RWBY Sumo: A Judoka in Training?! (Patreon)

This is the "official" version of the story. I will be posting another version which has some sloppier dialouge between Weiss and Yang later. The changes will be very minor, but it might make the feel of the final scene a little different.

RWBY Sumo: A Beginners Journey

Chapter 3: A Judoka in Training?

Weiss Schnee practiced her movements. Flowing, graceful, and strong, she bent her mind and body to the task. She was in Beacon's Judo dojo. Beacon was a martial arts academy and, theoretically, catered to all recognized disciplines. On paper. However, one look at the female student body would tell the tale rather clearly. Beacon, as all other martial arts academies in Remnant, was a sumo school first. It took a sizeable donation from the Schnee Corporation to even make the Judo dojo operable. All so Weiss could practice in solitude. She didn't mind though. Weiss would have practiced alone, atop of a mountain, completely naked if that's what it took for Weiss loved judo. The ice queen had a passion for the sport of throws, practicing daily until her body ran with sweat. And what a body it was.

Weiss' form was chiseled out of finest marble or clearest ice. A rock hard, muscular body that was sinew and caged intensity. Though her simple, white gi hid her body, it was clear that she was in remarkable shape. Her body rippled when she moved, unlike the bloated bodies of the other women around her which simply jiggled and slapped. The oafish, bloated forms of the women around her paled in comparison to her fit musculature. She was small and shrimpy compared to the other women. They, the ruder girls just coming up through the program, often whispered about her being masculine in form. But Weiss cared little. She was a different beast, one who could stop any of the bulky women; should they wish to test her. Weiss' skills were beyond compare for her age. Glynda, Blake, and Pyrrha might have had strength unending but Weiss could easily turn that against them. They'd thunder down the mat at her and, before they could hitch their mawashi further between their flabby cheeks, they'd be flat on their back rolls. Weiss Schnee had a deadly, devious martial art and one that was seemingly secret from most people. Save Yang.

"Heya. . .BBUUURRRRPP. . .Weiss!" Yang said as she entered into the dojo. She, under Weiss’s strictest order, had come wearing a gi but she wore it in a rather sumo fashion. Her top was left open, breasts almost completely exposed. They jiggled and bounced, slightly sweaty from the walk over to the dojo. Yang's stomach was just as exposed, stuffed so full of food that it had undone her belt. Her taut gut flopped out over her waistband, glistening in the bright lights of the dojo. Below her waist, it was clear that Yang had gained mass in her thighs and butt. They pressed into her pant legs, straining them to the point of seams popping out. Prior to Yang, Weiss had never seen a Judogi give someone a wedgie. Yang's large but pert butt did its best to swallow the fabric placed around it. It was evident that Yang had undergone another growth spurt. What had been 200 pounds of blubber was now closer to 220. It was hard to point out exactly where Yang had grown bigger, just that a general sense of bigness was radiated by her body. The skinniest sumo was starting to grow up.

"Yang Xiao Long!" Weiss berated her "student" as she marched forward. "I will not be teaching such a sorry excuse of a pupil." She slapped a hand to Yang's gut, squeezing the tight belly before moving her hand up and smacking her breasts. "A judogi is NOT sleepware nor is it stuffing uniform. We . . .wear it. . .with pride!" As Weiss talked she packed and pushed Yang's fat back in the gi, tightening the belt back up. "You are late, besides." The white haired judo queen finished.

"Sorry. . .Blake invited me to a quick stuffing session. She's been eating so much lately, trying to bulk up to beat Pyrrha." Yang offered the excuse, leaving out some of the more scandalous details of the stuffing session such as how Blake had funnel fed Yang and how Yang had repaid her. Yang looked down at her gi, hoping Weiss didn't see the teriyaki stains.

“Ugh, typical." Weiss rolled her eyes. "Well, take your stance." She said, hunching over and raising her arms. Weiss tried to hide her palpable excitement at being able to finally have a match against someone. Yang slipped into her own stance. With her size, Yang looked something like a juvenile bear cub. The two women circled each other, pawing at each other; probing for weaknesses. Yang had raw strength and size on her side. Though one of the smallest sumos, she was still a large woman. Under her tight gi, Yang’s body twitched and jiggled with equal parts fat and muscle. She could feel her breasts and stomach pressing against the limits of her gi, it would not take too much fattening for her body to shred the fabric completely. For the time being, however, she had to focus on something else. The tension built as the two women circled, making grabs at each other’s wrists and gi’s. Yang finally broke the tension, slipping into her sumo training. She lunged forward, trying to swarm Weiss with her sheer size and muscle. Ultimately, it was her undoing.

