Nagatoro’s Slobby Showdown

Tags: Extreme weight gain, Slob, Gas, Mobility issues.

First story of the month! May was a bit of a dumpster fire, but I'm back in full capacity this month.

--- Art Room Showdown--- 

“Scccchhheeennpaaaaai. . .BBBBLLUUURRRUUUUP. . .make. . .HUUURRRUUUP. . .tah get. . .my. . .schweat. . .beadsscch.” Nagatoro waved a tired hand at Senpai. Smelly sweat splattered from her wobbling fat, plopping onto the floor around the couch. A haze drifted from between the obese woman’s armpits, hanging around the room like smoke in a bar. Nagatoro was piled on the couch, struggling to keep her fat body in the pose that her senpai had put her in. The short but excessively wide woman was supposed to have one arm over the couch, one leg pointed towards the armrest opposite where her flabby back rolls rested, and one chubby foot pointed towards the ground. Nagatoro rested in a parody of that, looking like a pile of chocolate ice cream in mid-melt rather than a beautiful woman in repose. Her large butt was pushing her off the couch, making her slide towards the edge. 

“You know, if you weren’t so fat, this would be easier.” Senpai said, his wooly hair and bespectacled face appearing from around the canvas. “We’re going to have to replace that couch, I hope you know.” He waved his sketching pencil, outlining where Nagatoro’s rancid sweat had pooled in dark puddles. 

“Whaaaat?” BBBBBLLLLEEERRRRRTTT! Nagatoro let a fart out on the already tortured couch. The floor underneath her bulk vibrated as her flabby asscheeks quaked. Beyond proud of herself, Nagatoro let another blast of fetid wind free. FFFFLLRRRRRPPPPTT! Her greasy cheeks were spread wide as the noxious cloud freed itself. Enjoying the dance of her flabby body and the feeling of release, Nagatoro slid down on the couch. Her body seemed to pool like a viscous liquid, lacking defining features. She was an endless series of rolls, a 400 pound pile of slobby fat. “What. . .haf. . .I done?” Fat or skinny, Nagatoro knew all the buttons to push. 

“As if I even need to answer that.” Senpai pushed his glasses up. He frowned, studying his girlfriend. “Also, please sit up. I need you in the correct pose.” The sketching pencil waved like a wand, the young man casting a spell to try and convince his indulgent girlfriend to listen. The results were predictable.

BBBBBLLLLLEEERRRRRT! “Oooooooh. . .I need. . .help.” Nagatoro’s moans tickled the deepest parts of senpai’s brain. “I’m too fat. . .BBEEERRRUUUP. . .and sscchlippery!” She waved her arms, shaking more sweat from the hanging curtains of bicep fat. Nagatoro wore only her swimsuit, allowing most of her fat to flop as it pleased. She was well lubricated by her blubber, so much so that she slid off of any angled surface. “Coooome on. . .BBBOOOORRRUUP. . .schenpai. . .help your. . .fatty. . .kohai.” Nagatoro blew a kiss. 

“I should never have allowed this.” Senpai shook his head and walked over to his girlfriend. Nagatoro was gigantic, fat filling every bit of her frame. Even the parts of her that had grown the least, her breasts, were swollen and floppy. Through the clouds of wafting sweat and fart gas he remembered how things had been before her weight gain. Before Nagatoro had been struck by inspiration. “You’re going to have to help too.” Senpai lightly grabbed Nagatoro’s hands, there was a squish as the sweat resting between her fingers was pushed out. “You’re too fat to lift on my own. 

“Bah. . .HOOOOLLLRRRUUUUP. . .you’re jussccht. . .weak!” Nagatoro had no qualms with belching in her senpai’s face. It was yet another way to tease the curly haired boy. What had started with words and the occasional pinch had grown along with her body. Now, the morbidly obese girl was not shy about belching or farting on her boyfriend or getting sweat on his immaculately clean clothes. The two belonged to each other and Nagatoro was free to show her love as she wished. “Huh-and. . .don’t. . .BBLLEEERRUUP. . .pretend. . .you don’t. . .like it.” FFFRRRMMM-BLLLLEEERRRT! Nagatoro made her asscheeks bellow just for him. Senpai’s face screwed up as he tried to hide his emotions. 

