Some dude in the lost story thread commented that he was looking for the story and wanted to finish it. I have one of the waybacks avaliable so yeah if you wanna comment with your deviantart or something so we can communciate quicker that'd be great.

I had actually sent the author the plotline for chapters 4 and 5 as well so yeah itd be cool to see the story finished

yeah its sent

>>2240 (Dead)
Do you have a da to watch?

Wait, you're saying you have an archive of his first three chapters--can you share them? Even without a continuation, it's gotten such rave reviews that I'd love to read it....

I would still like a backup link.

hey, i have the 3 chapters saved too in case you still want it. even saved fungicide12's other story "Genetic Predisposition". not sure if that guy you were talking about finished the story yet but i'd love to know if he ever does or where he'll post it

>>3281
yes please, the original one was never sent from what they said. Would you be so kind as to post it here for everyone's benefit?

~A Gauntlet Thrown Down~


“I think you’ve had enough, dear.” Mrs.Abijai said to her elder daughter, Melsi, who had just begun loading up her plate for the second time. Melsi looked ashamed, tipped the food back into the serving dish, and settled the plate back onto her place at the table. She sighed and looked down at her lap. Melsi was used to her mother’s “concern” but that didn’t mean she liked it. She was a big girl, that much was undeniable. Melsi easily took up the entirety of her seat, her hips bleeding over into empty space. If nothing else, she was a well proportioned fatty though, with her heft and curves falling into the patterns of what would be considered traditionally attractive. She had large, chocolate brown eyes, black hair, and dimples when she smiled. But, as a result of her mother’s constant badgering about her weight, her attributes were all hidden behind layers of teenage angst and self-consciousness that she hadn’t been able to outgrow. . .despite being 27.

“Mom! She’s barely had any though!” Alijiah chimed in harshly. Ali was Melsi’s younger, spitfire sister. She had the same good looking attributes that Melsi had, just not buried under layers of maternally imposed guilt and body consciousness. At 22 Ali was a thin, athletic woman with full hips, bouncing breasts, caramel colored hair, and almond eyes. It was not hard to see that she was the ideal of beauty that Mrs. Abijai had tried to impose on her elder daughter. It was just that Ali had resisted all of Mrs.Abijai’s attempts to instill a sibling rivalry between Ali and Melsi. The two had ended up growing very close, finding a sisterly camaraderie that went beyond what their mother tried to push on them.

“I will tell my oldest what I want, thank you very much! She has been getting plump again and I won’t be buying another set of clothes!” Mrs. Abijai pointed a spoon at her doughy older daughter. Melsi was stuffed tightly into a softly furred sweatsuit, clearly a size too small for the pudgy Iranian. Her tanned stomach poked out slightly, flopping out onto her lap. “I don’t want to see my daughter popping out of her clothes. . .again.” Melsi pulled at her sweatshirt vainly, unable to adequately cover her belly, she had no doubt that her shirt was riding up in back and that her pants were having a hard time covering her voluminous ass. “Do you, Ali?” Mrs. Abijai raised an eyebrow, looking like the cat that caught a particularly juicy canary.

“What I want is for you to leave her alone! It’s not fair that she has to be treated like this. . . just because you have some bullshit idea about what beauty looks like.” Ali pushed her chair back and stood as she yelled. Ali was dressed, as she always was, in provocative, revealing clothes. A tight white t-shirt clung to her tanned skin while her booty was made all the rounder and more appealing by the cutoff jean shorts. Mrs. Abijai, while someone who dressed nicely and conservatively for a 40 something adult, had never had a problem with her younger daughter’s dress so long as her BMI and weight stayed low. Both women had even shared stage time in a number of bikini pageants and modeling shows.

“Uh-huh, you know I’m right.” Mrs. Abijai leaned back in her chair, politely putting her hands down into her own shapely lap. “If there is nothing wrong with your sister’s size, then why aren’t you her weight?” She asked the question, her teeth glistening in a wide smile. Ali tried to respond, finding herself spluttering and spinning in indecision. The younger, thinner sister had never questioned why she tried to maintain her weight so much, why she was OK with her sister being first chubby and now fat but not herself ever going over her usual weight of 110. Mrs. Abijai raised an eyebrow, waiting for her daughter to spit something coherent out. She looked over at Melsi, who had been watching the transpiring argument with rapt attention.


Maybe it was the pressure, maybe it was her genuine thoughts after moments of deep concentration but, whatever the cause, Ali ended up responding “Fine! Maybe I will be her size then!” To the shock of both her mother and her sister. Ali sat back down, consumed with purpose, and began to load up her plate with food. The plate was soon brimming with food, spilling off and over onto the table. Ali drove a spoon into her plate, shoveling the food into her open mouth. She chewed the food quickly before swallowing and washing it down with water. “We’ll just see what you have to say then.” Mrs. Abijai had nothing to say, a mixture of surprise and growing rage filling her body and clamping her lips together. She took her seat, crossing her shapely legs over one another and taking in the scene before her with simmering anger.


Mrs. Abijai had, in her youth, been a bikini model, beauty pageant contender, and part time fitness model. Fat was the enemy and fat people akin to swine or other barnyard filth. She had worked hard to make sure that at least one of her daughters would avoid the pitfalls of modernity and escape from the American ideal of sloth and corpulence. Seeing Ali, her cheeks puffed out with the amount of food in them, eating like one of them was tantamount to seeing her car totaled or her house on fire. Plans, the best laid and well maintained variety, were burning up in front of her. She wanted to scream, to smack the fork out of her hand, and yell at Ali until her willful daughter was forced to see reason. But she held off. This was a moment for calm, rational decisions and not extreme action. Ali could throw her fits now. But that meant little in the grand scheme of things. She would not have the guts to eat herself to her sister’s 280 pounds of disgusting obesity, not by a long shot.

~Sticking to It ~


Melsi watched as her sister poured the remainder of a shake into her mouth, Ali was cleaning the remnants of a large McDonald’s meal from the tray. One of many such cases that had taken place over the weeks since the thinner and younger girl had made her stand. Already the evidence of these meals was beginning to show on Ali’s body. The young Iranian woman sported a noticeable belly. As the semi-melted ice cream poured into her throat, Ali smiled and rubbed her stomach momentarily, looking incredibly pleased with herself. It had taken one double quarter-pounder, two large fries, and a large shake to satiate her growing appetite. In the earliest days of her stuffing crusade, Ali had been close to tears as her stomach was filled to the painful brim. But those had faded with continued practice. She felt like a new woman, one whose limits of stuffing were yet to be truly measured. Melsi had watched it all happen with shock and awe. First for her sister to defend her so vehemently and then for that defense to take such a physical form so quickly. “So, you really plan on going through with this?” Melsi asked, munching on her own order.


“You, uullp, bet! I’m tired of Mom always taking shit to you.” Ali flipped the button on her pants open to let her food baby push its way into prominence. “She’s so mean.” Ali fumed for a second before reaching over and nibbling at a wandering nugget on Melsi’s tray. Despite her turgid gut and overbearing fullness, Ali couldn’t help but make sure that she got every spare morsel of food possible. . .and then some. “It’s also not fair that she gets to use me against you.” Ali laughed before wincing, the excess movement jostling her stuffed stomach painfully. “I’m taking a piece off of the chessboard, I guess.” She huffed and looked out the window, her lips turning up into a bit of pout. Ali had been increasingly sour after the dinner yelling session had taken place. She had always hated the division that sprang between her mother and her older sister, but now that hate had been allowed to bubble to the surface. The wounds were all still fresh and raw, with neither girl really knowing how to handle it.


“You know, I don’t blame you at all. You have always been a great sister.” Melsi reached a hand forward, taking her sister’s hand in hers. While Ali had been getting steadily larger, that plumpness hadn’t yet reached her hands so there was still a contrast between her bony hand and Melsi’s plump one. Melsi squeezed as tenderly as she could, hoping that her sister understood. Melsi held the gesture for as long as she felt comfortable, ignoring that her stomach was encroaching onto the table and probably popping out from underneath the shirt she had on. Ali’s weight gain quest hadn’t meant much for Melsi’s own body, which still languished around the usual 280 mark. Overcome with sisterly emotion, Ali turned back and smiled.


“Thank you, Mel. It really means a lot.” She winked and pulled back her hand. “Now, how about we get back home. I gotta rest this baby.” She pulled up her shirt and put her hands tenderly around her stomach, treating it with as much love and care as she would a child. The two laughed and pushed out of the booth. Ali neglected to button her pants again, instead allowing her stomach to bounce freely. It was obnoxious to have to stuff her stomach back into her pants after a dedicated stomach, the rest of the world could just deal with her showing a little extra skin while she walked back to the car. Her stomach bubbled forth, rocking back and forth between the open valley between the two sides of her open pant-fly. Her shirt, up-sized for convenience and preparation for what was to come, blew loosely in the wind. Sometimes it would lift and expose all of her rounded stomach. Her soft olive skin was already returning to softened goo, letting the forming adipose regain it’s dominion. While her gain was mostly contained to her stomach and hips, it wouldn’t be long until it spread like wildfire over the rest of her body.


