Rock N Roll Weight Gain

Chapter 12

Chrissie took a quick shower, washing her face silently, letting out more gas. She then got dressed in a big oversized Black Sabbath t-shirt – not even daring to try to put on a bra – and sweatpants. She sat down in bed and put on some eyeliner and lipstick, proceeding to brush her hair. She looked presentable, she thought, Ritchie usually said she looked beautiful when she looked like that. Then the doorbell rang, and she gasped excitedly, and with great effort she rose to her feet, the bed creaking terribly. She looked at it for a second, Ritchie's father had built that king-size bed himself, and yet it seemed bound to break because she was gaining like a cow, she thought.

The order was of two family sized pizzas. Her mouth was watering with the smell alone, and then she went over to the couch and turned on the TV, barely watching it, her full attention belonging to the pepperoni covered greasy pies. Soon enough she was huffing and puffing, having forgotten to breathe while munching savagely, proceeding to chug on a bottle of soda. When she finished the first pizza, rather quickly, she burped loudly, and grunted because her stomach still felt really full. She tried and forced a big loud fart, and that helped a little.

"Huff..." she was breathing heavily with her mouth open, "a little too much, to order two, I think... puff... but, BWOOORP! Oh god... Hiccup... I can't leave this here."

PFFFFRT! She farted some more, telling herself that there was enough space to eat the next pizza. PFRAAAT. Another, and she closed her eyes, totally disgusted with herself. PFRRRT.

"OK... Hiccup. I'll... wait a little bit..." she said, a little tired, and soon she was asleep.

When Ritchie got home he was tired, but excited to show Chrissie the new Iron Maiden record he had gotten her. He opened the door carefully, because he had two bags full of food he had brought from Stu's, and a tape he had rented of a new movie for them to watch. He prepared to say something like "babe, I'm home", but he soon unavoidably saw the enormous young woman sleeping on the couch. Looking at the living room he saw an empty pizza box fallen on the floor, and another on top of the coffee table, still closed. On the counter there was the empty plastic tray of the birthday cake.

"She's eating too much..." he said under his breath. That was an understatement. Sprawled on the couch, with her lard mountain of a belly completely exposed, she seemed under an undisturbable sleep, her round face resting on her second chin, her half-lipsticked mouth open, drooling and snoring loudly. Her marshmallow-looking arms made her arms rested to her wide sides, slightly touching her spacious love-handles. Her legs were almost entirely apart, her wide-ranging thighs looking like flesh barrels, bumpy with cellulite. The sofa, barely in sight, looked like all its cushions had been crushed by a machine. Fuck, she looked hot, Ritchie thought to himself. He was now fully aware that he liked it, and it was fairly confusing, it worried as much as it aroused him.

It had been a while since she went near a scale, but she had to be around 600lbs now. Or, and the thought made him shiver, more. He was to blame, because he fed her everything she wanted and then some, but she was not helping herself, barely leaving the house and sleeping extravagantly. And although he was tired that all his salary went to buying her food and new clothes (which were expensive and hard to find because of her size), he loved her terribly, unable to help himself when spoiling her. She kept on snoring while he put everything down and cleaned up the trash around her, then he caressed her round cheeks, finally waking her up.

"Oh! Jeez, you startled me," she said, and proceeded to snore and stretch her pillowy arms, "hi, babe."

Ritchie hugged her wide waistline, his face buried in her boobs while his whole body seemed pressed against her huge gut.

"Happy birthday, Chrissie. I brought you food, but you've already–"

GRRROWL. Her stomach sounded loudly. She blushed, terribly embarrassed.

He laughed loudly and got up, telling her she could get started on the burgers while he would take a shower. Just when she had bitten into a mouthful of greasy burger, she remembered something she had to tell him.

"Ritchie... I... gulp – oof..." she swallowed, "I think I... I broke the toilet."

The boy was silent, looking half puzzled, but he nodded, and told her not to worry about it. Looking at it closely the thing was not broken, nor was unusable as she thought, but it had been slightly displaced by her weight, and felt loose from the floor. He sighed, the house was getting too small for her, but there was no way he could get a new one with the small salary he was making.

"Is it broken? I'll get up and help you," she said from the living room.

"No, it's nothing really, I think my dad had something to fix it. I'll go look in the shed."