the most. She had a genuine gut, but rather than a flabby potbelly or a bubbly beer belly, it reminded Theresa of some of the old ‘hosses’ of wrestling—the men who threw devastating haymakers and competed in bloody brawls. It was a look that fit Conner perfectly, and the tape around her hands only added to the look of a seasoned hooligan. Vidya, on the other hand, had been a twig just a few months prior; she looked less like a wrestler and more like a toothpick. Now, she was sashaying to the tent with a hefty pair of breasts that were emphasized by her gold and white top, a soft stomach that had just a slight pooch to it, and hips that bounced from side to side with every step she took. It was a look that fit well with her diva gimmick, and while she might not have been the most accomplished athlete of the class, she made up for it with plenty of character. When they reached the tent, the trio paused outside as Noah stood inside and gave genial announcements to the crowd. Theresa looked her students over one more time and told them, “I won’t keep you two waiting long, but it might be a minute. You going to be all right out here?” “After all that cold weather training Sarge had us do, I’m happy as a polar bear,” Conner chuckled, though her smaller opponent did not share the sentiment. “Do I look like I’m dressed for cold temperatures?” asked Vidya in a nasally whine. “Mrs. H, I know that this if your big comeback and everything, but please keep it brief.” Before she could respond, Theresa was cut off by Noah announcing, “And now, here she is—the Queen Heart herself, Theresa Hartley!” The rotund redhead grinned and patted Vidya on the cheek. “Don’t worry, kid, I won’t pull a Hillbilly Jim on you. Just be patient, be cool, and think warm thoughts.” With that, Theresa waltzed inside the tent and basked in the applause of the crowd. It was nothing like being in the Silverdome or even the Dallas Sportatorium, but for the former wrestler, it felt like she was home again. She gave polite, queenly waves to the audience as she made her way to the ring, her coat billowing behind her, and she made it up the ring steps with ease. After passing her coat to Noah and squeezing through the ropes, she grinned at the crowd and asked, “Did you miss me?”
  16. ((Hey folks! Looking for a new fit to fat story from yours truly? Well, join me as I take another journey to the world of university as we take a look at Rose Pillar--one of the supporting characters from a previous story--and how she balloons in college. I hope that you enjoy this new story, and keep your eyes here, because I plan to publish new chapters weekly!)) ROSE - THE BIGGEST BALLER CHAPTER 1 Rose Pillar liked to think that she was doing better with her anxiety. The day of her first dance recital saw her throw up all over her tights, and she almost passed out when her friends dared her to jump off the high dive at the pool. When she first learned that her family was moving not just to a new town, but a whole other country? Those were a rough few days, and that was before she even stepped off the plane; her first day at school was so nerve-wracking that she hyperventilated and spent half the day in the nurse’s office. Were it not for the help of her soon-to-be lifelong friends, she had no idea how she would have survived high school. And now, she was feeling that swell of panic all over again as she stood outside her new home for the next four years. Ridgewood College was a small university, especially when compared to some of her friends’ picks, but that was just what Rose wanted. If she had to deal with all those crowds at some of the bigger schools, she very well could have passed out on her first day of classes. Despite her instincts welling up inside her, Rose took a deep breath and stepped through the doors of Schwartz Hall—her dorm building. Schwartz was a hive of activity that morning as the new students moved in and older students helped move luggage and furniture, all of which left Rose feeling like Frogger as she ducked and weaved around the floor traffic. Her years of dance training paid off, as she managed to reach her room with barely a hair out of place and the contents in her arms undisturbed. That same gracefulness saved her when she nearly tripped on a loose doorsill at the threshold of her room. “Careful there,” said a girl sat cross-legged on one of the beds, face glued to a laptop. “The sill is missing a few screws; I’ve already filed a complaint with maintenance.” Rose looked over at the girl, who she assumed was her roommate. She was a slight girl, both in height and weight, and looked more like someone’s kid sister than a college student. Her hair was rusty red and cut into a crisp bob, she wore a pair of glasses almost as big as her face, and she had little makeup on. When it came to fashion, she had forgone casual clothes in favor of business casual attire, sporting a blouse that was a little too big for her and slacks that were a little too tight. Of all the people Rose imagined as her roommate, she never saw some junior executive. “Oh, thanks,” Rose mumbled as she set her box of supplies down on the other bed. She glanced over her shoulder at the other girl, who had yet to look up from her computer. Compared to how outgoing her old friends were, this was quite the departure; Nicole would have already tackled her in a hug by now, even if they were perfect strangers. But perhaps this was a sign—a chance for her to truly stretch her wings and make the first move! Rose took a deep breath, spun on her heel, and extended a hand to the girl as she said, “Nice to meet you! I’m Rose—Rose Pillar.” “Fumiko Nakamura,” the girl replied without so much as a twitch of the eye in Rose’s direction. Instead, she adjusted her glasses and took a sip from a nearby energy drink, her fingers typing frantically across the keyboard. “We’ll talk later; I’m a little tied up right now.” Rose’s shoulders slumped as she deflated, her greeting ignored without so much as an apology. It was far from the worst interaction she could have to start their time together, but for someone as nervous as she, it was enough to set her on edge. Was she being too forward? Who was being rude in this scenario? Should she try again later, like Fumiko suggested? Her brain was running through all the possibilities—none of them good—and she hoped that she had not made a fool of herself within the first few minutes of her college life. Just as she turned for the door again to go retrieve the rest of her belongings, Rose heard Fumiko remark, “That’s a cute shirt, by the way.” Rose looked over her shoulder and saw her roommate giving her a sideways glance before turning back to her computer screen. A small smile managed to creep onto the blonde’s lips and some of the nagging doubts were pushed aside for a moment as she walked out to help her parents. Maybe the year was not completely ruined just yet… *** After everything was unloaded and she said her goodbyes to her parents, Rose flopped down on her bed and let out a deep sigh. The bustle around the building had died down, with just a few late comers moving in, and with Fumiko making herself scarce, she found the room stiflingly quiet. She sent out messages to her friends to let them know she was all settled in, but after a few brief chats, she was dropped back into her solitude. People often thought that she would have been content with such silence, but that was far from the case; she wanted to chat and socialize, but damned if it was not a Herculean task to do so. At times like this, she needed to get out and move, so she hopped off her bed and fished out some workout clothes from her dresser. Rose slipped into a pair of black leggings, a white tank top with a crane on the front, and sneakers that felt lighter than air, and then she was out the door to the gym. She quickly did an about-face when she saw just how many people were filling the gym, and she began looking around campus for a secluded spot far from prying eyes. Even though she had gotten better with dancing in front of a crowd, that did not mean she enjoyed doing so—especially when she was dancing just to ease her mind. Finally, she found a little wooded area across from the school’s athletic field that was just far out enough for her needs. After taking one last check to make sure that there was no one nearby, Rose put on her favorite playlist—all bubblegum pop and nothing but—and set it down on a rock. She took three deep breaths to steady herself, and then she was off to the races. It was a tragedy that Rose was so afraid of crowds, because she might have been the best dancer no one had ever heard of. Every movement was precise and controlled yet loose and fluid at the same time, with not a single bit of force to be found. Her motions started slow—but never sluggish—and they picked up little by little until she was prancing around the woods like a gazelle. She worked herself into a whirlwind of motion, kicking up pine needles as she moved through her own, private world and expressed herself in the only way she could. Unfortunately, she was yanked out of her reverie when she heard someone clapping nearby. Rose froze in her tracks and followed the sound to its source—a well-built girl with a lime-green mohawk and a leather jacket with the sleeves ripped off. Her audience of one was leaning against a tree and took a swig from a bottle of beer, a cheeky grin on her lips as she watched Rose fidget in place. “That’s some fancy footwork,” the girl hummed as she sauntered towards Rose, a swagger in her footstep. “Seriously, I know pros that can’t move like you do.” Rose’s cheeks turned red as her namesake, and she fidgeted in place while silently praying that the earth would swallow her up. She had done her very best to avoid being seen by anyone, yet here she was—caught red-footed with the Monkees playing. The inevitable laughter she expected never came though, as her visitor merely guzzled down the last of her beer before tossing the bottle away. “I won’t tell if you won’t,” she teased, giving Rose a wink. “You’re pretty good at that…pretty in general, actually. What’s your name?” “R-Rose,” the blonde mumbled, her face burning with embarrassment. “Sorry…I didn’t think anyone would be out here.” The other girl shrugged and leaned against another tree. “Not many people do, ‘specially not this time of day; makes it the perfect place to get my drink on. But this ain’t Bomont and you’re not breaking any rules, so what’s got you dancing all by your lonesome?” Rose cast her eyes down at her feet and nibbled at her lip, still fighting through her urge to disappear. She managed to whisper out, “Just…just relaxing.” “By dancing alone in the woods? That’s a new one for me,” the other girl chuckled. “Well, don’t stop on my account; just pretend like I’m not here.” It was a tall order for Rose, who had not danced in front of anyone besides her friends in over a year, but she swallowed her fear and nodded. She tried to think of how Nicole and Kristen lived their lives—that a stranger was just a friend they had not met yet—and that helped her feel a little better. Thus, she closed her eyes and kicked a leg out before launching into a routine set to Lesley Gore, trying her best to focus on nothing but the music. Still, she could not help feeling uneasy under the mystery girl’s eyes, for she was certain that she was being judged every second that ticked by. Rose was often reminded that she was her own worst critic, and no matter how many people tried to encourage her, her mind loved to latch onto any imperfections it could find. Her hair was a mess, even though she always kept it as well-groomed as a cat does its fur. She was too tall, even though Danny oft compared her to Brienne of Tarth (which Kristen assured her was a good thing). Her clothes were too tacky, she had giant gap teeth, and she was just pretending to be good; all these thoughts and more plagued her mind on a daily basis. The one that nipped at her the most—the only one she had never been able to fully rid