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*Hello! I write wrestling-related female weight gain stories on DeviantArt. Apropos of nothing, I thought I'd share the latest one here as well. If you like what you read or have any critiques/ideas/suggestions, feel free to leave a comment, and find more short stories and multi-part fiction over at https://www.deviantart.com/laddercoins . Thanks! It had started as a fun couples activity, a way for Renee to share her passion with her husband without it feeling like a one-way street. Of course, Jon Moxley could only do things the Jon Moxley way, and Renee had repeatedly found herself shaking her head as he added each ingredient “until it felt right.” The first few creations out of ‘café de Moxley’ then, as one might expect, could generously be described as ‘edible’; even Jon’s own hardened palette wasn’t quite up to more than a mouthful. Renee had privately expected this, and didn’t necessarily mind her apparent failure to teach her husband. It was nice to have something she was so much better at than he was. She would encourage him though, and Jon really seemed to make an effort to get better. The first moment came when Jon emerged from their kitchen one day. Renee couldn’t hide a smile at his appearance; shirtless and grizzled, with a fresh scar on his forehead from a recent match, but wearing her luminous pink apron and oven glove. “I think these ones might actually be good.” He said, and Renee was surprised that her notoriously low-key husband seemed so excited. “Oh really? Did you follow the recipe on this one?” She asked with a smirk, eyeing the cupcakes on the platter in his hand. “Yeah, kinda…I lost track of some of the ingredients, but…just trust me.” His excitement was quite adorable, so Renee reached out and picked a cake from the platter. She could tell Jon had gone a little overboard with the sugar (among a few other things) as soon as she sunk her teeth into it, but damn if it didn’t still taste incredible. “Holy…crap.” Jon almost looked nervous. “I mean…they taste amazing.” Jon visibly celebrated at Renee’s assessment, “I’m guessing you didn’t measure the sugar when you were adding it?” Jon nodded guiltily. “Well… probably shouldn’t have more than one, but these are great babe, well done.” “Awesome!” Jon exclaimed, before seemingly becoming aware of himself, “Uhh, I’d better go clean up.” “Yeah, you better.” Renee chuckled, imagining the state her husbands wild methods had left their kitchen in. Despite her assessment, she found herself licking her lips and looking at the platter as Jon left the room. In truth, it had tasted amazing, something about the combination of excesses creating a delicious, if indulgent creation. By the evening, the whole platter was empty. If Jon noticed, he didn’t mention it, but throughout the afternoon, Renee had found herself looking again towards the cupcakes that were left and steadily consuming each one, almost shivering with the brief sugar rush each brought on. She guiltily tugged at her top even as her face sat in a satisfied smile, but as Jon hadn’t noticed her burst of gluttony, he didn’t seem to clock her bloated stomach. What he did notice was the sounds of enjoyment that had accompanied every bite. The next morning, Renee had woken up alone in bed. This wasn’t strange; Jon often went running in the hills around sunrise, and Renee’s various roles allowed her plenty of chance to sleep in. She was pleasantly surprised, however, when he suddenly appeared, shirtless and carrying a tray. “I tried out your breakfast pancake recipe.” He grinned sheepishly, bringing the tray to her with uncharacteristic nervousness. “You added bacon.” She said, noticing the dark shards embedded in the thick pancakes, as well as the extra strips bordering the stack. “Yeah, I read that bit at the front where you said about trying stuff out based on what you like personally….I like bacon.” “You’re the cutest.” Renee grinned, accepting her husband’s kiss. She could have stayed in bed for the whole day with how full and satisfied the breakfast had left her, but Renee had jobs to do. Fortunately, most of them let her stay seated, and only showed her on camera from the chest up if they did at all. A light lunch helped ease her bloated stomach, but the salad that she would usually have enjoyed on what was a warm, bright day left her less satisfied than she hoped. So she couldn’t hide her pleasure when Jon arrived back home from training to announce he was going to try another one of her recipes for dinner. “Hungry for stew?” Renee had only enjoyed two of her husband’s creations so far, but she was already developing a keen anticipation whenever he made his way towards the kitchen. And so it