Weiss moved in quickly, sliding past Yang’s burly arms. Her slim, musculature meshed easily with Yang’s beefy fat. With exceptional body awareness, Weiss slipped a foot around Yang’s preparing for a trip. Yang was big, but she was off balance with the charge. Weiss’s hip shoved its way into Yang’s stuffed, distended gut. Before Yang could change direction she was whirling and cartwheeling through the air. Weiss was tugging on Yang’s arm with all her might, throwing the sumo-in-training over her back and shoulder. Yang’s golden hair billowed and plumed beautifully as gravity was suspended. She was held in the air for a moment before slamming down with all of her weight. The gi broke open in several places: Her stomach snapped her belt, her breasts popped out from her top, and her pants split up the back to expose her voluminous butt cheeks. Yang was left dazed on the ground with her chest shoved into the ground and butt poking comically in the air; her eyes spinning comically.

“Ooohhh what happened?” Yang moaned.

“Simple throw. You got too excited and were unbalanced.” Weiss said, sitting on Yang’s upturned ass. She patted her friend’s sagging love handles. “We’ll have to work on how you close distance. Also reading your opponent.” Weiss smiled, happy that she got to display her skills so strongly. Below her, Yang struggled to recover herself. The blonde was still dazed, trying to play back the match in her head.

“Weiss, you are the worst teacher.” Yang huffed.

“And you, Miss Sumo, are the worst student.” Weiss smiled.

Chapter 4: A big Match

The ladies of the Beacon Sumo academy were once again in the training area. It was, as everything was with Beacon, a lavish and richly decorated room. The room was almost entirely wooden, dark and polished to a mirror’s sheen. The room, in opposition to the rest of the school, was lit by large candles. There was an almost religious, spiritual presence to the training room. Like one had stepped into an age long past. The outside world seemed far away, memories dulled by the rich smelling incense that flooded the room. This was a place of martial tradition, unaffected by the hurry-scurry of the modern world. The ring was the center of the room with two stairs leading up to it. The girls sat on modest pillows, some of which were already getting too small for the growing sumos, several feet back of the ring. Farthest back, shadowed in darkness sat Glynda who watched the proceedings. One match was just finishing, prompting the stable master to return to her duties.

“Ho. . .oooooUUURRRRPPPP. . .okay girls.” Glynda said as she waddled back and forth in the training room. She patted her stomach, savoring the tightness that lingered even well after she had finished her most recent meal. It was sparring day which meant that the girls did most of the work. Coincidentally, it was Glynda’s favorite day of the week. She taught the least, instead lounging on an immense pillow throne and stuffing herself silly. Her little servants ran food to her throughout the proceedings. Glynda tried to at least restrain herself with how slobbish and messy she was when she ate in front of the girls. She maintained that messy stuffings were only for the private and comfort of private rooms. As much fun as they were, messy stuffings in the training room was disrespectful to their honorable sport. So, Glynda merely relaxed and snacked. She watched bout after bout of chubby women trying to hurl, trip, or otherwise beguile their opponent out of the ring; each exciting her just a little more. She loved seeing the developing bodies of her students, growing thick and fat under her own tutelage. Glynda herself was still growing. If middle age had been good for anything, it was her waistline and tits. Glynda was bordering on 700 pounds. Her breasts were now fully big enough for the smaller women to ride or sit on. She filled the large pillow that sat at the head of the ring, looking more like a pillow herself. With difficulty, she raised herself up, forcing her massive body into action again. It felt good to be immense. Her thick, wooden sandals clacked on the darker wood of the training room. “I think. . .UUURRRPP. . .the last bout should be Pyrrha and Blake’s rematch.” Glynda clapped her flabby hands, her bicep fat bouncing and knocking her breasts around.

“Yes. . .Yes!” Blake said, hesitating for a moment. She looked at the door to the training room before turning and facing her massive teacher. She bowed before addressing the stable master, her ass threatening to swallow her mawashi and the large bow it was tied in whole. “Would you mind delaying just a bit. I. . .was expecting a guest.” Blake looked back at the door nervously, afraid that the match would be forced to start  before her guest could arrive. Blake, normally much more reserved and self-assured, seemed nervous. Despite having handily won her previous match with Pyrrha, and every match before and after, the large faunus seemed off. She still waddled to the ring, her 310 pounds of fat bouncing and jiggling as she went.

