Synopsis: Two years have passed since moving in with Madeleine, and your life has changed in ways you would've never expected. Her habits have certainly rubbed off on you. Like the previous chapter, this story is in second-person, and the main character is gender-neutral.


What's in this story? Weight gain fetish content, including extreme obesity and immobility struggles. There are some minor mentions of health issues as well.

“Hard to believe it’s almost been two years, huh?” Madeleine asks through a mouthful of cake and ice cream.


“Yeah, pretty crazy,” you respond, lifting a spoonful towards your mouth. “Time sure does fly.”


The time you’ve spent living with Madeleine has taken its toll on your figure. You were fairly average-sized when you first moved in, but three meals of Madeleine’s cooking every day has added at least 150 pounds to your body. You found Madeleine’s appetite and the portion sizes she ate off-putting at first, but her cooking was so good, you couldn’t help but join in the gluttony. Sitting on a love seat in the living room, your belly now pours out into your lap. Your thighs and butt have gotten thicker, too, though this is exacerbated when you’re sitting down. Finally, a double chin formed on your neck at some point. It’s made extra prominent by looking down at the bowl resting on your legs, pressed against your belly.


Your size is still incomparable to Madeleine’s, though. When you first met, she was already around 700 pounds. It’s hard to imagine she could’ve gotten fatter than that, but she certainly has. Another two years of her unstoppable gluttony has brought her over 750, maybe even close to 800 pounds. However, you’ve never seen her use a scale, so you don’t know for sure. Hell, you’re pretty sure she’d break any scale she set foot on.


Madeleine is seated on the couch in the living room, the same one that’s been there since you moved in. At that time, she left about half a cushion of space when she sat on it. Now, her enormity takes up even more room, leaving no more than a few inches of the couch unoccupied. Fortunately, you heeded her advice early on and got another seat, this floral-print love seat that you yourself are occupying more and more of every day. Not only has Madeleine’s waist gotten so wide as to take up the entire couch, but her belly has also grown, too. Before, it didn’t quite touch the ground when she sat. But now, her stomach stretches out even further, culminating in piles of lard pooling up on the floor below her.


The meal you’re both enjoying is the fourth of the day, dessert. Well, the fourth formal meal. As your hunger has grown along with your size, you’ve taken to grazing on snacks throughout the day. Yet somehow, you still find room for the three feasts that Madeleine cooks up every day. Madeleine grazes, too, and she’s also quite fond of late-night DoorDash orders. There’s hardly an hour of the day where she isn’t either eating or preparing food.


Tonight’s dessert is chocolate cake. Four layers, each with a thick splattering of icing in between, creating an absolutely decadent flavor experience. But to further satisfy that sweet tooth, there’s also vanilla ice cream covered in both chocolate and caramel syrup. It’s all topped off with a generous serving of whipped cream. All of this is allowed to mix and combine in a bowl, where the deliciousness of each component comes together to create an intensely powerful flavor.


You may be getting bigger by the day, but your appetite still at least resembles normalcy. Or maybe Madeleine’s appetite has ruined your perspective of what’s normal. Either way, you’re eating out of a normal sized bowl. Your serving is only somewhat excessive, instead of downright absurd like Madeleine’s. She’s eating out of a gigantic salad bowl, using an oversized spoon to cram as much as possible into her body. Needless to say, that bowl has never held an actual salad before. It’s filled to the brim with the aforementioned components of this dessert, all melting together to form a slush of sweet, delicious calories.


Madeleine finishes off the last spoonful of her gigantic dessert, letting an equally gigantic burp fly at the same time. It weirded you out at first, but you’ve gotten used to her eructation. Sometimes you even find yourself doing it, unable to help yourself after a particularly huge meal. Madeleine then lifts the bowl up to her mouth and pours what’s left down her throat. The ice cream and the whipped cream have both melted and seeped into the cake, creating a moist sludge. Madeleine makes sure to take in every last drop of it.


You had already finished yours a few minutes prior, so now that Madeleine is done, it’s time to do the dishes. This has become a standard routine every night. You’ll go and do the dishes, cleaning up the mess in the kitchen from Madeleine’s cooking as well as all the plates and silverware and whatnot you both used over the course of your feasting. Meanwhile, Madeleine will lay on the couch, rubbing her belly and enjoying her fatness, sometimes even drifting off to sleep in the process.