The two sisters got into the car, with Ali leaning the passenger seat back as far as was comfortable, stretching her body out to aid digestion. She had weighed herself earlier that morning, trembling with excitement to see where the numbers would roll to that week. With baited breath she watched the needle pause at 144. Shattering her previous svelte 125 and, hopefully, bridging her way towards Melsi’s own bulky 280. Ali sighed as the car slid out of the parking lot and towards home, where she would soon find another meal waiting for her. A meal that, whatever her mother thought, would only push the scale’s number up even further. Ali sighed contentedly with the thought. It felt good knowing that each day and every meal pushed her closer and closer to finally being out of her mother’s games and plots against Mel. Her hands rested just under her food-baby belly, cradling the promise of things to come.

~Progress~

“You know, Mel, it’s a little hard to help you out when you keep getting bigger.” Ali said, her tone sardonic.

“I can’t help it! You keep taking me out for dinner at the greasiest places in town.” Mel said, a mock grimace spreading across her face.” She stepped away from the scale, it’s bright, sanguine arrow holding ominously steady at 300 pounds. Mel knew she should probably feel bad, it was the first time in her pudgy life that she had ever broken the 300 pound barrier. To be honest, it didn’t feel that different from 290 or 285. The extra 15 or 20 pounds that had crept up onto her frame were of little real consequence in her mind. Maybe, were things different, she would feel worse about how her stomach sloped down onto her thighs, which in turn pushed their way against even her biggest pairs of pants and panties. But she didn’t, for the first time in her 28 years of life, Mel was unconcerned about a large jump in weight. The reason for her nonchalance was now taking her turn on the scale.



Ali sighed, giving her sister a lingering look and a shrug as she walked up to the scale. “Okay, I’m just saying that. . .” She paused as she watched the numbers roll their way quickly across the needle. “Holy shit.” Looking down Ali could see, in order of prominence, two large breasts that strained the confines of their bra, a jiggling belly that almost completely blocked the view of her toes, and the number “163” wavering slightly under the glare of the red needle. “Maybe never mind, Mel. I might catch you pretty quickly after all.” She breathed, waiting for her sister to waddle over and check the number herself. Mel did just that, having pulled on her last remaining pair of sweatpants. Ali heard the “zip-zop” of the sweatpants rubbing together under the crushing power of Mel’s thighs. Melsi might now have been able to detect what the added twenty pounds were doing to her, but that didn’t mean that changes weren’t taking place. The bigger Abijai sister had been adopting a decidedly “fat” waddle, her massive thighs taking their toll on her stance and walk.



“Oh my God! Ali!” Mel held her hands over her face over her outburst. She had expected the number to be high, but to have Ali’s weight jump by a margin similar if not exceeding her own gain was shocking. She looked her sister over. Ali still had her long, caramel dyed hair but the rest of her was subtly different. Ali’s face had softened, with the hints of a double chin forming. Her cheeks were fluffier, her dimples deeper as she smiled at the number holding true beneath her pudgy calves and thighs. While the gain had been mostly contained to the traditional areas before, it was now starting to spread all over her body. Ali’s thigh gap had closed forevermore, now forced to bounce and rub off of one another. Her calves where starting to round out as well, with padding starting to form them into chubby mirrors of her thighs. Ali’s middle continued to expand outward, though now sharing its girth more evenly with the rest of her body. Her breasts were becoming even more of a centerpiece, her fat exacerbating the lucky genetics she had inherited from her mother. Melsi poked and exploratory finger into Ali’s doughy side. “I knew you were getting bigger fast, but this is…”


“Exciting!” Ali finished, shirking away from Mel’s touch and playfully slapping her finger aside. “I bet mom is going to flip tonight!” Ali said, her eyes almost dilating with the promise of future conflict with their mother. Mrs. Abijai, true to her cold nature, hadn’t lost her temper yet at Ali but each week brought a decidedly darker tone to their interactions. The proverbial storm clouds were forming on the horizon with each meal. “Now, what to wear to supper.” Ali mused, walking away from her scale and towards her dresser. She needed something that accentuated her chubby body, but not overly so. She didn’t want it to be too obvious that she was trying to goad her mother into open confrontation. Ali mused a moment before selecting some wide legged, leggings with a burgundy, bohemian print. They were perfect, loose enough to show the extra jiggle she was hefting around past her navel these days, her booty having traded a firm shift for a wobbling jiggle.

. . . . . . .

“Smells good, Mom!” Ali said, calling her mother’s attention. She watched proudly as her mother’s eyes narrowed, dragging themselves across her plump body. It took a lot of strength for Ali to not throw a little extra wobble into her stride as she walked past her mother on her way towards her seat. Mel followed after her younger sister, slipping past her mother while her eyes were glued to Ali. Mrs. Abijai took in every detail of Ali’s body. Her daughter, her thinner daughter (her brain venomously exchanging skinny for the chosen euphemism), was now parading her sloppy, fattened body across the kitchen like it was some achievement. Mrs. Abijai could feel her blood rise to a steady boil as Ali sat down in her chair. Her newfound pudge spread itself both forward and across. Ali’s ass seemed to grow before Mrs.Abijai’s eyes, taking up most of the seat she was sat in, creating a platform for her forming keg-belly to rest on. Mrs. Abijai came close to shattering the serving bowl she was holding, her fingers pressing into the porcelain until her knuckles whitened.


Her mood did not improve over the ensuing dinner. She spent the meal glowering while Ali filled plate after plate with food. She knew she should have made less food. The Iranian mother kicked herself for her lack of foresight. She had tried to do her part to keep the war between her and Ali a cold one, masked behind looks, minor comments, and actions so small as to be unnoticed. But, as she watched Ali fork up another huge bite, the fat around her face forming into a double chin as she all but unhinged her jaw to fit the bite in, Mrs. Abijai realized that more drastic measures must be taken. She leaned back in her seat, angrily poking at her own plate. The former bikini model and beauty contestant pondered what to do. She had written off Melsi long ago, only wanting to make sure that she realized what a sow she truly was, but it was paining her to lose Ali as well. Her once perfect daughter was now on the quick road towards obesity and ugliness. Measures would have to be taken, somehow, someway. This was a war far from over.

~ A Walk In the Park~


“Girl, you are going to be huge if you keep this up.”

“Aren't I, ulp, already.” Ali responded to her sister’s exclamation. She had finished another large meal, courtesy of the city’s fast food chains. Forty or fifty more pounds had found their way onto Ali’s body, pushing her past the comfortable roundness of 160 and into the uncharted territory of the low 200’s. The inevitable was happening and Ali’s body was evolving from the extra thickness into just plain fat. Her stomach had formed into a drooping, permanent pot belly. It bounced and swayed under her clothes, straining at the the confines of the tight shirts that she had forced it into. Early into her gain she had forced it to protrude around her mother, making the fat-phobic woman confront head on the fact that her perfect daughter was choosing the life of the perfect pig. That lifestyle had only seen her attributes swell more and more. Ali’s ass had almost doubled in size, squeezing the print of her panty lines into every pair of jeans and leggings that she owned. Meanwhile, her breasts poured overtop of every bra; looking like tanned oceans waiting to overflow the tiny cups that they had been poured into. It would have been fun. . .had she not had to feel stuffed all the time. “I don’t know how you. . .ugh. . .deal with being this full all the time.” She said, lurching out of the car and onto the grass of the park.

“Uh. . .I’m usually not.” Mel said as she pushed the door closed with her hip. As the door bounced off of her fleshy hip. She walked around front of her car. “It wasn’t until someone that I even knew what being stuffed felt like.” She cradled her own stuffed stomach. Ali’s eating and behavior was infectious for the already fat sister. As someone who had always struggled against her impulses to snack and take extra portions, it was extremely hard on Mel to have Ali constantly stuffing her face. This, of course, had led to her picking up even more weight. Most of her clothes, even her biggest and baggiest “fat-girl” outfits, fit unevenly or not at all. Even now, as the two reached the park, her stomach was pooling out of her track pants. She had finally receded into a permanent waddle. Mel had always been a pear shaped woman, but now it had reached a point where the word “exaggerated” had to be stuffed in front. Yet, with Ali in tow, she didn’t look quite as huge as she did before. “I don’t think most ‘fat’ people are.”

“Then how did, urp, you get so fat?” Ali asked as she and her sister walked in step through the park. The two had taken up small walks after Ali’s binges, just to aid her in digesting her food and relieving the unbearable fullness.

Mel sighed, not wanting to confront that particular aspect of her life. It was much more fun to watch Ali blow up like a balloon without considering her own life choices and what that was doing to her. The fatter Abijai sister thought for a bit as they walked. The two bumbled down the trail, Melsi waddling like she always did and Ali cradling her stuffed stomach. Ali had managed to squeeze herself into form fitting jeans, though she was now regretting that. Her stomach bubbled out and overtop of them, lifting the loose but fashionable shirt she had over top. The observers that saw the two women might easily be convinced that Ali’s was a story about the dangers of unplanned pregnancy, instead of the realities of unchecked eating. After a while Melsi finally had her answer. “Well, I probably did binge a little here and there but I think most of it was because I enjoyed snacking. It’s all probably wrapped in with not being active, but it was always hard to say no to a little extra food and some treats.” She finished, sighing as she thought about the numerous bags of candy that had found their way into her room and into her stomach.

Ali, sighed and kept on walking. "That's fair, I'm just afraid that it won't be enough if I don't eat everything I can." She punched Melsi’s arm lightly, eliciting jiggles from both of their pudge. She then went back to folding her hands a little underneath her stomach, almost in an effort to enhance how huge it looked. “Maybe once I get to your weight I can take it easy with the stuffing.” She winked at her sister. “But, don’t hide the fattening tips. If I’m going to keep this up, I need to know the best strategies possible!” Melsi nodded, saying that she would think about it more. It was weird, Melsi knew, having to think up ways to fatten her little sister up. . .but she was asking for it, literally.