followed that she could barely lift herself from their couch that evening, having consumed several bowls of a rich, meaty stew that she could still feel sitting warmly in her stuffed stomach. The flavours had been so intense and incredible, it had never crossed her mind as to the reasons for that richness, nor for the amount she’d eaten. Weak and sleepy from overfeeding, she was still somehow keenly aware that there were leftovers in the fridge, and with Jon flying out overnight for a show, it was all for her…. Six months later, and Renee’s eyes fluttered open on a chilly morning. She loved that her husband was getting to live his dream, travelling all over America and the world to wrestle, but in the years after their marriage, she’d never gotten used to waking up without him next to her. What she was getting used to was her stomach landing in her lap when she sat up. Of course, she was somewhat concerned about gaining enough weight to have a belly that could sit on the tops of her thighs, but any time she zeroed in her middle and poked at the softening mound of flesh growing there, she thought back only to the last of her husbands dishes she’d enjoyed. That morning she’d stepped sleepily onto the scale in their bathroom and looked over her protruding middle to see the number 250 on the LED screen. She tugged her pyjama top down, but even if it hadn’t kept rolling up, it didn’t cover more than half her stomach anyway. Renee hadn’t gotten lazy; she still worked hard at her various projects and travelled to AEW shows when she was needed, but she’d certainly sunk comfortably into a more sedentary lifestyle. She was thankful that she didn’t work for WWE anymore; not that she had hated her time there, but she highly doubted they’d tolerate a ‘talent’ getting so out of shape. With AEW, as long as she was professional and hit her cues, it didn’t matter how tightly her jeans hugged her waist or that she was occasionally out of breath from standing for too long. It had been surprisingly easy to block out the inevitable social media backlash; she’d even gotten a chuckle out a tweet headline reading “Renee continues to ‘Paquette’ on”. The counter-backlash had helped, with body-positive communities fighting much of the battle that she tried to stay out of. If she was honest with herself, however, taking everything that had come with over 100lbs of weight gain in her stride came down to one thing. Renee was simply addicted to rich, high calorie food. She semi-justified it by saying she was actually addicted to her husbands cooking, which was true, but that didn’t explain the days when he hadn’t been able to cook or leave her anything, and she still found herself stuffed to the gills with any number of the local restaurants delivery services. If she ever had a moment of doubt; when popping a button or tearing a seam or catching herself eating straight from the fridge late at night, it was instantly dispelled as she remembered the last dish Jon had set in front of her, or anticipated the next. A year to the day of first coaxing her husband into the kitchen, Renee sat with expectant eagerness at their dinner table. Rubbing her already-full belly, she reached down to undo her pants before smiling as she realised she’d already had to do that after lunch. Leaning back and sliding her hand underneath the waistband, she listened to the chair creak beneath her. In a year, she’d tripled her size, currently sitting happy and hungry at 330lbs. Any noise about her spectacular weight gain faded into background noise almost as soon as it appeared, even when she’d burst a jumpsuit climbing into the ring and had to conduct an interview with her broad, bubbly ass exposed to the fans opposite the hard camera. The pictures had quickly appeared online, the shock pronounced by her underwear wedged between her pale cheeks. Someone of lesser strength of character (or strength of addiction) would have given in, but Renee had finished the segment, waddled backstage and, after politely batting away the many sympathetic if slightly patronising approaches of her colleagues, simply returned to her dressing room and changed into the comfy sweats she travelled in these day. She considered changing into them now, but she knew she’d never get to the bedroom and back before Jon had brought dinner in, and she couldn’t waste a second that could be spent tucking in. When the plate full of steak, steaming buttery vegetables and potatoes was placed in front of her, Renee allowed the briefest moment to plant a kiss on her husband, before loudly and greedily tucking in, pushing a whole potato into her mouth and moaning at the flavour exploding across her tongue. Deep down, she would’ve eaten with her hands if it meant