“Well. . .” Glynda said, tapping her chin with the ornate fan that she kept beside her in order to cool her massive bulk. She mulled the proposition over. On one hand, Glynda was excited to start the match. The bulky blonde had been dying to see the rematch. The first was such a marvelous display of two rising talents. Pyrrha’s raw and untapped potential as well as Blake’s honed ability had been the sort of things that myths were formed out of. The two, wherever their careers went, would always remember that first bout. On the other hand, Glynda had a very good idea of who would be joining them. There were few groups of people allowed in the training room; distinguished sumo parents being one of the groups of people allowed. “I. . .UUURRRP. . .can make an allowance this once.” Glynda decided. Blake bowed in thanks, hunkering down on her heels in preparation for the match. Pyrrha soon joined her in the ring.

Blake stared across the ring at Pyrrha, trying to hide the butterflies that were bouncing around her large belly. Pyrrha lumbered up the stairs. Blake’s amber eyes were as keen as any cat’s, she could tell instantly that Pyrrha had gained a significant amount of weight. The way her breasts hung lower, the subtle press of her belly over her mawashi, and the forming double chin were all key indicators that Pyrrha had grown; possibly more than she had. Blake had done her best to eat and fatten herself up from the last bout, but it had been harder than she thought. Her meetings with Yang, while frequent, often led to things other than eating. That, combined with the hours that she had spent in the gym on her own individual practice, had cut into her bulking ability. Yet, to Blake, the small sacrifice in weight was more than ok for the skills developed under her independent study. She had someone she needed to impress. Someone who finally pushed open the door to the training room, sending the girls watching into a confused series of whispers. Her mother, Kali.

Empress Kali, as she was known to the sumo world, pushed the heavy doors of the training room open easily. She, used to the spotlight after a grand career, stood in the center of the doors; letting everyone observe her. She knew what they were thinking. . .that the empress looked tiny. It was hard to be believed, but the woman in the black and white kimono, had been an absolute terror. Once a nearly 900 pound woman, the Kali of today looked small and reserved. Though still large, 450 pounds, she was not quite the unstoppable force she once had been. Large breasts spilled from her partially open kimono. Her belly, doubtlessly soft and single rolled, strained at the belly-band of her dress. From behind, her massive ass lifted up the fabric of the kimono, hoisting it several inches higher than it out to have been. Whatever else could be said of her current state, Kali had an ass that belonged to a bigger woman. The thunderous clap of the Bellabooty had been heard in stables and competition halls the world over. It was impressive how, despite her apparent reduction in weight, it had stayed as large as it had. Yet, for all the heft of her ass, Kali was still outclassed by Glynda’s sheer size. Glynda was easily twice her size, the stable master looking far more deserving of the title of empress. Yet, there was something striking about the way she moved. 400 pounds of faunus moved elegantly and easily through the training room, evidence that she had once been much bigger. There was hardly even a waddle to her gait. She passed by the women, some of whom could pass her in size by the end of the school year, and headed straight for the stable master.

Glynda waddled forward, her breasts clanging against her boulder belly. With equal parts surprise and pleasure she waddled to meet her former rival. The two had met many times in the ring, Kali always being the Victor. Now, at the peak of her weight, to find that she dwarfed her rival was a sweet pleasure that she never could have imagined. Glynda hoped that there might be another in store. “What a nice surprise. Thank you for joining us today, Mrs.Belladonna. We are honored to have such a distinguished sumo in our midst!” The massive woman said, smiling broadly. Glynda longed to pull the smaller woman into a huge, crushing her with her muscled arms and squishing her into her endless gut. Yet, she restrained herself. Though Kali was half the size she used to be, she still had the look of a practiced sumo. It was easy for simple greetings to be turned into mini-matches within the sumo world. A wrong movement or too strong of a hug could easily trigger finely honed reflexes. Glynda, for how sweet it would have been, had no desire to test her strength against Kali’s. Instead, Glynda settled for a low bow which brought her sensitive nipples almost to the floor. Kali returned the bow, her ass nearly splitting her Kimono.