“Well. . .ahem. . .Sana isn’t going to like this.” Senpai brought himself back to order with thoughts of the demanding art club president. “You’re going to get me in trouble.” He started to pull, testing his legs against the flabby weight on the couch. He could have thrown his back out and broken both knees with Nagatoro not moving an inch. She was too fat for his nerdy body, and almost too fat for her own shreds of waning athleticism. 

“Uuuuuggggh. . .well. . .we’ll jussccht. . .schee.” Nagatoro grunted like a pig being forced from one pen to another. BBBLLLEEERRRRPPTT! Gas gouted from her rear as she strained her atrophied legs. Thigh fat jiggled and slapped against the opposing slabs on her other leg. BBBRRRMMMPPPPTT! Gaseous explosions from her canyon ass helped as much as the muscle from either Nagatoro or Senpai. She rose slowly. It was easier to get her standing again and repose from there than pushing her up on the couch. By the time she was fully on her feet, Nagatoro was so tired that she had to hug Senpai. “Thankssccch. . .Senpai.” She farted again, her body vibrating vigorously against his. Goofy smiles spread across both of their faces. Though they were not destined to last. 

“I will NOT have this art room sullied by such FILTHY displays of the human body!” Sana Sunomiya, Art club president, stamped her foot.  The reverberations of her pronouncement jiggling through her gigantic breasts. She was a tall woman with breasts as big as melons. Her voice was booming and imperial. Her passion for the art and the human body was matched only by her desire to maintain order. She was the art club shogun, ruling with an iron fist. From the doorway, she made another pronouncement. “Extricate yourselves at ONCE from these hallowed halls of artistic learning. You have ruined it with your disgusting, slovenly behaviours.” She thumped her foot again. 

Senpai started, but was held in place by Nagatoro’s flabby arms. She applied her weight such that he could not move away. She peered her round face around his skinny body, eye’s glittering with pride. “Come and. . .BBBLLUUURRRUUP. . .make. . .me!” She taunted Sana. Senpai’s struggles were renewed, knowing what would come next. Sana would cross the room and use every bit of her strength and passion to roll Nagatoro away. Only, he noticed after a quiet moment, she didn’t. Sana was frozen in place at the doorway. Her face was severe: brows furrowed and nostrils flared in anger. However, she did not move. Gradually, Senpai began to understand. Nagatoro’s plan was working.

“Come. . .huuufffh. . .on. . .” FFFFFRRRRMMMPPTT-BBBBUUURRRRRRRMMMPTT! She released what might have been the loudest and most toxic fart she had ever produced. A wave of dark gas filled the room, mixing with the hanging sweat to make a poisonous miasma. “I’m. . .waiting. . .” Nagatoro’s voice was thick with impending victory. The dark wave of gas rolled like a thunderhead through the room, finally reaching the door. Sana tried to hold her ground, but was forced back as the true awfulness of the smell hit her. Nagatoro laughed as the club president was forced to turn tail. “See. . .BBBLLUUURRUP. . .Senapi!” She pulled him down to kiss his cheek. “I found. . .a way. . .for it to be. . .only. . .us!” She splattered slobby kisses on his chest, swinging her smelly butt back and forth. Senpai wished he could feel as confident as Nagatoro. Only, he knew that Sana was persistent. 

--- Arrogance and Reprisal ---

Nagatoro waddled through the school, dragging Senpai along. Ostensibly, they were holding hands because of their infatuation. While not untrue, Nagatoro also needed someone to help stabilize her bulk. She sloshed and spilled from side to side, blubber rolling in time with her steps. Since forcing Sana out of the art room weeks ago, Nagatoro had piled another hundred pounds onto her small frame. That hundred pounds had taken her from looking highly obese but normal into utter ridiculousness. Her shirt was hanging on only by the tightest button, her broad frame pulling the stitching apart. She was moonshaped in face and body, possessing no purely straight line nor sharp angle. Her back had started to push upwards like a little hill, popping out of the top of her collared shirt. Meanwhile, below, her skirt was rolled up over her dimpled ass. Senpai might have tugged it down, had he been a bolder man. Instead, he allowed his boulder shaped girlfriend to rest on him, supporting her as best he could. 