Once the chores are over with, it’s time to help Madeleine into bed. She can no longer get up from sitting without help. Not only that, but she also needs her walker to go anywhere at this point. Her outstretched arms reach towards you, fat drooping off them, hanging down nearly a foot. Madeleine really tries her best to get herself up, but her atrophied muscles simply aren’t capable of moving her fat-laden body in that way anymore. As her hands latch on to yours, you think about the first time you shook her hand, and about how surprising it was to feel your hand sink into hers. Well, now your hand has some extra softness of its own, but it also sinks even further into Madeleine’s fluffy appendage. With Madeleine firmly grasping, she begins to rock back and forth, building momentum as you both count off.


“One… two… thr—”


For both of you, the last number is cut off by a grunt due to the sudden influx of effort. Madeleine from pushing off her seating surface, and you from the sheer effort of pulling all 700-something pounds of woman off the couch. It’s a genuine workout, but you’re able to get Madeleine on her feet. You then quickly place her walker in front of her, or else she’s liable to just collapse under her own sheer weight. If that happened, you’d probably never get her stood back up again. It’s one thing to pull her off the couch where she can at least push herself off a bit. It’d be a lot harder to get her up off the ground.


Now begins the long and arduous journey across the house, back to Madeleine’s room. Though it’s probably not necessary, you keep a hand placed on the edge of her waist for balance. To give some perspective on how huge her ass is, it stretches out so far and wide that you can’t reach her torso when standing next to her. The fat hanging off her hips measures several feet in both directions, and your flabby arms can’t reach that far.


After several minutes, the short journey across the house is complete. You and Madeleine now find yourselves standing before her extra-extra-large bariatric bed. She eventually outgrew the one you caught a glimpse of on move-in day, replacing it with the largest-sized bed they make. Designed for people so obese, there are probably only a couple of people in the world who need a bed this big. And Madeleine is one of them. She can’t climb into it on her own anymore. You have to climb on the bed first and help pull her up the couple of stairs. Madeleine struggles with each step, exerting herself intensely as she lifts those titanic legs upwards a few feet. Red in the face by the time she reaches the top, she collapses down on the bed.


You and Madeleine are both aware this can’t go on forever. Madeleine’s health and mobility gets worse by the day. Someday, she’s going to wake up and you’re not going to be able to get her out of bed. Someday, she’s not going to be able to make it to the kitchen. A day will come when she can no longer prepare oversized, exceptionally tasty meals for the both of you. But you mostly try not to think about these kinds of things. It’s a lot easier to just forget about all that and enjoy the food.


Madeleine’s mobility has been poor for as long as you’ve known her; she gave a tour of the house using a walker, after all. But it’s really gone off a cliff over the past six months or so. The first time she needed your help getting up was kind of embarrassing for the both of you. She was sitting on her extra-reinforced toilet in the master bathroom. Fortunately, she’d already finished up her business and gotten herself cleaned up. But when trying to stand up, she found herself completely unable. Several minutes and numerous attempts later, she finally cried out for help.


You were smaller then, still able to run to Madeleine’s aid. For reasons unbeknownst to you, the bathroom door was unlocked. Perhaps Madeleine knew this day was going to come sooner rather than later, and she was just taking an extra precaution. The process by which Madeleine extends her arms and you pull with all your might has become commonplace now, but it was completely new to you then. When Madeleine was finally on her feet, the idea that this would soon enough become a daily occurrence didn’t even begin to cross your mind.


Your trip down memory lane is interrupted by a knock at the front door. Madeleine didn’t seem to react, so you left her be, shutting the door to her room as you left. It’s pretty late at night and you’re certainly not expecting company, so you have no idea who could be at the door. When you open it, however, you’re thoroughly unsurprised. Standing on the stoop is a pizza delivery guy, holding a stack of four boxes in his hands. You scrounge up a few dollars out of your pocket as a tip and take the pies into Madeleine’s room.


“I hope you were planning to share with me!” you jokingly scold her.


“What, you really think I can eat four pizzas all by myself?” she asks, seemingly at least a little offended.


