Help! My Beautiful Wife Has Become a Hog. (Patreon)

Tags: Slob, corruption, weight gain, Gas

Storyfest begins! I'm getting caught up on everything since I was away. Be prepared for a constant stream of new stories for the next couple weeks!

San snuck into his bedroom, a large covered tray under his arm. Inside the tray lay a fully cooked meal. A plate stacked with two Belgian waffles, a bowl of sugary cereal, half a grapefruit, and a donut were all arranged with care. He tiptoed quietly, trusting in his long legs to carry him to the edge of the bed with little noise. The biggest concern was just making sure that his footsteps did not wake his sleeping wife, Aoi. She slumbered peacefully in the bed, fluffy blankets covering her frilly and girlish nightdress. San’s heart swooned as he saw his wife, causing him to almost drop the tray entirely. Despite the blankets he could see the outline of her slim body. Aoi was one of those rare women who looked small and light enough to be picked up and carried away by a small gust of wind. The appearance of fragility was only enhanced by her pale skin and big eyes. She was like a doll that had come to life. It was still amazing to San that such a beautiful creature could exist. . .or want to be with him. Her beauty alone pushed him to be better, to overcome his own selfish desires and provide for her.

San crept over to the side of the bed, slowly bringing the tray down over the pair of slim hips that he loved so dearly. The small woman stirred a little, making him freeze. She turned from her side over to her back. Aoi was obviously wrapped in deep dreams, her mind guiding her inner consciousness through soft gardens. San’s lip trembled as he watched his wife tuck her hands under her chin. She had small hands, each of the nails unpainted. Her face had a natural but light blush. Aoi’s playful lips were parted slightly, giving her an almost confused expression as she dreamed. It was like a small bird had taken on human form. The big man was giddy as he put the food down around her. The tray was lifted slowly, paused each time the woman underneath moved or sniffled. San’s plan was to let the smell of the food wake his wife up. Once the tray was off and gingerly laid aside, he tapped the flower into the perfect place within the vase and waited. The smell of waffles, syrup, and melting butter soon provoked Aoi’s eyes into fluttering open.

“Good morning, darling.” She whispered, stretching her slim arms. The covers fell away to reveal her chest. While not big, Aoi had pert and shapely breasts. San had to do his best to not stare at the small apples which bobbed underneath the lavender nightdress. To keep his eyes from wandering, he offered a hand to help her up in the bed.

“Morning, love!” San said, his voice a bit too loud. Aoi slid up the bed, her hair falling about her shoulders as her husband pulled her into place. It did not take her long to see the fully cooked meal sitting on her lap. Her eyes grew wide as an excited smile spread across her face. “Ooooh, San! You didn’t have to do this for me.” Her light, lilting voice was as clear as birdsong. She flicked a small finger across a waffle and then sampled the syrup. Stars grew in her eyes as the full tasted flooded across her taste buds. “San, this is delicious!” She put her arms out to hug her husband. He bowed like a knight getting honored by a queen or princess, allowing her to wrap around his neck. She kissed his ear tenderly, trembling with excitement. “But what’s the occasion?” She asked as she pulled back.

“None!” San blushed, his face heating up. “Just wanted to spoil you a bit.” His blush grew deeper and he felt some sweat form on his brow. He felt guilty despite doing nothing wrong.

“You’re too nice to me.” Aoi waved her hand. “I don’t deserve all this attention and spoiling.” Possibly embarrassed, Aoi started to eat the food in front of her. She cut into the waffles slowly, holding her fork and knife like she was at a regal dinner party. Her back was straight but shoulders relaxed. The fluffy confection folded under her knife and Aoi was soon forking a small square of it into her mouth. “Mmmmmmm. . .I’m so lucky to have you!” She giggled, rocking back and forth. “But you really shouldn’t spoil me like this, I don’t deserve it.” Aoi got serious for a moment. “I don’t know if I can handle all of this attention.” She looked at him with big, moon eyes. For a moment, worry brushed over her delicate features.

“Hey, you deserve this and way more.” San leaned in, sharing a kiss with his wife. “I would spoil you the rest of your life if I could.”