As the two continued to walk through the park the conversation drifted into other topics. But, in her mind, Mel couldn’t stop thinking about the choices that had led her to this point in life and how best to replicate them onto Ali. Seeing one’s life as a series of choices is a potentially painful thing, no less so with Melsi. She saw all the times she had snuck food, taken a bit more than she knew she could handle, or decided that she didn’t need to exercise. She tried not to get sucked into the despair building into her mind, but she saw it all the same. It was a looming figure on the horizon. What’s worse was that she hadn't even particularly enjoyed all of those extra meals. Sure, some of them had been worth it, but there were plenty of times that she had eaten garbage without any gain other than to her waist.

She wanted to mention it to Ali, but couldn’t begin to voice it all.

There was a part of her that said to hold back. Ali was excited about gaining, she was on a mission. Melsi knew that saying too much or the wrong thing might forestall that mission and push Ali back into the dietary vision that Mrs.Abijai laid out for the girls. Melsi gritted her teeth and kept walking, biting down the urge to talk about her struggles as a fat person and the inner conflict that came with them. If she lost Ali she would be back to where she started, bullied constantly by her mother about her weight. Ali had gotten big, huge by Mrs.Abijai’s standards, but there was still at least 100 pounds that separated her and Melsi. It didn’t take much to see which would be worse to the Iranian mother and pageant winner. “Oh! Eating before bed is another big one.” Melsi added, an idea springing to mind. She would monitor Ali and look for signs of her gain going bad, but she didn’t have to intervene. . .just yet.

~A Scant Bit of Praise~


Mrs.Abijai grumbled under her breath as she stepped out of the car and watched her two children walk into the Subway that they had stopped at. She mentally adjusted her use of the word “walk”, both out of spite and accuracy. Neither Melsi nor Ali gate was a full walk anymore, with Melsi having a piggish waddle and Ali having a half waddle. Mrs.Abijai herself walked with the poise, grace, and fetching beauty that a slim woman should. She was long legged and elegant, the beauty that won her competitions and pageants in her youth having barely have faded since then. It was that same beauty that she wished to pass down to her children through a combination of genetics and proper mannerisms. Yet, to her rage and shame, they had squandered her gifts both genetic and instructive. There had always been little hope for Melsi, she was a doughy butter ball that would remain as such for years to come. At least, thought Mrs.Abijai derisively, there was little chance of her getting bigger. Her ballooning form had seemed to slow, with her gain now coming to a slow trickle. She was rounder than she was the previous week, a healthy and bountiful 310, but she was at least not gaining 15 or 20 pounds in one stretch like her sister.


It was with absolute disdain that Mrs.Abijai now saw her younger daughter. Ali had become an absolute ball of dough and fat. Her belly spilled out of shirts that she refused to properly resize. When pressed, her only response had been a flippant “I’ll just grow out of those too.” So her youngest daughter, a once slim and beautiful young woman, now went around with her gut flopping out of a rolled up shirt. Her padded arms bit into the sleeves of her t-shirts and her thighs bubbled around the cuffs of her short shorts. Ali had hit 240 pounds with all of the grace and style of bowling ball into a set of pins. In point of fact, Mrs.Abijai was sure that she could probably roll Ali into a set of pins with no trouble.

All this ran darkly though her mind as she stepped into the sub shop. She would never have allowed a stop here had the three not been traveling. They were returning from a family get-together, one where plenty of relatives made little comments and remarks about Ali and her fattening form, and needed something to eat. It was out of desperation that Mrs.Abijai stopped here and not at some burger joint. Melsi and Ali had already entered, Ali’s gut pressing on the glass door as she opened the door, and were making their order. Ali was at the counter, listing her meats, toppings, and sauces as if she were reading a list to Santa. Her eyes practically glowed with gluttonous excitement. Melsi, on the other hand, hung back and looked at the menu with care. Even as Ali barreled her order out, Melsi cautiously thought hers over. What really piqued Mrs.Abijai’s interest was when Melsi asked the server about the calorie count of a couple items.


“Taking an interest in your health?” Mrs. Abijai asked Melsi after the two had placed their orders. Ali had gotten hers and was trying to heave the large sandwich back to her seat. It was filled to bursting with everything fattening and tasty that she could think to put on a sandwich, in an almost Scooby-doo fashion. The porky girl wasted no time in starting to devour it, her jaw almost unhinging to fit it in her mouth. She munched and devoured the sandwich, her already large stomach inflating outwards even more as it was once again filled to capacity. Bits of sauce and food dropped onto her rounded face and shirt. Her tongue lashed out to grab the bits on her face, while she left the food on her shirt; she would come for that later. “I would have thought that you would be following her example.” Mrs. Abijai said more than a little coldly as she pointed to Ali, who was now taking a break from the sandwich in order to guzzle soda.


“Uh, well you’d think.” Melsi stammered. She was caught between staring at Ali and her mother. “I just haven’t been as hungry since Ali started to. . .”


“Fatten.” Mrs.Abijai said, her voice dripping with severity and venom.


“Yes. I, uh, let her do most of the eating now.” Melsi finished, wondering what sharp remark she would give in response.


“That’s good. I’m glad one of you two has some sense.”


Melsi wasn’t sure what to say or what to feel. The scant bit of praise warming her heart in a way she hadn’t felt for a long time. The two finally got their food and returned to the table where Ali was just finishing her latest rampage. “That was good. . .URRP. . .stuff, Mom.” She said, proudly patting the sides of her gut. Ali had slumped down in her seat, her double chin appearing as she rested her face on her chest. She took another long slurp of soda, draining the large cup. Mrs.Abijai, instead of fuming, only looked at Melsi and arched and eyebrow. Ali missed the interaction, far too concerned with the courtesy bag of chips that had been given to her. She put a fistfull of the chips into her mouth and crunched them loudly, not sure if her actions were to irritate her mother or because she genuinely enjoyed the chips that much. She worked the question over in her mind a little bit before shrugging her chubby shoulders and continuing to take fistfulls of the chips. Meanwhile, Melsi quitely nibbled at her sandwich; leaving half of it unfinished.

~The Lines Blur~

“I’m. . .sucha. . .pig. . .uuurrrrrpppp.” Ali moaned from her spot on the bed. Cartons and boxes sat around her, fully eaten and licked clean. Anything of any caloric sustenance in the room had been drained into Ali over the past 40 minutes. It was a new record, both because of how much and how fast she ate. She was getting better at being fat. Ali, in spite of her earlier fears and reticence to stuffing, had found that she had made a breakthrough in the past set of poundage. Her gut now was more able to hold the vast quantities of food that she shoved into it. Moreover, Ali was beginning to find that she enjoyed it more. Perhaps “enjoy” was the wrong word. There was a sort of extreme anticipation that coursed through her plump body as she thought about future meals and what they would do to her body. That anticipation would churn and slow into a general lethargy after the completion of a stuffing session. Ali would wallow in her chair, bed, or couch and allow the wonders of her slowed metabolism take its toll upon her body.

It was becoming harder and harder to believe that Ali had ever been anything other than a fat, piggish woman. She was 280 pounds of rampant obesity. Her gut took prominence on her body, an olive skinned semi-orb of jiggling fat. Her belly button, often exposed these days, had become warped by her steady expansion and now slumped into a wide canyon. Ali had seemingly become more stomach than woman in a lot of ways. . .at least for the moment. The rest of Ali was starting to catch up. Her breasts now had shattered all her bras, she cared little and was happy to let them fall as they pleased on her body, and were beginning to form into truly huge pillows. Her butt, previously pert and cute in a small way, was picking up the excess jiggling and almost gelatin-esque wobble that heavily foreshadowed what was to come. Regardless, such considerations for the future were out of Ali’s mind. Instead, she was consumed with the desire to eat and fatten up further. The end goal was mutable. Some days she thought that she would stop gaining weight once she reached her sister’s weight and others she felt a tug to go beyond, anything to spite her mother. “You can. . .ULLP. . .have the. . .rest.” She moaned to Melsi, reaching a languid hand towards the leftover food huddled next to her.

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” Melsi said, clearing away the trash and remnants from around Ali; leaving only that which could still be indulged in. “I snuck plenty of food when I was bringing it up.” She hadn’t, but it would make Ali feel better if she thought she did. “Besides, this is all for you!” She tossed a box of chocolates onto her sister's risen stomach. Melsi tried her best to hide her excitement as she watched her sister struggle first to grab the box off of her stomach and then tear into it. Life had become strange in an almost delicious way to the older Abijai sister. Her mother had shown scant, but noticeable, approval of her and her younger, hotter sister was now living a gluttonous lifestyle that outpaced anything she had ever done. She couldn’t help but love the changes that were taking place in the household. She sat down next to Ali on the couch, they had procured a small one for Ali’s room so that she could feast somewhere in seclusion that wasn’t her bed or Melsi’s. “Besides, what good is going to do you if I get any bigger? You’ll just have a harder time catching up.”