getting more of those flavours into her mouth quicker, but even Renee, with her belly hanging out of pants that no longer closed around it, knew that was maybe too far. Jon was simply smiling to himself as he enjoyed his own meal. Watching his wife enjoy his cooking seemingly made him so happy. Perhaps because it was she who’d taught him, perhaps because she so clearly enjoyed eating everything he served. A short time later, she leant back, stomach even further out of her pants. In all honesty, she was more than satisfied, she was stuffed. But when Jon turned to her with bright eyes and said, “Dessert?”, Renee couldn’t resist. The pie was rich, but despite the thickness of the pastry and the overfilling, Renee was seriously impressed. Or she would have been, if she could think of anything else that lying down for a long time. She’d spent so long eating, it had gotten late, so Jon gladly braced himself to lift his wife from the creaking chair and help her waddle to bed. He took it slow, but even so, her belly sloshed in front of her, the smooth creamy blob sheened with redness from where the skin stretched and strained. Though the pants pinched at her waist, Renee was glad she wore them in this moment, as she felt her thighs squashing into one another and was reminded of the horror she’d discovered named “chub rub”. As she drifted off to sleep, face nestling into her double chin and belly rising high in front of her, a belch escaped her lips. “*nngh* sorry.” “Babe, “ Jon chuckled, elbow propping him up on the pillow as he looked lovingly at his satisfied wife. “You realise how often you burp in your sleep? It’s cool, I love you.” “Sorry I’m so fat too. I can’t help it. The doctor said I was obese, but I can’t help it. None of my clothes fit anymore, but I can’t help it…” She’d begun to pant and wheeze as her concerns ramped up, but Jon planted a long kiss on his wife’s plump cheek. “Babe, I love you.” That was enough, and as Renee drifted off, her last thought was of breakfast the next day. --------------- “Alright, you really need to do something about this.” Renee looked up from the burger in her hand. “No, Brie, we are not having this conversation again!” Brie Danielson shook her head, “What do you mean? How can we not have this conversation again, when you’re sitting there like that?” “What? *ummf* I can’t sit on my own couch now?” “Not when it’s meant to seat three and you fill it on your own! It’s sagging in the middle for goodness sake!” “Okay…..so?” Renee didn’t really have an answer, and was more focused on the cheeseburgers she’d ordered than whatever Brie wanted to talk about. Jon had gone on a tour to Japan for a couple of months. He’d done his best to bake and cook enough that Renee wouldn’t have to go without the food she was so clearly dependent on, but inevitably several weeks worth of food had disappeared in just a few days as Renee, unable to control herself, piled thousands of calories into her stomach. So take-out it was until Jon returned. Of course, it didn’t have that special “je ne sais quoi” that made her husbands food so exciting and addictive, but it tasted good enough and calorie count was almost the same. “So?! Renee, you’re big enough to break your freaking couch!” “You *unnghff* don’t know it was me. This couch is old.” “Oh yeah, you sit there telling me you’re 650lbs and can’t move without help, but the same couch you’ve sat on with no problem for years coincidentally breaks and its just cause its old?” “Yeah, why not? What does my weight have to do with anything?” “Renee, you’re 650lbs! That’s friggin’ enormous! I can barely believe its even you!” Renee rolled her eyes. “I know, I know. You heard this when you were 400lbs, then when you were 500lbs, but what else can I say? You embarrass yourself on TV, then you get taken off TV, but you don’t seem to realise why any of its happening!” “Oh, I know I’m fat.” Renee shrugged her round shoulders as she smacked her lips, clearing them of sauce and burger debris for the next bite, “But if I didn’t have this fat ass, I’d be way more uncomfortably sitting here all day, and if I didn’t have this big belly, I couldn’t eat all the delicious food my husband makes, so…” she shrugged again, and pushed the remaining half of cheeseburger into her mouth. Brie’s mouth hung open in a combination of shock and disgust watching the blonde’s packed cheeks pulsate as Renee chewed happily. Her belly had gotten big, drooping between her legs even tucked into her sweatpants. It was also true AEW had taken her off TV, one week after her final chance to continue doing her job had resulted in her wheezing into the mic before belching into the face of the AEW champion. It had given MJF some more material, but the