“I am honored to be here. Sorry for the lack of notice.” She smiled, folding her chubby arms into her sleeves. “It pays to travel a little quietly as a celebrity.” Glynda tried to determine if that was a slight or not. It was always so hard to tell with the Belladonna family. Polite and reserved. . .until they were dumping your ass out of the ring. “Anyway, I am excited to see the match. Let’s not delay any further.” Kali said, just a bit authoritatively for Glynda’s liking. Yet, she showed the smaller woman to an unoccupied seat next to the giant pillow which she claimed for herself. Kali sat herself politely, folding her knees onto the pillow. Her grace was evident in everything that she did. From her silky smooth movements, to the way that her black hair was tied in an intricate bun. She was poise wrapped in a mochi-soft exterior. Glynda hefted herself into her seat, a breast almost spilling into Kali’s lap.

“Ok! Girls!” Glynda clapped, bringing the room to attention again. Blake turned to face Pyrrha, staring her rival down. It didn’t matter how big she had gotten or if she now, heaven forbid, was slightly bigger than Blake; Blake had experience and training on her side. The raven haired beauty, the spitting image of her mother, adjusted her belt. Her heart thumped and pounded, something close to anxiety filling her mind. Each day the pressure had built a little more. The rematch, her mother coming to see her, her undefeated record. . .the thoughts had all mingled together uncomfortably. Now, to cap it off, she had to contend with Pyrrha’s growth spurt. She might have been 320, 323 tops, but that was enough to upset a balance. Weight was a fickle thing, even a pound or two hit differently. Blake, trying to clear her mind, snorted and lifted a leg. She brought it down, trying to shake the ring and her opponent. Pyrrha returned with one of her own. Blake could feel the muscle and fat being brought down on the ring. Pyrrha had certainly been training. Blake snorted again, trying to clear her mind. A heavy, palpable tension hung in the air before it was broken. “Go!” Glynda cried, dropping the hand holding her ornate fan.

Glynda watched as the two girls rushed forward, their bodies jiggling. She was on the edge of her pillow, struggling to see past all of her fat. Next to her, Kali’s perked ears were the only flaw in her poker face; otherwise she was completely calm. Glynda’s heart beat in time with the girls’ thudding steps. Any moment they would make contact. The blonde tried to appear impartial, but she was sure that she was doing a terrible job. She loved all of her students, but she couldn’t help but cheer a little more for Pyrrha. While new, she had the heart of a lion. It was the kind of spunk that she loved to see in new talent. Besides, Blake had Kali and a legion of school girls as fans. Glynda couldn’t help but cheer for the underdog. The two were closer, their feet kicking up sand as they charged. They would meet, belly to belly, and the match would be decided. Glynda licked her lips as she felt the two ladies’ stomachs collide. The room cheered moments later.

--- Consolation ---

“I’m. . .sniff. . .so. . . schorrry, Mom.” Blake whimpered. She sat on the other bed in Kali’s guest room, eyes red from crying. She had held it together after the match, only as long as it took to shake Pyrrha’s hand, bow to Glynda, and then 9

waddle back to her mother’s room. Once away from the prying eyes of the school, she had let loose. Crying and sobbing uncontrollably. Kali had simply sat next to her, rubbing her back and patting her. “I truh-tried so. . so. . .hhhhaaarrrddd.” She bawled, leaning her plush body into her mother’s own. Kali wrapped her up in a deep hug. Kali did her best to console her daughter, though she realized it was not quite as easy to hug someone who was almost as fat as you were. Things had been a little easier when she was 900 pounds of sumo, and Blake a 120 pound trainee. It stirred a thought that had come to Kali during the match.

“Oh, honey.” Kali ran her hand down Blake’s beautiful hair. “It’s ok. Everyone has setbacks here and there.” She rocked her crying daughter back and forth for several minutes. Blake cried herself out, returning to simply taking deep breaths. When she was stable enough, Kali broke from the hug and looked Blake in the eyes. She had to tip Blake’s chin up with a pudgy finger, but the two finally made contact. “You know, I was thinking that the only real thing you were missing is some size.” She smiled, trying to meet at the intersection of positive and truthful. “Honestly, your skills have been coming along well. I think you just need a little more bounce.” She poked her daughter in the stomach, eliciting a giggle. “How about you and I go out for a meal? We can work on bulking you up a bit.” Blake nodded, Kali brushed a wayward strand of hair out of her daughter’s face. While suggested out of genuine concern for Blake, Kali also couldn’t deny that there was an ulterior motive. During the fight, Kali couldn’t help cast sidelong glances at Glynda. Seeing her rival so massive, as well as her own daughter quickly gaining weight, had awoken something in Kali. A deep longing, a drive to be the biggest again.