--- An Uncomfortable Wait ---

"Oh my GOOOOODDD!!! Just. . .Bbwwwaarrruuupp. . .fucking hurry up!" A woman’s voice yelled out in the middle of the burger restaurant. Her demands were interrupted and followed by enormous belches that shook the windows of the restaurant. The patrons in line all turned and looked back at the disturbance behind them. They saw a greasy ball of pale fat, like a caricature of a pig come to life. The woman was immense, easily over 600 pounds of pure lard with no muscle or bone to define her. Unrestrained hugeness defined every part of her body. From sweaty hips that could smash several chairs put together all the way to breasts that needed custom bras to house comfortably. There was no part of her that was slim, no part of her that was unmarked by slob or corruption. Even her clothes, obviously expensive, were ruined thanks to the constant run off of sweat and grease and food bits. She wore a see through button up shirt, which was stretched tightly around her sodden mass, and white short-shorts. Her clothes were extremely ill fitting, with her shirt buttons threatening to pop off at any moment and her shorts undone to let her gut plow forward. Noticing the people looking at her, the woman gave another yell. "You're all. . .BLLLLRRREEEPP. . .so fucking slow!" She cried, whipping her greasy hair around in a show of bratty frustration.

As if her attitude were not bad enough, her stink began to roll over the crowd. It was as if the woman had not bathed in her entire life. Everything, from her hair to her clothes to her high heels, were plastered in an unearthly stink. Despite standing in the back, her smell filled the busy restaurant. Body odor mixed with the smells of day-old fast food and expensive perfume to create the noxious miasma. The smell was made all the worse when the expensiveness of the woman’s clothes and jewelry was considered. It seemed unreal that someone with access to such wealth could let their cleanliness degrade so much. With each breath the stink became more and more overpowering. While people could ignore the woman’s yelling and carrying on, they could not ignore her smell. Every minute they stood in line, the deeper it penetrated their nostrils. People coughed and gagged, unable to keep themselves from looking back at the offensive woman. Through it all, she never once batted an eye. If anything she moved around only to send her smell deeper into the restaurant. She was in a foul mood and everyone was going to pay for it. Little did they know how much they were about to suffer.

BBBBRRRRRMMMPPPPPTTTH!!! The nasty woman released a pent up far, air swirling with the disgusting, opaque clouds. The gas blew against doors and rolled back over the line.  “Oooooohhhh. . . Goood.” The brat moaned in what she thought was a quiet voice. It was nice to relieve the pressure that had been building within her. She was midway through a large day of eating. The food already shoved into her gullet was already being turned into fat and gas. FLLLLLLRRRRTTTT! Another blast of reeking wind flew from between dimpled asscheeks. She farted with such heavy force that her gigantic, sandbag asscheeks wobbled back and forth. “Wheeeewww. . .”The woman sighed before guarding herself up again. She smiled a little, watching people peel away from the line. She, either through genuine or pretend ignorance, had thought that her little back end blowouts were small and largely unnoticed. It was funny seeing people leave because they discovered her small odor. Then, she considered the further uses of her internal distress. She would find a way to shorten the line, no matter what.

Of course, the people that remained in line did not stay silent about their current oppressor. They began to talk and whisper. Angry murmurs floated up in the crowd. People who had spent their lives around polite neighbors and loving families were now confronted with the complete opposite of that. The woman behind them was a mess of expensive fabric, jewelry, sweaty fat, and gas. It was only natural that they began to quietly voice their displeasure. Insults and heated words began to fly. Things like "What a pig." and "She's a nasty slut." came up from the various men and women in line. Of course, none were brave enough to turn and face the woman. In fact, the crowd was shocked into silence with each ffffllllmmmpptth and brrrrummmmppptt that the woman’s ass slapped out. They were stuck in a whirlwind of brown gas and sweat-fog. As soon as the air cleared from one of the woman’s farts, the grayish fog of her rancid sweat rolled in. The shoppers were held in the disgusting limbo with no signs of things changing, until the doors opened and a man ran in.

He was tall and broad shouldered, but obviously beaten down. He had bags under his eyes and a permanent stoop. His bearing told a tale of years of servitude towards an uncaring master or mistress. He read the situation instantly upon opening the door to the restaurant, cringing and slowly taking the side of the fat greaseball. “Aoi, what are you doing?” he asked, panting from his sprint over to the restaurant. "I have food in the car." His mind turned to the four burritos that she had made him pick up. He tried to tap her shoulder, but his hand was slapped away by a wrist so fat that it strained and bent the golden bangles wrapped around it.