Ali looked up from her chocolate feast, smears of sugary food coating her puffy cheeks. “Good point. Thanks for slowing down so I can catch up.” She mumbled before turning back to the box. She let the box lay on her stomach, content to let the pieces simply roll into her mouth. She was far too stuffed to lift her body too much and hated to move her arms from the comfortable divot that they lay in. Ali had noticed Melsi’s reticence to eating one night when she caught her, slightly, fatter sister scooping portions onto her plate secretly when their mother wasn’t looking. She had arched an eyebrow and meant to say something, but Melsi had just winked and put a finger to her mouth. Ali had let it drop, focusing her efforts on gorging herself, but the thought had stayed with her. “I’m. . .whew. . .almost to your weight.” She sighed as she finished the last of the chocolates.

Neither girl knew what to say about that. The idea hung in both of their minds. Melsi’s weight, once in total freefall, had stalled while Ali’s had only increased exponentially. Rather than talk about it, Melsi ignored the comment and plopped another box of candy on Ali’s stomach. Ali groaned, trying to make an excuse, but ended up plucking the candies out and putting them in her chubby mouth all the same. It was easier for the two to settle back into their respective roles of feedee and, for lack of a better word, feeder. But neither girl could deny what was happening. The two lines on the graph of weight over time were bound to meet and it would be anyone’s guess what that would bring to the household.

~Ships in the Night~


"Wow. . .three. . Oh. . Oh." Ali breathed out as she watched the number appear with finality. She waddled backwards off of the scale and slowly turned to face Mel. "I'm your size now. . ." She breathed out again, unsure how to feel. Ali had broken the informal barrier that she had set. She was now exactly the same size as Mel. Now, her goal achieved and precedence set, her mother couldn't use her as a pawn against her sister. Ali bulged out of her clothing, her shorts full unbuttoned to let her belly cascade forth. The shorts were held in place by her massive, jiggling ass.


"Woah, what do you mean my size?" Mel said, a slight tone entering her voice. In an effort to help Ali, Mel had worked to drop the extra ten pounds she had picked up during Ali's initial gluttonous spree. The weight loss had felt good. It was the first time in years Mel had seen numbers go down instead of up.


"Mel, don't make this a thing. I just mean we're the same!" Ali waddled forward, her doughy arms spread wide to form a hug. Mel winced with each of Ali's belly bounces as her sister waddled forward. Even though they were the same size, Ali just seemed so much bigger and heavier. Maybe it was knowing what she had been like before or what she had done to gain that weight. Either way, it made Mel squirm hearing Ali talk about how similar they were. Ali closed the gap further, pulling her similarly weighted Sister into a doughy hug. "The same weight and all! Finally!"


But are we the same? Mel thought. How similar was her struggle against weight for years the same as Ali's rampant wright gain and descent into sloth. Mel had fought for years against her bloating body, to only find success lately. Meanwhile, Ali had given the keys to the Beach Body Kingdom away. As the girls bellies pushed and slapped against each other, Mel couldn't help but imagine that hers was a little smaller. Ali leaned more heavily, Ali's breasts were bigger, Ali's ass ripped through more shorts. The thoughts bit at Mel. How fair was it that Ali got to compare herself to Mel and didn't that belittle Mel's own struggles.


Mel sighed and fought against the thoughts. She knew that Ali did this out of a place of love. She was fighting against the insanity that their mother propagated. She squeezed her sister tightly, their rounded bodies pressing against each other. Their were a chorus of jiggles and ripples from each woman as they separated. The two big women stared at each other for a second, before Mel quickly pushed past. "Sorry! Forgot about getting my clothes out of the dryer. Moms gonna freak!" She hustled out of the room, leaving Ali alone.


Ali shrugged. Mel was acting weird and had been for a little while now, but that didn't matter much to her. What mattered most was her getting her hands on some treats. Her stomach gurgled as she reached into a desk to pull out a candy bar. It was a little disappointing, Ali thought, to still have the cravings. She had thought that they might go away once she reached 300 and her weight stabilized. 300 was the magic benchmark. Once there, everything would stabilize and return to a sense of normalcy. Yet, as she had climbed to that point, more and more thing seemed to be destabilizing. Her hunger increased, her sister grew distant, her mother angrier than ever before. When she thought about it all Ali had the physical feeling of standing on a precipice with a long drop in front over her. The obvious significance of this (a forward path into dark obscurity) would linger. . .only until her hunger called her to stuff more food into her face.




~Shifting Gears~


"Hey, sis, finish this for me." Mel said, sliding her plate of food over towards Ali. Ali was buried deep in a plate of food all her own. Both she and Mel had taken the usual double portion but Mel had the good sense to pull out. Ali, instead, pushed forward. Food was shoveled into her mouth as quickly as possible, with huge glugs of soda to wash it down. Her plate, once cleaned, was shoved aside and replaced with Mel's. Ali scared it down with renewed gusting, one hand slipping down to discretely unbutton her pants. She noticed her fullness, her rounding stomach, but even more she noticed her hunger. It was a compulsion to keep eating stronger than any other impulse.


Mel smirked as she watched her sister glut more. She felt a rising sense of pride in herself, she could resist temptation whereas Ali was consumed by it. Ali would eat for at least another 15 minutes, ensuring minimal leftovers. Mel excused herself from the table, folding her napkin, and stepping away. She was only slightly taken aback to see her mother leaning against the wall. "Good to see you are finished eating." She said in her usual austere tone. Mrs.Abijai looked ravishing. She wore tight jeans that clung to the curve of her hips and a shirt that exposed her bare midriff. "You really have made good choices lately, daughter. Keep that up." She said, her eyes rolling smoothly from Mel to Ali.


Ali was still deep in her haze of gluttony. She seemed to eat with her entire body. Reaching forward with exaggerated energy to grab at plates and dishes. Her shirt had ridden up, her gut and love handles pooling out freely onto her wide hips. Her shorts fared about as well as her shirt. Her underwear was showing, a light pink trail of fabric wedge between the globular cheeks of her olive skinned ass. Her body wiggled as she blatantly enjoyed her meal. "Unlike some other people, who see fit to ruin what God blessed them with." Mrs Abijai's disgust was palpable. As if in answer, Ali reach down to grab and jiggle the belly fold that lipped over her pants.


"Uh. . .thank you." Mel responded.


"You should be proud." Mrs.Abijai said, looking back to her thinner daughter. "You've made a lot of progress lately." She nodded to Mel, sniffed in Ali's direction and then walked away. Mel, still shell shocked by her mothers growing warmth towards her, stood quietly for a while. She then turned back to Ali. A dark humor bubbled up in Mel watching Ali eat. The headless gluttony made Mel angry. She thought, for a second, that Ali almost drew her into that spiral. She would have even been happy to have Mel be as fat as her 325 pounds. It was, with that mood in mind, why Mel said what she said next.


"Hey, fatty, do you need anything else? I was gonna head out." Mel gasped and clapped a hand over her mouth, shocked at how her anger spilled out. It seemed almost like Mrs Abijai was speaking through her. She waited, expecting Ali's wrath. Her loud and headstrong sister would surely say something. Yet, the young woman simply turned around and nodded, her double chin becoming even more noticeable.


"Yeah, I'm good." Ali said before turning back to her meal. Mel walked out quickly, embarrassed at her outburst. Leaving Ali to finish her meal.

-----

Later, after her meal was well and truly done, Ali waddled herself up and into her bathroom. The bathtub was filling with water, steam swirling around the room. Ali pushed the door closed with one of her large hips. With the door firmly closed, Ali started to peel off her clothes. Her shirt and bra came first, her large and heavy breasts falling onto her naked stomach. Ali had always been blessed with large breasts but they had become frankly ridiculous over the course of her gain. Their perkiness was diminished through our size, but that was offset by their pillowy softness. Ali couldn't help but lift and drop them, watching with rapt interest as they slapped her gut and sent ripples in all directions. It was novel to an almost pleasurable degree to explore her changed body.


Her explorations continued down to her stomach. Large and round, a warped and bloated version of what had once been in its place before. Her bellybutton had deepened considerably, smooshing down into a oval shape. Her stomach was getting large enough that most people couldn't wrap their arms around her anymore. Ali gripped her belly and lifted it. She shook it, watching as its rolling tide forced the rest of her body into motion. She dropped her gut, it bounced twice in finality.


That left only her lower body. Her dominant hips held tight to the shorts plastered around them. It was hard putting pants on and just as hard taking them off. Ali grunted, forcing her fingers between fabric and fat. The shorts came off slowly, rolling into a wad as they clung to her hips. Her ass was dimpled, though in a smooth and inviting way. Her asscheeks bounced happily off one another with every movement and her thighs were thick enough to be compared with young trees.


Yet, as she looked on her naked, fattened form there were no feelings of animosity. For all the bulk she packed on, Ali had retained her beauty. Sure, there was a feeling and sense of heaviness to her. She was fat, and continuing to get fatter, but she was still fetching. In some aspects, the increasing of her breasts and ass, she had almost benefitted from the gain.


Ali turned from the mirror and waddled over to the full bath tub. She started to sink her body into the warm water. Excess run off poured from the sides of the tub. Ali still wasn't exactly used to her weight but she supposed that would come with time. It was funny to think about, staying fat. Ali had never given much thought to how long her gained weight would stay. A month, half a year, forever? That last option had started to surface in her mind lately. Ali guessed that she would always lose her weight, return to what she had been before. But, as her weight continued to creep up, she was realizing how fictitious that hope had been. It was easy to pile fat on, once the train got trolling. . .but reversing the train was harder than she imagined. What if she was stuck as a fat girl? The thought bothered her, but for reasons she couldn't quite put into words.