“You know. . .Nagatoro. . .you should. . .be careful. . .taunting. . .the pres.” Senpai grunted the words out. Nagatoro’s hammy arm was slumped around his waist. Sweat from her unwashed body drained onto his clothes, making them stick to his thin body. Beyond just her arm, Nagatoro was in constant contact with him. Her lovehands, hips, and thighs jostled him constantly. It was fitting for their relationship, he decided. When she was a skinny gremlin, Nagatoro had spent her time poking and tickling him. Now, as little more than an obese pig, her fat did the work for her. He was less able to escape, buried under her fat and stink.

“Why’sscch. . .BBBBLUUUURRRRUUUUP. . . that?” She asked, leaving her mouth open. Nagatoro was tired from the small waddle into the building. She heaved and gasped, her relatively small breasts bouncing up and down. They were as exposed as the rest of her, with only the barest bits of fabric able to hide her nipples, but were so small as to avoid attention. Nagatoro’s ass was the true monster of her physique, not even counting the smells which came out of it. Next was the flopping, lolling tongue shaped gut. Her breasts were little more than flabby pillows atop her frame. Her feet were so fat that she had gone to wearing flip flops, hating the feeling of being confined. 

Senpai tried to respond, summoning whatever oxygen he could into his lungs. The weight tugging on him impeded breathing as much as it did movement. “It’s just-”

FFFFLLLLLRRRRRTT-BBRRRUMMMPPPTT! “Oooooh. . .haf to. . .be quicker. . .Schenpai.” Nagatoro teased, proud of her ability to fill a hallway with thunderous sound and swampy stink at a whim. She leaned her fat head on his chest. GLLLLRRRMMMMPPTT! Something between a fart and a stomach gurgle passed through her body. “You’ll get. . .cut off. . .by me!” She nuzzled her small boyfriend. The pair almost fell down. 

Senpai chanced dropping his slovenly girlfriend and adjusted his glasses. They were fogged from his blushing face. “Ahem. . .She’ll just. . .fight back.” He spat the words out before another gust of fetid wind could interrupt. 

“Pffft! I’ll. . .jussccht. . .get even. . .slobbier!” Nagatoro boasted as she swung her massive hip into Senpai. The small, feathery boy was knocked across the hall. He spun into a trash bin and fell to the floor. Nagatoro paid for her game. Now bereft of any support, the round shortstack toppled to the floor. With arms outstretched, rolling in clumsy circles, she felt herself become a puppet of gravity. “Ooooh. . .owwaaah. . .Senpaaaaiiii!” Nagatoro fell flat on her wide stomach. BBBBBBLLLLLLRRRRTTTT! A mushroom shaped gas cloud escaped from her gigantic rear to melt the ceiling tiles. The groans and moans of the student body came next as students keeled over. 

“See. . .Senpai!” Nagatoro spoke through the hazy gas of the hallway. “I’ll. . .alwaysscch. ..win!” 

---

Elsewhere in the school, Senpai’s prediction was coming true. Sana was bent over a table littered with half eaten plates of food. There was little rhyme or reason to her eating, only that she shoved more into her chubby mouth. She was little more than chubby, but already showing signs of the serious growth to come. Breasts that were already over large now hung down to rest on the table, promising to one day fill her lap. Sana’s breasts had lost none of their perkiness, still held up in defiance of gravity. Yet, those breasts had new friends. A pair of bubbly buttcheeks peaked over the sides of the chair Sana rested on. Her long, purple hair draped down a back that was rapidly forming rolls. Fatty bulges were around Sana’s armpits as well as drooping around her sides. She did not mind. Anything was better than being forced out of her art room. 