"Uuuhmm. . .don't think so!" Aoi said, her eyes glaring at her husband. "I jusssh. . .OOORRRUUP. . .had my nails. . .BBLLRRRUUUP. . .done." Aoi shrugged away from San, flashing long and elaborate nails glued to thick, sausage fingers. She shoved her hips to the side, shoving San away. To the obese woman, she needed a buffer so that her bumbling husband did not mess up what her nail artisans had done. San was a servant and a useful lapdog but not one to be trusted around the things that Aoi found precious. Aoi, to create an even stronger barrier, unleashed a hellishly swampy fart. Fits of coughing, gagging, and even crying returned to the line. “Alschoo, don’t think you can get cute after. . .OOORRRUUPP. . .being late!” She snapped her fingers under his nose, her flabby biceps rocking back and forth violently and dripping sweat. Her gut came closer to bursting through the buttons on her shirt. “I wouldn’t even be here. . .if you were. . .on time.” Aoi’s tantrum began to lose steam as she fatigued. Standing in the line had been draining enough. Her body was much more used to sitting and eating, with her bellowing out commands to San inbetween bites. She had largely given up extended periods of activities, comfortable in the knowledge that her husband would do her bidding. It was only when her needs went unmet that she was provoked into action. Such was the case this time, where San’s unintentional delay had led to her becoming hungrier than she would have liked.

“Aoi, you know I was only 10 minutes late. Traffic was bad,” San said. He tried to rationalize to his wife, knowing that the logic would fall on deaf ears. She didn’t even bother to respond, simply bumping him away with her multi-rolled gut. Like two half melted wrecking balls, her gut swang into him with surprising force. San fell back, hovering just behind her side. Not for the first time, he cursed himself. His slavish devotion to his wife had led to this. Granting request after request had unleashed a beast within her. A slobbering, gassy, gluttonous pig had raced from hell to overtake his once sweet and innocent lover. She cared only for herself and getting her increasingly ridiculous demands met. Try as he might to correct course, San found himself stuck under her sway; buried by her disgusting folds and toxic personality. “We have some food in the car. Why don’t you just eat that?” He asked, sighing from weariness. His days were filled with drudgery and devotion. What he got for it was a chair crushing ass pointed in his direction.

FRRRRRRRMMMPTTTTTHHH! Aoi was so taken with anger that she unleashed another blast of fetid wind upon San. “What, so these fucking slowpokes get my food!” Aoi crushed her doughy arms to her breasts, making the large orbs snap the buttons which had been barely holding them back. Sweat gleamed in the fluorescent light as it was pushed out of her cleavage canyon. She walked forward, reinforcing her position in line. The small older woman in front of Aoi was met with the fatter woman’s warm, moist shirt and gut smacking into her back. She left quickly there after, pushing past both Aoi and San. “You could, however, bring your hot wife some of that food. It will make the waiting easier.” She asked as if she had not just been berating and dememeaning him.

“Seriously? Why can’t you just. . .”

“I waaaannnt FOOD!” Aoi whined and cried, somewhat having regained her strength enough to renew her tantrum. Her voice easily barreled over San’s. She turned slowly, smacking another patron with a hip; the person was marked with her smell the rest of the day. She sobbed, upset that she wasn’t immediately being given what she wanted. “DO WHAT I SAY!” Aoi snapped, bumping her large gut into her smaller husband. Her greasy hair fell about her shoulders, trails of moisture running off of it.

“Fine.” San said, turning and exiting the shop. The patrons watched him go with quiet desperation.

---

“Mmmpgghp. . .gif. . .OORRRUUPP. . .me. . .mmmgghpph. . .anofher.” Aoi said even as she double fisted two burgers into her mouth. The immensely fat, immensely short woman was hunched over, protective of her food as she stood in the line. Her rounded back caused her shirt to ride up, exposing her large asscheeks to the world. Her fingers caressed the warm sesame seed buns, whilst her own sweaty buns were on full display for the people unfortunate to stand behind her. “Goood thisss. . .isch. . .schoo grwooosscchhh!” She exclaimed as she licked the greasy meat patties, cheese and sauce spilling between her finger tips. “Thisch isch schoo gonna make me. . .” BRRRRRRAAAMMMMMPPPTTTTHHHHH! She farted openly, the visibly brown and putrid wall of gas bursting out the top of her shorts like a pillar of smoke. “Oooooo. . .my tummy.” Aoi stopped for a moment to wipe her stomach with a balled up fist, burger held by her manicured, clawed fingertips. FFFRRRRMMPPPTTTT! The people behind her felt their hair blown back by the force of Aoi’s expulsions. Yet, despite what the grease and sludge of the processed meat patties were doing to her insides, she continued to gorge herself.