Chapter 5: Weiss Dips Her Toes In

"Huff. . .ufff. . .damn." Yang said, panting heavily from her position on the floor. She rubbed her ass and moaned, trying to recover. It had been another strenuous day of training with Weiss. The Ice Queen of Judo has thoroughly and mercilessly kicked her ballooning bottom. Throughout the training session, Yang had been thrown end over end. She could hardly fathom how skinny, petite Weiss could hurl her 233 pounds of solid fat with such little effort. Each landing seemed to happen in slow motion, with Yang feeling every jiggle and thud as her body was forced back into gravity pull. Yang pulled open her custom Judogi, airing her large breasts out. She was covered in a fine sheen of sweat. Her breasts seemed to expand and contract with every breath she sucked in and pushed out. "How do you do that, Ice Queen?" Yang marveled.

"Firstly, do not call me Ice Queen." Weiss skipped over to where Yang sat, proud that she had once shown her talent in judo. "Secondly, because I've spent every spare moment of my life training and I value perfection." She sat down next to Yang. The two were quite a pair. Yang's Judogi had come apart in several places, needing to be retightened and cinched up. Weiss's was perfect, as if she had just put it on moments before. Yang's body was a noticeable mixture of fat and muscle. Her body tensed and rippled in equal measure as she moved. The weight was just starting to hit her, with Yang becoming less mobile. Her walk was beginning to slow. It was not a waddle . .not yet anyway. All the same, Yang bore the unmistakable changes of a woman progressing deeper into the sumo lifestyle. Meanwhile, Weiss was the same, petite woman she always was. Prim and proper, Weiss was like a deer that had taken human form. Each step seemed light, elegant, and full of energy. She was lithe and almost bouncy in comparison to her sumo sisters at Beacon. “Meanwhile, you get too distracted by copious amounts of food and cuddling.” Weiss sniffed, kneeling down next to Yang.

“Hold on a moment! I have to worry about calorie intake. Whoever heard of a small sumo?” Yang raised the natural question.

“Uh-huh. And the cuddling? My goodness, Yang, you can’t keep your hands off of Blake.” Weiss huffed. In the back of her mind she felt a tickle. “Not that I mind, of course, I’m just assessing your priorities.” Her ponytail dragged back and forth as tilted her head away from her round friend and training partner. Yang might have had the presence of mind to crack a joke, were she not so embarrassed at having her proclivities called out.

“That’s just. . .uh. . .research!” Yang blushed. “Gotta squeeze an arm to figure out how much muscle or fat they have. Pretty. . .uh. . common technique.” Yang said, driving herself deeper into her own lie. She could see that Weiss was ready to respond, her cheeks puffed out with pent up opinions and the desire to express them. However, Yang did her best to side step further uncomfortable conversation. “Anyway! Would you help me up? I need to get back to my room to relax.” Weiss deflated, pushing her pent up emotions out in a long and exasperated sigh. She rolled her eyes and stood up in a smooth motion.

“Fine. I would hate for you to waste your time talking to me. Afterall, you have so much important sumo work to do.” She spat the words out. Reaching a hand down to help her training partner up. Yang was heavy, it was going to be some work to get the rotund woman up and going.

-----------------

“Thanks, Weiss, but you didn’t have to come all the way back with me.” Yang said as the pair reached Yang’s special sumo stuffing room. “I was just going to grab my regular clothes and then head back to the dorm. Nothing crazy. Heh-heh.” Yang reached and arm behind her head, her breasts starting to fall out from between her Judogi top. Fat, round breasts with pink nipples fell out as the blonde tried to back up to the door. Weiss matched her, step by step. The silver haired heiress had no trouble staring down the larger woman, undeterred even by her wardrobe malfunction. Weiss could sense that something was up and she needed to get to the bottom of it. Granted, something was indeed up. Behind the door lay a well prepared feast, full of the most sumptuous and fattening foods a girl could ask for. Yang had her helpers prepare it during practice, giving them the general time that she would be back. Yang liked practicing Judo, but she was always afraid that it would burn too many of her precious calories. A growing girl had to be careful of such things. Too much cardio and her fat and muscle might evaporate right off of her body.

