James Duke
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Cynthia and Melony's Physical Renaissance
🕑 Added 2023-03-12 23:42:19 +0000 UTCTags: Weight gain, Sweat/light slob (Cynthia), Stomach noises (Cynthia) Strongfat (Melony), Personality change, Romantic suggestion
--- A League Champion Makes for a Bad House Guest ---
“My goodness, this room is a disaster.” Melony shook her head as she walked into her spare bedroom. Piles of clothes dotted the room along with stacks of books and random assortments of plates. It was fair to say that the guest bedroom looked like a herd of Swinubs and Piloswine had made their nests here. It was a disaster beyond compare. Melony couldn’t remember the last time that she had seen a room in such condition. What made everything worse was that Melony had invited the disaster upon the room herself. Months ago she had been approached by none other than the Sinnoh region’s champion, Cynthia. It had seemed like a dream come true. An accomplished trainer and archaeologist staying at her humble house? Melony could not have refused even if she had wanted to. Besides, at the time, Cynthia seemed like the perfect woman. She was polite, well spoken, and ravishingly beautiful. It was rare that someone made such an impact on her, especially someone so young. Melony had eagerly accepted the invitation, allowing Cynthia to begin her indefinite stay at the house. The trouble started shortly thereafter.
It’s often hard to know someone upon first meeting them and many things can be left out of a first impression. While Cynthia did indeed possess all of the traits that Melony admired, she had just as many that proved to be difficult to work with. Cynthia was incredibly messy. She left plates of food scattered around the house, half eaten donuts and cakes resting upon them. Rather than putting her clothes in a bin, Cynthia would simply let them lay where they fell or were set. Many, many times Melony had been forced to track the blonde down and return a jacket or shirt that had been left on the chair. While Cynthia was magnanimous about it, she would forget that the incident even took place and continue on her disorderly way. If she was being generous, Melony would say that it came from a place of absent mindedness rather than pure laziness. However, it did not sit well with Melony in any event. A house guest was supposed to keep things in order. With the amount of constant tidying she had to do, Melony was beginning to get frustrated with Cynthia.
In her consternation, Melony had decided to attack the problem at the source. She was going to clean Cynthia’s room. Years spent rearing five children had taught Melony many lessons about cleanliness and managing certain behaviors. Rather than yell, something that Cynthia probably would have been resistant to anyway, Melony was going to pull the ultimate “mom” card: guilt. Children and adults alike can’t help but fall victim to a well laid guilt trip and Melony was a master. With her big eyes, tender demeanor, warm voice and soft appearance she was more than able to lay on guilt as thick as a covering of fresh snow. However, for the attack to be super effective she first had to lay the groundwork. With a freshly cleaned room, Cynthia would be shocked and put into a state of surprise. From there, Melony just needed to lean on her about how much time and energy she had put into cleaning. It was going to be the perfect trap. Melony smiled to herself despite standing in the disaster zone of a room. She only had to begin cleaning.
The process of trying to straighten and clean Cynthia’s room quickly became more arduous than Melony intended. Messes within messes permeated the room. Having to straighten one area required her to create further mess in another. Short of getting some capable Pokemon to burn the mess away, Melony had little idea of how she was going to handle it all. Further, she started to feel frustrated. The mess was beyond anything that she had encountered with her children. While not perfect, they had never so thoroughly thrashed a room before. Finding it hard to keep her usual cheery attitude, aggressive feelings mounted as she tried to work her way through the piles of clothes, trash, and food refuse. “My goodness! She is such a mess.” She tried to put her feelings out in her usual motherly, cheery way but found her words steering in a negative direction. “How can a woman so successful be such a slob?” Melony exclaimed as she passed by Cynthia’s desk, artifacts from Cynthia’s explorations littered around and used as paper weights. "If I had her energy and youth ,then this would be much easier. She could be the biggest, fattest, laziest slob in the world and I would still be able to keep up!” Melony let her emotions out freely. She was so focused on herself that she missed one of the artifacts on the desk glowing.
Extreme words and feelings leave a resonance on the world. In dimensions and worlds people cannot see, the power of emotion and belief can be stronger than any man made science. Moreover, there are beings that can pick up on such power and desires. The artifact which glowed silently was one such. It heard Melony’s strange wish, however innocently uttered, and was attuned to it. Weaving its strange magic, it began to bend the universe to its will. Few things are impossible when using the power of more mystical pokemon and tools of the ancients. The statue glowed ever brighter, picking up psychic intensity from the very air. Finally, having reached the power necessary to interact with Melony’s psychic desire, it beamed its power upwards and lanced ethereal energy into the world. Then, its power spent for the moment, it went back to its strange slumber. Melony continued to work, ignorant of anything transpiring.
---
Across town, Cynthia strolled the streets of Circhester. She had just finished a lovely meal at Bob’s Your Uncle, the grandest restaurant in town, and needed to work off the meal with some easy walking. Cynthia’s flowing blonde hair rolled behind her, swaying like curtains in the light breeze. She had eaten a good deal, partaking especially in the dessert menu. While Cynthia loved food of any kind, she was especially weak to sweets. She had been that way since she was young, taking up any piece of candy that came her way. The burst of sugar and rush of energy had been intoxicating to a young Cynthia. She would often sneak candy bars out of the house, splitting it between her and Gible. The practice had continued long into adulthood, solidifying herself as a certified foodie. She would often eat far beyond her limits, eager to sample as many things as possible. Such was the case today.
“I can’t imagine eating another bite.” Cynthia said, putting a hand to her stomach. Even through her normal and slimming black attire a noticeable potbelly could be seen. She walked beside Garchomp. “Well. . .maybe if they had let me have another bite of cake. Ah, that was so well made.” Garchomp rolled her eyes as Cynthia spoke, well used to her trainer’s unstoppable appetite. Even now, despite her stomach pushing against her pants and making her shirt ride up, she was ready for another round. Truly, when it came to food and Pokemon training, Cynthia was unstoppable. Yet, she was not immune from the laws of the cosmos. As she walked, the same beam of light that had come from the artifact in her room back at Melony’s fell upon her. She felt nothing, saw nothing but bathed in the light nonetheless. Some pokemon more attuned to the psychic and cosmos paid attention, looking on as the strange phenomenon completed. The light left as quickly as it had come without Cynthia ever knowing. She continued down the street, holding her stomach. The fullness was becoming more noticeable.