“You should stop.” San said, again having taken his place at Aoi’s side. Once, he would have been ecstatic, even honored, now he felt only shame and embarrassment. “If your stomach is upset, let it rest.”

“Uuuugggh. . .how about. . .you. . .ooooohh. . .stop it.” Aoi’s natural forcefulness was sapped by the cramps and forming gas in her stomach. “Don’t. . .BWRRRUUAAAPP. . .tell me. . .whadda do.” The obscene, noxious stink-ball spat back, never missing an opportunity to dominate her husband. She wiped a heavy arm across her forehead, strands of greasy hair catching on her bingo wing bicep. Thanks solely to Aoi’s raw mass and the sweltering heat of her gaseous emissions, the restaurant had reached levels of heat and humidity only present in rainforests. Her blue shirt now stuck to her gut roll, making her look even more like a yoga ball that had been rolled through a waste treatment plant. Meanwhile, her short shorts were getting ever more sucked into her ass. Each step forward as the line cleared out (every blast of gas or verbal tantrum serving to peel off more of the clientele) saw the shorts getting sucked further between her titanic buttcheeks. A deep line of sweat running between the small planetoids had turned her shorts see through. Aoi was wearing no panties, they only got in the way.

FFFFFLLPPPPTTTTTTHHHHH! The restaurant was filled with a brown haze, the admixture of her constant farts and oily perspiration. People were dropping out of the line in droves now, unable to stand the smell which assaulted them. They were lightheaded, oxygen deprived. They breathed only Aoi’s various smells. They heard only her voice berating them and making requests of San. A crueler and more effective torture had not been devised for the patrons. Each passing moment seemed to bring the patrons closer to death or mind enslavement. Rather than stand the choking miasma, they instead fled. The monstrous Japanese woman paid little attention. She instead acted as if the line was still as long as it had been upon her entrance. “Oooouuugggh. . .this. . .HOOORRRUUUPPP. . .sucks!” She cried, stamping her feet and pressing her burger filled hands to her gut. Her stomach pains were getting worse, gas building up quicker than ever. BRRRRRRMFFFFRRRRRTTTTT! “OOOhhh. . .” Rendered miserable by her own inability to slow or stop her gluttonous desires, Aoi moaned and shook. Yet, she did not stop eating. That would mean admitting her husband had been right. She would brave the line, eat every bit of food, and rub it all in his face. FFRRRRPPPPTTTTT! As another tidal wave of opaque gas blew through the restaurant, Aoi took the final few steps up to the counter.

“I. . .wa. . .waaantt. . .” BRRRRFFFTTT-PPPTTT-PTTT-PTT-ppppttthh. Her gaseous blowouts grew longer, fading into a nasty nothingness at the end. The worker, bound by a pride she had not known that she possessed, wrinkled her nose and tried to stay on her feet. “Waaannt. . .a number 1 with extra sauce. . .” Aoi wheezed out her order, running through a list that seemed both endless and extensive. She had to take breaks to wheeze and belch, her words sometimes drowned out by the sounds issuing from her ass. Her stomach swelled as she ordered, bloated from the unceasing production of gas. A button eventually popped off, giving her a bit of relief. The obese woman continued ordering, much to the chagrin of San and the worker. Worse still was when she finished with the fatal words: “I want this for here.” She was going to get what was hers and enjoy it in the restaurant, even if it killed San and the worker. The young worker blanched, but typed in her order. Each keystroke fell, another nail in both the workers and San’s coffins. Aoi twirled her hair, flipping beads of sweat in all directions. “And be quick about it!” she snapped, finalizing her order. She turned and slowly walked to her seat, leaving San to pick up her order. San, now condemned to the humidity wreathed and stink filled restaurant until his wife finished her food, waited for the food. Aoi, meanwhile, was busy forcing her bulk into a booth.