“Hmm. . .is that so.” Weiss’ eyes were sharp and her expression stone cold. “Well, how about I wait out here for you? I was also thinking about heading back to the dorm.” Weiss put a slender arm beside Yang’s head, her thin knuckles rapping on the ornate wood of the door. “Or were you afraid that your feast would take you too long?” She raised an eyebrow.

“How. . .how did you know?” Yang asked, bewildered.

“Yang, I can smell it through the door.”

“Ah . .right.”

Defeated, Yang reached a hand down and opened the door. She backed into the room, with Weiss following her in. Yang would have been within her rights to call for campus security to remove Weiss, it was her private room after all, but the severe expression the Ice Queen held kept Yang rooted. It was all the fat girl could do to find her seat and rest her chubby body. Weiss slunk into the room, her walk reminiscent of a panther hunting. The slender woman sat down, easing herself into a pillow that was several times larger than herself. The difference between the two women was made manifest when they sat. Yang plopped herself down, showing how her size and weight made her ungainly and awkward. Meanwhile, Weiss sat politely and delicately. In a whirl of silver hair she was seated, still staring at Yang. “So, feasting time huh?” She asked pointedly.

“Uh. . .yeah.” Yang responded, she lifted up the first bowl. She started eating, if only to break the silence with loud slurps and sips. Noodles and fatty hunks of beef flooded into her mouth. Momentarily, Yang was flooded with relief. The ecstasy of food and stuffing was upon her. It helped to blunt the edge that Weiss probed her with. “I mean. . .UUURRRPPP. . .can’t let this food go to waste. Heh.” Yang shrugged, looking like a guilty dog. The large, blonde woman continued to eat. She stuffed some powdered dough into her mouth, frosting getting smeared across her face and fingers. The fluffy, fried dough puffed her stomach out, almost instantly bloating her up. Yang would continue to eat, taking only momentary looks up at Weiss. The white haired woman would watch her, frown still on her face. Her arms were crossed across her small chest. Yang couldn’t figure out what she was mad about. It wasn’t like she wasn’t practicing. Ultimately, Yang was a sumo. She had a responsibility and greater calling to her own sport than she did the little experiment that she and Weiss had started. Yet, Yang couldn’t help but feel bad. She hated to see Weiss upset. It was always frustrating to beef with friends. Yang tried to smooth things over the only way she knew how. “Hey, Weiss, would you like some food?” Yang offered the lightest food she had access to, a bowl of chicken broth with seasoned vegetables and herbs.

Weiss deepend her frown for a second, the mental equivalent of a storm cloud brewing in her head. She felt a pressure rise up in her chest. The thought of herself eating like a fattened pig on the way to slaughter angered her. Further, it angered her to see someone like Yang give herself so fully to that lifestyle. It was wrong. Women, especially young and beautiful ones, were supposed to be beautiful and graceful. Instead, many of the women at Beacon and the wider world had decided that becoming heaps of muscle and fat was actually beautiful. Combat arts like her beloved Judo had become outdated and even seen as obsolete with no regard to the people that practiced them. Yet, as she looked at her friend and saw the sincerity in her eyes, Weiss’ icy heart melted a tad. Sighing, she took the offered bowl and nodded in thanks. Whatever her problem with the world and its standards of beauty, it wasn’t right to take it out on her chubby friend. Okay. . .but this had better not be fattening. You are more than free to ruin your body with food, but I will not be partaking in that.” Weiss had to preserve a little bit of her dignity.

“Nope! This stuff is healthy as can be.” Yang smiled as she haded the bowl of soup to Weiss. “Its got loads of good nutrients, made from the bones of the chicken. Suuuupppeerrr good for recovery and whatnot.” Yang broke from her eating to watch Weiss sample the dish. Hoping that this could smooth things back over.

“You know. . .this. . .isn’t so bad.” Weiss said, spooning little drops of soup into her mouth. She spooned more and more into her mouth, her taste buds and stomach accepting the soup readily. It was quite light, filling her physically but not diminishing her hunger. Yang, contended that her friend was enjoying her food, returned to her own stuffing. She grabbed a leg of roast turkey and began to rip hunks off with her mouth. Protein, carbs, and fat were what the sumo in training sought and in as high of quantities as possible. The two women couldn’t be more different as they ate. Yang took wide, forceful bites of whatever was in front of her. She threw plates, bowls, and bones behind her or off to the side rather than worrying about what condition to leave them in. bits of juice and sauce rained down on Yang, decorating her Judogi. Normally, Weiss would have made a sharp comment. . .but she was too distracted with her soup. Weiss took as big of sips as she could mange, sucking down spoonfuls of the amber colored soup. She could feel the warmth flowing through her body. It was a comforting feeling. By the end of the bowl, Weiss had tipped the ceramic to her mouth and was sucking down the rest of her meal. Little trails of soup running down the sides of her mouth. “That was pretty good.” Weiss gave a little bow towards Yang, who gave an enthusiastic thumbs up.