herself of—was the worry that she was too fat. It was a nagging voice that taunted her ever since childhood, when she was just a little too chunky and the brats in school called her out for it. Much of her weight was reapportioned as she grew taller, but the worry that she was still ‘Roly-Poly Rosie’ remained seared into her brain and she took drastic measures to correct that. Rose starved herself some days, tried to survive off sugar pills, and tested every fad diet under the sun in an effort to lose even the slightest bit of weight, and it was only through the grace of God and her friends that she was still alive. That was why Rose struggled to perform for others, for fear that they were picking her apart with their minds at every moment. Those same fears were chipping away at what little confidence she had, but she pushed back by imagining her friends on the sidelines rather than some complete stranger. Yes, she could see them now: Nicole and Danny cheering her on, Kristen and Lorelei clapping, and Trevor giving her a stoic thumbs up. It was enough to bring a smile to her face, and she ended her set with a little, unintentional flourish. To her surprise, Rose heard applause and opened her eyes to see the other girl clapping like she had seen the greatest show on Earth. The blush returned to her cheeks, but Rose no longer felt as nervous as she did before; on the contrary, she even did a slight curtsy. Her efforts were rewarded with a clap on the back, and the mystery girl shook her hand so hard that Rose felt it would pop off. “Goddamn, those are some smooth moves, chicky! Felt like I had a front row seat to some frou-frou theater piece,” the girl exclaimed. “Are you thinking of joining the dance team here? I think you’d fit in perfect with them.” A small smile crept onto Rose’s face as she mumbled, “No…it’s just a hobby of mine. I haven’t really thought about what I want to do here.” “Good, ‘cause the dance team’s a bunch of skanks anyway,” the girl said with a guffaw. “Still, it’d be a shame to let those fancy feet go to waste. Howzabout you stop by the gym tomorrow around 10, and I can introduce you to some girls that would just love to know you?” To say that Rose was taken aback by the request was an understatement. For someone who always thought the worst of herself, she never would have imagined being offered to join a club or team—and certainly not on her first day at school! Rose’s brain tried to sabotage her, as it was prone to do, but she managed to fight back those doubts and focus on the positives. “Sure!” she squeaked before lowering her voice again, not wanting to ruin the moment. “I mean, sure, that sounds like fun!” The girl gave her a toothy grin and clapped her on the back once again. “That’s great! I can’t wait to introduce you to the gang; they’re going to love you, Rosie. Remember: get there by 10, and if you’re a little early, just tell ‘em that Natasha sent you.” Rose nodded and replied, “All right, I’ll be there! And…thank you, Natasha.” “Hey, thank you for the show, pretty bird,” Natasha purred before bumping Rose with her hip and sauntering away. “I’ll be seeing you around!” Rose watched with bated breath until Natasha had vanished from sight, and then she collapsed against the rock that still held her phone. She had no idea how she had managed to bungle her way through that without hyperventilating, but here she was—still conscious and without a single speck of vomit to be found. Somehow, she had not only impressed a perfect stranger with her dancing, but she was even invited to meet new people! Her heart was fluttering for a dozen different reasons, but they were almost all positive and had her thinking that maybe, just maybe, she would survive college. *** When she got back to her dorm room, Rose was greeted by the sight of Fumiko seated on her bed, but with a box of pizza on her desk. Now that there was not a laptop dividing her attention, Fumiko got up and gave Rose a polite nod, which the taller blonde returned with a puzzled look. Her roommate cleared her throat and declared, “I wanted to apologize if my behavior earlier was in any way rude or offensive; it was not my intention, but I am afraid I might have insulted you.” “Oh, no, no, you’re fine!” Rose quickly assured the girl. “You looked like you were pretty busy, and I’m sorry if all my moving was disturbing you.” Fumiko shook her head and replied, “That could not be helped; rather, I should apologize for not offering to assist. I tend to get sidetracked quite easily and wrapped up in my own affairs, which is why I have spent the better part of the afternoon preparing to make amends.” Gesturing to the pizza, the petite girl explained, “I have calculated the best kind of pizza and purchased it from the objectively best restaurant in town, and I have downloaded several kung-fu movies for us to enjoy. I hope that this will make up for any indiscretions.” Rose had no idea what to make of the whole affair—only that she could not help from giggling at the effort. Fumiko cocked an eyebrow and prepared to ask what the laughter was for, only for her roommate to pat her on the shoulder and say, “You’ve got nothing to apologize for, Fumiko. Now, let’s just hope that your calculations are correct!” With that, the two roommates spent the rest of the night in their chairs, huddled around a small TV as the best and worst of the Shaw Brothers played out. They managed to finish the entire pizza between them, with Rose even taking a couple slices more than she would normally. After all, it had been a very good, if odd, day—surely she deserved to treat herself just this once… The next day, Rose arrived at the gym about fifteen minutes early for the meetup. It was still another ten minutes before girls started to arrive, and though Rose tried to see if they were with Natasha, she could not find the words. Instead, she lounged against the wall and watched, only perking up when she saw a familiar tuft of green hair. “Hey, pretty bird! Come join the fun,” Natasha called out to Rose, who quickly shuffled over to join the group. As Natasha put an arm around the blonde’s shoulders, she explained, “Girls, this here is Rosie—the newest member of the Ridgewell Basketball Team!”
  17. Much appreciated! This kind of chapter is the sort I love to write, with a good balance between action, dialogue, and description. Glad to see it being well received!
  18. CHAPTER 87 It is really amazing how quickly a day can go from flying in the clouds to rock bottom, as Kat Donna had unfortunately found out. When she arrived in Greensboro for the Global Gauntlet, she expected to catch up with her sister, go over her spot in the match, and talk future plans now that she was back to full health. In just a few short minutes, she was cut from the Gauntlet, put on untelevised matches until she lost weight, and found out that her sister was wrapped around Sadie Storme’s finger. Kat had spent her tears on the first two, which left only white hot rage as she watched Natalie accept Sadie’s groping hands without so much as word. “I’m surprised you didn’t notice something wrong before now, but I guess your sister’s not the only dumb blonde in the family,” Sadie chortled, never once letting her hand off Natty’s marshmallowy backside. “Your sister and I had a little hookup back on Halloween night, and we’ve been an item ever since. I mean, I did have to take a few incriminating pictures to get her to cooperate, but the best relationships start with a little blackmail, right?” Kat barely heard Sadie over the pounding of blood in her head, but every new word out of that serpent’s mouth made her boil. She took a couple stomps towards her former stable leader, only for Anzu to get in the way—something she never would have expected from the girl that Natalie used to pick on in developmental. “Don’t try anything, meushi,” Anzu scoffed before prodding Kat’s potbelly, exposed from underneath her top. “I’ve been practicing my Cattle Mutilator, and I can’t wait to test it out on you.” “Touch me again, and I’m going to beat your face to a pulp,” Kat warned the other woman through gritted teeth. “I’m in no mood for your bullshit, Anzu.” Anzu gave a haughty laugh in turn and taunted, “You didn’t scare me when you were thin, Kat, and you sure don’t scare me now that you’re too fat for TV. Why don’t you take your ass back to craft services and stuff your face? Seems like that’s all you Donnas are good for these days.” That was the last straw, and Kat’s vision turned scarlet as she tackled Anzu with a spear that almost knocked her out of her pirate boots. There was no choreography, no protection, and no holding back her punches as she rained down punch after punch on Anzu’s face, and she only stopped when she felt the sharp crack of Sadie’s shin on the side of her head. Kat tumbled to the floor and clutched her ringing ear, only to throw her hands up to shield her face when Sadie and Anzu both kicked her prone form, all while Natalie cowered in a corner. “You think you’re hot shit, Kat?! You think that you’re worth a damn just because you were going to have a shot at the title? Newsflash, fatso—you were only going to get that shot because of me,” Sadie bellowed as she booted Kat in the belly, knocking the wind out of the blonde. “You two cows were as hot as the North Pole before I made the Storme Troop, and this is the thanks I get? Without your sister around to shake her tits for the crowd, you’re just another face in the crowd, Kat; there’s not a single thing special about you at all, and it’s time you learned that!” Just a few months prior, Kat might have been able to take either Sadie or Anzu in a scrap, but two on one while she was down was too much for her, despite how incensed she was. The best she could do was cover herself as best she could and hope that they tired out, and then pray she was not so battered that she could not get another attack in. She had to do something for whatever they had done to Natalie, and in a more selfish way, she needed to prove that she was not the weak blob everyone now wrote her off as. There was more of her, but she was still Kat Donna, and she was sick of everyone taking her for granted. Then, just as suddenly as the beating began, it came to a halt. Kat peeked through her fingers to see why and was greeted by the sight of Maxine Kuhn hoisting Sadie and Anzu in the air by their necks. She had never been so glad to see the former Typhoon as she was in that moment; she could have kissed her boots if she was not aching so bad. “Hey, Kitty,” Maxine greeted her former stablemate, though her eyes were on her ex. “You look like you need a hand.” “You have no idea,” Kat muttered as she achingly rose to her feet and drank in the sight. Maxine had always been strong, even when she was at her porkiest, but it was still surprising to see her hold a fully grown woman in the air with one hand, let alone two. Her time in Philadelphia had clearly done her a world of good, as she had not only shaved off much of her cumbersome blubber, but she had also packed on a good deal of muscle. When the bookers brought her in, they hoped to make her into a monster, but nerves and Sadie’s manipulations kept her from achieving her full potential on that front. Now, between her bulky build and numerous scars, she looked every bit the unstoppable force of nature she had been dubbed. As Sadie and Anzu writhed in her grip, Maxine sneered, “Now, I don’t know what was going on here, but that don’t matter to me; I was going to whup both of you in the Gauntlet anyway. When I put you down, you’d better do the smart thing and beat it, because I’m itching for a fight and I’m really, really hoping you give me a reason to thwomp your asses.” With that, she dropped her prey and both women fell to the floor clutching their throats while gasping for air. Sadie glared holes through her old plaything but remained silent, unlike Anzu, who snarled, “死ねえ, やりまん!” The smaller woman lunged at her much larger target, only for Maxine to scoop her up over her shoulders and hoist her high