--- A Massage for the Mistress ---

“Saaaaaan. . .ooooohhhh. . .Ssssccchhhaaaan. . .'' Aoi pouted and whined, rolling on the floor of their house. After her fast food binge they had returned home. Aoi had waddled in, making it only as far as the living room. Clutching her stomach, she sank to the floor. She lay there, moaning and groaning. Her pants were blown completely open, stomach exposed to the world. Her stomach was stuffed such that it had returned to an almost perfectly spherical state. Where panites might have been was only fat, wet, under-stomach. Her thick fingers squeezed and vainly tried to massage her stomach. “My tummy hurtsssch.” Aoi mewled. While used to stuffings, binges, and gorge-fests as well as the resulting gas that came after, there were times when even the bratty woman was tested. Her stomach churned up ferocious storms of half digested food and toxic fumes. Aoi was quickly becoming a cauldron of gas, beyond even what she was normally. Her breaths became shallow as her body grew tighter and tighter. “Now, San!” She commanded, thumping her heavy arm down on the ground.

San walked over and stood over his girlfriend. She had been reduced to begging once again. Her bullying and belligerence had been stolen away by her own greed. Had she not eaten so much, not been so desperate to get everything she desired, she might have been fine. Not for the first time, San wondered what he was doing. He was married to such a bratty, selfish woman. Yet, he gave her everything. She belched and farted with impunity, cut other people in line, and looked down on everyone. He sighed, knowing that he couldn’t truly blame her fully. He had turned her into this. Bit by bit, he had worshiped her and created an uncaring deity. There was a part of him that wanted to change his name and run. She was far too lazy to find him. Yet, his better (or worse) angels always won out. “Ok. . .you know, this is because you ate too much.” He said quietly as he knelt. His knees poked into the side of her gut, quickly swallowed by the wall of blubber.

“Nuuh. . .OOOORRRRUUUUP. . .uhh.” Aoi’s belch signaled the beginning of the coming gas storm. “You. . .HOORRRRRUUUUP. . .lemme eat. . .tooo mussccch.” Instinctively, her sausage fingers went to her gut. She was too lazy to knead her own stomach, yet her body called for attention. Thus, her hands hovered above her gut in suspended animation. Her forearms were pillars of fat resting above swampy armpits and ballooned biceps. Aoi had the kind of arms where her biceps had become so fat that they distended from her arms and threatened to swallow her forearms. Now, laying on the ground, they formed plush pillows for her breasts and side rolls to lay on. Her hands floated inches away from her stomach, considering the idea of taking action to alleviate her pain. Thankfully, San guided them out of the way and instead did the work for her. He undid the buttons of her top, slowly pulling the wet shirt apart. It was made from fine fabric, a hefty sum of San’s paycheck had gone to that shirt. A single trip wrapped around Aoi’s love handles, back fat, and gut had ruined it beyond repair. Already, yellow sweat stains were forming on it. San tugged the shirt off, leaving a bare breasted Aoi lying on the ground. He began to rub her stomach.

“Too. . .tttiiiggght.” She said, wincing as he began. She groaned, nose turned up in a pig-like fashion. Laying on the ground, Aoi’s flabby chins became even more pronounced. Her lower face was encircled by the thick rings of fat. “Be gentle, you . . .OOORRRUPP. . . ogre.” Aoi said, feeling another painful contraction within her stomach.

“Hush, just let me work.” San said, feeling braver since Aoi was bathed in post meal sickness. She could whine all she wanted, but ultimately she had to do what he wanted. Whether she realized this or not, the belligerent woman ended up growing quiet. San squished her stomach, pushing in a little more, kneading the thick folds of blubber. Bffffrrrrrtttt. A Small fart slid out from under Aoi. San ignored it, knowing that there would be worse to come. He tried not to breathe for a couple seconds, hoping the worst of the gas would move by him. When he finally did breathe, he realized that he was wrong. Even Aoi’s smallest expulsions would linger in the air for minutes without lessening. He spluttered but did not stop his work. His fingers grasped her large stomach, working every inch down. Aoi’s gut was a landscape of different tactile sensations, all undergirded by a continent of flab. San’s fingers moved from patches of sodden sweat to sticky food remnants to greasy slicknesses. The geography of her vast stomach was as varied as any real world landscape.