Yang returned to her stuffing, clobbering through the meal laid before her. Fat, hearty dumplings were her next target. The plump dough balls sat on a plate, their bulk showing just how stuffed and filled with meat they were. Yang grabbed one, it filled her fist, and went for a second. Except, the one that she reached for disappeared. Faster than the large girl could blink, Weiss had snatched the dumpling. “Sorry, just need a little something extra. I shan’t take more than one.” Weiss sniffed the dumpling curiously. “I think one of these meat-strosities could keep me fed for a month.” She offered the dumping to Yangs, knocking them together with a bit of ceremony. Then the two girls were back to their eating. Weiss took a bite with gusto, finding her suspicions about the dumpling to be correct. It was hardly more than dough, meat, and sauce. Yet, it was by far the tastiest thing she had ever tried. The taste overcame her, making her realize just how ravenous she was over a long practice. A second bite followed the first, grease and brown sauce spilling out over the dumpling to run over her hands. She would have been horrified at the constant drip, drip, drip of the grease onto her snowy white judgogi. . .had she not been so enticed by the food. Weiss finished the dumpling almost as fast as Yang did.

There was a lull in the eating for Weiss then. She looked around for a napkin, something to clean her hands on. Her need for cleanliness reasserted itself now that she had a bit of food. She almost asked Yang, but understood that would get her nowhere. Yang was busy with the rest of the dumplings, at least half of their meaty contents having spilled onto her clothes and skin. It was bizarre, gross, and morbidly fascinating how messy the sumos could be when eating. “You’d never catch me looking like such a pig.” Weiss huffed as she stood, trying to find a napkin. She wandered around the room, finding none. However, she did find something of interest at the end of the table. It was a plate of noodles, doused in a red curry sauce and loaded with meat, egg, and spices. Weiss tapped a finger to the side of her gi, accidentally smearing more of the grease. She knew that more food was not in her diet plan whatsoever. Moreover, she knew that she had to be reaching her own limits. Yet. . .she couldn’t resist. Maybe it was guilt over her feelings earlier, maybe it was hunger from training, and maybe the uptight heiress just needed some way to cut loose. Whatever the reason, she sat herself down and began slurping up the noodles.

Weiss told herself that she was not being piggish as she slurped. Rather, this was the proper cultural way to eat noodles such as this. She fed them to herself with chopsticks that lay near the plate. It was comical to Weiss that whoever had prepared this food for Yang thought she would actually use them. Weiss did use them though, forcing more and more of the noodles into her mouth. The curry sauce flew in all directions, dousing her robes and her pale skin. Yet, Weiss remained dedicated to slurping down the food. Her stomach grew tighter and tighter as she feasted. The pale, nonexistent belly forced its way outwards. The pale orb grew in size, almost breaching the confines of her judogi. By the end of the plate of noodles, her belt was biting into her belly. Weiss tried to arrange the chord of black fabric, but couldn’t figure out if it would be better to be above or below her stomach. Mostly, she figured, she was just playing with her stomach. Trying to give herself something else to do and think about, other than how her stomach could almost be seen from the confines of her gi, Weiss called to Yang. “This pasta was amazing! I hope you don’t mind that I took some.”

“Nah! Have whatever you want, Snow Princess.” Yang belched and then chuckled. “I doubt you could make much of a dent in this spread anyway.” She said offandedly. Yang was patting her exposed gut. She had taken off the top of her gi, allowing her naked belly and breasts to flop forward. Her hands smeared food on her stomach and a tight drum sound issued forth as she patted herself.

“Pff, I could do plenty of damage.” Weiss retorted, feeling playful in her stuffing induced delirium.

“Yeah. . .sure you could,  Weiss.” Yang snickered.

Weiss blushed, running red with being challenged. Her superiority complex made it such that any challenges to her abilities had to be met head on. “Miss Xiaolong, I will have you know that I am more than capable of destroying the food on this table.”