company had finally accepted they were playing with fire continuing to feature a 600lb women who resembled more a blob of pale dough than a journalist. At least they’d taken the courtesy of writing her off TV, the Outcasts pushing her into a stocked pantry, where she was too distracted by all the food within flabby arms’ reach to notice they were closing and locking the door. And of course, to show her commitment to her character even as she was being written off, by the time they’d opened the pantry door, she was elbow deep in a third bag of chips, torn donut boxes lying at her feet. That had been weeks ago, and her only contact with wrestling had been via Jon telling her about his days at work, until Brie had come over for another attempt at whatever she was trying to do, and found Renee weighing 650lbs and clad in just a grey sports bra and sweatpants, sweating like the metaphorical hog she somewhat resembled. It hadn’t helped that she still had a picture on the wall of her AEW debut, wearing the same tight leather pants she’d torn a few years ago, and now wouldn’t fit over one arm let alone her pillowy legs. Brie had looked like she was ramping up to say something, but at that moment the doorbell sounded. “Oh great, that’ll be the pizza. Would you mind? I’m kinda…set for the night.” Said Renee, gesturing to the couch she was wedged in, and that she knew she’d probably pass out in later. All Brie could do was shake her head and get the door, leaving her host rubbing the thick top roll of her belly in anticipation. ------------------ “Right, she should be over in a few minutes, are you sure you’ll be okay until then?” “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’m sorry you have to do this.” “What?” “Pay to hire someone, just to take care of me.” “Babe, don’t apologise. If you hadn’t insisted I go on the tour, I’d be staying myself.” “I’m not gonna let you miss out on the G1 again just because I’m too fat to take care of myself.” Jon sat down on the slither of space left on the bed and placed his rough hand on his wife’s smooth soft belly. “Renee, you know you don’t talk like that. You think I’d keep cooking for you if I thought anything like you were ‘too fat’?” He slid his mouth into the lopsided smile that melted her, and she returned it, “I just hope I made enough to keep that bottomless pit satisfied.” Jon chuckled, lightly slapping down on the sea of white flesh, which rippled as its owner threw a lazy punch at him. Grabbing the one duffel bag he always travelled with, his pecked his wife on the forehead and headed out the door. Renee sighed, somewhere between contentment and adoration. Since she’d become immobile, Jon had been extra attentive, almost the complete antithesis of his TV character. He’d constantly check on her and spend time in their room, even if she’d rather watch her reality shows than the Terry Funk matches he always suggested. And with his wife in a state of near-constant hunger, he seem to take pleasure in spending hours coming and going from the kitchen, cooking up his special ‘recipes’ (if eyeballing every ingredient could be called a recipe) and then proudly watching Renee gobble them down. All this had left Renee Paquette weighing a round-in-every-sense 1000lbs, resembling in her own mind something like an enormous dumpling with a head of blonde hair on top. Her broad face sat in the cushion of her thick neck; she’d never even realised someone could essentially have a belly roll not be on their belly. Speaking of her belly, it rose out in front of her, rolling softly over her knees like a magma flow. At some point, it had become easier to let it cover her legs and press down upon them than try to spread her thighs wide enough to let it hang inbetween. Her upper arms were thicker than Jon’s waist, and rolls of creamy soft flesh covered her elbows, hung from her forearms and began to swallow her wrists. In some ways it was fortunate she was such a gluttonous pig, because the fat on her hands had stripped them of most of their dexterity, and it was far easier now to simply grab handfuls of whatever was served to her than try and use cutlery or even eat with any kind of control. If she’d ever had any regrets over her unchecked greed, Renee couldn’t recall them. She might have left AEW after some embarrassing incidents, she might have left simply because she didn’t want to work there anymore. She had two loves in her life; her husband, and her husband’s food, and all her abiding and fondest memories of the past few years revolved around them. Quite apart from the interviews, tv shows, books, Renee pondered as she pushed the nearest of Jon’s latest creations into her mouth, her greatest achievement had been teaching her man to cook.