in the air. Despite Anzu’s thrashing around, Maxine had a tight grip on her and refused to let go. She barked up at her unruly opponent, “Better knock it the fuck off up there, or I might just drop your ass on the concrete. Run out to the Gauntlet or limp out—it’s your choice, Anzu.” The threat of losing her spot in the match and the fear of Maxine following through made Anzu calm down, though she was still seething. She growled, “Just put me down.” Maxine did just that, lowering Anzu down to the ground before looking down on her with beefy arms crossed. “Now, walk away. You’ve got a match to get ready for, don’t you?” Both women glowered at each other with such heat that even Natalie could feel it from down the hall, but Anzu eventually broke the staring contest by spitting on Maxine’s boot. She flipped both middle fingers up before quickly turning on her heel and beating a hasty retreat back to the locker room. This left Sadie alone with two women that wanted nothing more than to bash her skull in, but she merely flipped her hair over her shoulders and huffed like some Hollywood diva. “Well, looks like Youngblood’s been good to you, Maxine,” the blonde remarked as she eyeballed her former lover. “You really did let yourself go for a while there, you know; it’s such a shame you couldn’t put a fork down to save your life. I’m so sorry I never got in touch with you, but you know how busy things get around he—urk!” Any other taunts Sadie had were cut off as Kat wrapped an arm around her throat and pinned her head in place with the other arm. As the sadistic woman struggled in the sleeper hold, her former underling hissed in her ear, “Who’s hot shit now, Sadie? Not so fun, is it?!” Maxine could not contain a smirk as she watched Sadie flounder about, face going redder by the second despite her best efforts to wrench Kat off her back. For months, she had thought of just what she would say when she saw Sadie again, but none of them came to mind—not even the Oscar-worthy speech she had rehearsed in the mirror. Now, she was just content to watch Sadie get her diabolical ass handed to her, especially at the hands of someone like Kat Donna. “I hope you remember this, Sadie,” Maxine hummed as her ex’s face turned purple. “This is just a little taste of what you’ve got coming: everything you did to ruin me and my career, I’m going to repay you a hundred times over; by the time I’m done with you, they’re going to wheel you out in a body bag. And I won’t just be doing it for me—nah, it’ll be for everyone you’ve screwed over to get to the top. So enjoy the rest of your reign, ‘porkchop’, because it’ll be the last you ever get.” Sadie tapped frantically on Kat’s arms as she struggled to get even a hint of air in her lungs, but the infuriated girl was not about to let go without a fight. Finally, Maxine patted Kat on the shoulder and told her, “Let her go, Kitty. We’re putting the fear of God in her, not trying to get arrested.” “Says you,” Kat growled, her grip strong as iron. “This bitch ruined your life, and then she jumped right into my sister’s! I’m going to do what we should have done a long time ago and put her down for good!” Maxine sighed and moved her hand from Kat’s shoulder to her neck, where she gave a sharp pinch that sent shocks down the blonde’s spine. Her arms instantly went limp, allowing Sadie to slip out and collapse against the wall in a gagging fit. Kat glanced over her shoulder at Maxine with wide eyes, and the towering woman told her, “Come on, we worked together how long? I know about the secret spot on your neck, Kitty; good thing too, because I don’t think she would have lasted much longer.” Kat hissed at Maxine but did not make another move towards Sadie, partly because she began to calm down, but mostly because she did not want to see what else Maxine would do to stop her. Instead, she gave Sadie a withering glare and warned her, “You stay the hell away from me and my sister, or I’ll finish the job next time; that means getting rid of whatever dirt you have on her.” By the time Sadie managed to stagger to her feet, she no longer looked or felt like the domineering queen that strutted down the hall mere moments prior. Her mascara was running, her hair was a mess, and her sky blue gear was disheveled, but the starkest change was how her voice felt raw and scratchy. She clutched at her throat as if Kat’s arm was still there and winced from the mere act of swallowing, though she refused to let the Donna have the last word. “Fine—she was getting boring anyway,” Sadie wheezed, her eyes darting between the three other women. “But if you ever so much as touch me outside the ring, I will sue you so hard that there won’t be anything left of you.” “Spoken like a real chickenshit,” Maxine scoffed. “Be seeing you, Sadie.” Her threat ignored, Sadie spun on her heels and stormed off to the locker room for a lozenge and some tea. Once they were on their own again, Maxine and the Donnas all looked to each other to see who would make the first move. This was settled when Maxine scooped up both twins in a tight hug, squishing their soft bodies against her hardened physique as she exclaimed, “Oh my god, that was amazing! Did you see the look on her face? I don’t think I’ve ever seen that witch so scared since that time Mickey came at her with a broken bottle!” “And now, I’m really wishing security hadn’t stopped her,” Kat sighed before a faint smile played on her lips. “But it’s really good to see you again, Maxine—and I’m not just saying that because you saved my ass.” “Aw, thanks,” Maxine hummed gleefully. “I didn’t think I’d be back here any time soon, but I guess someone managed to convince Dave to let me use the Gauntlet as a little trial. Who knows? Maybe if I kick enough asses, I’ll be coming back sooner than I thought!” Kat giggled at her former stablemate’s excitement. She had come a long way since her nervous breakdown back in August, when she was given the boot from the main roster and sent packing to the City of Brotherly Love. Of course, as so often happens, her misery had been passed onto someone else, as evidenced by how quiet Natalie had been the entire time. No one knew her sister better than Kat, and she had never seen Natalie in such a despondent state—not even when their grandfather had passed away. Where some saw vanity and egotism, Kat saw…well, she saw those too, but she also saw a powerful confidence that Natalie used to command the room. It was part of what made their act as successful as it was, with Nat using her charms to beguile and distract long enough for her more athletic sister to get a sneak attack. Yet now, as she shrunk into herself, there seemed to be no sign of the diva she used to be; if anything, Natalie was like the timid wallflowers she used to tease in high school. And her weight…if Dave thought Kat was too fat, she had no idea how he was okay with letting Natalie anywhere near a camera. She was not the fattest woman Kat had ever seen, especially given their family history, but Natalie was virtually unrecognizable from the swimsuit model she had been just a year prior. Everything about her was soft, but much of her weight fell below the belt, giving her a hefty bell-shape that wobbled like jelly with every movement. Her hips were almost as wide as a car tire, her thighs squished together all the way to her knees, and her butt looked like a pair of spray-painted beachballs crammed into a pair of short shorts. It was a sad sight for the former pageant queen, made even worse by imagining what Sadie had done to her to achieve those curves. “Okay, I think we need to have a talk,” Kat told both her sister and Maxine, who put them down with a nod. When they were both on the ground again, Kat reached out for Natalie’s hand, though the latter only took it hesitantly and gingerly. “Natty, it’s going to be okay: she’s not going to hurt you anymore; Sadie doesn’t own you.” “B-B-But…this must b-b-be a t-t-t-test,” Natalie whimpered, looking over Kat’s shoulder to see if Sadie was coming back. “I c-can’t t-t-talk, or I’ll b-b-be p-p-p-punished.” Maxine put a firm, gentle hand on Natalie’s shoulder, which should have been reassuring but only caused the smaller girl to jump a foot in the air. Despite this, the taller woman told Natalie, “She’s not going to do a goddamn thing to you; I’ll make sure of that.” Even with these assurances, Natalie frantically shook her head and mumbled, “No, no, no. You’re tri-truh-trying to g-g-get me in t-t-trouble. I’ll b-b-be a good p-p-pig!” Kat did her best to stay strong for her sister, but she could not keep from welling up with tears and wrapping her arms around Natalie. Though she flinched and froze for a moment, the elder Donna broke down as well and sobbed into her sister’s shoulder. This all proved too much for Maxine, who pulled the twins close to her and held them close as she had her own good cry. It was a long time coming for all three, having been victims of Sadie’s manipulations in one way or another and having no one else who knew that pain. They stood in the empty hall for what seemed an eternity, crying until they had nothing left to give before coming to a stop. By the time they were through, Kat was fighting another case of hiccups, Natalie’s cheeks looked even more swollen than before, and Maxine’s eyes were red and puffy, but all three felt at least a few degrees better. None of them were in any condition to have a long chat about the state of things, but there would be plenty of time after the show—and plenty of drinks to help make talking that much easier. “Okay, I think we could all do with some water,” Maxine said as she rubbed her eyes. “After the show, how about we go out for dinner and drinks—my treat? We’ve got a lot of ground to cover, especially before I go back out to Philly, but I’m not leaving town until I know you’re both doing better.” Natalie and Kat looked to each other, neither knowing what the other had been through but both having a feeling that they did not really need another meal. Of course, just because they did not need it did not mean that did not want it, which was emphasized when both their stomachs growled in unison. The sisters blushed and put their hands on their greedy bellies, but Maxine just chuckled and clapped them on the shoulder. “Tell you what, let’s go pilfer something from craft services first. I’m dying to see if they’re still getting good food out here,” Maxine chuckled while wrapping an arm around both sister’s shoulders. Even though food should have been the last thing on either Donnas mind, the sisters were more than willing to distract themselves from their worries for one more night. Tomorrow was a brand new day, and they could always worry about losing weight then… *** When Sadie went back to the locker room, it took just one glare to clear out anyone still hanging around; no one wanted to be around for a Category 5 Storme. No sooner had the last woman ducked out than the bullying blonde punched a dent into one of the lockers, followed by slinging a loose duffel bag clear across the room. She kicked, stomped, and almost tore her hair out at the thought of what those absolute peons had done to her. Did they have any idea who they were messing with? They would regret the day they dared to cross her! By the time she was through with them, their reputation would be muck; not a single promotion in the world would hire them! By the time she had finished, Sadie sat down on a bench and looked around at a locker room that had been thoroughly torn apart; anyone else would have been fired for the amount of damage she caused, but she would just get a slap on the wrist from Dave. To help calm down, she pulled out her phone and searched through her favorite FA sites for new material, including a shot from New Mexico…
  19. Thank you! With this story, I tried to encapsulate a wide range of characters: people who love, hate, or are ambivalent about fat. It would be so easy to just make this a story where everyone loves fat and getting fatter, but we don't take the easy way here.