Aoi whined and cried through the process, chubby hand even going so far as to reach out and grab his leg. Her other hand grasped a large breast, playing with the scarlet colored nipple. Aoi’s breasts, bigger than she ever imagined they could get, shined with the sweat and grease heaped upon them. They seemed to have a corona of light around them, a little halo for the cutest part of her sickly-sweet smelling body. Yet, for every part of Aoi that had become more lovely because of her weight gain, there was an opposite and equal reaction. BBBBRRRRRMMMPPPTTT! Her ass let out a gigantic fart. San’s massage was helping to move her stomach along; with that came new bouts of gas. Once again, opaque clouds shot out from Aoi’s swampy asscheeks. Twin moons of destruction and corruption, Aoi’s buttcheeks were everything wrong about her body. Noisy and smelly and destructive, Aoi’s rear was a symbol for her own degradation. Once, she had sat like a true lady. Now, however, she took wide stances when sitting to better let her gas out. FRRRRRPPPPPTTTTTTTTT! The short but obese woman ripped another fart, the room beginning to fill with the nearly diseased smell. Whilst the room grew worse, Aoi started to feel better.

“Scchaan. . .flip me over.” Aoi said, a new idea coming to mind as her stomach and mind cleared. With her digestion once again chugging along, she was better able to explore her other selfish desires. “Back rub.” Was the only command she gave, knowing her husband would do what she said. FFRRR-PPTT-PPTTT. She followed her command with a fart, clenching her cheeks to play with the sound in a bid to amuse herself.

San sighed, knowing now that he was in for the long haul. It was always worse when she asked him to help her move. Befitting her status as a plump, indulgent princess, Aoi almost never asked for San to touch her directly. He was a worm and beneath her. However, there were times when her defenses were lowered just enough. “Come on. . .OOORRRRUP. . .roll me over.” She huffed, putting her arms above her head. Her breasts fell to her sides, the overripe gourds slid with a wet, suction sound. San sighed and pressed the palms of his hands against Aoi’s hip and gut. His hands sank in deeply to her fat, fingers buried by the wealth of plush bulk that she had developed. He began to push. “Heeeey, not so rough!” Aoi batted at San’s hands, wiping the residual stains from her burger binge onto him. San felt a tinge of. . .something as she touched him. Perhaps nostalgia for a different time, perhaps guilt over his part in turning her into a slobby brat. Whatever it was, the feeling passed as he began to push and roll her over.

Aoi moved slowly, her bulk shifting as gravity worked upon its greasy mass. Aoi rolled like a whale being pushed off of a beach, her large body shifting unevenly. The carpet below her, formerly spotless and clean, showed a perfect sweat-outline of her. San made a mental reminder to grab the cleaning supplies when Aoi was finally satisfied and waddled off to do something else. If he did not clean the spot quickly enough, he would have the lingering outline and smell of his wife burned into the carpet. As always, though, cleanliness came second to keeping Aoi happy. She had reached the halfway point of the roll. Her stomach faced away from San whilst her ass pointed directly at him. It was a dangerous place to be in. San’s eyes nervously went to her ass, checking for any sign that she was going to unload another poisonous deluge upon him. For the moment, he seemed safe. The most Aoi did was send a heavy arm pack to tug at her pants. She smeared burger grease and condiments on them, leaving obvious handprints on the white fabric. Nearly $200 dollars had gone into purchasing those shorts and she treated them like a common napkin.

“San, take my pants off when you are done.” Aoi ordered, her voice still a strained whisper. She did not even bother to look back at him. He might have replied, but was too busy trying to lower her down evenly. Gravity pulled upon her, wanting to drag her fat into a plummet towards the carpet. San battled this, trying to make everything as smooth as possible. Sweat ran from both of their bodies, San’s from nerves and Aoi’s from her body’s inability to handle its own insulation. Her stomach gradually made contact with the floor again, allowing its corruption to spread on a new section of the carpet. The bratty woman’s mass flattened outwards, spreading further thanks to pressure. San moved immediately to her other concern, undressing. Daring the backlash, San put his fingers between her thighs and shorts. The expected retaliation for touching her in a sensitive area never came. San tugged on the shorts, trying to pull them back as best he was able. Despite having popped a button, the shorts clung to Aoi’s rotund body. She was gyrated back and forth by San’s light tugging, shifting upon the carpet. Deep within her folds, she felt stimulation and moaned gently. San stopped, afraid of what she might do next. However, Aoi seemed lulled into a sort of pleased half-slumber.