Ali began to soap herself up, lathering her olive skin with soft soap. The bar slid over and between her rolls, making them glisten and rub even more. Ali scrubbed lightly, lifting a heavy breast to swipe the soap under. She didn't mind the weight or her body shape. It was strange and different, taking so much care to understand certain things. Like how best to soap a roll, what furniture would hold her weight the best, or how items of clothing would look stretched taught over her fat. But not bad, per se.


She lathered up some soap suds and started to clean her face. Her double chin had thickened again, further swallowing the angular face that she had once had. Soon, even, there might be another chin for a total of three. Mel had pointed that out the other day. "I've never had three chins, you'll have to tell me what that's like." She had said, in a tone that Ali thought could have been a little friendlier. It seemed lie her sister was always pissed these days. A wrong word or comment from Ali would push her into a bitchy mood. Ali assumed it was from the extra pressure their mom was putting on Mel. The two had talks all the time now, away from Ali. She could never catch what was said, but she was sure it was not good for Mel. There was a forming miasma in the house that bothered her, the only reprieve being solitary eating or bathing.


Ali sunk her body under the water full to wash the soap and thoughts away, more water spilling out of the tub. Comparisons to hippos and elephants could be made watching the big girl wallow in the water. She came up cleansed, water draining out of her folds. Whatever she had been thinking was pushed out of her mind, leaving her to enjoy the water.






~A 100 Pound Difference and A Sign of Things to Come~


“Sis, I’m beginning to think I made a mistake.” Ali said as she sat on the edge of her bed. The bed curved dangerously under her weight, making a deep U-bend in the mattress foam. “I think I’m starting to get too big.” She slapped her stomach, which bled out from beneath her nightshirt. It wasn’t just her stomach that jiggled though, most of Ali’s body bounced merrily from the small motion. “I just weighed myself.” She said, trying to make sure to get her thoughts out before her sister could speak. “I’m 380 now.” She looked down at herself, what she could see past her looming breasts and boulder sized stomach. “I. . .I never thought I would get this fat.” She leaned back, her bedframe squealing and groaning under her. She had to brace herself with her bingo wings and pudgy forearms. Her stomach escaped more as she lay back, flopping out to its fullest extent. Ali was wearing striped pajama bottoms and a matching pink top, rips and little spots of her fat thighs were easily visible.


"What?! No!" Mel said, exclaiming loudly. She, on the other hand, was looking much more out together these days. Officially, Mel had reached 280 pounds. . .30 pounds lost. Her body was starting to form into exaggerated curves that Ali had grown into. . .and our of. In fact, Mel had casually slipped herself into some clothes that Ali used to wear regularly, prior to her blimping up.


"Thats just mom getting to you. She just wants to manipulate you, pull you back to her thinking." Mel tried to hit all the usual buzzwords as she spoke. This was becoming a fairly regular occurrence. Ali would muster up the strength of will to lurch onto the scale, see the number, and start to freak based on how much higher than her target it was. Each time though Mel would be there to calm her down and get her some comfort food.


"I. . .I dont know. This time I think I've really got to get serious." Ali tried to stand, wanting to compare herself to Mel, but found herself lacking the strength at the moment. She slumped back into bed, her stomach rising like a mountain. Within another set of poundage, her gut would split into two separate rolls. "I. . .don't want to get stuck like this." She said, jiggling her stomach fat. It wobbled slowly, moving like molasses. Life, basic and trivial life, was becoming difficult for her. Stairs were a nightmare, furniture a gamble, and relationships and impossibility. The way people treated her now was so markedly different. Mel was often snide, just a little too proud of the weight she was losing. Even Ali could see that now. Little comments and digs seemed to be a part of every conversation the two had.


"I mean. . .we can try." Mel said, switching to another familiar tactic. "We'll get you a gym membership, haul your butt in there, and maybe get a trainer. There are always fit women around who we could ask for tips." Mel secretly delighted as she watched Ali cringe and shrink back into herself. Ali had become remarkably self conscious lately. Every pound over 300 had eroded her breezy confidence. She wouldn't dare step foot in a gym now, much less bring the suggestion up. She preferred to snack and eat, rather than do anything that would call attention to how fat she was.

"Uhh, maybe start with diet and do exercise later?" Ali ventured.


Mel laughed. "See, this is how I know you aren't serious!" She poked her sister's doughy belly. "If you were ready you'd be up and at em to get in that gym." She laughed and started to saunter out, swinging her large and shapely hips. "Stick to eating for now, sis, when you are ready to get in the gym let me know." She laughed and pulled the door shut, leaving Ali alone.


Ali lay still for a while, wanting to call out to her sister. She was ready for a change. . .or was she? Ali thought for a bit, thinking especially hard on all the difficulty of losing weight. Most notably, playing into her mother's wishes. Ali wanted to be thin, but she would never want that at the expense of her mother being able to gloat. The largest girl sighed, leaning over to grab a few candy bars from her night stand. The bed rocked violently underneath her moving body. It was a feeling that she was going to get very used to.

Chapters 1 and 2 were sent in three posts while Chapter 3 was sent in two posts. Hopefully that guy chooses to finish the story, if not, it would be cool to see even the outline for chapters 4 and 5. This is one of the best wg stories i've ever read!

im actually the dude with chaps 4 and 5 outline and consdering someone finally posted the first 2 chapters(didnt have them)...i think im actually going to finish this story.

>>3281
Please send all content you have from fungicide.

>>3297
>>3294
I've sent all 3 chapters of An Example for the Family. I'll be sure to send both versions of Genetic Predisposition soon as well, just having trouble finding where I saved it.
And please post the story here whenever you get to finishing it, it would be a pleasure to read!

>>3291
damn that was really good, but sadly stopped just before she reached the best sizes!

Genetic Predisposition
Fernanda led her two daughters into their living room. None of the three women spoke as they walked into the nicely organized, grey and white colored room. Her daughters, Lia and Juliana, held their tongues because of how strangely their mom had been acting over the past couple days. She had seemed lost in thought, slowly moving through her daily routine. When either of the girls had been around her she would start to speak, shake her head, and then recover by asking about how they were feeling or what their day had been like. Usually, Fernanda was a woman possessed when it came to running the household. Not a chair was out of place throughout the entire household, but both girls had seen chores both big and small going unfinished. The tension finally reached a peak when Fernanda finally asked both girls to speak with her in the living room. The girls had agreed, looking at each other with questioning eyes, and followed their mother towards the large sitting room.


Fernanda had her daughters sit on the couch while she pulled up a chair and sat to face them. The familial similarity was undeniable as the three sat next to one another. Fernanda was approaching her late thirties but still had the angular face, silky black hair, and athletic yet curvaceous body that a lifetime of volleyball and other sports had cultivated. Her hair was put into a neat bun in order to keep it from interfering with her work. Her only real sign of age were the reading glasses that had become a permanent fixture on her person. She crossed her legs and folded her arms across her lap. “Ok, girls, we have to talk. . .” She began and ended her sentence awkwardly.


“Uhm. . .ok. . .are you dying or something?” Lia asked. Lia, always straight to the point, rarely had any trouble speaking up. She was every bit of fire and sass that a young Latina woman could be. She had followed in her mother’s athletic footsteps, pursuing every sport that she could throughout high school. Now, as a freshman in college, she was trying to find which one to perfect. As befitting her active lifestyle, she spent most of her time in basketball pants and loose fitting t-shirts with the sleeves cut off and sports bra showing underneath. She, unlike her mother and sister, preferred her hair to be curled and streaked with blonde and caramel highlights. “Like, what's the. . . Ow!” Lia started to ask a question as Juliana elbowed her.


Juliana was, as these things go, as stark a contrast to her sister as one could find. Rarely speaking, Juliana preferred to let her outfits speak for her. Today’s was an almost painted on set of white pants and light blue crop top which left nothing to the imagination. She wore her hair up in a long ponytail with perfectly cropped bangs. By all accounts, she was the lady of the family, prim and proper with nothing out of order or unaccounted for. “Can Mom just tell us without you interrupting!” Her voice came out as a barbed whisper, probably harsher than what she meant but it was always hard to tell with her.


“Anyway,” Fernanda took the reigns of the conversation back while she still had the chance. “I need to talk to you both about something very important that is probably going to be happening in the future.”


“Uh, you’re waaaayyy to late on this talk.” Lia said, her hand up to deflect any more elbows from her sister. “Like, years, late.”


“That is not what I’m talking about.” Fernanda snapped, trying to keep the conversation on track. “Ok, so, you know how people can be predisposed to certain conditions?” She waited as her daughters nodded their heads slowly. “Well, our family sort of has that same thing.” Fernanda, in uncharacteristic uncertainty, twiddled her thumbs and looked away. She really didn’t know how to break the news to her children or even if she had to. Fernanda, having broken away from her family early in her early adulthood, hadn’t spent too much time introducing or talking about them to her daughters. They didn’t know their family history and the genetic curse that came with it. She didn’t know how they would take the revelation. Would it instead be better to just inform them as needed? It might not even happen, it hadn’t with her or some other lucky women in the family.


No, she had a responsibility to tell them. “Listen, you two. Our family has. . .a bit of a unique problem. Genetically we tend to. . .get a bit fat as time goes on.” Whatever Fernanda was expecting her daughters to do, laugh uproariously was not it. “This is serious! It is a curse on our family! Every woman, after she turns 20, is at risk for it.” She tried to get her daughters back under control, but they were too busy giggling and laughing.


“So, what? We get a little chubby?” Lia asked. “Pretty simple thing to avoid.”