  20. CHAPTER 86 Kat Donna always looked forward to the Global Gauntlet, even if she was not competing in the match. It was a chance to see old faces, meet new people, and the crowd went wild when the next entrant in a gauntlet stepped through the curtains. There was an excited vibe running backstage at all major shows, but for an event like the Gauntlet—one of the biggest events in the GWF calendar—it was on a whole other level. But Kat was more excited than anyone else when she pulled up to the arena that afternoon, as she was not only in the Gauntlet, but she would be a surprise entrant. The last time she had been at a show was a little over a month ago, when she took a beating from the psychotic Red Widow as a cover for a flagging Ananya Patel. While Kat was glad to have helped a friend in need, she wished it had not come with two broken ribs; at least she gave Widow a little receipt that night by breaking her nose. Now that she had the green light to return to active duty, Kat intended to make the most of it and show the GWF Universe just what she was capable of. There was just one teensy little problem that would hinder that return, but the blonde tried not to think of it as she greeted her coworkers backstage. “Birdy, looking good! I saw the ring on your Insta—congrats, girl! Marques, how’s my Mixed Match buddy doing? Oh, same ol’, same ol’. Oh my gawd, Sean, is that little Terri? She’s gotten so big! When are you bringing her by for a tryout? Don’t think I don’t see you hiding back there in wardrobe, Lakeisha—get out here and give me a hug girl!” It was all smiles and warm wishes as Kat made the rounds between the wrestlers, producers, and ring crew, and though no one commented on it, she knew that they were all thinking the same thing—she had gotten fat. The holidays had been a little too good for the diva, as she was coming into work at 207 pounds, a far cry from the slender athlete she had been that same time last year. She tried to mask it by fixing her posture and sucking in her gut, but there were only so many tricks she could pull off to make herself look skinnier. At least everyone greeted her fondly and did not make a fuss about her not so slight weight gain. “Holy shit, Kitty Kat, what’ve you been eating?” the always outspoken Terra Carter balked when she saw her fluffier friend. “Nice to see you too, Terra,” Kat huffed while she adjusted her sweater in case there was any sign of her potbelly. “Yes, I’ve put on a few pounds, but can we just drop it? I’m not the first person to gain a little weight on medical leave.” She could deny it all she wanted, but anyone with eyes could see that Kat Donna had ballooned in size since the summer and especially in the last month. While she initially took some comfort in knowing that she carried more weight in her upper body, that silver lining faded as she blew past ‘thick’ and settled in ‘fat’ territory. Her hips and thighs had grown softer and would have looked stout on any other woman, but they paled in comparison as soon as the eye drifted up to Kat’s waist. It started with a full, round belly that jutted out in defiance from her waist and still looked plump even with her trying to control it. Her sweater and baggy shirt underneath hid thick flanks and rolls along her sides, each one so full that she could grab them with her whole hand. Some of those rolls came from her achingly tight bra, which struggled to hold back hefty breasts the size of casaba melons—another ‘perk’ that Kat tried to highlight. Unfortunately, her round, full face—complete with double chin—and plump arms with burgeoning bingo wings made it impossible to fully hide her gain. “Yeah, but most people don’t come back looking like they spent their time wolfing down milkshakes with their pain meds,” Terra remarked before grinning sheepishly. “Sorry, I know that’s not the first thing you want to here when you get back. It’s just a shock is all, but it really is good to see you. Are you still going to be in the Gauntlet?” Rather than stay mad, Kat sighed and leaned against a wall as she explained, “As far as I know. I need to get up with Dave and the crew to see what my spot is, but I’m fixing to give it everything I’ve got; there’s a little payback I’ve been wanting to give Elena for weeks.” Terra cast an errant glance down Kat’s voluptuous body and winced, “You might want to see Dave sooner rather than later, Kat; you know how much of a stickler he can be about weight. I mean, you saw what happened to Shinobu and Ananya put on a few pounds, right? I wouldn’t put it past the old dinosaur to screw you over for this.” There was some merit to Terra’s remark, as Dave Ericson had a very clear vision for what constituted a superstar, and Heaven help anyone that did not fit that bill. Shinobu Misawa and Ananya were two of his latest victims, with both losing their title because they did not gel with his idea of a champion. But those were different: Ananya had pissed off the GWF’s sponsors and kneed Dave in the cojones, and Kat was far thinner than Shinobu was when she was screwed out of the title; if anyone could get away with having let go for a bit, it was a Donna. “Oh, I don’t think it’ll be a huge issue,” Kat assured Terra while twirling a lock of hair. “I mean, it’s just a few little pounds out of place. Besides, Dave’s really a pussycat when you get to know him; I’m sure that the first thing he’ll say when he sees me is—” *** “No chance in hell!” Dave barked at Kat. All of the bulbous blonde’s excitement on arriving at the arena was squashed with those four words. The most insulting part was that it only took one glance from the aged president for him to cut her from the Gauntlet and put in some rookie from their developmental show. Few people would dare argue with Dave Ericson in general, especially when he got red in the face and the veins started popping in his forehead, but Kat was just as furious. “Why not? I’ve got my gear, I’m all patched up, and I’m aching to go! Give me one good reason I can’t go out there tonight,” Kat growled, hands on fluffy hips. “I’ll give you about two hundred of them,” Dave sneered as he pointed his pen at Kat’s belly. “Do you honestly think you can just walk back in here after porking up for the last month and a half and just expect to compete in any show, let alone a Gauntlet? Kat, I honestly thought you were pregnant when you walked up to me; if you try to run down that ramp when the buzzer goes off, you’d be gassed by the time you got to the ring.” The blonde hissed like her namesake as her cheeks turned a deep scarlet. “You can’t do this to me! The only thing that kept me sane while I was stuck at home, barely able to move around on account of my broken ribs, was that I’d have work when I came back. And now you’re putting me on the shelf again for no good reason?” “Unless this is the world’s greatest fat suit and you can take it off whenever you want—yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying,” Dave answered flatly. “You ought to know by now that the card is always subject to change, kid. For now, you’re going on dark matches and backstage segments only; lose a few pounds and then we’ll talk about getting you a televised match again.” Kat did not help her case by stamping, sending ripples through her softened physique, but all she could see was red. “This is such bullshit! You can’t just sideline like this, you pig!” It was not the first time a wrestler had gotten angry at Dave Ericson, nor was it the most aggressive, which was why he merely shrugged it off. “Takes one to know one. If you don’t like this arrangement, you’re more than welcome to stay home and wait out your contract.” Steam was practically pouring out of Kat’s ears, but reason managed to push through her fury and she calmed down before she could punch Dave in the face. She gritted her teeth and clenched her hands into fists as she snarled, “I’m no quitter; I’ll show you how good I am. Just remember that karma is a bitch, Dave, and you’re going to get yours one of these days.” “People have been telling me that since the territories died, and it hasn’t caught up to me yet,” the old man guffawed. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got an event to plan. You’re more than welcome to stick around, but if all you’re going to do is make problems, I suggest you leave.” With that, the most powerful man in the wrestling industry turned his back on Kat and walked off, leaving her to stew in her own rage. She choked back hot tears and bitter screams, opting instead to turn and storm off as fast as she could before she had a meltdown. It did not matter that her sweater rode up and revealed a swatch of belly blubber, nor did it matter that her hunched posture made her look even chubbier; all that mattered was getting out before she was thrown out. Her plump, jiggling legs carried her past the production crew, her friends, and anyone else that she did not want to catch her crying. By the time she stopped, the din of activity just a low hum in the distance, though this did not stop her stomach from growling at the faint aromas of the concession stands. “Shut up!” Kat shrieked as she grabbed her stomach and dug her nails into the tender pudge. “This is all your fault, you greedy piece of crap! Can’t you go five minutes without something to eat? You’re making me look like a goddamn whale! I hate you so much, you useless lump of lard! I used to go for jogs and lift weights, but you won’t let me! Why do you need to be so hungry all the time? Why does food need to be so good? And why…why can’t I stop?” The longer she carried on, the weaker she became, until Kat could finally stand no more and sank to the floor. Her ranting devolved into incoherent babble as she bawled into her knees, unable to maintain an ounce of composure. She had no idea how long she sat in the hall, only that it was long enough for her tears eventually dried and her sobs turned to hiccups, but she could not find the strength to move. It was only when she heard voices further down the hall that she dared move, and only because one of those voices was all too familiar to her. *** “P-P-Please, Anzu…I’m t-t-too full,” whimpered Notapig. “Really? Because I can still feel some room in this big belly of yours,” sneered Anzu Bonny, one of the hardest women in the company. She waggled a hefty cup in front of the bloated blonde and purred, “Now, you’re going to finish this extra-large shake, even if I have to pinch your nose shut until you do. Or do you want me to tell your mistress that you’ve been a bad girl?” Notapig whimpered and took the cup with trembling hands, knowing full well how devilish her mistress could be on an event day. It was hard to believe that the portly woman quivering with knees made of jelly was the same woman that used to lord over the locker room alongside Sadie Storme, but that felt like a lifetime ago. Ever since she had fallen under her stable leader’s sadistic thumb, the woman formerly known as Natalie Donna had been on a fast boat to hell as she let the cruel woman have her way with her. Her pursuit of pleasure left her bound by blackmail, with Sadie threatening to leak sordid pictures of her for the world to see if she so much as batted an eyelid out of turn. Few knew it in the business, but there was nothing more pleasurable to the industry’s top heel than watching someone ruin their body with flab—especially if she was the one causing the ruination. It was this same desire that had seen her former stablemate go from Natalie Donna, the stunning diva with curves in all the right places, to Notapig, a meek porker without a single sharp edge to her body. Sadie, along with several others that had an axe to grind with the elder Donna Twin, had personally fed Notapig until she was a corpulent caricature of her old self, broke her down so much that years of speech therapy were undone, and marred her face by forcing her nose upwards into a snout of sorts. The former model swallowed a heavy lump of fear before chasing it down with a thick, rich peanut butter-fudge milkshake. There was once a time when she would never have touched this sort of food with so much as a ten-foot pole, but such calorie bombs had become the norm under Sadie’s watch. Notapig was expected to drink every last drop, lest she incur her mistress’s wrath, and she had suffered far too much to desire that. With fear driving her on, she chugged the milkshake at a steady rate, gulping down dozens of calories by the mouthful and adding just a little more padding to her hips. Anzu, despite being billed as one of the top babyfaces in the GWF, wore a devilish grin as she watched Notapig drink herself that much fatter. She ran a finger along her plaything’s muffin top and purred, “Oh, piggy, remember how you looked at last year’s Gauntlet? You were this sultry little devil, shaking off your cute butt and tight abs for the world to see. But those are long gone and never coming back, aren’t they? You’re too fat to lose weight, even if you wanted to.” Notapig whimpered around a mouthful of cream as she felt Anzu drag a nail across her pale, tender belly. There was no room for her in the Gauntlet this year, but that did not stop Sadie from dragging her fattening ass along for more torment. It took a considerable amount of grease, but she had squeezed into her gear from the year prior in a testament to how far she had fallen. The only part that still looked okay was her chest, which had barely grown since she started gaining weight, but everything else dug into her fattened curves. Though she had gotten into her red corset, it was just barely laced up, allowing a mound of belly to ooze out the bottom and flop over her waistband. Her ruby short shorts were all but bikini bottoms around her full and flabby lower body, seams popping along her thighs and the seat being gobbled up by her immense backside. Gone were the lean, sultry legs of a swimsuit model, replaced by thick pillars of lard that rippled at the slightest touch and movement. Fair, tanned skin had become pale, pasty, and speckled with cellulite. And though she had once proven she could bounce a quarter off her ass, such a feat was impossible in the face of such supple, spongy pudge. Notapig was reminded of her downfall on a regular basis, but what could she do when there was no help in sight? “What in the blue hell is going on here?” asked a very angry and haggard woman. Anzu and Notapig turned to see Kat Donna standing at the corner of