“Mmmppggh. . .I’ll. . .scchttooop. . .BBLLUURRUUP. . .her!” A speech formed at Sana’s lips as she ate. Weeks of being barred from entering the art club room had damaged her psyche. “I will. . .mmmgghph. . .resort. . .MMMGGHPH. . .to any. . .meansscch. . .to win it. . .back!” The tall, severe woman pushed two cups of flan into her mouth. She sucked and slurped at the gelatinous, sugary mess. There was little thought beside raw calories intake. She needed to be large, huge even to deal with Nagatoro. Sana had always thought her body had been the perfect vision of femininity. Yet, it had not stood a chance against the degeneracy which the shorter, wider woman had displayed. Sana’s purity had been drowned in a tide of flatulence and body odor. In a way, she had to thank Nagatoro. It had illuminated how wrong she was about humanity’s spirit. What she had thought originally was uplifting had been errant fantasy. It was degradation that won the day. The pig trampled the flowers in the field. Sana was done being a flower. 

“Lesccch. . .BBBOOOORRRUUP. . .scchee  if. . .mmmgghph. . .you can. . .stand against. . .MY hurricanes.” Sana reached back to pat at a growing ass. It was far smaller than Nagatoro’s but the promise was there. Once her gut was packed with enough fast food, Sana would have a lethal weapon to bring to bear against her rival. Nagatoro had begun the war, but she would end it. 

--- A Plan Working Too Well ---

“Sis, you’re not actually going to let him see you using a cane. . .are you?” Nagatoro’s sister (Misaki) asked as the flesh boulder ambled down the stairs. Nagatoro grumbled as she treated the stairs with care. Her steps were slow and heavy, clumsy even with one hand on her can cane and the other on the railing. The house shifted and groaned as the massive Japanese woman came towards the lower floors. Her sister Misaki watched with glee as the steps bent and warped under her sister’s bulk. “Don’t you think it will look weak? Maybe a bit pathetic?” Misaki was even more relentless than Nagatoro in her teasing. She was a woman born to go for the jugular, even in casual conversation. 

“Uuugggh. . .” FFFFLLLLLLLLLRRRRTTT! The house rattled as Nagatoro’s displeased fart burst outward. Misaki’s hair blew in the smelly breeze, but the rest of her stood calmly. “Itsscch. . .fine!” Nagatoro grumbled, her stomach moaning. She had eaten a trashbag’s worth of greasy fast food and was paying the price. Her weight had continued to climb exponentially. At the outset of her gain, Nagatoro would have never have imagined needing to be weighed by cattle scales. Yet, at over 700 pounds, here she was. “He. . .BBBLLEERRRUUUP. . .lovescch me. . .no matter. . .what.” Nagatoro grumbled, practically throwing herself down the final couple stairs. She stood at the bottom floor, looking fit to fill the entire house with her mass alone. 

Nagatoro was running out of places to store the excess fat, with softness being pumped onto every part of her imaginable. Her back fat now rose as a mountainous hump, cresting over her head. She was decidedly round, formed into a teardrop shape. Her breasts remained the smallest part of her, though now large enough to be cushions on chairs. Nagatoro’s real bulk lay in her ass, a greasy monument to destructive gluttony and her gut, the cauldron from which her neverending stink came from. Her arms seemed almost vestigial, trapped in growing layers of warm blubber. Her joints were all but hidden under drooping sacks of fat. Her hair was messy and unwashed, matching the rest of her. 

“Well you know better than me.” Misaki’s walk over to her “big” sister was quick and predatory. It was like a cat approaching a hamster. “I would just worry about what sort of signal you are sending.” She grabbed her sister’s exposed gut and kneaded it. Misaki felt the trapped gasses within, fermenting for their eventual and explosive exits. Her sister was nothing short of a biological weapon, a smelly nuke that could eviscerate anyone standing nearby. It was adorable in the most filthy way imaginable. Even Misaki couldn’t identify the joy she got out of seeing her sister in such a state. She was covered more by food stains than by clothing, the tatters of a uniform stretched as much as possible around her flabby bulk. “I’m sure it will be fine.” Misaki slapped a buttcheek with more mass than her body. 