The shorts came off slowly. Inch by inch Aoi’s true fatness and stench was revealed. The shorts had hidden much from the world, punching above their weight in their ability to hold off the tide of foul smells that Aoi’s butt could produce. She lay on the carpet, a naked rancid mass. Her body glistened, little halos of light springing up from particularly sweat stained areas. She was a shelf of melting ice upon a sea of blue carpet. A goddess lying in a pool of her own filth, yet paying it little attention. “Massage me.” She cooed, an order no matter how tranquilly it was given. In a parody of the intimacy that they used to have, San crawled over her wide ass and stomach. He rested just above her back, legs spread wide over her vast rear. San tenderly placed his hands on her shoulders, slowly starting to knead her puffy shoulders. Aoi huffed and sighed like a hog resting in mud, her muscles relaxing as San worked his magic.

Aoi had a body utterly unblemished by work or strain. Thanks to San, she had been free to live a life free from any work or stress. Her body reflected this in its absolute softness. San dipped his hands into fat that might as well have been vanilla pudding. He worked his hands against shoulder fat so soft that it felt like the fat around her breasts. Even though soaked in sweat and completely unbathed, Aoi’s genetic predisposition to perfection showed through. San slowly went lower, inching down her body. He teased thick love handles, fat enough that they almost merged with her gut. He could feel the gurgle and roils of gas within her gut. San’s own backside bumped against the rolling hills of his wife's buttcheeks. They were so huge and thick that they actually prevented San from scooting back. He felt the thick, bulbous orbs flop backward and then rebound against his own pants. He picked his way carefully back, still massaging. Aoi moaned, feeling herself relaxing further. She felt San moving over her ass, too afraid to let go. He was stretched over her ass, face hovering just over her rear. At the same time, Aoi felt herself relax further. Her stomach puffed up under her. Another wave of gas was building in her stomach. She groaned, partially from relaxation and partially from the strain of mounting gas FRRRRRPPPPPTTTTTTTTT!!! Aoi unknowingly farted, blowing out a large and toxic blast. San narrowly dodged it, rolling off to the side. It rose up into the air, spreadig over the two. It broke over him, scouring his nostrils. The wave of stink came out as opaque and brown as any of her expulsions within the restaurant earlier. San seemed to pass out, floating from one reality onto the next. He slipped off of Aoi, clutching his nose. Meanwhile, Aoi stretched in a catlike fashion. Her bulging, flabby arm scratched the carpet whilst she wiggled her massive, naked ass. "Aaaahh. . .so comfy." She gloated, looking back at San. "Oh stop, it's not that bad." She rolled her eyes, oblivious to the true impact of her body and its functions.

Watching San lay on the floor did give Aoi and idea. It had been a long and tiresome day. The constant stream of eating and making sure San was doing what he was supposed to had tired her out. Aoi needed rest. Moreover, she needed to not exert herself any further. Looking back at San, she mad a modest request. "Carry me. I'm sleepy."

----

San grit his teeth as he took painful steps to the bed room. Shortly after Aoi’s request He had pulled his wife up and off of the floor. That alone had taxed his body. His shoulders and back ached from hauling the morbidly obese woman up and onto her feet. Then came the herculean task of raising her up and onto his back. She had, of course, helped not at all. Through pure willpower San had been able to squat 600 pounds of gigantically obese woman. Now, he had the unfortunate task of trying to cart her to bed. Aoi's naked body was draped over his own. Sweat and stink flooded off of her and onto him. Her breasts flopped against his back, nipples pointed with glee. She clutched him tightly, pushing her sweltering body ever closer. Pllllrrrrtttt! Aoi farted with abandon now, the gas within her stomach from lunch reaching a horrid maturity. Every few steps she let more out, creating a thick and visible trail. Meanwhile, San continued to slog his way forward.

"San! Why are you going so slow?" Aoi asked, her tone genuine. While the signs were obvious, she seemed not to understand how much she actually weighed or what San was capable of carrying. To her, fat and heft was something manageable because she rarely bore the full brunt of it. San helped her sit or stand, or with entering or exiting small doors. Every harsh reality of her body was blunted and smothered by her husband's devotion. In her mind's eye, Aoi was many times larger but only a bit heavier. This, of course, only translated into more work for San.