the hallway, and before either could say anything, she dove through the air in a dropkick that sent Anzu flying. The milkshake fell to the floor, and for a brief moment, Notapig considered falling to her knees and lapping it up like a good girl. Thankfully, her sister steadied her and gave a fierce glower to her tormentor, who clutched at her side while she got her wind back. “I don’t know what the hell this is, but no one messes with my sister on my watch,” Kat growled, her voice raspy and weak. “Get your dog ass out of here, and if I ever see you lay a finger on Natalie again, I’m going to beat your ass with a two-by-four.” “くたばれ, やりまん,” Anzu spat as she got to her feet. “You’ve been gone too long, Kat; you aren’t your sister’s keeper anymore.” Kat knew that something had been off with Natalie even before she had gone on leave, as her formerly outgoing sister forsook clubbing and partying after shows, to say the least of her rapid weight gain. Her role on TV had also changed, with her becoming this humiliated, simpering sidekick for Sadie, who hogged all the limelight and relished in belittling the former diva. Whenever she tried to get an answer out of her, Natalie always assured Kat that she was fine and to trust the booking, but after what she had seen, all bets were off. “Whatever’s going on, Nat, I’m putting my foot down,” Kat assured her sister before turning a baleful glare on Anzu. “I don’t know what’s going on, but when I find out, I’m going to kick the shit out of you and anyone else that’s messed with my sister.” “Oh, how very threatening,” a purring voice taunted from behind Kat. “It would be a little easier to take you seriously if you weren’t rocking a potbelly and porn star tits, but points for trying.” Kat spun on her heels and glowered at Sadie Storme, who still looked as glamorous and powerful as ever. The towering blonde was fit and muscular without sacrificing her feminine curves, and she flaunted her toned body in a platinum set of tights that hugged her like a coat of paint. Despite how dazzling she appeared, there was a dark glint in her eyes that sent shivers down Kat’s spine. “I suppose the fat cat’s out of the bag now,” Sadie hummed as she sauntered down the hallway, a sensual sashay in her step. “That’s not your sister, Katherine—it’s my personal plaything, Notapig. Say hi to the nice lady, Notapig.” “Oink-oink,” Notapig whimpered, much to Kat’s shock and anger. She meekly slipped out of her sister’s grasp and waddled over to Sadie, who welcomed her back with a slap on her plump ass. Kat struggled to find something—anything—to say as her brain tried to process the twisted scene in front of her, but all she could manage was hatefully whispering, “You’re sick, Sadie, and I am going to fucking murder you.” “Oh, Kat, you weren’t even in my league when you were skinny,” the sadistic champion cackled while kneading Notapig’s rump. “Welcome to the norm, sweetie—get used to it.” Anzu joined in the mirthless laughter for a moment, neither her nor Sadie knowing that a storm was on its way to silence them…
  21. CHAPTER 85 Ruby Rechsteiner had always been embarrassed about her weight, which only grew as she got older and the pounds became harder to avoid and lose. While she managed to stay ahead of her curves for most of her life, hovering around a healthy 150 lbs. when she graduated from New Mexico State University, her waistline took a hit when she got her real estate license. Microwave meals and fast food filled her belly with empty calories, having four kids before 30 left her with backbreakingly hefty breasts, and wining and dining clients gave her a booty that necessitated removing the handles from her desk chair. As she neared her 33rd birthday and 230 lbs., Ruby felt like the fattest woman in the world…until Mickey Ramone waddled in her office. It was supposed to be an open house showing like any other: point out all the highlights, minimalize the lowlights, and answer the same questions over and over. The ranch house she was showing was a comfy space with plenty of room to spread out, a sprawling yard, and a pool in the back—a fine pick by anyone’s standards. Still, it was passed over by several potential clients, with one couple dropping out at the last minute, leaving Ruby reeling and eating her nerves away. And with how none of the day’s visitors had made so much as an offer, the stressed agent found herself nibbling away at the plate of snickerdoodles she bought just for the occasion. And then, the biggest woman that Ruby had ever seen in real life waddled through the front door. She was so rotund that she actually had to angle herself to squeeze through the doorway, despite the fact that it was a standard width. There was nothing sharp about her; she was almost cocooned in fat from head to toe. Despite being twice Ruby’s size though, she barely jiggled when she moved, nor did she share in the realtor’s awkward gait that had developed over the last thirty pounds. This woman, whoever she was, seemed like a human tank, and Ruby could not help but feel intimidated. That fear was quelled the moment the immense woman opened her mouth and gleefully exclaimed, “Oh my god, I love it already!” “It certainly is a cozy hall,” joked her companion, a bearded man who, despite being more muscular than the woman, was nowhere near as imposing. “But maybe we should see the rest of the place before we commit?” “Spoilsport,” the woman teased before turning her attention to Ruby, who quickly brushed the crumbs from her lips and blouse. “Hi, sorry we’re a little late! I hate to impose, but do you still have time for a showing? We really love the look of the house from the virtual tour and wanted to get a real feel for the place.” Ruby perked up once more at the prospect of a real client and cleared her throat. “Of course! I’ve always got time for a couple would-be homeowners. Ruby Rechsteiner’s the name, and selling houses is my game! Who do I have the pleasure of showing around?” When the woman reached out to shake her hand, Ruby was surprised to find it was not the soft, plump hand of some overfed butterball, but the rough, gritty hand of a hard worker. “I’m Mickey, and this is my boyfriend, Ray. Glad we’re in good hands, because we’re just about clueless when it comes to this stuff; we’ll try not to drive you crazy with questions.” “Please, that’s what I’m here for,” Ruby brushed off the remark, her saleswoman charm kicking back in. “Why don’t you two help yourselves to some refreshments, and then we’ll take a look around? Just be warned: I’ve got a good feeling about you, and I don’t give up when I’ve got that feeling.” “Believe me, I don’t think you’ll need to go for the hard sell,” Ray replied with a chuckle as he glanced over his shoulder at Mickey, who stood gobsmacked in the hall, even though she had been to actual mansions owned by her peers in the business. After everyone helped themselves to a snack—including Ruby, who did not feel about sneaking a cookie when Mickey took three in one go—they made their way into the house proper. It was not terribly old, being built in the last fifteen years, but the décor was decidedly aged, with furniture and appliances that could have fit in at any grandparent’s house. Ruby pointed out this and that as they walked down the halls, alternating between small talk and shop talk, but she always found her attention drifting back to Mickey. Given the sheer girth of the woman, how could it not? It was a brisk day in Albuquerque, but Mickey looked pretty comfy in an open denim jacket, which Ruby chalked up to the amount of insulation on her body. Her face had the barest hint of definition, but she still sported a thick collar of fat that became a triple chin whenever she so much as tilted her head down or opened her mouth. She mentioned lifting weights as a hobby, which seemed all the more impressive to Ruby when she looked at Mickey’s ham hock arms. And though she tried not to stare, Ruby’s eyes still dipped from time to time and gawked at the pumpkins barely contained in the other woman’s blouse. Add in hips that filled doorways and thighs almost as wide as herself, and Ruby felt a lot thinner than she did that morning. But that belly…it was so large, so grandiose, so monumental that the awestruck realtor found herself at a loss for words when describing it. She had sold houses to a good many people, several of them on the heftier size, but even the largest paled in comparison to Mickey. It reminded her of when her daughter pretended to be pregnant like her by stuffing a pillow up her shirt, except Mickey looked to be smuggling an entire beanbag chair under her top. Ruby wondered just how the massive woman managed to put shoes and socks on, considering the blobby mass clearly obscured her feet, but that was not the most impressive part. No, that was how she wielded it with all the skill of a pro, maneuvering around the house with grace and deftness unbecoming of her girth. Ruby shook her head and averted her gaze again before asking, “So, what do you folks think so far? Tell me that this isn’t the sweetest deal you’ve seen so far, and I’ll eat my hat—if I had one.” “It really is a nice place—a little dated with the current setup, but nothing a little home improvement won’t fix,” Ray replied, his managerial eye keen on anything that could use some touching up. “I’m thinking we strip the wallpaper, get a nice coat of paint up instead…” “Don’t forget widening the doorways,” Mickey chuckled as she angled herself to squeeze through the living room door. “I’m doing all right for now, but come April, we’ll definitely need to make more room for this mamacita.” That frank remark and the following belly rub brought a rosy tint to Ruby’s cheeks, and she fidgeted as she tried to keep her professional composure. She cleared her throat and told her potential clients, “W-Well, if you’re looking to get any renovations done, I’ve got plenty of vendors that you might want to try. What else are you thinking you might do?” Ray stroked his beard as he thought over everything he had seen thus far and answered, “The basement looks like a sweet spot—very spacious—but we might want to take the stairs out and put a lift in to make getting up and down easier.” “Ooh, good call,” Mickey replied before adding, “We should also think about opening up the space in the kitchen so I can make my way around. Hope your guys know how to make a place feel accommodating, Ruby, because I’ve got big things in mind for the future.” Ruby tugged at her collar as her blush deepened, and she nervously giggled, “Oh, I’m sure they can make this place feel right at home for a…a big girl like yourself.” At that comment, Mickey’s brow scrunched up, her eyes darkened, and she put her pudgy hands on her immense hips. She growled, “And just what are you insinuating, Mrs. Rechsteiner? Don’t think I haven’t seen you staring at me this whole tour. If you’ve got something to say about my weight, say it!” Instantly, Ruby’s cheeks drained of any color and she could hear her entire career crumbling in the distance, all because of an offhand remark. Her lips flapped as she tried to stammer out an apology, but she was stopped when Mickey put a hand on her shoulder and chuckled, “Relax, Rube, it’s just a rib. I openly admit that I’m fat as hell; if you weren’t going to make a joke, I was.” “A…a joke?” Ruby mumbled, still in the midst of reworking her resume in her head. Before she could say anything else, Mickey pulled her in for the softest and firmest hug she ever had in her life. “We absolutely love the house, and thank you so much for showing us around,” the gargantuan woman hummed before releasing Ruby and giving her a playful nudge with her elbow. “I think I’m going to like working with you, Rube.” “Down, girl,” Ray playfully scolded his girlfriend as he shook the stunned realtor’s hand. “Seriously though, I think this is definitely the house for us. We’ll get out of your hair and send you an email this afternoon with more details, because we can’t think of a better place.” It was the promise of a sale that brought Ruby out of her stupor, and she happily shook Ray’s hand while casting a wary glance over at Mickey. She exclaimed, “Don’t you worry: I’m going to make sure you folks get this place come hell or high water, or my name isn’t Ruby Rechsteiner!” After seeing Mickey and Ray out with many promises of a done deal and future meetings, Ruby slumped down on one of the counters and let out a long, heavy sigh of relief. God, she was so worried that she had screwed up the sale; that woman ought to be in showbiz, the way she worked her like that. Ruby picked her head up and eyeballed the plate of cookies before scooping up a snickerdoodle and cramming it past her lips. “Looks like I picked the wrong week to try dieting,” the roly-poly realtor muttered as she tried to bury her nerves under sugar and butter. *** “You’re absolutely incorrigible, you know that?” asked Ray as he pulled up to the diner for a late lunch. “I think you almost gave her a heart attack.” Mickey rolled her eyes and replied, “I like to have fun with marks when I see them—so, sue me. I’ll make sure to send her some flowers and chocolates to apologize and let her know just how serious we are with the purchase. Happy?” “Fair enough, but someone’s being a little crabby,” Ray said with a smirk as he tickled under his lover’s soft chin, eliciting a pleased purr from the pillowy girl. “Is my girl hungry? Did all that walking around work up an appetite?” It was a rhetorical question, as Mickey always had an appetite now that she was on the wrong side of 400 pounds. Bulking up was a challenge under normal circumstances, but she was not only gaining equal parts fat and muscle—she was also trying to maintain the physique she had. There were tons of protein fiends in the wrestling industry, and Mickey had always been amazed at how much they had to eat just to keep up their muscles. Now, she found herself in a similar position and pulling off a unique balancing act as she worked to keep the scales from tipping one way or the other—and she was loving every minute of it. “I’ve always got an appetite, mi amante,” Mickey cooed while wiggling in her seat. “And after we get a bite, I want to get back home so I can show you how thankful I am for all this.” “Well, let’s not celebrate until we sign on the dotted line. There’s still no telling just how things will turn out, and it’s better to wait and see before we start how it goes