“No! Well, yes, but its a bit more than that. Something is triggered in us. It is uncontrollable.” Fernanda pointed at her girls. “The younger you are, the more likely it will happen to you. Right now is the most dangerous time for you. It strikes without warning.”


“Is this a genetic condition or the boogeyman?” Lia asked, earning another elbow from Juliana.



“Try to take this seriously.” Juliana said, something about her mother’s tone was capturing her attention. She didn’t know her mother to be a superstitious person and to see Fernanda trying to be serious about something that, on its face, seemed stupid worried her.


Fernanda leveled a stern look at her daughters. “Look. it could be one of you, or both of you, or hopefully neither of you. But, most likely one of you will be getting fat, incredibly fat and it will happen quickly.” Fernanda said sternly. “From now until you get to be about 40 or 50 there is a risk that this gene will trigger. I know it sounds silly, but I’ve seen it happen.”


A heavy silence fell over the room and the two young ladies in the room looked at each other. It felt like a gun had been leveled at the two daughters. It was an rare, antique gun that had been made ages and ages before but it worked nonetheless and the chambers were currently spinning. It was a gun that had been leveled at their mother for years and a weight that she had come to understand and bear with grace. While none of the women in the room were safe, the gun was at least starting to aim a different direction, away from Fernanda and towards her two daughters. As worry grew in their eyes Fernanda spoke again. “Girls, I promise that if it does happen to either of you I will do everything in my power to help you.” Juliana and Lia tried to speak but were silenced with a raised finger. “But I’m not kidding when I say that one of you will have a completely different life in the next couple years.”

A year later.

“Ok. . .girls. . .I’m re-BWURRRRP-ady. We can. . .leave nowwUUURRRP.” Fernanda huffed and belched as she waddled out of the restaurant, her enormous belly pushing open the door before her sausage fingers had a chance to. The genetic bullet within Fate’s antique, golden gun had finally fired and it was Fernanda who had been hit squarely in the stomach. By a chance that could only be described as “cosmically unfortunate”, she inherited the fatal gene that she had spent so much time warning her daughters about and preparing them for. Weeks after the talk with her daughters she found herself snacking more and it had all been downhill after that. Snacks had turned into extra meals and extra meals had then morphed into days long binges. Fernanda, who had seen the beginning and end result of the condition, had no knowledge of what the fat-gene really entailed until now. It was a physical compulsion that went beyond hunger that forced her to gorge and grow. Now, a year later, and waddling slowly through the exit to the restaurant that had been the site of her second lunch, she fully understood the ins and outs of the condition.


As her gut pushed the door open, bouncing its way out into the bright sunlight, Lia jumped to pull the door the rest of the way open while Juliana propped the other one wide as well. Fernanda had grown wide and vast enough that she could pass through a few doors without assistance. Old habit saw her reaching out her hand to prop one of the doors open from her end but her hip, which her hand couldn’t even reach past, had already helped propped that door open further. Fernanda’s other arm pumped and threw itself forward, helping to keep the mass of Brazilian mother moving forward. It was hard these days, so hard, to get Fernanda moving and stay moving. The hundreds of pounds that she had packed onto her body wanted to stay at rest like a boulder on a sunny hillside. And, even when roused to action, it did want to stay moving.


She was a thundering pile of sliding and shifting blubber, fully wider than she was tall. Her curvaceous and sensuous body had stretched and bloated to a bubbly peak thoroughly unreachable by most women. Her reading glasses, used exclusively for reading menus in person and on her smartphone, were now permanently perched on her nose lest they be swallowed by the trio of chins that bobbed as she lurched forward through the door. What once were a perky yet full pair of breasts had become twin watermelons that burst all but the strongest custom made bras. They bounced and swayed lazily against the tight floral dress that Juliana had helped her mother tug on that morning after a laborious shower.


The dress was new, something that the girls had bought for their mother. The thought was sweet but in practice it fell completely short. It was a cute little number, pink with images of roses printed on top. The coloring and roses looked great against the healthy tan of Fernanda’s skin. All other technical aspects of the dress fell completely short when applied to Fernanda’s new body. The dress was supposed to bob and sway somewhere around mid-thigh level. On Fernanda the dress swished and swayed somewhere around mid-buttcheek level. Her fleshy, wobbly, asscheeks could easily be seen as she struggled to force her way in and out of the various restaurants she went to in order to eat her fill. The dress had a nice v-neck opening, perfect for showing a tasteful amount of chest. Fernanda’s heavy breasts forced the V-shape into something a little closer to a U-shape. What should have been tasteful was reduced to almost pornagraphic as her gigantic breasts bounced in and out of the dress. The cute little self-tie belt built into the dress was completely abandoned, the strings left to swing and lay limply on top of Fernanda’s gut. What’s worse was the constant arranging that had to be done by either the girls or Fernanda.


“Hey Mom, really quick. . .” Juliana said as Fernanda finished moving through the double doors. The much, much smaller woman ducked around behind her wall of a mother and tugged the dress back down over her butt, having naturally risen up somewhere in the process of heaving her bulk out of her seat in the booth and walking out of the restaurant. With a hand gripping the dress on either side of the massive expanse of booty, Juliana tugged down hard and forced the dress back down as far as it could go. Through it all, Fernanda kept moving, unwilling to face the consequences of halting her forward march to the car. Her ass jiggled and bounded against Juliana’s hands, forcing them back with little more than the very size of them. Juliana tugged harder. It would never reach the length it was supposed to there was just too much of Fernanda for that to happen, but it did at least go back to mostly covering her ass. However, Juliana could already see it starting to rise back up and out of place as her mother continued to force herself towards the car.


Fernanda tried, she really did, to keep herself in order but it had become so hard. Her body fought her at every step and on top of it, it was hard still to keep her mind focused on anything that wasn’t food. Her body needed to grow and anything that didn’t help that goal was cast aside by her mind. On top of that, having a body that demanded so much help made keeping her personal appearance in order much harder. She had always radiated a sort of sexy librarian or secretary look with her hair styled into a tight bun and neatly ordered bangs. Now, her style could better be described as “librarian or secretary going through a tough divorce”. The bun, much like those jiggling behind her, was no longer tight. Instead of a woman who looked like she had spent meticulous hours putting herself in order, she looked more like a woman who had been rolled out of bed and spent spare minutes getting the basics in order. Moreover, most of the constant rearranging of her clothes and her body were done by Juliana who was as meticulous about keeping her mother in some semblance of order.


The walk to the car was slow and ponderous, with Fernanda having to stop often. She rested against other cars in the parking lot, uncaring if she left gigantic sets of matching ass prints on the sides of other vehicles or not. She would ease her bulk down, the unlucky car shifting drastically as Fernanda’s ass and back-fat spread out on the metal. “Sorry. . .girls. . .I just. . .need a. . .minute.” Fernanda would gasp, wiping at her forehead with her sausage fingers. “We. . .really. . .should have. . .parked closer.” She said without fail each time. Lia and Juliana would grimace at each other and then look around guiltily. It was obvious that Fernanda needed some sort of handicap parking but that meant going to a doctor, which would incur some rather difficult to answer questions about their mother’s condition. Namely, the question would be, how does a healthy, active woman gain 400 to 500 pounds in the space of a year. So, without being able to answer the question satisfactorily, the girls avoided hauling their mother in. They waited until Fernanda nodded, giving them the signal to haul her back up and resume waddling to the car.


If Juliana was the daughter who had taken point in keeping her mother clean and clothed, it was Lia who bore the brunt of keeping her mobile. The athletic young woman pushed, pulled, and physically manipulated her nearly immobile mother into action. “Ok, Mom, let’s get you up and going, we are almost at the car.” She said, limbering her arms up. It was always a task getting Fernanda up and moving but, at the least, Lia had gotten better at it as the year went on. She grabbed her mother’s fleshy arms, got into a weight lifter’s position, and started to pull. The car that Fernanda had been leaning on slowly squealed back into position as the load on it lessened. Veins and muscles became visible on Lia’s uncovered arms as she strained against gravity and her mother’s own excessive fat. With one final tug, Fernanda was pulled back into place. “Ok Chubby, get going before you fall again!” Lia said, slapping her Mother’s gigantic ass and earning a look of disapproval from Juliana. Lia shrugged and smiled at her sister, “just trying to motivate her. She should get to the car now.” Lia pointed, Fernanda was hustling her way (as much as she could) down the row of parked cars, her ass smacking against cars on either side as she went.


Lia ran ahead to the car after first doubling back and switching into a different line of parked cars; there was no way for her to squeeze past her mother’s car-denting, tanker of an ass. Once at the car, her own sedan, she opened the door and waited for Fernanda to huff and puff her way up to the opening. “Thank. . .you.” Fernanda puffed as reached the door, leaning her head on the car; her ass and body still suffering from the residual jiggles of coming to a halt. Then it was a matter of both girls trying to ease their mother into the car. All three could feel the car lurch more and more to the left side as it bore more of Fernanda’s weight. None of them knew for sure but all suspected that the tires on the opposite side were actually lifted off of the ground. Then Fernanda had to force her way over to the middle of the back seat, her ass spreading easily over a space meant for three people. The car shook violently, its suspension not being made for this strenuous pressure. Lia winced the entire time, hoping that the car could limp home at least one more time.