Cynthia felt her stomach press outwards, growing ever more tight. “Oh, I suppose that I had more to eat than I thought.” She grimaced, putting a hand to her round tummy. Her usual black shirt was looking more and more like poorly sized maternity clothes. While the blonde champion had certainly enjoyed herself at her lunch, she had definitely not eaten this much. The magic from the artifact was working upon her body, infusing her with power that could not be quantified by man’s understanding. While Pokemon were studied, classified, and categorized in the modern world, there was still an intense mystery to them. The forces that some, especially psychic types, had access to were able to fundamentally rewrite the way the world worked. Such was the case with Cynthia. Taking Melony’s word to heart, the artifact spewed forth frothing, churning, primal magic. Cynthia could hardly process what was happening to her, she saw her stomach bloat out. It rose like dough, pouring forward into the hard boundary of her shirt. She panted, blowing air out of puffed cheeks in order to compensate for the pressure building within her. Truly, she felt that her stomach was close to bursting. Her shirt rode up further, exposing more of her pale stomach to the world. Her limited human senses did not allow her to fully process what was happening as her place in the universe was rewritten. She only knew that she was getting more and more full. The climax was coming swiftly, there was little room left in her shirt. Cynthia felt her breathing become restricted. Finally, the button on her pants popped off and. . .
“BBBWWUUUUURRRRRRAAAAAPPPP.” The belch exploded out of Cynthia, strong and loud enough to rock the decorative flags hanging on the building that she was passing by. Her stomach shrank as the pressure relieved itself though her belch. “Oh. . .wow. . .that was. . .'' Cynthia, mortified and embarrassed, tried to hide herself from the people around her. She considered blaming the expulsion of gas on Garchomp, but decided that less attention was better. She picked up her steps, feeling her still bloated belly bouncing along. Continuing to appease her nervousness, she turned and spoke to Garchomp. “I don’t knnnnoOOOWRRRRPPP. . .” She stopped dead as another belch broke from her mouth. Her pokemon, faithful and stalwart, cocked his head in confusion as he tried to figure out what his master was doing. While Garchomp was used to the occasional indulgence or lapse in judgment from Cynthia, he had never seen such flagrantly boorish behavior. Cynthia, turning beet red, lengthened her stride as much as possible. She wanted to get out of the eye of the public. She had a growing fear that she was going to end up in some sleazy gossip column. The potential future headlines were plastered across her mind. Cynthia went so far as to tuck her body behind Garchomp, using his large size to shield her from any unwanted photos. Quickly, she rounded a corner and out of the public square.
While Cynthia could hide from the people of Circhester, pushing the embarrassment from her mind, she could not hide from the forces of mysticism currently running havoc in her body. Something had happened to her and Melony because of the activation of the artifact. Something strange. Something that would take days or weeks to play itself out. While totally unaware of what had taken place, Melony and Cynthia would quickly face aspects of their minds and bodies that they could not comprehend.
--- Morning After Changes ---
The sun dawned high and bright over Circhester, its rays shining down on the snowy, sleepy town. Yet, Melony had long been out of bed. The snow-haired mother had woken up early that day, unable to sleep. Yet, it was the good kind of restlessness. An energy had taken root in Melony, one that she had not felt in many years. . .if ever. It was a youthful feeling, an optimism and invincibility that only someone younger than 30 could grasp. Melony’s feet had touched the soft carpet of her bedroom and they had not stopped moving since. Her first task had been a shower. It was a steaming and meditative dip under the running water. Much of Circhester’s water came from glacier melt and run off mixed with hot springs. It was invigorating even under normal circumstances, but it seemed even more so as it ran down Melony’s soft, naked curves that morning in the shower.
Melony had always loved her figure. Despite children, age, and just a little bit of comfort eating she had always felt that her body had stayed in top notch shape. She had large, well formed breasts. So many of her friends complained about the shape or sag of theirs post-childbirth, but Melony disagreed. The gym leader kept her thoughts to herself, afraid of appearing conceited, but she had felt that her string of pregnancies had actually made her breasts better. As she lathered a soapy sponge across her full chest, she realized just how correct she was. Melony’s mammaries were supple, huge, but still rather perky. They filled her hands, forming a bucket of sorts for the soapy water to collect in. She was almost sad to let them drop, despite enjoying the heavy bounces that took place after.
Next on her cleaning tour was her middle. There was a little less pertness here, with an obvious potbelly forming. Yet, the pale woman could not hate it either. Perhaps it had to do with living in such a snowy climate. A bit of padding was more than welcome in the bitter cold of the winter. Really, Melony’s only consideration was that her stomach was starting to droop a smidge. It was the sort of concern that any woman approaching 40 would have. “A few crunches should have you back in order.” She smiled, grabbing her tummy with both hands and jiggling it. She dropped it and went about finishing her shower. The last area of note was her butt. Much like her breasts, Melony treasured her peach-shaped booty. Throughout her time in the shower she could feel it pressing lovingly into the sliding door of the shower, giving small kisses to the glass. She soaped it up, enjoying the heft and jiggle. Soap spread over her large rump, running down the soft expanses. Melony smiled, taking a small moment to treasure her body. However, there was a nagging question that ran through her mind. Through her careful inspection, she almost felt like her various curves had gotten bigger.
---
“Uuuggh. . .what hit me last night?” Cynthia moaned as she stirred in her bed. Cynthia had never felt so exhausted and strung out in her entire life. She rolled under the covers and blankets of her bed, drained of the ability to even lift them. The Sinnoh League champion almost felt hungover, remembering the morning after claiming the title of Champion. This, somehow was even worse. The covers moved and shifted as she crawled like a Wurmple to the edge of the bed. The covers opened only so far as to show her steel-gray irises, the rest of her remained buried in the warm cocoon. Gggglluuurrggg. The noise filled the room, issuing from her middle. Almost scared, Cynthia ducked back under the covers. Another series of stomach churns and gurgles poured forth. She curled into a ball, letting the noises wash over her.
“Oooohhhh. . .what is happening?” She finally peaked out at again her room, simply trying to get her bearings. She was surprised to find that it was fairly tidy, most of the mess either swept away entirely or shoved in semi-ordered piles around the room. The only thing truly out of place were her clothes from yesterday, which she had shrugged out of in a rush once she had gotten home. Following her embarrassing belch, Cynthia had rushed home to hide herself under the covers of her bed. From there she had eventually fallen asleep in a stupor.
