Overwatch: Elizabeth “Health Calamity” Ashe (Patreon)

Tags: Mild health issues, Teasing, ussbbw, 

“Shu. . .uuggh. . .shuh-tay with thah car.” Ashe swung a meaty hand backwards, waving her gang back to the van. Her posse had been forming up, as good henchmen should. They were a well trained and well organized bunch, ready to help their femme fatale leader at a moment's notice. The tasks could be anything to robbing a bank, blasting trainracks, or. . .helping her out of a van. “Goddamn, when. . .hhaaaah. . .did thesch. . .seatsch. . .shrink.” Ashe said, rocking her body in a desperate bid to get it unwedged from the van. Currently, Ashe's several-feet-wide hips her lodged between the dash and door frame. Ashe was not a strong woman, certainly not in her current condition, but the weight of her titanic body was enough to wrench the large, armored vehicle back. There was an ungodly squeaking as the suspension was tested, matched only by the cracking and popping of Ashe's joints. Though, her aggressive panting and coughing helped drown that noise out.

The white-haired piglet had gone unweighed for at least a year now, but all estimates were sky-high. She was now entering into "hardly mobile" territory. In an ironic turn, her struggle to get out of the vehicle made her look more active than she really was. Her screaming at her gang masked the true degradation lying beneath her extensive folds. Ashe’s body was going haywire, the symptoms mounting more everyday. The slightest amount of exercise caused fits of wheezing and heart palpitations. She felt ill if she went even an hour without sugar, but then worse when she had it. Truly, the woman was in poor condition. The simple walk from the van to the door of the large mansion they were parked outside of would have her chest pounding and her hip joints grinding. Ashe bore all the hallmarks of a critically obese, hyper-fattened woman. She had a softened, red checked face which was perfectly round. Her body was always covered in a clammy sweat, now so fat that she could not regulate her own temperature. And extremities that swelled with any amount of pressure or strain. Ashe was a cursing, waddling, heaving catastrophe on two pillar legs. "Gooot-blast thisch. . .uuuhhh-hooo-hooo. . .thing." She swore at the truck, already desperate for clean air. "Ah. . .whooo. . .huuuuggh. . .knew ah should. . ." Her sentence would go unfinished. She needed the air too much.

Finally though, she was able to rest her gigantic, blimpy body from the vehicle. She stood in a parody of her old outfit, selectively restitched to accommodate her girth. Ashe had opted for tucking her gut into her britches. She forced the pale whale that was her below the dark depths of her XXXXXXL pants, though it made its presence known. She had to lead with her belly when she walked, guiding it back and forth lest it pull her off course. Her fat feet were jammed in a pair of heels, moreso resembling hooves than the delicate toes of a woman. Those same pig trotters bore the weight of the world, with redwood-huge legs pressing down with murderous intent. She was no less a mess above the waist. Large sagging breasts had burst open her formerly orderly shirt. They were openly sweaty and nearly naked, spilling onto her gut like sows lying quietly on a snow drift. However, they quickly grew disorderly as Ashe finally extricated herself from the truck and waddled towards the large building in front of her. Her tits slid further and further out, sweat pouring from between them to douse her shirt. Buttons popped off of her and her pants ripped in several new places. It was pathetic to see a woman with such little control over her appearance.

Ashe gasped and panted as she took the painful steps up to the door of the building. Her ankles, knees, and other joints screamed and popped with every step. Whatever cartilage she had once possessed had been utterly stripped from her thanks to her weight. Her waddle was slow and painful, the exertion even going so far as to pain her chest. The strain on her heart mounted almost as quickly as the strain on her joints. After a particularly noticeable pop from her knee, Ashe reached down to slap at her thigh. “Damn. . . whoo. . .thing jus. . .hasn’t been right. . .ooofff. . .after that lass job.” She drawled, writing off any and all signs of her weight gain. Ashe’s ignorance was strong, built up with the same speed that she piled pounds on. She would allow herself to admit she had some nagging symptoms that needed treating, but could not face the bigger, darker picture. “Hol on. . .huuuf. . .juss. . .ah bit. . .hoooo. . .more.” She wheezed more with each step. The walkway to the house was not especially large, but it was nearly insurmountable to the gigantic southern woman. Her heels dug into the stone, chipping it thanks to the weight pressing down. She would arrive at the door a sweaty, grunting mess that was nearly in cardiac arrest. However, she would arrive and find a doctor waiting for her.

“Ah, Miss Ashe, it’s good to see you.” Ana Amari said, nodding her head. She had been eagerly watching white haired woman exit the vehicle with great interest. Ana hadn’t known about the visit in advance, but that made things all the sweeter. Yet another fine specimen of obesity had landed in her lap. The perks of being a medical professional with a kink were profound. “How may I help you?” She asked calmly. Her tone was the exact opposite of the woman currently poised to collapse on the front steps of her home.

“Ah. . need. . .a check up.” Ashe said, wavering back and forth. She grasped the railing, trying to keep her mass balanced. She sucked air in, desperately trying to fill her lungs. The struggle getting out of the car had drained her more than she realized. Her legs started to fall out from under her, the rips in her pants growing ever wider as her fat compressed. Pale bulk escaped from a thousand rips as the obese woman slowly sank to the ground into a wheezing, huffing mess. “Schometihn’s. . .wrong.” Ashe said, coughing before she passed out.