“Weiss, we want you to live through this dinner.” Yang said, trying to talk her friend off the ledge that her headstrong nature had placed herself on.

“Absolutely.” Weiss spoke in a tone that made Yang wonder if she was going to live through the meal. The game was on from there, though. Weiss, through a combination of good tasting food, friendship, and her own inner drive to succeed had been unchained. She grabbed a plate of barbecued chicken and worked to quickly cut them up and fork them into her mouth. Yang watched with amusement, unsure exactly how long this current fit of Weiss’ could last. She shoveled the food into her mouth, her ponytail swishing with the exuberance of her stuffing. Yang watched for a while more, taking in how elastic Weiss’ stomach was. The gi grew only tighter on her form. The blonde could see how the belt bobbed up and down, rubbing against Weiss’ foodbaby. Yang finally returned to her own meal, wanting to give Weiss a little extra motivation. The two devoured the plates before themselves. Yang eating with complete messy abandon and Weiss trying to preserve some modicum of decorum. Plates on either side of the table were emptied and put aside; Yang tossing and pushing and Weiss neatly stacking. The two women slowly made their way down the table, working to be the first to reach the center. Yang ate on all fours, like some blonde piglet. Weiss, unable to stoop to such lows, sat nicely on the side and slid her thin. . .for the moment. . .bottom down the polished wood.

“You’re not. . .” Weiss started to speak after a while. “You’re. . .” She paused, putting a hand to her mouth. “You’re. . .ooooh. . .you’re not. . .” Her messy, food covered mouth seemed stuck on the words. Clearly she was fighting something.Yang paused, looking curiously at her friend. “Hmmmm. . .You’re not sloooooOOOOOOORRRRUUUUUPPPP!!!” The belch that Weiss had been holding back exploded out of her with enough force to blow the tapestries on the wall. Through the force of her belch, Weiss was made to lay on the table. She stared up at the ceiling with dazed eyes, fully aware that she had stooped to a new and unladylike low. “I’m going to need you to ignooorrrrrUUUUUPPPPPPP. . .that.” Weiss tried to speak, but found another belch exploding out of her. Her gi burst open, her belly forcefully expanding with the blech. The stunned heiress lay on the table, realizing exactly what she had done. She had, for this meal, eaten like one of the sumos she so desperately hated. Her gi was covered in stains, her stomach was a taut bowling ball, and she had begun to expel belches from her mouth. Truly, this was something she could never allow to have happen again.

“Hey, what’s the matter?” Yang asked, her gluttony finally carrying her to her friend. Yang was two or three times the slob that Weiss was, covered head to toe in stains. Yet, Weiss didn’t recognize that. “Stomach caught up to you?” Yang asked, her naked breasts bobbing into view over Weiss’ face. There was a slight comfort to Weiss when she saw the bits of food smashed to atoms between Yang’s boobs. There was a heavy thwump as Yang sat herself down next to Weiss. A finger poked into Weiss’ exposed belly. “Did someone’s stomach catch up with them?” Yang teased playfully, not realizing the damage that had been done to Weiss’ ego and self-image.

Weiss felt well and truly stuck. She wasn’t sure how to respond. One option was to lie, preserving her ego. But that meant giving Yang the win. Yet, the other option was to let Yang know about how terrible she felt. Weiss thought for a moment, deciding to go with the slightly less damaging option. “Yeah, that’s it.” she said, eyes wide and staring at the ceiling. She could tolerate Yang thinking that she was the bigger hog, but she couldn’t stand anyone knowing about her inner weaknesses and fears. “It all. . .urp. . .caught up with me.” Weiss shuddered as the small blech slipped out.

“Ahhh, hey, that’s no big deal.” Yang put a hand to Weiss’ belly and began rubbing. “That stuff is going to happen. You just have to lay back, relax, and let someone rub out the soreness.” Yang smiled, eager to take a little advantage of the incapacitated Weiss. It was so rare that the guarded, pent up woman let anyone close to her. Yet, with her stomach turning crimson because of the stuffing, Weiss was too weak to put her normal walls up. Yang slowly rubbed the expanse of pale white. The heiress grumbled at first, but then settled down into contented mewls as the massage went on. She allowed her wounded pride to be hidden behind pangs of stuffing pain. Yet, Weiss knew she could have eaten more. Which was precisely what bothered her.