before we start buying new furniture,” Ray reminded his excitable girlfriend. “Spoilsport,” Mickey teased, running her fingers along her steady boyfriend’s beard. “Now, let’s get a table—Mama’s craving a chicken fried steak.” The diner was fairly quiet, being in that lull between the end of lunch and the start of dinner, which was just how the couple liked it. For Mickey, it meant that they were likely to be served a lot sooner; for Ray, it meant less people getting their eyes on Mickey. It was not for jealousy, mind you, but for the fact that she had to remain anonymous per the agreement she made with the head of the GWF. If Mickey wanted to bring back the Superheavyweight Championship, she needed to not only put on the appropriate amount of weight within a year—she also needed to keep it under wraps. One word to the tabloids, and it all her hard work would be for naught. Of course, Mickey carried herself as though she did not have a care in the world and happily plopped her bottom down on two chairs at a free table. Ray tried to warn her about being in public, that they had gotten lucky with her trips to the gym and especially the cruise they took back in the summer, but she was having none of it. Spending so much time cooped up inside and unable to communicate, save for a very small circle of people, was driving the extroverted Mickey crazy; she needed to get out and live a little, or else she was going to lose her mind. Thus, they reached a compromise: Mickey could join Ray on one house hunt a week, followed by a meal out afterwards. It was still far from perfect for the normally rambunctious wrestler, but she took what she could get while she was still under this agreement. For the last few weeks, their setup had been successful, with Mickey going completely unrecognized, even when near her favorite spots. That was one of the added bonuses of packing on so much weight; it was like wearing a fat suit to go incognito wherever she went. The couple had only been sitting for a moment before a waitress arrived to get their drinks, and though she ogled Mickey, it was not with the same shock and wonder that Ruby had shared. There were plenty of people out there that did not hide their disdain for people as big as her, but Mickey was still surprised to see it so blatantly painted on someone’s face. “What can I get you folks to drink? We’ve got Diet Coke and Diet Pepsi, in case you’re interested,” suggested the older woman, punctuated by snapping the gum in her mouth. “Just a normal Coke for me, thanks. Who cares about a few extra calories?” Mickey asked in turn, puffing out her stomach for added emphasis. “Just a Sprite for me, thanks,” Ray replied, not caring to pick a fight with someone who clearly did not want to be there to begin with. When the waitress left with their orders, he leaned over and squeezed his lover’s hand as he whispered, “You’re not going to make a scene, are you?” “Depends on her,” Mickey answered softly, scowling at the scrawny woman as she filled the glasses at the tap. “All I want are some good eats, not any comments from the peanut gallery; if she gives me the stink-eye again, I’m finna suplex her through the window.” Even with an extra three hundred pounds added to her fighting weight, Ray knew that Mickey could throw down as easily as ever, which was why he needed to nip this in the bud right away. He reached under the table and gave one of her thick love handles a squeeze as he whispered in her ear, “I’ve got an even better idea. If she doesn’t like the way you look now, why don’t you show her how you got this big in the first place?” Mickey licked her lips at the plan and her lover’s gentle kneading. She cooed, “All right, but only because I’m already banned from enough places in the world.” When their less-than-pleasant server returned, Ray ordered a club sandwich while Mickey ordered a chicken fried steak with curly fries, mac and cheese, and a biscuit, all to the horror of the middled aged waitress. It did not get any easier for her after she brought the food, as Mickey attacked her hefty meal with aplomb. She gobbled up thick cuts of steak soaked in gravy, fries dripping with ketchup, and bits of biscuit coated in cheese, and she had the absolute audacity to enjoy it. It was a meal that no sane woman should have ordered, but she looked like she was having the time of her life. She even ordered a piece of chocolate cake and apple pie, both with whipped cream, just to rub her gluttony in even further. By the time Mickey was finished, she had eaten more in one sitting than the waitress had seen from anyone else, yet the butterball still looked hungry. The couple paid for the ** meal and made a quick exit, Mickey breaking into a fit of giggles when she got into Ray’s truck. She chuckled, “Oh my god, did you see her face when I started dipping the fries in the gravy? You’d think she was watching Faces of Death!” “Some people just don’t know how to handle a whole lotta woman,” Ray replied with a grin. “Now, let’s get you home and see if we can fit any more in that belly of yours…” *** Of course, all it takes is for a secret to get out is for one person to say something—in this case, a snooty waitress taking a picture on the sly and posting it on her socials. That picture would be seen by another person who would share it on their feed, followed by another, and another, until it found its way into the FA community proper. From there, people would share and discuss who this mystery woman could possibly be, with none of them coming close except for one person. She kept it very close to the chest though, waiting for just the right time to share the finding with Mickey herself…
  22. Thanks! I wanted to provide a good summary chapter, since I know there's a lot of material for people to make their way through. Glad to see it worked!
  23. ((No, folks, your eyes don't deceive you--it's a new chapter of SHWC after a long, long time away. I've missed you, and I hope that you've missed me. I've got plenty of story left, so buckle up, because we're hitting the road running!)) CHAPTER 84 (Editor’s Note: The following article contains outdated and offensive language in reference to retired wrestling titles. We at Rassleholics do not support or condone this language, but reprint it here so it might be remembered, rather than pretend it never existed.) The Fattitude Era. The PIG Era. Ruthless Hoggression. These were some of the crueler taunts made during the most unusual trend to hit wrestling in years--when many women across the industry, including some of the highest profile superstars, gained a massive amount of weight. Of course, the mockery soon subsided when they proved that they were more than capable of still handling themselves in the ring, with some even redefining their entire careers. Details of this turbulent and most fattening year are still coming to light after all this time, but today, we are sitting down to chart out where it all began and some of the biggest players in the BBW (Big Badass Women, for the uninitiated) scene. There have been countless wrestlers who have put on some pounds during their career, but the rise of the BBW in the sport can be traced back to Mickey Ramone. What else can be said for Mickey Ramone’s storied journey in the wrestling industry? A third-generation superstar, she climbed through the ranks of the business by fighting some of the best women in the world in countless matches, accumulating countless title reigns across the board. However, there was one title that she sought more than anything—something that would set her apart from any other woman in the business. She wanted her grandfather’s Superheavyweight Championship title. Of course, there were two major problems with that wish. First, the belt had been retired long before Ramone was even born, having gone the same way as the Featherweight, Midget, and Negro Championships—all relics of a different time. Second, the weight limit for the title required a minimum of 300 pounds, and Ramone did not even weigh half that when she decided to bring the title back. This required a lot of planning and the approval of then-owner of the Global Wrestling Federation, Dave Ericson, who had a notoriously narrow view of how the wrestling landscape should look. Thankfully, Dave approved—albeit with strict conditions for Ramone to meet—and then she was off to the races. “People love to think that I was just sitting on my ass all day, munching on chips and guzzling down ice cream, but they couldn’t be more wrong,” she would say in a later interview. “You need to balance out eating an ungodly amount of food with exercise, and you can’t afford to put emphasis on one over the other or it upsets the entire plan.” Fortunately, Ramone had a perfect dietician in the form of her manager and then-boyfriend, Raymundo Valdez. She credits so much of her growth to her now-husband, who helped to keep her on track, ease her mind when she let her worries get the better of her, and indulge in some fancies that you cannot repeat on a good, Christian website. Over the course of a single year, the two of them managed to pack hundreds of pounds onto Ramone’s body, putting her in a weight class that few could match back then. But while Mickey Ramone was an unintentional trendsetter, she was far from the only women’s wrestler piling on weight at that time… Over in the heels’ locker room, you have Mickey Ramone’s eternal rival in Sadie Storme, who was the biggest backstage politician since Hulk Hogan. Storme was then the leader of her own faction—the Storme Troop—which consisted of the Donna Twins, Kat and Nat, and Maxine ‘Typhoon’ Kuhn, and she ruled it with an iron fist. The one she had the most control over was Kuhn, who she was in a secret relationship with at the time, and their abusive relationship is an entire article in and of itself. As of this writing, we still do not know just how many skeletons are in Storme’s closet, but this much is certain—she manipulated countless women for her own pleasure, including Maxine Kuhn. The aforementioned Typhoon was once one of the more promising prospects to come to the GWF, boasting an incredible height and build that no other woman on the roster shared. However, she was greener than a lantern, and she quickly fell back on Sadie Storme as a sort of mentor. Mentoring turned into a relationship, and by Kuhn’s own words, she would have done anything to make Sadie happy, up to and including putting on tons of pounds. “I knew that it was affecting my work in the ring, but I figured that Sadie would stop before things got too far. Back then, I was so eager to please that I would have done anything for that manipulative bitch…that’s why I botched that match with KC Skye,” she admitted in a very candid interview with Sports Illustrated. It was a botch that affected the life and career of not one but two of the top women’s wrestlers in the GWF, as Kuhn was sent to work in one of the company’s developmental territories and KC Skye had to have a rod inserted in a broken leg—the latter of which, we will come back to. The trip to Youngblood Wrestling proved to be a blessing for the flagging Kuhn, who used the opportunity to get out from under Storme’s thumb and reinvent herself as a monster in the ring. She also built up a following online as she chronicled her weight loss journey back to her original billed weight and built up an impressive catalogue of matches with the likes of Princess Tiger Lily and Rea Rider. For someone whose career seemed dead in the water, Kuhn did the impossible and came out walking on the surface. However, she was not the only member of the Storme Troop going through a change in career, as the Donna Twins took two very different paths after Maxine’s departure. Kat and Nat Donna are the first to admit that they did not enter the wrestling business through conventional means, as they were given a tryout based on the strength of their modeling career. They were a modest successful tag team, with the more athletic Kat handling the physical parts of their matches and Nat helping to keep people distracted. Their stock rose dramatically when they joined forces with Sadie Storme, and they soon became one of the most prominent tag teams in the GWF. This dominance was not to last, as the pair were split up through backstage politicking on behalf of Storme, who began to abuse and manipulate Nat. Unlike her relationship with Kuhn, however, this one was fueled by blackmail, which led to a massive scandal that rocked the wrestling world. As Nat recounted in a very candid podcast, “I developed an itch I never knew I had, and Sadie knew just how to scratch it. It didn’t matter how much I was humiliated, used, or abused; I was hooked, whether I wanted to be or not.” While her sister was suffering indignation after indignation at the hands of their former stable leader, Kat was ostensibly being set up for a singles’ run that was hampered by an injury sustained in the ring. During the time before the injury and the following recovery, the sportier Donna discovered a new love for food, which ultimately led to her putting on a considerable amount of weight. This would have been problematic enough, but in the then-weightist atmosphere of the GWF, it all but killed her momentum upon her return. “Back then, there really was no place for a big girl,” Kat explained in an interview after leaving the company. “Dave [Ericson] had a very specific view of what a women’s wrestler looked like, and it was basically your average bikini model; if you were too muscular or too fat, then you needed to go on a diet and fast. It was absurd—he even badmouthed his own daughter, for crying out loud!” Yes, even the boss’s daughter was not immune from such scrutiny, despite her unique and unfortunate circumstances. Amanda Ericson had been involved with the GWF in one capacity or another since she was a child and helped hock merchandise, but her role in the company grew as she matured. She became an on-screen figure involved in the occasional storyline involving her father, then a semi-active competitor in her own right, and then the domineering commissioner of the company’s Monday night show. With her husband, Levi Hunter (better known to the wrestling world as Triple Threat), she seemed for all intents and purposes to be a female doppelganger of her father. And then, she was hit by a surprise pregnancy—triplets, at that. Having a baby after the age of 40 is never easy for anyone, much