Ana shrugged and smiled. “Goodness, it looks like I will have to have someone admitted to the careward.” She nudged one of Ashe’s immense, naked breasts with a slippered foot. “One stretcher. . .and a little recovery ice cream coming up!”

--- A New Resident ---

“Ah. . .whoooo. . .told ya. . .I’m fine tah. . .fooossh. . .go!” Ashe sucked down great gasps of oxygen from her mask. It was tight around her fat face and pulled her lips into a nearly permanent pucker. The gigantic woman was allowed to remove it only when she was eating. She would clumsily flip it up, her hands weakly flopping at her face. Days removed from her heart attack, the former convict and outlaw was utterly weak. She rarely was seen without food, Ana’s prescription for a “healthy” recovery. Loads of energy increasing things like cake, ice cream, icing dipped scones; staples of a balanced diet Ashe, eager simply to remove her oxygen mask, lapped up whatever was brought to her. “Mmmpggh. . .lemme. . .sslllrrruuupp. . .get oudddah. . here.” She said, slopping her spoon into a large bowl of vanilla custard.  Ashe ate with the same grace that she had hobbled up to the house with. The spoon missed her mouth a couple times, its wielder unable to handle the weight of her own arm. The custard trailed down her mouth and onto her gown.

She wore a purposely tiny hospital gown, which covered almost nothing on her. Her breasts were allowed to spill to the sides of her gut and her ass was left completely naked. She sat in a triple wide seat made for patients with her exact condition: disastrous impulse control. “Lemme. . .shoooo. . .huuuufff. . .go home!” The big woman whined, taking a break from her eating to thump a hand down on the armrest. The bowl shook, spilling some of its contents onto her lap.“There ain’t. . .whooo. . .nuthin. . .wrong with. . .aaah. . .me.” She huffed and panted, listening to a choir of alarms from the various monitors attached to her. She was growing dizzy again, too much exertion and too much sugar entering her bloodstream. Her veins, little more than glucose highways, were overtaxed and under-managed. However, there was someone who purportedly was looking after her. A watching angel who thought deeply of her patients conditions.

“Now Ashe,” Ana started, her tone perfectly motherly. “I think we both know the truth of things.” Ana was dressed in a lab coat and blue dress. Being her home clinic, the formal clothes were unnecessary but the older Egyptian woman loved the contrast. Ashe was a half ton mess, whilst she was a calm and collected doctor. Ana leaned down, patting the gunslinger’s gut. Her hands sank into the warm, clammy folds. Held on the brink of perpetual heat failure, Ashe was constantly sweating. The IV threaded into her arm pumped fluids into her, but they were almost immediately expelled via her sweat glands. Ana teased the heavy roll, lifting it up and down in rhythm with the heart rate monitor. “You aren’t healthy. In fact, you are in a rather critical spot. Heart failure, diabetes, hypertension. It’s only going to get worse.” the heart monitor beeped faster. Ana dropped the roll she was holding and slid her hand up the morbidly obese woman’s body. “If I let you leave, you will die in a couple days.” her fingers teased Ashe’s breasts for a moment before pushing into the center of the southern woman’s chest. Ana, feeling especially playful and just a bit mean, put on a southern accent. “Your poor ticker just can’t hold out.”

“Thass susssh. . .NNNHHHNNNN. . .bull. . .ffuucckk. . .'' Ashe grit her teeth as a spasm of pain burst through her chest. She collapsed, weak as a kitten, into her chair. The bowl of custard slipped to the floor. Ana, quick as ever, whipped out a syringe and jammed it into the woman’s thigh. Ana, needing to make a point still, only pumped half of the medicine into her patient. Ashe’s vision cleared and the pain receded slightly.

“See.” Ana said, tucking the needle back into her waistcoat pocket. She then worked on tucking Ashe’s exposed breasts into her gown. It was largely an excuse to fondle her patient. Ashe’s saucer nipples were bright red, vivacious and full of life. . .unlike the rest of her. “I don’t say this to demean you. I want to help.”

“Help me. . .how can. . .yah?” Ashe asked her question, hardly able to form a coherent sentence.

“Well, we can’t fix you.” Ana tutted. “You’ve done too much damage to yourself for that.” She continued massaging Ashe’s large breast, kneading it with her hands. Ashe couldn’t help but slip down, falling into a relaxed state. Embarrassing as it was, it had been a long time since anyone had treated her like a woman. While more than likely delusional and a bit psychotic, Ana was showing affection that Ashe had been denied since putting on her tremendous poundage. The gargantuan woman leaned into Ana’s hand, allowing herself to be molded and toyed with. “I can, however, give you a space to be yourself. You need this, you need attention.” Ana leaned in, putting her lips to Ashe’s ear. It was sunken into her fat face, wedged between cheek fat and neck fat. Plenty capable of hearing the older woman’s temptations. “Spend the rest of your life held in between death. . .and the ultimate life. Nothing but indulgence.” She cooed. Ashe shivered, knowing the sweet words were ultimately poison. She wanted them nonetheless.

“Ah’ll. . . hnnngggh. . .” She stopped to grasp her chest as a spasm took it. Her hand, incidentally, grabbed onto Ana’s. “. . .take it. . .juss. . .nnnngggghh. . .treat me. . .right.” The obese woman said, wanting nothing more than to dull the constant pain with medication, gluttony, and sex.

“I most certainly will.” Ana said, kissing the gunslinger’s forehead. Another patient added to the ward.