BRRRRMMMMMMPPPTT! As was to be expected, a deep fart burst from Nagatoro. She groaned with relief, having to lean upon her cane to prevent total collapse. Her roiling stomach was quiet for a moment, but then began to churn again. “I’ll be. . .uuuggh. . .” FRRRRMMMPT! Another fart burst out, Nagatoro losing control of the gas within her. “Fine!” She finished with another thump of her cane. The gigantic woman began to amble towards the door. Misaki followed behind, her hands constantly fiddling with her sister’s sloppy buttcheeks. Sweat ran between her asscheeks like water through an open dam. What sweat did not exit that way seeped through her rolls. Either way, puddles were left in the wake of her passing. Mentally, Misaki made a bet whether her sister could even reach the school without help. Though she might succeed today, there would quickly come a time when Nagatoro would need to be chauffeured via construction equipment. Not that she minded. 

“I’ll make sure to keep your friend on speed dial!” Misaki called as Nagatoro started to force her way out of the too-small door. She watched as her sister’s stomach and ass was squeezed into the small rectangle. Sweat practically erupted from her body, forced out by the renewed pressure. Misaki smiled, humming as she watched the behemoth take unsure steps on the paved road. Her cane was bent, her head slumping, and her other fist swinging in open air. Blasts of wind from Nagatoro’s wind added minute bits of speed. However, it would be a test of endurance. One that Misaki wasn’t completely sure Nagatoro could pass. 

---

The final steps into the school were pure torture for Nagatoro. Her vision was clouded with sweat and her breaths came in ragged gasps. She clutched the cane for all it was worth. The reinforced stick had shrunk since she started her death march to school. The end of the cane was worn and chipped, Nagatoro’s monstrous weight wearing it down unnaturally fast. As the length of the cane dwindled, the behemoth slob bucket had leaned further to one side. Nagatoro’s sweat bathed roundness became lopsided, her breasts and back hump listing to one side. She had to fight to stay standing and to keep her path straight. Students gossipped around her, pointing out both the obvious and nuanced pieces of her ruined physiology. FFFFLLLLLRRRRRPPPPTTTTTH! A ragged fart sent through clapping asscheeks scattered the milling students. Few people could stand in the way of Nagaoto’s beastly stink. 

“Ooouuggggh. . .thisscch. . .isscch awful.” Nagatoro whined, mouth hanging open. Perspiration and drool dripped from her lips. The seconds ticking by only saw her becoming more undone. She had long passed the point where her body could sustain even the smallest periods of movement. A mobility scooter or, better still, a rolling gurney would have been the proper way for Nagatoro to be transported to school. Yet, even a cane was too much for her. The words of her sister rattled in her head, taunting her. Maybe Senpai would feel differently if he discovered that Nagatoro was on the cusp of losing her mobility. He might have loved her fat and slob, but weren’t there limits to everything? Nagatoro had surpassed so many limits, it might be possible that she outgrew Senpai’s ability to love her. The question troubled the obese woman, so she instead focused back on the pain in her legs and chest as she tried to mount the stairs. 

“One. . .BBBLLEEERRRUUP. . .two. . .” BBLLLLRRRRFFFRRRT! The steps were greeted with different gaseous expulsions. Nagatoro swayed, holding onto the cane and railing for everything she was worth. Falling backwards would see her rolling in boulder fashion to crush anyone unlucky enough to cross her path. “Scchoo. . .BBBLLEEERRUUP. . .cloeeesccch. . .” Nagatoro moaned. She took another step, her bloated knee driving up into a hanging curtain of gut fat. The weight of her sagging stomach almost pushed her leg back down. Nagatoro tightened her grasp on the railing, leaning her mass forward, she would take the next step or fall onto the stairway. Were she to fall on the stairway, her sheer width would cover a plurality of the walking space. Only a crane would be able to bring her back up to standing. Her sandaled foot graced the very edge of the concrete step. With horror, Nagatoro realized it would not stay put. She was going to fall. 