She retracted her eyes for a moment, fishing around under the covers for Garchomp’s Pokeball. Cynthia was dressed in little more than white and sky-blue striped panties. The rest of her Pokeballs were scattered on the ground around her clothes, but Garchomp held a place of love and honor. A flash of light filled the room and the draconic Pokemon appeared in the room. It looked around, working through mild confusion to find its master. “Garchomp. . .” Cynthia’s voice was weak as she spoke from her blanket fortress. The Pokemon toddled over, scratching its head as it observed the current situation. The blanket opened, her hawklike eyes appearing again. “Could you please,” She would have said more, but an audible rumble of hunger rolled through her. “Fetch me some food,” she said meekly. Garchomp nodded, taking a second to rub its head against the blanket. From inside her blankets, Cynthia gave a wan smile. “If you wouldn’t mind finding something greasy. I could use a treat.” Cynthia put hands around her naked stomach. GGGMMMUURRN. Her stomach again burbled. Cynthia shuddered at the noise. Her weakness stole her attention enough that she didn’t realize how pudgy her tummy was looking. “Thank you, Garchomp.” Cynthia said, hearing the large Pokemon pad out of the room.
She did not have long to wait. Garchomp returned with leftovers of some fried tenders. The fried strips of meat were dripping with sauce and wrapped in a fluffy breading. Furthering the deliciousness of the meal, Garchomp had brought two slices of cake. They were the remnants of a binge that Cynthia had partaken in several days hence. She had stowed the food away, always preferring to go out rather than cook for herself or reheat leftovers. Garchomp nosed the food towards the pile of blankets, happy that it had been able to fulfill a task for its master. The coverings opened for a quick second, sucking in the plates of food. “Mmmpgh. . .ooohhh. . .scho good. . . mmppgh.” Cynthia spoke through full, chipmunk cheeks. Food filled her mouth. Despite being cold and at least a day old, the food tasted amazing. Better than it rightly should have. The Sinnoh Champion sucked the food down, practically inhaling every morsel, not caring if it made her any stronger or alleviated her current illness. Rather, she ate simply because it tasted good. Each bite filled her a little more, allowing her soft potbelly to expand. By the end, she looked almost pregnant.
“UUUUURRRP. . .thank you, Garchomp,” Cynthia said, passing out the now emptied plates. The Pokemon sighed, scooping up the plates as best it could before returning to its ball. Cynthia returned to resting, her fingers massaging her stomach.
--- Friendly Invitations ---
“Helloooo, Cynthia!” Melony said as she skipped into the room. Her breasts led the way, eagerly bobbing up and down. There was a life and energy to the generous orbs that almost made it seem like they had a mind of their own. They pressed their way outwards, forcing the ever too small cups of Melony’s bra into her iconic sweatshirt. Always big, they had truly seen new life over the past two weeks; growing with abandon. Key elements of the rest of her body had followed suit. Her butt was just as perky as her boobs, sporting a width and depth that had not been there several days ago. The pale skinned beauty almost looked like she had been shoving pillows under her clothing. Her various attributes had not only grown but looked overly puffy, as if inflated. Cynthia’s own pudge was overly affected by gravity, her soft stomach sloping down her front. “How is my favorite house guest doing today?” Melony giggled, hardly able to keep her bubbly nature in check. The world seemed so wonderful and she was at the center of it, gathering and redistributing its energies. Cynthia, meanwhile, was simply trying to survive.
The champion had begun to feel marginally better, recovering slowly from what had ailed her over the previous two weeks. Yet, the road to recovery had been both slow and long. It was like her energy and stamina had disappeared. For the first week she had been able to do little more than stay in bed, eat, and read. Her work and research had been left to gather dust as she tried to heal herself and regain her flagging energy. Perhaps her most curious symptom had been her appetite. Rather than dissipating, it had seemingly increased. The already voracious woman seemed to need twice the amount of food she ate normally. Unlike most sick people, she could eat food of any kind and with no limitations. Her body, however, seemed to crave sweets more than anything else. Delivered by Melony or Garchomp, the blonde woman would eat bonbons and chocolates all day long with no ill effects. Doctors both in and out of town could not sufficiently diagnose her with anything. They left scratching their heads and advising Melony to simply keep an eye on the exhausted woman. Melony, her frustration gone with the flood of new energy, was more than happy to agree.
“Hello, Melony.” Cynthia mumbled, spooning some cereal into her mouth. Its taste was heightened by the sugar that the blonde had spooned in, eager to treat her taste buds. “Starting to. . .” mmmgrrrlluuuk. Cynthia frowned as her stomach interrupted her. The gurglings and rumblings of her tummy had only increased over the weeks of her recovery. They seemed to grow in tandem with her hunger, in both sound level and ferocity. The only treatment was for Cynthia to pour more food into her body, stuffing it so full that it could not hope to make noise. While that worked, it had also led to thickening consequences. Cynthia was looking far rounder these days. Her stomach toed the line between soft and stuffed. It would round out perfectly when she plied it with food, but then would slowly return to a squishy mass as the food digested. Yet, it was not just her stomach that was growing. Her thighs, currently nestled comfortably in fluffy sweatpants, were looking far chunkier. Their shapely, well sculpted nature was failing; also softening into pillows like her stomach. Many of her cute outfits had become unwearable, forcing the trainer into comfy clothing. She had yet to mind, however, given her lethargic condition. “Starting to recover,” Cynthia said as she spooned in a few more bites of extra frosted cereal. “Just wanting to get my. . .uuurrrrpp. . .energy back.” She belched, putting a hand on her stomach. Her fingers patted the growing mass tenderly.
“You know, a good walk always helps!” Melony offered, smiling. “I was actually just about to take one. Need to get out and stretch a little.” The gym leader did a small jog in place, complete with high knees which bounced against her own stomach. Melony had been matching her houseguest meal for meal. Her body craved meat and carbs, anything to further power and enliven itself. Yet, despite her tenfold increase in activity, Melony had not been able to work off her calories. Fat had been gathering across her body and not in just the usual places. In addition to her breasts and butt, her stomach had taken on a noticeable jutting roundness. “I’d be happy to go slow for you, anything to help my favorite guest!” She stopped jogging in order to lean across the table and pinch Cynthia’s chubby cheek.