“It wouldn’t surprise me at all. When did you order these?”


“While you were doing the dishes.”


Madeleine does this kind of thing sometimes. You’re not sure how she can even think about food after eating practically an entire cake, not to mention several scoops of ice cream and a healthy – or rather quite unhealthy – amount of whipped cream and other toppings. But truthfully, nothing about her appetite surprises you at this point. And the fact is, you’re not much better than her anymore. You intend to eat more than a normal serving of this pizza, too, even after having more than a normal serving of dessert.


You take a seat at the foot of the bed, setting the pizzas between yourself and Madeleine. She stretches out her stubby arms, opening and closing her fat-swaddled hands. The pizzas are placed in front of her belly, and it’s a long journey for her arms to reach that far. This gesticulation is her way of indicating that she can’t reach. So, you hand her a box, which she rests on her chest. Her sagging breasts, obscured only by a bedsheet, make a good shelf to rest more fattening food upon.


“Boy, we’re pretty fat, aren’t we?” she says out of the blue.


“We?” you ask quizzically, giving her a bit of a hard time.


“C’mon, don’t act like you haven’t put on a ton of weight recently!” She indicates towards your considerable flab by wiggling her toes.


You grasp your belly and shake it a bit. “Yeah, but I’m not nearly as big as you!”


“Alright, alright,” Madeleine says. “Hey, why don’t you get us some drinks?”


This kind of lighthearted banter has become more common as you’ve both gotten bigger. Madeleine teases you for giving in to desire and putting on weight, which you justify as being the natural result of eating Madeleine’s exceptional cooking and enormous portion sizes. Meanwhile, you tease Madeleine for all the extra help she needs as of late. She really has become quite dependent on you in the past few months.


With a heave, you get out of the bed and make your way towards the kitchen. In the oversized, industrial-grade refrigerator, there are all kinds of ingredients Madeleine uses in her cooking. But there’s also copious amounts of soda. You grab a two-liter of Dr. Pepper for Madeleine, and one of Mountain Dew for yourself. Though you’ve graduated far beyond mere cans of soda, you still can’t guzzle it to nearly the degree Madeleine can. She could probably chug an entire bottle if she wanted to, and afterwards, she’d unleash a monstrous burp.


Returning to Madeleine’s bedroom, you both prepare for the unscheduled fifth meal of the day. The pizza has cooled down to the perfect temperature, allowing it to be eaten quickly and efficiently. Its delicious greasiness really hits the spot, and you manage to gobble up almost an entire pie before becoming full. Normally, you can actually eat a little more than that, but you’re still feeling full from dessert barely 30 minutes prior. It’s a testament to your increased appetite that you can eat anything at all.


In spite of dessert, Madeleine goes nuts, folding up slices and cramming them down her gullet. She’s eating even more voraciously than usual. It doesn’t take long before she plows her way through not one, but two pizzas. She doesn’t even start to slow down until she’s almost done with the second pizza. She eventually comes to a stop a couple slices into the third one. Patting her expansive belly, she leans back in her bariatric bed.


“Fuck… now I’m full,” she groans.


You combine the leftovers into one box; together, they form a singular pizza. It’ll make a decent snack for Madeleine tomorrow. After placing the box in the fridge, you say your goodnights to Madeleine and leave her to sleep and digest. You head to the bathroom, hoping to enjoy a relaxing, steamy shower before bed.


One of the many ways you’re reminded of your increased size is the amount of soap it takes to lather yourself up. It used to only take two pumps, then it took three. But as of late, you’ve found yourself going for a fourth pump, just to make sure all your rolls and folds are clean. And as you wash yourself, you can’t help but take pleasure in feeling up all the flabbiness that has formed across your body. Your belly is easily your most impressive feature. It’s absolutely packed full tonight, distended and firm from your unremitting consumption.


You never intended to gain all this weight, but ultimately, you feel that every pound has been worth it. Madeleine is more than just a roommate; she’s become your best friend over these past two years. You didn’t know what to expect when you first met her, but you couldn’t be happier with how things have turned out. Washing the soap off your body, you massage your belly a bit, eventually devolving into watching it jiggle as you play with it. Satisfied, you change into pajamas and turn in for the night.