less three of them, and Ericson had further complications with a chemical imbalance that threatened not just herself but the b**s as well. She had to take a medication to help make up what years of grueling production work had done, which, combined with her newly inactive lifestyle, caused her to gain an unprecedented amount of weight over the following nine months. Depression hit hard for the self-proclaimed ‘queen bee’, and she has since stated that it was only through the love and support of her husband that she was able to carry on. “I look back on the person that I was, and I’m honestly embarrassed that it took me so long to be my best self,” Ericson would later state in her memoirs, Queen of the Ring. “It took absolutely nosediving for me to get better, but I like to think that I’m in a better place. I’ve tried to make amends to people I burnt bridges with, and that’s all I can do—keep trying to be better than before.” Among those bridges burned were the aforementioned KC Skye and Shinobu Misawa, two of the most talented women in the GWF whose potentials were never fully realized (through no fault of their own, it should be noted). KC Skye was one of the most dynamic high-flyers in the business, putting on acrobatic displays that would not have been out of place in Cirque du Soleil; always a dependable hand, her biggest claim to fame was a successful tag team with Mickey Ramone. Shinobu Misawa, meanwhile, came from the hard-hitting ‘strong style’ school of wrestling, regularly engaging in matches that left the ring coated in blood. These two have gone on to hall of fame-worthy careers, but before they got there, they had to clear some mighty big hurdles first. With Skye, it came from injury. As mentioned before, she broke her leg in a horrific botch after Maxine Kuhn, on orders from Sadie Storme, rolled out of the way from a big boot off the top rope. This break kept her on the bench for close to nine months, between waiting for her leg to heal and undergoing physical therapy to rebuild her muscle. During this time, Skye went through a serious bout of depression and, between that and her medication, gained a large amount of weight that forced her to reinvent her in-ring work. Misawa, meanwhile, enjoyed a decent run as the interim Women’s Champion after being rewarded the title by Ramone left the GWF. What no one could have imagined was that a surprise visit to Ramone and Valdez’s apartment would reawaken desires that she had not felt for years, and she began her own plan to gain weight. Though she tried to keep it at a slow and steady pace, Misawa still attracted the ire of Dave Ericson, who decided to strip her of the title by having her lose against a greenhorn by the name of Ananya Patel. The fan-favorite would call that one of the darkest moments of her career, and she worried that she was no longer the performer she once was. While they might not have had the support of the company, Skye and Misawa took some comfort in each other and offered a shoulder to lean on if the other needed it. It was through this bond that Skye completed her physical therapy and Misawa returned to the ring with a fresh outlook—thus proving that some of the best tag teams are the ones with real chemistry in and out of the ring. And speaking of tag teams, we would be remiss if we left out the Wild Roses—Margarita Maggie Torres and Sweet Sharon Goode. Torres, the real life cousin of Mickey Ramone, and Goode had a brief stint on the Mexican wrestling circuit before they made their debut stateside in Dare-Devil Wrestling, an independent promotion that worked in the Southwest. Ramone would occasionally make appearances at her cousin’s shows, normally under a luchadora disguise she referred to as ‘La Cerdita’—which translates to ‘The Piglet’, in case you have not been keeping up with your Spanish. The Wild Roses enjoyed some success in DDW, particularly after clashing with a team known as the Rodeo Twins, but even they were not immune from the weight gain bug of the time. In the case of life imitating kayfabe, Torres was a notorious party animal and a heavy drinker, with some reporting her as the next coming of Andre the Giant. This would prove to be her detriment on more than a few occasions, but it became a particularly serious problem when she developed a taste for a beer known as Snake Venom—a beer that has four times the calories of a Big Mac. Despite this, Torres was known to guzzle the stuff like water, often having a minimum of two with her dinners. It would not be long before this caused her to gain a considerable amount of weight, so much so that she earned the nickname of Beer Belly Betty from her opponents and detractors. Now sober for seven years, Torres would recount in an interview, “It’s really easy to sink into denial instead of facing reality, even if you’ve got a gut bigger than your pregnant aunt’s. I was a hot mess back then, and I had to make changes at some point if I was going to stay in the business.” She was not the only one who was faced with making a life change, as the so-called Year of the Pig also saw the return of a veteran wrestler in Theresa Hartley—the Queen Heart. Hartley had one of the most decorated careers of any women’s wrestler in the Global Wrestling Federation, but she stepped away at the height of her fame when she found out that she was pregnant. According to Hartley herself, the following years were a roller coaster of emotions for her, even more than her time in the chaotic wrestling industry. “I dealt with wild mood swings for years, with the highest highs and the lowest lows,” she stated in a press release following her return to the business. “There were days when I was Super-Mom, able to throw together a party to remember at the drop of a hat, and then there were weeks when I would struggle just to get out of bed. And when you’re in a spot like that, the last thing on your mind is doing anything to lose weight.” Hartley ballooned from her prime of 125 lbs. to a peak of almost 400 pounds, and were it not for a couple chance encounters, she said that she might have gone well beyond that. First came a surprise reunion with Mickey Ramone when the latter was on an anniversary cruise with Raymundo Valdez. Both have recounted was a special opportunity it was for them, as Ramone had been a lifelong fan of Hartley’s, while Hartley considered Ramone to be one of the top women in the business and someone she wished she could have faced in her prime. During that time, the seeds were planted in Hartley’s head for a comeback, but it would take a blast from the past to really make it happen. That came a little later in the year, when, on a visit to a gym with her friend and future trainer, Carolyn Brown, Hartley came across a wrestling school run by her old mentor—legendary wrestler ‘Sergeant’ Rose Manson. Meeting the same woman that helped start her career rekindled a fire inside Hartley, and she not only pushed herself to finally make healthy changes in her life, but also became a teacher at the now famous Rose Manson Academy. And this writer wishes he could have shaken Rose Manson’s hand just once before she passed away, because without her, we would never have seen the likes of Nina Neverland or ‘Chosen’ Vidya Anand grace our screens. And if you think this is an exhaustive list of every woman that gained weight during this very unusual year in wrestling, then you are sorely mistaken. In addition to all the women detailed above, you also have the various students that trained under Theresa Hartley, Rose Manson, and Carolyn Brown, Ananya Patel, and Iris Lonergan, to name just a few of the satellites that gravitated around these superstars. This also fails to take into account other women’s wrestlers from other promotions and countries that saw themselves become BBWs around this time, who were themselves pioneers in a field they had no idea they were cultivating. Let us not forget the likes of Ruriko Amiga from the Osaka-based Battle Crisis World, who infamously got so plump off unapproved protein supplements that she split her tights in the ring, only to later become a two-time Battle Goddess before enjoying a lengthy career in tokusatsu TV shows. Or how about Hail to the Crown Wrestling in London, which saw it’s reigning women’s champion put on an immense amount of weight for a film role that never materialized? Even the GWF’s biggest competitor, Tryon Network Wrestling, saw a work turn into a shoot when one of their top managers, Luella Le Mars, engage in a feederism relationship with their then-International Champion. Whether they knew it or not, Gainermania was running wild in the wrestling industry back then. The revival of the Superheavyweight Championship is a saga, long and winding with more twists and turns than a crazy straw. The women at the center of the story touched countless lives, both directly and indirectly, as their stories took them to places they never imagined going. Like all good wrestling, there were heels, there were babyfaces, and there were plenty of turns from one to the other. There were many dark places along the way, and fan opinion will remain forever divided over BBWs in wrestling, but there can be no denying that they changed the landscape as we know it. Call it the Fattitude Era or Year of the Pig, but never call it a joke. *** As Ray cleaned up the remnants of his growing girlfriend’s massive breakfast, he wondered what history would say about this point in her career. They were already preparing for the negative publicity from Mickey’s gaining stunt and the attempts by her competitors to humiliate and ridicule her, but Mickey assured him that she had the thickest skin of anyone she knew. That was just how she was—always ready to face the next challenge with her head held high and her fists clenched. “Babe, can you help me get my jeans on?” Mickey called out from their bedroom. “I don’t want to make us late for that open house, but these suckers are on their last legs.” Ray put the dish he was holding back in the sink and walked back to find his elephantine girlfriend struggling to pull a pair of circus tent-like jeans up legs that were as big around as his waist. Mickey might not have the title yet, but she already looked like a top superheavyweight in his eyes…
  24. ((Hey folks! Hard to believe it's been almost a year since this story was published, eh? Well, we're updating with one more chapter--a little bonus story to celebrate Ashton winning the Best Supporting Female at the Fishery Awards on DA. I hope that you enjoy this little 'what if' look about what Ashton's life might have been like without Nicole around!)) ASHTON - THE ROUNDEST RUGBY PLAYER We will never truly know how different our lives would be if we took another path. How would his career have gone if he had stayed with his company? What would my life be like if I made that move to the West Coast? There are any number of directions we could have taken, with some of the most innocuous-seeming actions leading to massive changes. Such was the case for Ashton Michaels of the Cape Fear Bruins, as we take a look at a world where Nicole Valdez did not attend CFU right away… *** It had been another banner night for the Bruins: they had all but torn down a condo after a victory over the Fayetteville Falcons, leaving nothing but wreckage in their wake. A number of sleeping partygoers littered the condo, some dozing in furniture while most just crashed on the floor among the empty bottles and cups. Bollywood, the outside center, rested her head on the lap of the hulking fly half, T-Rex, while Wiki, the know-it-all left wing, occupied a coffee table. The most comfortable of all had to be the team captain, Ashton Michaels, and not just because she slept in a recliner. One would be forgiven for not recognizing Ashton as the same girl that became MVP her freshman year, as the three years since had been quite the experience for her. The senior girl that sprawled out in the recliner was roughly three times her starting weight when she first entered Cape Fear University, all her athletic muscle and build buried under a thick blanket of plush flab. Three chins bunched up between her around her neck as she dozed, and meatball hands rested atop breasts as big as bowling balls. Her massive gut rose up and down with each breath, filling up almost all of her lap and making a crop top out of her otherwise massive shirt. And even though the recliner was extra-wide, her hips and ass were still squeezed in between the leathery arms. If there was any wonder how a girl could go from fighting fit to a ball of lard in four years, they only needed to look around Ashton to understand why. Her lips were stained with frosting from the many, many slices of cakes she ate the night before, her fingers were sticky with glaze, and her body was surrounded by enough crumbs to make a dozen cupcakes. As talented as Ashton was on the pitch, her real talent—one she had no idea of until she got to CFU—was eating more than humanly possible, which her beloved teammates had only fostered over the years. To understand how the once lean and limber girl got to be so round and plodding, we must look back at when she first arrived at the coastal school. Ashton could have been a theater major for how expertly she played the part of the cool and composed freshman, but the truth was that her composure was as solid as a house of cards. She tried to pass herself off as too cool for school with a fresh tattoo, but anyone who took the time to know her knew that she was a bundle of nerves waiting to come unraveled—lofty expectations from parents have a way of doing that. Perhaps that was why she indulged as much as she did when she was invited to lunch by the captain of the rugby team, Bricktop; after all, she would hate to disappoint the senior girl by not partaking in her generosity. Her nerves were not helped by the presence of a particularly cute brunette by the name of Clover, who only seemed to get friendlier the more Ashton ate. By the time she finally called it quits, Ashton had consumed twice as much as she normally did, though she still found room to share a sundae with Clover. That was the start of a very slippery slope for the Number 8, as Ashton soon began to stress eat her anxiety away, thanks in part to no longer being under the watchful eye of her parents. Late nights spent wrapping up assignments were spent with a box of Chinese food and an energy drink, test day mornings were spent with a big