“Oh. . .uuurrrp. . .that’s ok.” Cynthia responded, knowing she would rather die than try to walk out of the house. The couch in the other room was calling her name. She had an order of donuts on the way over and was eagerly waiting to eat them while watching some television. She tried to think of an excuse. Melony, while cheery, had been getting a little insistent lately. Guilt and lack of plausible excuses had started to take their toll. Cynthia was afraid that she would cave, terrified that she would have to give up her currently comfy lifestyle. Thankfully, her stomach provided an excuse for her. GGGLLURRRRRKK. The gurgle was loud enough that Melony had to stare at Cynthia’s stomach as if it had been speaking directly to her. “Still trying to get over whatever got me,” She said, hardly pleased that she was being forced to rely on her stomach gurgles for excuses.
“Totally understand!” Melony said, standing up from the table. “Invitation is always open. This momma could teach you a thing or two!” The busty, snow haired mother went so far as to flex. Cynthia was surprised to see small knots of muscle rising up from her biceps.
--- Occupant Nosies ---
Whumph. “Eeerggggg. . .okay. . .you got this!” Melony said as she hoisted the barbell above her head. The thick metal bar rose slowly, plates clanging on either side as her muscles struggled to compensate and balance against gravity. Melony held the bar for a moment at its peak, happily looking at herself in the mirror she had propped up. For a woman approaching 40, she was looking pretty good. Her arms flexed and rippled with noticeable muscle, sporting a tone and pump that hadn’t existed even when she was younger. Her body shook under the weight of the heavy plates, but held the bar with relative ease. The small shakes made her breasts lurch back and forth, threatening to jump out of her sports bra. Likewise, as she stretched, the tops of her buttcheeks began to roll out of her leggings. However, her stomach might have jiggled the most. It hung naked from her abdomen, rolling out and over the lip of her leggings. Rather than simply be content to live as an adorable potbelly, Melony’s middle had grown into a real gut. Yet, unlike tummies belonging to certain other trainers in the house, it remained perfectly spherical. Held in place by forming and growing muscle, her gut was almost perfectly taut. “Anddd. . .UUUGGH. . .down!” Melony, exhibiting stellar control of the weight, slowly brought the bar down to her chest.
“Oh! Why do these things have to be so cold!” Melony exclaimed, seemingly ignorant of the fact that she was holding nearly 200 pounds on her chest. The bar lay atop her large, sweat drenched bosom. Her breasts warped under the bar, doing their best to envelop the thick iron rod. Her pink nipples tensed and became diamond hard, adjusting to the cold radiating from the power bar. Her basement was not especially well insulated and the Circhester cold was adept at getting into any house. Melony had come down on a whim, looking for a particular piece of house decor. She instead found Gordie’s old weight set. An odd temptation came over her, and eagerness to try her hand at a little weight lifting. She had seen other ladies, usually much younger than her, try it at the gym. It did not look especially hard. At first, she had started with only the bar, pressing the well worn metal above her head while driving her leg back. That had been too easy. Melony was a gym leader, an increasingly active one at that, she needed to truly be challenged. With electricity running through her body she let the heavy metal drop, sending a large thud resounding through her house.
Proudly, Melony walked around in small semi-circles. Her heart pounded as adrenaline rocketed through her system. She took deep breaths, making her voluminous chest rise and fall. Unable to sufficiently handle her excitement, Melony slapped her thighs and stomach. The slabs of muscle comprising her thighs tightened at her command, showing their sculpted ridges and pits. As big around as fence posts and strong enough to crush a watermelon, Melony’s thighs were truly becoming works of art. Feeling the need to test them, Melony squatted and jumped. Her legs tensed for a moment, swelling visibly as her muscles bulged. Her arms mimicked her legs, tightening into v-shapes packed with power. Finally, as she collected all the strength running through her body, Melony launched herself into the air. Her stomach bounced up before being held in place by the rush of wind. It was now so round and big that she almost looked permanently stuffed. It bore no blemishes nor did it have any hint of softening into rolls. It was a generator, a conduit from which food was turned into energy, muscle, or a small reserve of fat. The blonde gym leader rose high enough to smack the tall ceiling above her before falling back down. She immediately jumped again, flinging her imposing arms out behind her. She could feel her glutes tighten with each lift off, revealing the muscle which lay hidden below the thick wall of booty-blubber. Melony jumped several more times, trying to put her lower body through its paces.
“Yes! Oh gosh, I feel unstoppable!” she cried, falling into an exhausted heap onto the floor. While tired for the moment, She knew her body would quickly recover, ready for more punishment and training.
---
“BBBBLUUURRRUUUP. . .” The belch rocketed through the upper floors of Melony’s house. Cynthia stirred slowly, wondering what time it was. Her clock, the alarm now permanently silenced, read that it was nearly noon. The blonde hadn’t planned on waking up nearly so early. It had been a late night filled with snacking and reruns of various cooking shows. Cynthia had planned on letting herself rest that day, and maybe getting a start around the late afternoon. Yet, she had been awakened by a consistent thumping and clanging. She couldn’t identify what it was, but it penetrated the very walls of the house. It seemed to come from the basement, the sound issuing up from the deepest reaches. The Champion tried to roll over and put a pillow over her head. Cynthia had to fight against her own body to complete the motion. Her stomach wanted to lay as it had, upset at the idea of having to move. “Ohhh, come on. . .” Cynthia moaned, having to rock her body slightly before being able to turn over. Even after moving, the task was not quite complete.
“When did this. . .uuggh. . .get so small?” Cynthia murmured sleepily, trying to tug at the waistband of her sleeping pants. In the move from one side of the bed to the other, the pants had slipped down, exposing her growing buttcheeks. The sleepy woman tugged and pulled, trying to hike her gray sleepwear over her bubbly rear. Her arms rubbed against her side folds, doughy extensions of her gut. Cynthia had certainly not slowed down her rush to morbid obesity. Rather, each day she seemed to increase the speed and velocity of her gain. While Melony had also steadily been gaining weight, she at least had intense bouts of activity to help mitigate the constant surge of calories. Cynthia, on the other hand, simply let all of the food passing through her mouth turn to fat. Gobs of fat now bulged and rolled on her body. These rolls impeded practically every activity that was not sitting on the couch or eating. Even now, after a minute’s worth of tugging, Cynthia was no closer to covering her large rear. She slapped and tugged at her buttocks, trying to reach around her doughy body. Yet, for some reason, her pants would not rise.