~ Up the Stairs~

Lia watched her mother’s pendulous ass swing back and forth as she strained herself up the stairs. Fernanda gripped the banisters on either side, hauling herself much the same way a mountain climber might haul themselves up a particularly steep gradient. All the while Lia walked behind with her harms hovering out in front of her, waiting to try and catch her mother if she went backwards. Who was she kidding, Lia thought. If Fernanda lost her footing she would crush Lia in a heartbeat before continuing to roll down the stairs. What’s worse is that Fernanda had an almost mesmeric walk. The shifting, sliding, jiggle of her body lulled the watcher into hypnotic state. Lia watched the half-naked woman’s back rolls and dimpled ass jiggle, her arms starting to lower as she was drawn deeper into a trance. All the world was darkened saved for that gigantic pair of buttcheeks, thinly covered by a silken canvas of lavender panties. She climbed the stairs slowly and they swung back and forth, back and forth. Each time they grazed the wooden uprights that held the glossy, wooden handrails but only barely. Lia could practically count the dimples on her mother’s nearly naked ass.


Juliana had forced her to strip upon entering the house, the ride home had seen Fernanda spill several pieces of food onto her dress. More had gotten lodged in the depths of her blubbery cleavage, but that didn’t matter as much. . .yet. Juliana had to worry about one thing at a time. First was the cleaning and stain removal of the dress then the cleaning and stain removal of her mother’s soft, tan skin. She had peeled the dress off of her mother as soon as she entered the house. The dress was frustrating thing to remove, getting stuck on every bulge of Fernanda’s rolls. Through it all the mother of two had complained about being hungry, trying her best not to whine. . . but whining all the same. “Julianaaa, please. I don’t care about the dress. I just need some more food!” She stressed, her legs weakening at the mere mention of sustenance. Juliana had kept tugging, ignoring her mother. Food would be coming, more food than a person would eat in a day but not until that dress was off.


Juliana had learned to focus on the bigger picture as her mother’s condition deepened. In the earliest days she had done nothing but cater to the growing woman’s demands irrespective of what that meant for the household. Fernanda had glutted herself into stupors constantly, ruined her clothes with food stains, and destroyed furniture. It was a wild gluttonous spree that made her current gluttony look tame. It was all Juliana and Lia could do to keep their mother fed. The house had gone to complete waste, with food wrappers and used plates littering the house. Juliana had finally started to get a handle on things, delegating tasks to Lia and trying to reign in her mother’s behavior. Those had been dark months, ones that Juliana would not see repeated. The house now functioned on a low level of disorder and chaos, there was no way around that, but it would have been much worse had Juliana not stepped up. She was as firm with the running of the house as she was with the grip she used to pull the stained dress off of her 800 pound mother. Dress in hand, she had walked off towards the laundry room. “Take mom up to bed, I’ll be bringing some food as soon as I can.” Were her final words to Lia.


“Huff. . .fuff. . . thank you. . .Lia.” Fernanda said as she mounted the final step up to the second floor of the house. On the way up Lia had started to wonder if maybe her sister had the easier set of “taking care of Mom” chores. She stewed on the thought more as she and Fernanda made their way to Fernanda’s bedroom. Sure, Juliana had to clean everything and get their mother ready every morning, but Lia couldn’t ignore the soreness in her arms and legs. She was bound, after all of this, to become some sort of professional powerlifter. She had developed form and strength and muscle as she lifted, pulled, and pushed her mega-obese mother through life. Even now, at the end of a long day, she had to practically haul the woman into her bed.


When she was skinny, Fernanda had bought a bed that was quite high off of the floor. Even then, for as limber and in shape as she had been, it had been hard for her small frame to get up into bed. Now, having the body mass of a motorcycle, Fernanda was woefully unprepared for the struggle. Lia had built a series of stepping stools, having to work on an iterative process as Fernanda smashed each one. It finally seemed like Lia had made one that would stand the test of time and her mother’s bulk. But, even with the stepping stool, there was work to be done. Fernanda waddled up the stool ok though a little shaky after having to climb the stairs. But, she still had to turn around to sit on the bed. Lia helped her mother turn around on the small stool. With one hand holding her mother’s hand and the other sinking into the softness of a buttcheek, Lia slowly rotated the massive woman. Agonizing seconds passed before Fernanda was finally able to rest her tired limbs in bed. And, even then, she was quickly asking after food.

~Better Soon?~

"Ugh, I’m such a pig.” Fernanda said, before scooping more ice cream into her mouth. “All I do is. . .BWWWUUURRP.” Her sentence was cut off by a boisterous blech. Rather than try to finish her sentence she instead decided to go back to digging into the gallon sized ice cream tub that Juliana had just brought up for her. She sat in bed leaning back on a stack of pillows heaped upon her shelf-booty. She would scoop and scrape out ice cream and then drive it home to her face as quickly as she could, uncaring if there were smears spreading across her face or drops that landed on the expanse of her body; that was for Juliana to deal with. She sat nearby, soapy rag in hand, ready to wipe her mother clean whenever there was a big enough break in her feasting.


“You’re doing better these days though.” Juliana said, inching her way over on the bed towards her massive mother. “You’ll actually talk to us when you eat now. That’s progress.” Juliana waited for her mother to respond, but she had once again sunken into gluttonous fervor. “Well. . .at least some times.” Juliana rolled her eyes and started to dab at her mother’s stomach, getting started on the monumental task of making sure Fernanda was clean. It was easy, given how bottom heavy she was, to miss how huge the rest of Fernanda had become. Her stomach flopped easily onto her massive thighs while her breasts heaved and moved torpidly on that mass of stomach fat. It was a body full of crevices and nooks, easy places for bits of food, drink, and sweat to get lodged in. It was Juliana’s mission to make sure that her mother stayed clean.


She drew the cloth slowly across Fernanda’s imposing stomach. It felt like some ritual to clean some great statue of buddha. Juliana dutifully scrubbed her mother’s stomach making sure that the tanned skin looked nice. . .despite the fact that it would only get just as dirty the next day. There was an element of futility to it all, one that Juliana wrestled with constantly. It was obvious that her mother wanted to wallow in her own gluttony and cast aside appearances. But should Juliana let her? It was obvious how out of hand things would get if that route was taken. The young woman sighed and sat back on her heels. She stared at Fernanda. She had just gotten the gallon of ice cream empty enough that she could lift it with one hand and scoop the ice cream directly into her waiting mouth. Trails of ice cream drizzled out around her chubby cheeks and met in the middle of her chins, dripping down between her swinging breasts. No, Juliana thought, she couldn’t let her mother suffer under the weight of her own gluttony. This would pass soon enough, her memories of the talk that a vastly thinner and more put together Fernanda had given assured her of that. In the meantime, she would just have to do her best.


Juliana tucked the rag under her mother’s breasts, which were starting to fall out of the comically huge bra the girls had ordered for her, and let the ice cream drizzles pool up into that. She got up from the bed, needing to go find another rag. As she reached the door she heard her mother’s eating noises slow and the “thunk, thunk, thunk.” Of a scoop hitting the bottom of an empty plastic tub. Juliana froze at the door, unable to turn around or go through it. “Hey. . .urp. . honey?” Came Fernanda’s reply.


“Yeah, Mom?” Juliana turned. Her mother was sitting in bed, empty tub of ice cream resting in both hands on her engorged stomach. There was a look in Fernanda’s eyes, something keen and hard to describe. It was like the haze of perpetual gluttony and hunger had passed for a second, allowing some of the old Fernanda to shine through.


“Thanks for everything today. I know I’ve been getting a little carried away lately. . .” She smiled and rolled her eyes. “I guess that’s an understatement.” She cast the tub aside and slapped her stomach, waves rippled out and across every part of her body. “But, really, even if I forget to say it, you and your sister have done a great job taking care of me.” She lay back further in the bed, stretching her massive stomach out. Her breasts, finally coming free of her bra, fell into teardrops shapes on either side of her stomach. “This will stop soon, I promise.” Fernanda said, though maybe a little unconvincingly. “It has to. . .right?” She asked, trying to smile.


“For sure, Mom! Once this slows down and stops we can even get you on a diet.” Juliana chirped. “I think you might be able to even lose a little bit of this weight.” She had her own doubts, it was hard not to given the trajectory of the past year. But she wouldn’t let any of those worries show. Her mother needed lover, support, and attention. Juliana planned on giving all that and more to the gaining, growing, gluttonous woman. She turned and headed out of the room. Fernanda sighed and grabbed the rag that Juliana had left on her. She started to wipe down her body from the ice cream rampage that she had been on. She slid the rag under and over her various rolls, tucking the rag into the nooks and crannies that she could still manage to reach on her own. It was strange, feeling the size and shape of her new body. She knew that she should hate it, hate the hunger that drove her, hate the genetic predisposition that caused all of this. But there was something about how soft she was, how her breasts and stomach bounced and flopped, how she could feel chairs and couches sag and crumple under her weight that made it impossible. Fernanda didn’t want to be a burden or a mindless slave to hunger. . .but she also didn’t exactly want to undue everything about her new life.

Here's another preview-version from wattpad by fungicide12 that's still up. The first part of the story is more or less the same aside from the mother's name and some ambiguity in the restaurant scene. Enjoy!
https://www.wattpad.com/905191765-genetic-predisposition-preview/page/2

>>3306
i remember reading this snippet for the first time and really hoping Lia, the athletic one, would be the fat one, since fit to fat is my fav gaining trope. still wish that was the case, but fernanda is still a great gainer

Oh man, Genetic Predisposition has been a pretty good read so far! I know Fungicide12 seems to have left writing behind, but I hope someone could continue this story!