plate of cafeteria food breakfast, and parties with the Bruins were spent with a beer in one hand and pizza in the other. Ashton still kept up a regular exercise regiment, but there was only so much working out she could do before the effects of such a diet began to show. It started with a little pooch in her belly that only vanished when she sucked in her stomach, but it soon traveled to other parts of her body. Bras became tight, pants became more difficult to pull up, and her jersey clung to her like a second skin, especially after practices left her hot and sticky. Ashton tried to deny it, but when she stepped on the scale during her first week back home for fall break, she had no choice but to accept that she had gained the Freshman 15 in just two months on campus. Things were not helped by the increasingly chummy and flirty Clover, who never shied away from getting Ashton more food. Sure, Ashton was no stranger to getting touchy-feely, but she turned to putty whenever Clover bumped against her while dancing or hugged her after a good practice. It was no surprise that the two started going out, nor was it any shocker that Ashton put on even more weight when they became a couple. She had heard rumors that Clover was something of a chubby chaser, especially when she got a little frisky with a plump business major during a party, but she never imagined that she would be one of those chubby girls. Dates with Clover always involved food: movie theater trips filled with popcorn, hot dogs, and soda; nights at the club sprinkled with food truck stops; lazy beach days spent gulping down ice cream and pizza. Even nights spent in left Ashton with a full belly, as Clover could always convince her to eat more takeout than she could handle. With such a stuffed schedule, it was little wonder that Ashton’s clothes started pinching by November, which only caused her to eat more to calm her nerves about her rising weight. Her mother had already given her a sideways glance when she came home with a few extra pounds; what would she say when Ashton walked in the door with a legit ** belly? Sure enough, Thanksgiving Break was spent getting a lecture on healthy eating habits and leaner portions on Turkey Day, and Winter Break was little better. Ashton tried to follow the rules and stick to the rigid rules her parents set in place, but she still caved and got a cheeseburger late one Saturday night. Five months of eating plenty had left her with a monstrous appetite, and even though she was rising up in dress sizes and taking more space, Ashton could not deny her hunger for long. If there was any consolation to packing on the pounds, it was that Clover knew how to celebrate them. She greeted her growing girlfriend after the holidays with plenty of kisses for her plump belly, nibbling at her muffin top and even dipping her tongue into Ashton’s belly button. It was enough to make the starving girl forget all about her promise to lose weight that semester, and she ate enough pizza that evening to put herself into a coma. Even though she tried to deny it, there was a growing part of her mind that told Ashton to let go and surrender to being a fat ass. It was around this time that Ashton got herself a nickname, one that took some getting used to. While she was known as Larkspur in public, thanks to her prominent tattoo, Clover came up with a little name to be used in private—which then became her nickname behind closed doors. After all, it was no secret that Ashton had been plumping up at a rapid rate over the last semester and a half, so the name ‘Fat Ash’ just seemed appropriate. Ashton pouted when she first heard it used by her teammates, since she refused to believe that she was the ‘fat one’ among the players, but at least they meant it in fun. Despite her protestations, Fat Ash proved herself worthy of that title by ditching her diet and eating at every opportunity. She was growing so fast that she was one of three players that had to size up their uniforms, and the only one to have to do it twice before the end of the school year. Every week saw the numbers of the scale creep a little higher and her hips swell out a little further, but Ashton could not help herself. How was she expected to stay thin when she had a playful partner that catered to her every whim and teammates that were more than happy to let her indulge? So long as her talent on the field did not wane, she figured it was not a problem. Unfortunately, she did not factor her parents and the three months she would spend with them for the summer. Ashton tried her best to curtail her overindulgent appetite, but her patience wore thin with the constant badgering and demands to lose weight, so much so that she left the house in June to spend the remainder of her summer with her grandparents. There, she was safe from scorn and judgment, and she returned to school plumper than when she left thanks to plenty of home cooking. As she entered into her second year, Ashton felt surer of herself and at ease with her growing body, even indulging Clover in some bedroom play that mixed food and foreplay into a delicious blend. The need to eat her feelings away diminished with time, even though her classes were tougher than they had been last year and she was bumped up to a greater role on the team. She was still not convinced that she was destined to be fat, regardless of what her girlfriend told her, but at least she was okay with putting on weight. The rugby season also had a strong start, as one of the new faces on the team proved to be a more than welcome addition—Nicole Valdez. While they were the same age, Nicole had taken a year off before coming to Cape Fear in order to complete some missing high school credits through community college. The diminutive girl was ready to make up for lost time though, and she proved herself a valuable asset on the pitch thanks to her indomitable spirit and relentless drive. Sharp as a tack and more than able to give as good as she got, she was a perfect fit for the Bruins and got on great with everyone, especially Ashton. She was soon known as Wrecking Ball, as she was an absolute machine on the pitch and plowed through any opposition, size difference be damned. The second semester was certainly better than the first, but it was not without its low points—the lowest being the deterioration of Ashton and Clover’s relationship. It was not an explosive finale—which was for the better, given that they were still on the same team—but more a drifting apart as they wanted other things. Clover was as noncommittal as they came, always holding back whenever Ashton wanted to move further; Ashton, on the other hand, wanted to have more than someone to play around with. When winter arrived and Clover still refused to move into an apartment with her plump and well-fed girlfriend, that was the nail in the coffin. It made for a gloomy start to the holidays, but it was not long before Ashton moved on, thanks in part to Nicole. Nicole was loud and loved to be heard, but she proved to be a more than capable listener whenever Ashton needed someone to talk to. The two hung out with each other more often, and unlike the Bacchanalian parties of the Bruins or Clover’s need to incorporate food into everything, these were just simple affairs. Binge watching the latest hit series, playing video games (despite Ashton never quite getting the hang of the controls), and working on their assignments together did a great deal for helping Ashton unwind. For the first time in a long time, she did not feel like she had to do her best or stuff her face to win someone’s approval—she could just be herself. And that meant embracing her role as Fat Ash, no longer afraid to love her increasingly chubby body and enjoying every bite of food that was given to her. This was good, as a new team tradition formed when a drunken Wiki spout off about offering food to Ashton’s belly for good luck—which proved itself in the team’s eyes after Wiki won the scoring try at the end of the next game. Soon, every girl on the team was feeding Ashton at parties, whether for luck in upcoming games or other fields of life, and the growing Fat Ash happily ate them all. Over the course of the semester, Ashton found herself growing both in physical terms and emotional terms, as she developed feelings for her new bestie in Nicole. Her general anxieties had weakened over time, but she still felt butterflies in her stomach whenever Nicole did things like bump hips with her or, in one particularly heart-stopping moment, fell asleep on her shoulder. After what had happened with Clover, it was difficult for Ashton to make the first move with Nicole, but thankfully, she did not have to. That was why she was relieved and over the moon when the stocky girl gave her a sudden kiss on the night before their state tournament. Just like that, they became the power couple of the Bruins, with the two leading the team to new heights over the course of their junior year. As Ashton continued to expand and bulk up, she had to change positions on the team so she could focus on power over agility; Nicole made up for her deficits by nimbly flying across the field like a bloodthirsty Tinkerbell. Off the pitch, they ran a tight ship and ensured that the Bruins stayed on top without letting their debauchery get in the way of their schoolwork or athletics—though the parties they threw became the stuff of legend. Ashton, by that point, knew that she was never going to be thin again and accepted it, but she had no idea the heights she would reach with Nicole’s help. While her new lover hid her love of pudge well, Nicole made it abundantly clear that she adored Ashton’s blubbery body every chance she had. On their first date after their sophomore state tournament, Nicole helped Ashton scarf down a meal for four and spent the rest of the night rewarding her with the best sex of her life. She rewarded each new inch with a loving caress and a tender nibble, stroked along rotund thighs and cheeks, and suckled on Ashton’s breasts with such intensity that she swore she saw milk once. Before she knew it, Ashton hit 300 pounds in the spring of her junior year, and where that number might have terrified her once, she felt nothing but bliss thanks to the cake Nicole had prepared for her and the night of tender loving that followed. Looking in the mirror and seeing even a hint of extra padding on her body once inspired fear, but thanks to the efforts of her team and two very skilled fat admirers, Ashton looked on her girth with pride. All that wondrously thick and pliable blubber, those decadently soft curves, and her achingly tender thighs were all signs of her embracing a gloriously hedonistic life, free of the confines her parents had forced on her. From then on, there was no stopping her gain; not even the stern glares from her parents whenever Ashton deigned them worthy of a visit could sway her. She was living the Fat Ash lifestyle through and through, enjoying herself in ways she never thought she could before. Parties became decadent feasts that tested her very limits, and Nicole always kept the cupboards full of her lardy lover’s favorite treats. Perhaps that was why the stocky girl had put on a few extra pounds herself over the last few months, which were mouth-wateringly tantalizing for the greedy Ashton. Which brings us back to the night after their game against the Falcons, with Ashton so wide that she was pinched in by a recliner and looking like she was a giant marshmallow. When it became clear that she was in no condition to play anymore but could not give up her gluttonous ways even if she tried, Ashton retired as active team captain and passed the torch to Nicole. She still remained a part of the team in an assistant role, though her primary objective was granting the team good luck with a full belly. It was certainly not what she envisioned for herself when she first joined the team, but Ashton would not have it any other way. Her peaceful slumber was broken when the heavenly aroma of a chicken biscuit graced her nostrils, causing her to snort and sniffle like a truffle hog. Ashton licked her plump lips and murmured, “Izzat Bojangles I smell?” “You smell correct, my dear,” Nicole cooed from her side. “I ran out and picked up a huge order for everyone, but I wanted to make sure you got a dozen biscuits for yourself.” Ashton’s eyes lazily creaked open and she drank in the sight of her adorable girlfriend crouching beside her, a box of biscuit sandwiches in hand. She licked her lips and reached a fat hand out to stroke Nicole’s cheek as she hummed, “You’re too good to me, you know that?” Nicole giggled and kissed her lover’s sausage fingers. “Only because you deserve the best, my Fat Ash. Now, dig in: you put on quite a show last night, eating an entire wedding cake on your own, but a growing girl needs to have her breakfast.” “Si, mi amor,” Ashton murmured as she took a bite of the first biscuit. Her eyelids fluttered at the kick of spice in the chicken and the buttery crust on the biscuit, and she wolfed it down without a second thought. This was followed by another, and another, and another, until she had consumed the full dozen all on her own. While the tubby team leader ate enough breakfast for four people, Nicole rubbed gentle circles into her girlfriend’s belly. The sheer, gothic girth of the pillowy mass never failed to impress her, and she kneaded it like fine dough as Ashton filled it with hundreds more calories. Ashton was by no means skinny when they first met, but Nicole had no idea she would grow this much in just a few short years. It was mesmerizing, awe-inspiring, and more than a little hot. “Wonder what it would feel like to be this big,” Nicole mused, massaging her own ** belly.
  25. Hey everyone, just wanted to provide a quick update on this. It's been a hot minute since we've had an update around here, and that's on me just not really feeling that drive right now. I hate to leave things hanging, especially since this series just turned 2 last month, but I'm feeling pretty burnt out on it. I do want to return to this at some point, but for the time being, consider this on indefinite hiatus. There will be more capes and more cuisines, just when I'm feeling up to the task.
×
×
  • Create New...

Important Information

We have placed cookies on your device to help make this website better. You can adjust your cookie settings, otherwise we'll assume you're okay to continue.