“Always have to be causing problems.” Nagatoro might have jumped, were she still able to. Her knight in spectacles, Senpai, had rushed forward and grabbed her hammy leg. She felt rather than saw what had transpired. Senpai’s scarecrow body was lost beneath all of her fat. The ever present mist of sweat around Nagatoro further cut off visibility. It was the sensation of Senpai’s quick fingers and slight body around her thickened calf that Nagatoro went off of. The smaller man pushed against her calf which, at its smallest, had the circumference of a street light pole. Senpai sunk into the meaty fat, sweat from the deepest and darkest parts of Nagatoro’s underbelly dripping upon his back. He was 100 pounds soaking wet and struggled to not be pushed away in the breeze, but he would try to stabilize his girlfriend. Through all the grunting and shoving, Nagatoro felt her foot slide an inch or two onto the stair. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for her to stay balanced. Giving prayers to any god that would listen, Nagatoro thought of the best way to thank her loving boyfriend. 

“Eeeeeeewwww! Schenpai. . .BBBLLEERRRRUUUP. . .isscch looking up. . .young girlsscch. . .BBBOOOORRRUUP. . .skirtsscch again.” It was almost shameless how Nagatoro flirted. FRRRRMMMPPPPTTTTHHH-BBRRRRMMMMPPPTTT! Senpai’s initial reply was lost in the loudest, most noxious fart that the morbidly obese shortstack could manage. The gas flooded outward, providing just enough lift for Nagatoro to bring her other leg up onto the stair. In the same motion, she tossed away the cane she had been using. She would let Senpai see so many awful, disgusting sides of her but a mobility device was too much. The cane, and the words of Nagatoro’s sister were carried away on another tide of gas. “Creeeeeep. . .BBBLLEERRRRUUP. . .huuuuuufffgggh. . .creep. . .huh-leeeerrrt. . .I need. . .policesscch. . .” Nagatoro was energized by the teasing, much of her exhaustion hidden behind it. She mounted the next step, holding steady as her boyfriend stood again. He faced her with fogged glasses and a nose that might have been a tad bloody. 

“That’s not a very polite way to thank someone who just saved you.” Senpai pushed his glasses up, wiping away the mist that had formed. He then put his arm around Nagatoro, knowing what was necessary to get her into the school He had to stoop in order to hold her properly, support as much of her weight as he could manage. Fold upon fold slopped onto his shoulders and back. “If it wasn’t for me and that cane, you would have been screwed.”

“Cane? What. . .bbblleeerrruuup. . .cane?” Nagatoro blushed. “You musccht be. . .delerious. . .from all my. . .gassccch.” There had once been a time when Nagatoro would have been too embarrassed to mention her near constant flatulence, but anything was better than acknowledging the mobility aid. “Senpai. . .needsscch. . .oxygen. . .BBBLOOOORRRUUP. . .stat!” Nagatoro teased as she was hauled into the school building. 

“As if you should be the one saying that.” Senpai felt Nagatoro’s erratic breathing and heartbeat. “I should drop you off at the nurse.” 

“I would. . .BRRRUUUP. . .prefer. . .the cafeteria.” Nagatoro suggested. Senpai wasn’t one to argue with her. The pair could make a pitstop at the cafeteria for her to rest. From there they could go to the art room. Nagatoro would need to recover in her claimed kingdom and Senapi wouldn’t mind drawing some of her folds. He had gained fantastic perspective from being under her and wanted to make sure that knowledge wasn’t lost. 

--- Usurped ---

“Ooooh. . .BBBLLEERRUUP. . .huh-nother. . .bento. . .box. . .pleasscche!” Nagatoro wheezed from her spot on the crushed and ruined couch. She had been settled into place after a slow and exhausting waddle. She had moved through the school leaving puddles of sweat on her way. The service elevator had been bent and would need serious recalibration, but it had managed to lift 800 pounds of slobby Japanese school girl to the correct floor. Nagatoro had reached her den, the art club room, and now was being refueled. 