>>3294
Do you have a DA to watch, or should we just wait here?

>>3294
hey, i'm the guy who posted the chapters on here. let us know where or if you're posting the continuation. we're pretty excited! if not, then i'd be happy to give it a shot at finishing the series if you'd like.

Bump for update please.

I have a feeling we're never going to get another update afterall...

>>3301
>>3302
>>3303
>>3304
>>3294
>>3297
Bump please

Bump.

Here's the outline for the ending of the story, someone shared it on discord a few months back


Act 1
-Abijals invited to big family wedding in 7 months
-Ms.Abijal shudders at the thought of her family's response to how big her daughters are.
-Yes, Mel has lost a bit of weight but Ali's garguatuan gain is a huge hiccup
-Ms.Abijal turns their basement into a mini gym with some weights, a cycling machine and a treadmill
-Ms.Abijal and Mel have a conversation where she tells her about the wedding and how she can't afford to show up there with her daughters weight situations. She suggests Mel ramp up her weight loss efforts....example for the family
-Also she'll ask Mel to push Ali to workout as well.

-Left to her thoughts, Mel begins to discern the situation. The idea of a public event like a wedding to fully implement the changing of the guard between the two sisters turns Mel on.
-She imagines herself in a stunning dress, turning heads. Ms.Abijal proudly showing off her new preferred child, while Ali plays the background, garning a different type of attention.
-At this point Mel refuses to give up her new position and is determined to make her vision come true.

-So Mel engages Ali with the news of the wedding, which Ali dreads.
-Ali remembers the last big family wedding, before her weight ballooned, and all the boys she was talking up, what would they think now?
-Mel then reveals that the basement has been turned into a personal gym.
-Mel is surprised by Ali's reaction, one of determination and fire eyes. it seems Ali is prepared to put the work in even ordering a new workout outfit immediately.
-Mel becomes a bit worried;could Ali actually close the gap?

Act 2
-A week later, Mel is warming up in the basement for their first joint workout.
-She'd already taken to working out alone since the equipment arrived while Ali had decided to wait for her outfit.
-Mel can hear Ali's footsteps get louder and louder as she comes downstairs, ground slightly shaking

-Ali shows up in her new black workout outfit that seems to be tight.
-Mel also notices that Ali is also out of breath from her trip downstairs
-Ali obliviously wonders aloud if they added more steps to the basement stairs.
-Ali seems to be a bit overconfident due to her past athletic experience, emphasis on past
-Mel observes as Ali struggles with basic stretching. Ali turns her back to Mel to touch her toes, exposing to Mel a 4X sizing label on her back thigh she'd overlooked.
-For as big as Mel use to be, she had never reached 4x sizing. She could never imagine letting herself get THAT big.

-Things don't get better as Ali decides to use the treadmill.
-It goes very poorly with Ali lasting all of 1 min and change
-Ali falls to the ground out of fatigue, wheezing for air. Her gut is hanging out of her pants
-As Mel looks on in disbelief and partial disgust, she worries Ali might become discouraged too quickly which would hurt her wedding plan.
-Mel comes to Ali's aid and struggles to help roll her up off the ground.
-Mel suggests Ali started off too quickly with treadmilling and should have warmed up on the cycling machine first

-Ali climbs onto the bike, her butt dwarfing the seat. Her pants have also ridden down, exposing her buttcrack
-Ali tries to start biking, but can't move the pedals. She pushes as hard as possible but no bueno
-She exclaims to Mel if she locked the pedals after using them
-Mel is confused...until she realizes the resistance was slightly higher than usual due to Mel wanting a hard workout
-Mel doesn't say anything and goes along with the charade.
-She stealithly turns the resistance to zero
-With no resistance, Ali breezes through biking, boosting her confidence.
-Mel talks up Ali's performance, lying about calories burned.
-She realizes she's figured out how to keep Ali from hitting rock bottom until the wedding while not actually losing any significant weight.
-While Ali continues to pedal at a embarassingly slow pace on low resistance, Mel gets onto the treadmill for a intense run....


Act 3
-About a month to go before the wedding and pounds have melted off Melsi.
-She is closing on the 100s, a number she hadn't seen since middle school!
-Mrs.Abijal has voiced her praise for Melsi and Melsi's ego has grown because of it.
-Mrs.Abijal asks Melsi for her and her sister's measurements for their dresses.
-Melsi goes upstairs to her room to grab her measurements, already written down.
-She then enters Ali's room without knocking, to find Ali munching on junk and soda, watching TV.
-Melsi overall has changed her attitude towards Ali. You see even with the super easy workouts, Ali began to make excuses about soreness and wouldn't show up to the gym sometimes.
-Mel disgusted with Ali's rampant laziness, choose to give up and just forget about Ali's plan. She(and her mother) both felt like Alijah was a lost cause.

-Melsi begins to chastize Ali for eating junk while trying to diet, similar to how her mother use to do to her.
-Ali will try to defend herself but a loud burp will sabotage her efforts.
-Melsi just shakes her head and asks Ali for her measurements for their dresses.
-Ali's eyes widen as if she's forgotten about the wedding. She realizes she hasn't done them yet
-Melsi, curious to see how large her "little" sister has gotten, offers to do them for her.
-Ali hesisates before relenting to her sister's eageriness.
-Melsi grabs the tape and starts measuring.
-As she goes down the measurements. the tape starts to get shorter and shorter until Melsi can't get the tape all the way around Ali's butt
-Melsi holds her tongue as she is behind her and Ali can't see what has occured.
-Melsi compares the numbers on the two sheets, amazed at how wide the difference is.
-Melsi wonders if Ali had actually gained even more weight.


-Mel will quickly bring in the scale to weigh Ali, making Ali sink into herself and cringe
-Ali will try and make excuses but Mel will fake comfort her("judgement free zone")
-Mel finds it amusing that Ali is looking at the scale in fear when it felt like just yesterday she was egging on, jiggling her belly as she showed off her gains during her challenge.
-Ali will finally relent and put feet to plastic...she had not weighed herself since month 1 of their little diet plan.
-Numbers scramble until an ERR sign shows up.
-Both girls will be confused until they slowly realize in unison that Ali has most likely breached 400 lbs.
-Ali will laugh it off in denial, stating it is time for a new scale as it is clearly broken.
-Melsi will mumble an agreement, mostly in shock at the revealation.
-Melsi watches as Ali wiggles herself back into her sedentary position on her bed. She can't help but be turned off by the view. Ali's ride to 300 lbs had been mostly voluntary but it was clear now the past 100 lbs or so, she can't stop eating.
-Even when Melsi was fat, she'd never gotten THIS fat. She'd never become a full on slob.
-Melsi says her goodbyes and mentions the gym that gets a meager response from Ali
-After the door closes, Ali tells herself "diet starts tommorow" before digging into some oreos.

Final Part
-Now at the outdoor reception of the wedding. It's a hot day but beautiful nevertheless
-Melsi looks spicy in her white dress and heels. She had been turning heads throughout the wedding
-Under 200 lbs, she still has curves but they are very defined with tone.
-Mrs.Abijal, also in a white dress and heels, has kept Melsi attached to her hip parading her in an effort to show her off.
-Melsi loves the attention
-While sitting at their family's table, a boy will whistle at Melsi to casual flirt, thinking it is Ali.
-When he realizes his mistake, he'll complment Melsi on her weight loss and ask where Ali is
-Melsi can't wait to point out Ali, as she approaches from the buffet table, her plate filled to the brim.
-Ali is also in a white dress but it seems to be on the verge of splitting. She also had to resort to flats due to her wide feet.
-Ali looks like a proverbial blimp, a 400lb blimp. Her body jiggles in unison as she moves
-If Melsi was the image of moderation, then Ali was the image of abudance, unrestrained gluttony
-The boy is confused, surely this fattie couldn't be Ali.
-Ali starts turning red when she realizes who he is. She stutters out that she's Ali
-The boy can't believe it and awkwardly exits

-Ali is mortified and wants to hide.
-She rushes to her seat so she can do what she's gotten used to, lose herself in gluttony
-Melsi sees this and quickly exits out to grab her plate.
-As Ali consumes her food rapidly..almost inhumane-like, some of the other guests will be watching.
-Ms.Abijal will be watching as well, disgusted and infuriated at the public display of gluttony.
-Melsi returns with her plate....and two others. Melsi decides she'll have a little bit of fun at Ali's expense
-Knowing how Ali had gotten used to eating Melsi's leftovers, she's decided to up the ante a bit, see if Ali could resist making a pig of herself in a such a large setting
-30 mins later and a large burp will conclude Ali's 3 plate feast. Some of the guests at the table had lost their appetite watching Ali eat


-The final scene I have is the Abijals being called up to the middle to take their pictures with bride/groom.
-With the bride/groom standing, the guests sit right in front of them.
-Ultimately Ali will break her folding chair, sending her to the ground.
-The spectacle will attract attention as Ali pathetically rolls around trying to get up.
-Eventually Ali will be aided off the ground by two stronger g

>>6955
I would change the final weight to 500 pounds, gaining only 20 pounds in a fraction of 7 months considering Ali's gluttony lifestyle doesn't feel like enough

>>6955
Hey! Thanks so much for posting the outline for the ending! It's nice to get some form of closure. Also, any idea if this was going to be split up into 2 chapters? I know it was supposed to be five chapters total for the series and Fung only ever published 3

Bumup

>>3304
I’d love to see this story get continued somehow

Any news at all?