There was a wooden shed in the small backyard, where his father used to keep his tools and junk. When he turned on the lights the boy's eyes were drawn to a small set of pictures on the wall. He rarely remembered, but his father had been some sort of entrepreneur in countries abroad when he was young. Ritchie did not know what exactly his father did, and in the end it seemed that he died with nothing more than the house and a nice car that he left to his son. He touched one of the pictures kindly and grabbed the tools, going back inside.
While Ritchie fixed the toilet Chrissie absentmindedly gorged on the food. There was a fair bit of noise in the bathroom, the boy having put on some music on his boombox, so rubbing her almost full stomach she let out a fart.
Pffffffft... she let it out, a silent but long one, and then she said "ooh," under her breath, a sound of relief. When she was all done with the huge meals he brought from the restaurant, she looked at the pizza on the box. It had been sitting there for hours while she slept, but it did not look half bad, the box still closed after all. Better to warm it up, she thought, and so began the arduous task of getting up from the couch.
"Umf... Oh shit... oof..." she said, trying to rise like a normal person would, while her knees seemed unable to raise all the weight, "come on girl..."
Creak... the sofa sounded, each time she moved her vast body.
"One... huff... two... ungh... three," she declared, and so she was up, almost tripping and falling down, "Oh, fuck..." she uttered under her breath, as her center of gravity seemed askew with the huge bulging belly and enormous tits on top.
"Did you say anything, babe?" Ritchie asked from the bathroom.
"No, hiccup... No, kid, I'll... fuck... heat up this pizza. Puff..." she was wheezing, her huge breasts and belly fat weighing her down.
Glunk... grrrl... her full stomach sounded as it wobbled from side to side with each arduous step. Now she realized that she was barely able to see her feet, and she could swear she could when the day started. Nevermind that now, she thought looking at the triple-cheese covered pepperoni pizza. Feeling the sweat going down her massive legs under the sweatpants it was like her whole being was burning up, but she was still hungry so there was no time to complain. Cutting up pieces of pizza and placing them on the microwave she could barely wait before chewing them up, still hot and slightly burning her tongue. It was very fucking good, she thought, her eyes closing with pleasure while she ate.
"Alright, babe, it's fixed, sorry it scared you, I should have fixed it ages ago," Ritchie said.
He was shirtless, and the sight of his thin but defined arms and abs combined with the cheese explosion inside her mouth made her wet with more than sweat under her plushy fupa. She giggled, and said out loud with her mouth full:
"You look hot, I might eat you..."
His view was of a wide and massive woman. The gravity made most of her body sag down, but there was now so much fat everywhere that she looked... packed. As if the fat was filling her up to the brim, keeping everything shapely round and heavy, like there was an overflowing amount of her. Still, she looked tired, her round face completely red, elongated because of the thick double chin. Her watermelon-sized tits with big pink wet nipples noticeable beneath the t-shirt. Her belly peered out of the cloth, seemingly uncontainable. Her wide hips looked even more impressive because the kitchen was small. And her huge legs, rolls of fat absolutely perceptible within the pants, . It made him speechless, for a second.
"I'll... I'll t-take a shower. There's ice-cream in the freezer, you keep eating," he said nervously.
You keep eating. That's what he told her. He thought of that in the shower, and it seemed like the sentence escaped his lips. Did he want her to keep eating? She was probably going to eat them out of a home. Why'd he tell her to keep eating? She was so obese, she looked like she struggled every day a little more because every day she weighed a lot more. He looked down, his dick hard, and so he finished showering and went to the living room, with only a towel around his hips.
"Are you done?" he asked her.
She was breathing heavily, grabbing a spoonful of ice-cream with one hand and using the other for support on the kitchen counter. Her ass was almost entirely out of the pants by now, and the biggest underpants she could find looked small, almost buried between the lard mass of her ass cheeks.
"Oh... BWAAAAARP... Huff... excuse me... someone's... puff... hard..." she effortfully said, noticing the bulge under the towel.
"Let's go to bed," he said, grabbing her by a chubby hand.
She giggled and burped again, slowly waddling toward the room.
"Ritch, I'm... huff... I think I'm... unf... too big... hiccup... for our bed," she said, blushing again.
"Nonsense," the boy answered, too horny to actually consider the thought, "we'll go slowly, don't worry."
"This is embarrassing..." she said, her immense right arm resting on the boy's thin shoulder, "I'm... hff... very full, OK?... Fuck... There's going to be some... hah... Farting... oof... I can't help it."
"It's OK."