Frustrated, Cynthia scooted to the edge of the bed and swung her legs over. She sat a moment, still trying to wake herself fully. It was quite a look for the champion. She was disheveled and almost naked due to how ill fitting her clothes were. Her stomach flopped out freely, having rolled her cream colored shirt up and under her small breasts. Meanwhile, her asscheeks hung exposed on the bed; pants still not able to be pulled up. Cynthia’s hair was a mess, strands flying in all directions. She looked like she had been asleep for months, rather than a few hours. To make the scene complete, her stomach gave a loud GGGLLLUURRRRK, indicating its desire to be properly fed. “Oh. . .uuurrrrp. . .hush,” Cynthia belched and patted her stomach. The fat woman leaned over and reached a hand in her night stand, grabbing a half eaten chocolate bar. MMMRRRLLUUUK. Cynthia’s stomach was at least pleased by that choice. She ate slowly, rubbing her stomach to help soothe it. Her stomach moved like molasses under her fingers. It was a thick mass of fat, given always to gurgling in bouts of hunger or almost painful fullness. Cynthia had done such a good job of fattening her stomach up that it had started to divide into two rolls. Cynthia finished her candy bar, wiping away the chocolate staining her mouth with a forearm which was starting to take on the consistency of rising dough. In the darkness of her messy room, the transgression against good manners did not seem so important.
After the small satiating of her belly, Cynthia heaved herself upwards. She had to push herself up stomach first, then allow the rest of her flabby self to fall into place. Her stomach, dominant as always, gurgled its displeasure at having to move. MMMRRRRUUNNNLLMM. Cynthia simply rolled her eyes and started to waddle. Now free of the bed and her swamp of bedsheets, the fat woman was able to pull her sweatpants up. Hiking them up with a chubby hand, she finally brought them up and over her panties and asscheeks. She settled her clothes into place with a lazy scratch. Her rump was looking almost as plump and heavy as her stomach, trailing just behind the immense sack of fat strapped to her abdomen. “BBBLLUUURRRPP. . .let’s just get you fed,” Cynthia said, belching loud enough that the sound traveled down to the basement. She paused for a moment, surprised by her own ability.
---
Melony paused her weight lifting long enough to cast a curious eye to the ceiling. She had heard the rumbling belch. The guttural explosion had rolled through the house. Knowing exactly where the noise came from, she wondered if Cynthia might be interested in some food.
--- Lunch Out ---
Time continued to pass at the house, each woman following the path that their bodies had set out for them. Despite their diverging lifestyles, Melony and Cynthia’s paths always intersected when it came to food. “I think you are going to LOOOVVE this place.” Melony said as she practically skipped down the brick streets towards Bob’s Your Uncle, the most famous steak restaurant in town.She was blissfully unaware that Cynthia had been placing nearly constant to-go orders from there since her weighty spiral had begun. The blonde had sampled everything on the menu thrice over, even creating her own dishes from combinations of food. Melony herself rarely went out, preferring instead to cook her own meals. Years of being a top notch homemaker combined with renewed zeal to create never ending banquets and smorgasbords. Melony had to eat to keep her muscular and, ever so slightly, chubby body fueled and growing. Pounds of steak, eggs, rice, and other stereotypical athlete foods. She gorged on them relentlessly, filling herself to the brim. Yet, she had begun to feel like that wasn’t enough. The concept of the “dirty bulk” had been growing in her mind. The gym trainer turned unique physical specimen had found the desire for raw calories and more base forms of food growing on her mind. Her housemate was now a permanent resident of that headspace.
“Yeah. . .uuuhff. . .shoul-d. . .be. . .great. . .” Cynthia huffed and panted behind Melony, wondering when walking had become such a chore. She struggled along, plodding back and forth on legs that had long since forgotten what extended motion felt like. “How. . .uggh. . .far. . .again?” She strained herself to talk, her throat parched from lack of soda. This was the most that the Poke-pig had been out of the house in several months, and it was immediately obvious. Cynthia had already been struggling to manage herself at Melony’s home, failing to find clothes that fit or properly order and tidy her appearance up. Now, exposed to the “harsh” elements of Circhester’s atmosphere, she was becoming an even bigger mess. Despite the temperature being well below 50 degrees fahrenheit, the mammoth blonde was sweating profusely. Sweat ran in rivulets down her body, dipping playfully in and out of her rolls. Her clothes had grown too sodden to even soak them up anymore. Cynthia wore a simple long sleeve, gray shirt that had obvious sweat stains. Dark gray patches had formed and now ran like waterfalls from under her armpits and between her still-small breasts. Mirroring her shirt, there was a deep line of sweat that ran between buttcheeks. Of course, sweat stains might have been preferable considering the other fashion faux pas on display.
A broad, multi-tiered stomach laid bare to the people of Circhester. It fell, pancake like, out from under Cynthia’s shirt. The warm, sweat-marinated fold flopped up and down. A smaller cousin rested above it, sliding back and forth as she waddled along. There were holes in her shirt from where her love handles burst the seams. The slobby champion had tugged her shirt just a bit too hard, forcing it over rolls that refused to be contained. Much like her sweat stains, Cynthia’s lower half acted as a twin for her upper half. She wore simple fabric shorts, the kind most people would sleep in but only as a last resort. They were as dull and gray as her top and as illsized. Her sloppy buttocks, dimpled like the face of the moon, swarmed the poor fabric in an attempt at freedom. As her butt pulled the cheap fabric further and further between her crack, the League Champion’s butt would be allowed to billow out of the top. Anyone walking behind Cynthia for a length of time could give a generous and accurate accounting of the shape, size, and propensity for jiggling of her ass. She might have tried to tidy her clothes, had she not been more concerned with simply staying in motion.
“Itsss. . .gotta. . .be. . huuh. . .close?” Cynthia wheezed again, feeling further stitches popping out of place on her shirt.