He was covered with sweat and grease that was not his own. He could feel his clothes being ruined. Sweat from the secret wells within her rolls fled out and onto San. His hold on Aoi grew looser as her well lubricated body transferred its runoff onto him. San tried to put the thoughts of his clothing out of his mind, but it was hard. This was one of the few pairs of clothes remaining to him and it was now cruelly marked with Aoi's unique body odor. While cheap, less than $50 was spent on the shirt and jeans, they were one of the few things that was his own. Everything else went to Aoi. The immense and greedy woman was a black hole of resources. She drained his meager bank account with constant spending and left San with scraps for his own wellbeing. The young man had debt piling up from credit cards Aoi had taken out. She was a burden in every way possible, though the burden currently was physical. San's knees threatened to crack with each step. Yet, he grit his teeth and kept going. He would hoist his wife, dragging her into the bedroom for a rest. At least then she would be out of his hair for a while.

Aoi, meanwhile, was thoroughly enjoying the ride. Her body jostled in time with each step that San took, the lurching of her body perfectly mimicking his halted steps. The bloated gasbag could feel her husband's back arching and his thighs shaking. His pathetic quivers only jiggled her fat more, matched by the rumbling from the gas in her stomach. It was intoxicating feeling the physical struggle he was going through. She loved the power that he gave to her. Even more than the food that she gorged on, she had gotten bloated and fat on the obsequious deference that San showed. The more slavish devotion that Aoi had received, the more she had become a tyrant. Now, years into their marriage, she was capable of anything. She knew San would simply take it and begrudgingly ask for more. FFRRRRMMMMPPPPTTTTT!!! She farted whilst leaning back, slowing San down a bit. She wanted him to be trapped in the brown fog she was creating. "Faster. . .I'm sleepy." She did not plan on making it easy though.

San grunted, his strength running out. It mattered little that he was close to his goal. The door rested only a few feet in front of him. He only had to reach it, then he could drop her off. Never had something seemed so impossible. San’s fingers were slipping, slowly falling away from the succulent fold between her ass and thighs. His knees bowed outwards, trying to compensate for the load placed upon them. The door was in front of him, but he had no strength left. Aoi was unmovably heavy. She seemed to grow heavier with each step, ballooning outwards with fat and barely pent up gas. The world started to spin, the sweltering heat and stench becoming too much for the young man. He gasped, lungs taking in unclean fumes. San started to dip, sinking as he plodded towards the door. He felt his wife dig her fat cankles into his back.

"No, San! Keep going!" Aoi yelled petulantly. She shook her arms in protest, flabby biceps smacking San's ears accidentally. Her chins bobbled on his ear as she yelled and berated him. Aoi could sense the ship was sinking. She did her best to keep her packmule going through the usual methods of yelling and rudeness. However, it did little good. San had reached the end of his rope. There was only so much a human could be put through before the innate safety measures of biology start to work. San’s legs were giving out. He was drifting downwards, chest parallel with the ground due to the weight upon him. While Aoi raged behind him, San fell into a blissful disconnect. Things seemed unreal, silly even. He thought about how nice laying on the carpet might be. His fall was slow, transferring from walking to crawling to lying motionless with his face buried in the carpet. He was one step from the door.

Both San and Aoi tried to move. San gave increasingly feeble attempts to get up and continue his struggle. His arms and legs shook, his back beding under Aoi's weight. She had landed upon him like several sacks of potatoes, her large ass resting directly upon his spine. Upset but the turn of events, she also tried to stand. However, without San to help her, Aoi came face to face with her own lack of mobility. Sher rocked back and forth, trying to build up momentum. Even when she reached an apex and started to rise off the ground, she came crashing back down on San. Aoi whined pathetically, hating the knowledge that she was unable to move and unable to motivate her devoted husband. The pair were stuck tight.

"Saaaaan! Please!" Aoi whined. "Get uuuup, I need you!" She cried, a tantrum coming on. However, San did not respond. Pushed well beyond his means, San’s mind flipped him into unresponsiveness. He wa simply content to lay on the floor and be crushed by Aoi. The young man slowly drifted away from his wife, her bratty yelling unable to reach him in his current state. He lay on the floor and dreamed of a time before, a time when Aoi had been a different woman. He wondered if there was anything he could do to being her back.