Melony, sensing her friend’s desire to quit, spun and power walked back to her. The two could not have been more physically different, save for the amount of raw space they took up. Melony had the stature and build of an industrial vehicle, but the demeanor and movements of a cheerleader. She was a ballistic missile of energy, but bent only towards motherly ends. The pavement shuddered under her footsteps, the aged brick not having much of a chance of standing up to new-age, magically enhanced muscle. “Coooomme on, Cynthia! You’re so close now. Just a couple more steps.” Cynthia gasped in response, her red and sweaty face hidden by thick strands of messy hair. “Ohhh, come on, you!” Melony’s teasing was pure and innocent, the kind meant to spur someone into action. “Miss League Champion can’t walk a couple blocks now?” Melony threw up bulging, rippling arms that ended in surprisingly delicate fingers. “Take my hands, I’ll get you there.” She smiled, no hint of judgment entering her face despite how her comments might have been taken. Her struggling friend, desperate for any lifeline, pawed and clutched at the snowy woman’s strong hands. They met in the middle, with Melony’s lightly calloused hands meeting Cynthia’s never-seen-work-before paws. Smiling, the mature, 350 pound woman led her nearly 500 pound friend the final distance to the restaurant.
---
“Mmmpgghp. . .oohhmpgh. . . yuuussch. . .UUURRLLP.” Cynthia ate like she was making love to the burger, or perhaps, herself. Either way, she put on quite the display for the restaurant. It was a fat pile of meat, with several patties stacked one on top of the other in a dizzying tower. She needed two hands to even hope to hold it. In this moment of culinary ecstasy, if Cynthia wished for anything, it was for the ability to unhinge her jaw. She wanted to fit all of the burger in at one time, to truly feel the swirl of meat, grease, cheese, and other toppings. She was hunched down, eating like a particularly wild Pokemon. Her doughy shoulders rising up as her plush biceps came dangerously close to hitting the table’s edge. “Uuuuuuuggh. . .why is thisch. . .bbllluurrrpp. . .scho good!” She moaned aloud, causing an elderly couple to look over. They soon after changed their seats. The slobby blonde was oblivious through it all, working her way through the food with the sort of gusto that only a true glutton could master. She took another bite of her food, shoving her face into the meat-stack.
“Oh my! I think we will have to get you another!” Melony said, surprised at how fast her enormous companion was working her way through her dish. Melony herself was only half way through her set of steaks. Of the three that she had ordered, she had only made it through half of the first. The other two would meet their end, but in due course. Melony was finding it much more fun to help her slobby friend than satisfy her own cravings. There would be time enough for filling her own calorie tanker, for the moment she could spend a little time doting on Cynthia. “Maybe two more? I don’t know if you could handle three.” She mused, trying to flag the waiter down by shaking her spotless napkin. It was like a flag attached to a redwood tree.
Cynthia looked up at the promise of more food, stars filling her eyes. “Reeaaally? Melony that would be. . .” GGGLLLRRRUUUKKK. Cynthia’s happy yet boisterous stomach gurgle answered for her. The older woman simply giggled, happy to enjoy some time out with her deep fried friend. Cynthia shook and wobbled as she ate, throwing her entire body into the act. Her massive ass jiggled atop her chair. Bob’s Your Uncle was not unaware of the needs of their huskier patrons, but Cynthia might have graduated to another league. The chair she was currently sitting in was woefully small. The small square of wood and cushion was buried under a sweaty avalanche of ass meat. Her stomach worked to push her away from the table. She practically had to stretch, jutting her rear out more in the process. A pair of pale buttcheeks with a very tired looking set of panites wedged between shook nakedly; the shorts meant to contain them being sucked underneath her thighs with each lurch forward.
Melony took it all in with rose tinted glasses. A strange sense of optimism and benevolence took her as she watched her friend hoggishly devour the food before her. Since her physical renaissance, Melony had felt utterly untouchable. Always a sweetheart, her caring side had been sent into overdrive. Sins of the past had been forgotten, utterly washed away. She knew that Cynthia lived like an Emboar or a Grumpig, but that mattered so much less now. Before, it was a problem because of the energy that Melony had to expend to chase her wayward friend down. Now, rather than drawing from a limited pool of energy, she had an everlasting wellspring of passion. The mother simply could not be stopped. She needed challenges and things to throw her might against. Cynthia’s current lifestyle seemed to offer nothing but challenges. The walking, eating, belching pigsty needed every bit of help that could be offered to her. “Say, Cynthia, do you mind if I ask a question?” Melony ventured, still waiting for the waiter to join them again.
“YeeeaaAAARRRUUUPPPPP,” Cynthia belched the word out, leaning back in her chair. She tossed the remaining hunk of meat back onto the table, it landed with a wet plop. Grease and secret sauce splattered across the plate. She leaned back in her seat, truly testing the durability of the chair. She fondled her gut rolls, putting thick hands in and around her canyon where her stomach folds met. “Whatssch. . .BBBLLLUUURRUUPPP. . .up?” She asked nonchalantly, as if the way she behaved was totally normal. The patrons scooting their chairs away felt otherwise.
“Weeeelll, it’s just that, I noticed you changing.” Melony talked as if she was still the same person she had been. She spoke between bites of her own steaks, wolfing them down to keep her protein intake high. Her arms, now so chiseled that the blocky sinews could be seen individually, bulged with the simple feeding motions. Melony had still dressed as she did before, but her sporty clothing was starting to look worn and threadbare. One move of her titanic arms stretched the spandex into a nearly see-through state. Her watermelon sized thighs worked similarly on her leggings. “And thought you might need a little help.” Melony smiled, a bit of juice from the last piece of steak running down the side of her mouth. She dabbed at it with a piece of cloth, her arms again making her spandex top creak and threaten to shred in a hundred different places. “I've got a lot more time and energy now, I wouldn’t mind giving you a little nudge now and again. Just until you were back on your feet.” Melony spoke as if the blonde had a minor injury, instead of like her friend had totally unended and rearranged her lifestyle.
“Oh. . .uuh. . .I don’t know. . .'' Cynthia said, some small vestige of her old personality resurfacing for a moment. Dimly, she recalled days when she was not a total layabout and slob. She had sailed through life so easily, using her skill alone. The Pokemon world had bowed and shook at her passing. Beautiful, talented, skilled in multiple domains, Cynthia had possessed almost otherworldly abilities when compared with even other gym leaders and champions. Yet, was she still that woman? Certainly, when considering physical stature and behavior, she wasn’t. She had let almost all aspects of her life slide into nothingness without so much as an attempt to save herself. Cynthia had diminished on a scale that was hard to believe. Although, as her food muddled brain thought, there was little guilt in it. She put a finger to her plump lips, her other hand striving to reach her buttcheeks and pick at her deeply wedged panties. No thoughts of guilt, remorse, or condemnation came to her mind. She simply was who she was, the same as she had been an ultra successful Champion a year ago. “What kind of help?” She finally asked.
Melony was delighted by the question. The table scooted as she threw her body forward to grab at Cynthia’s doughy forearms. Melony’s heavy chest and stomach flopped onto the table, as her thighs wound around the legs of her chair with anaconda strength. “Suuuuper small, you won’t even notice me!” She tugged the fatter woman forward. Cynthia realized that, despite the hundreds of pounds she had put on, Melony’s titanic strength could handle her easily. The blonde could probably even hoist Cynthia above her head, maybe even without breaking a sweat. It was both scary and intimately comforting to come to that realization. Cynthia’s lazy mind flashed with the idea of being cared for by the muscular woman. Days spent immersed in eating and watching television as Melony worried about cooking for her and making sure her appearance was in order. Cynthia tried not to salivate over the idea. Consciously, she thought about how fun it would be to let her growing laziness run its full course, to not even put up the pretense of activity.
“I love you, Cynthia, but you just seem like you need a little nudge here or there.” Melony said, sweetly tilting her head. She squeezed Cynthia’s hands, passing a little caring energy between their palms. Melony was far from ignorant of the tasks she was signing herself up for. On the contrary, she was excited for them. Her blonde housemate was the only person that could truly give her a challenge anymore. Melony’s strength and energy had thoroughly conquered and vanquished every other concern she had in her life. Yet Cynthia, with her constant indulgences, inconsistent hygiene, and habitual messiness, provided nothing but challenges. It was a dream come true for the overachieving mother. “What do you say?” Melony asked, soft eyes pleading.
Cynthia broke away from Melony’s hold and ran a hand through her messy hair. She wanted to make it look like she was truly considering the opportunity. “Oooh, okay.” The blonde mess smiled. Melony’s squeal was cut off as the ex-champion held up a plump finger, once more revealing the pit stains under her arms. “But it has to be non-intrusive. I still want to run my own life.” Melony nodded with excited seriousness and Cynthia inwardly congratulated herself on a lie well told. Neither woman was aware of how they had played the other.
--- Full Circle ---
Melony swept as Cynthia snored. Bent over the small broom, the muscled mother worked at her task. It did not even enter her mind how silly she must look, a massive mound of muscle and fat grasping a slender piece of wood and straw. Melony knew she could snap the broom easily, simply gripping it too firmly would splinter the wooden shaft. Further, she could break a score of them by putting them in the crook of her arm and flexing, but her energy was not destructive in nature. Rather, Melony knew that the strength she wielded was for other things. Namely, it was for taking care of Cynthia. Melony had been sweeping and cleaning for the better part of an hour and had made good headway against the piles of plates, discarded clothes, and other refuse scattered around the room. It was impressive how Cynthia could destroy a room, simply passing through seemed to leave a wake of disorder and mess. The overmuscled, overfed mother was elated at the challenge it presented. She was partly Cynthia’s muscle-maid and partly her schedule keeper. She cast an eye over at the massive woman, currently snoring in bed.
Cynthia was swaddled in blankets and her own fat, warmed to the point of a light sweat. She had opted for sleeping naked at this point. A chaotic mess of rolls and fat spread out under a plethora of blankets. Cynthia was propped up by a field of pillows, each trying to shoulder the weight of the obese woman and provide more comfort to her. Weight had settled on her harder than ever, blimping her up to an almost unbelievable degree. She had a round face complete with sagging cheeks and a second chin which gobbled up any freespace. Her lips were now pressed into a permanent pout by her cheeks. Certainly an image of relentless indulgence, she was also an icon of serenity as she lay in bed. Few things troubled her now. Thanks to her mental shift and Melony’s help, Cynthia was free from all stresses and concerns. The bed squealed as she turned. A large belch and several seconds of lip-smacks signaled to Melony that the blonde was awake and ready to start the day.
“Heeellllooooo,” Melony said as she glided over, moving with a grace that would seem impossible given how heavy and bulky her frame was now. It was hard to imagine that a woman who could bend railroad steel over her meaty shoulders could still move like a dancer. Melony squatted next to the bed, the combined weight of her and Cynthia would have spelled its doom. All the same, the floor around the bed sagged and warped noticeably as the two women came in contact with each other. “Good morning!” Melony said, ignoring that it was past noon already. An arm that would put a Rillaboom to shame stroked blonde, messy, and greasy hair. Cynthia had become as lax in her hygiene as she had her room cleaning. Without Melony’s attention Cynthia might have utterly melted into a pile of fat, sweat, and food stains. Even as it stood, she was halfway there. “I have some breakfast cooking for you downstairs, should be done as soon as we get you a shower.” Melony looked angelic as she slowly pulled back the covers, revealing Cynthia’s naked body to the cool air of the room..
“That. . .hhhhaaaaawwww. . .sounds wonderful.” The former champion yawned, flabby arms stretching out into the air. Cynthia practically glowed from the sweat that coated her body. Her stomach rolls, both the size of truck tires, heaved and retracted as she yawned. Melony made a mental note of the ice cream sandwich wrappers which were tucked between her gut folds and love handles, remnants of last night’s final binge.
BBBLLLRRRRUUUKKK.
As always, Cynthia’s stomach made its presence and its opinions known. “What if we skip the shower? Just for today?” Cynthia asked, wanting to skirt around her most minimal of responsibilities.
“No can do! We have to get you cleaned up.” Melony leaned over, planting a soft kiss on Cynthia’s cheek. “Can’t have a Messy-Tessy as a roommate.”
Cynthia might have argued, but was far too lazy. These days it was just easier to go with the flow. She would have her shower and then the rewards that came after. Besides, one per week wasn’t such a huge imposition. “Fine. . .but it ought to be short.” She huffed, struggling to hold her doughy arms out for Melony to grab and begin the process of tugging and rolling her out of bed.
“Someone is feeling a little bossy today.” Melony winked, in too good of a mood to care about a little sass. Few things bothered her these days. She lived in perpetual bliss and the calm that came with endorphin release. It was like a perpetual post-workout high. That being said, she was not above a little banter. “Better be careful, or else I’m grabbing some of your food!” She winked, tormenting Cynthia just a little. It was not a threat that the fatter woman wanted to test, the muscled mommy was almost as big of an eater as she was.
---
Steam curled and flooded around the bathroom. It was a clean, purifying essence; unlike the smoggy, sweltering sweat cloud that built up around Cynthia’s bulk. The two even seemed to clash as the massive woman thudded her way into the bathroom. Heated, soapy steam fought with hazy puffs of body sweat within the confines of the bathroom. The blonde plodded forward, her stomach lurching side to side. Melony came just behind, helping to stabilize Cynthia; though the stout sweetheart was completely hidden behind a wall of fat. No part of Cynthia was left untouched or slim. Her legs were pillars of dimpled fat, rubbing and smearing against each other. Meanwhile, her bifurcated gut trailed down well past her thighs and knocked against her knees. Cynthia was so heavy that she had to consciously focus on putting one foot before the other. She licked her lips due to the strain, eyes intent upon the shower. “Wwwhhooo. . .Scho. . .far. . .” She puffed, arms held out to for uneasy balance. She lurched almost drunkenly. Her naked body slapped audibly, either against itself or Melony’s own. The pair slowly made their way into the small shower.
Cynthia stood with her arms planted on the tile walls, legs spread to help with managing her weight. Water cascaded down her body, slowly siphoning off some of the sweat and grease that had built up. While she did not care about her appearance, there was still a therapeutic aspect to the running water. This was only heightened when Melony applied the soap and soft cloth. “Okay, one shower massage coming up,” Melony whispered the words, still not totally accustomed to this particular routine. The two round, heavy women pressed against each other; having no other option. Melony’s humongous breasts, now truly the size of watermelons, fit perfectly in the curve of Cyntia’s back. The twin globes of heaving milk and fat played and fraternized with the myriad back-rolls. Fluffy, well lathered soap soon started to coat Cynthia’s front half, applied by strong and knowledgeable hands. In her rush to slobdom, the blonde had forgotten the power of a soft touch and how to truly manipulate a woman’s body. Melony, despite being built like a truck, had lost none of that knowledge.
“So heavy. . .” Melony tossed the appraisal out as she lifted one of Cynthia’s gut folds. The rolls of fat bunched up all the way to her breasts, which were still leagues behind Melony’s mammaries. Cynthia suppressed a shudder as she felt Melony’s nipples poking her back. While Melony’s muscles were impressive, her breasts were truly legendary. Cleavage was the one thing, skinny or fat, the universe had not blessed Cynthia with. Granted, every other part of her had expanded tenfold. “I could use this for training.” Melony continued speaking and her tour of Cynthia’s body. She moved her wash cloth in slow, wide circles around Cynthia’s turgid gut. It was like trying to lift a bag of sand or semi-wettened concrete. Cythia’s fat would yield, but only after a lot of physical manipulation. It was an intensive, caring process to make sure that every fold and secret crevice was reached. It took minutes for Melony to finish the front and move onto Cynthia’s voluminous backside. Contending with long strands of blonde hair, Melony scrubbed and massaged her obese friend. One yoga ball sized buttcheek was polished to a mirror sheen, with the other following suit shortly after.
When it was all said and done, Cynthia was presented to the bathroom as a new woman. Shining and squeaky clean, her massive body drained water onto the tile. Melony, also sodden from the pouring water, trailed after with a towel. She worked to put the finishing touches of cleanliness on her friend. While the fat was there to stay, the sweat and ancillary bits of grime came and went.
“See! Now don’t you feel lovely?” Melony asked, working to towel the two of them off.
“Well. . .maybe just a little.” Cynthia had to admit. Her stomach, for once, was in silent agreement.
“Good! Now lets get you dressed and fed!” To further make her point, Melony snapped a towel at Cynthia’s naked ass. Both women fell to giggles and laughter.
---
“Thisch. . .oooohh. . .BBBLUURAAPPPP. . . isch heaf-en!” Cynthia sprayed the words out through full and dripping cheeks. She fell back to eating, devouring what might have been the sloppiest sandwich that had ever been created. It was so long that the end of it fell onto the table still. She hauled it up slowly, letting it slide between her breasts. It drained crumbs, grease, and sauce onto her shirt. Patches and stains that would never be removed were forming all over the gray material. Yet, the blonde poured ahead anyway. Mere hours after her calming, cleansing shower she was already putting dents in her hygiene. She was sat at the head of the dinner table, eating a meal which had lasted the better part of an hour. “Needsch. . .schome. . .drink. . .BBBLLUURRRPP.” Cynthia called, hardly stopping in her destructive eating tour. She longed for some sweet soda to wash it all down with. Her gluttonous excitement built, causing sweat to pour out of her. Her hair once again began to droop and uncurl, pulled down by the weight of sweat. Cynthia stopped eating only to rearrange her fat ass on the several chairs which held her up tenuously. Pawing at her exposed thong with thick fingers.
“Plenty of soda coming up!” Melony skipped into the room, surveying the scene before her. Plates of all sizes had built up on the table as Cynthia worked to fill her belly and undo the earlier cleaning. At the center of it all was the obese woman, 700 pounds of non stop gluttony. “Now, try not chug it all in one go.” Melony said, putting a gallon container of sugary liquid down at Cynthia’s right hand. “No need to give yourself a tummy ache.” She reached under sagging biceps to pat the heaving gut which lay partially on the table. “I’ve got a lot more food coming and I need you to eat it.” Melony’s other hand petted Cynthia’s head. The blonde leaned into the massage, resting her head between the bountiful breasts presented to her. The moment passed quickly, however, and the two returned to their respective tasks. It was Melony’s job to provide the food, cater to Cynthia’s every whim, and clean up after. Likewise, it was Cynthia’s responsibility to constantly provide Melony with more work to do. The pair formed an adorably huge, endlessly strange circuit of energy. Neither would have it any other way. With a belch that shook the floorboards, Cynthia kept eating.