“Of course, but this will have to be the last one for a while.” Senpai brought one of the many bento boxes he had prepared for Nagatoro. Just as furniture warped under Nagatoro’s blubbery butt, the concept of the bento had been warped by her insatiable lust for food. Rather than a cute and ordered lunch box, the bentos she now dined on were garbage boxes filled to the brim with fried rice, chicken, pork, and anything else that Senpai could think to add. He worked both his culinary skill and body to their limit in order to prepare multiple of the bentos. Nagatoro could blow through them all, glutting herself on the multiple pounds of food in a single sitting. “You need something for an afternoon snack.”

“Awwwww, come on. . .BBBOOORRRUUUP. . .Schenpai. . .don’t be. . .uuuhhfff. . .selfissscch. . .give me-”

BBBBBLOOOOORRRRRRTTTTT-FFFFMMMMMRRRRPPPTTTH! 

Nagatoro was cut off as a wave of sound and stink hit the room. She and Senpai were well used to the unique smells that Nagatoro produced, having long since seeped into the very walls of the room. This, however, was something new. . .and even more awful than Nagatoro’s gas. FRRRRROOOMMMPPTT-BRRMMMVVVRRRTT! The walls and floor vibrated as another blast of noxious gas filled the room. Senpai dropped the bento box he had been dumping into Nagatoro’s mouth, the food falling into the many channels of sweat which ran down her body. Someone was entering the art club room, someone who could match Nagatoro fart for fart. The door was almost blown off its hinges as a massive and rotund body started to enter. Senpai started to push Nagatoro up, both of their eyes glued to the advancing tide of fat and stench coming into the room. 

“Nagatoro. . .huuuuffff. . .uuuuffffh. . .I’ve. . .come. . .BBLLLEEEERRUUUP. . .to claim. . .what issccch. . .huuufffh. . .mine!” Though choked by fatigue, the voice was unquestionably Sana’s. Her flatulence boomed out far more than her voice now, but her tone was still severe. Hands that were so fat as to be rendered useless for anything other that scooping food clutched the doorway. A sagging gut with two gong-sized breasts slowly oozed into the room. She was naked, her body so huge that no clothing could be strung around her. Torrents and rushing rivers of sweat poured from her. Plumes of stinky steam issued from under her armpit rolls, gouting heat from her immense frame. Sana was as fat, if not slightly fatter than Nagatoro with enough slob to match. Purple hair framed a serious frown that was almost lost in bulging cheeks and chins. “Witness. . .huuuugggfffh. . .BBBUUUOOORRRUUP. . .my wonderful. . .HOOORRUUUP. . .grotesque body. . .and despair!” Sana wheezed before a booming fart burst from her unseen buttcheeks. BBBBRRRRMMMMPT! FRRRRRMMMPTTTT! 

“You. . .jussccht. . .can’t. . .give. . .UUUURRUP. . .up.” Nagatoro wheezed, lumbering her way towards her fatter, taller opponent. BBBBLLLLRRRFFFTTT! Her own ass bellowed back at Sana, shoving Senpai aside with the nasty wind. Nagatoro waddle forward, drooling from exhaustion. Sana had just managed to bring her fat into the room, spreading her hammy arms wide to accept the challenge. The two women met in a spray of rancid sweat, jiggling fat, and deafening gas. It was the sloppiest sumo match to ever take place. The behemoths of filth grappled and hugged each other, hands and arms slipping on well oiled and lubricated rolls. Nagatoro’s face was planted in Sana’s chest, tongue licking out for any sort of advantage. She tasted a body that was as unshowered as her own. Her nose was filled with the stink of the taller woman. 

Both women had their martial arts training. Nagatoro had practiced judo whilst Sana was a practitioner of traditional karate. Yet, neither woman could make use of their skills. They were fat and clumsy, too tired to do anything more than slap impotently and try to hike their bellies over one another. They slipped and rolled on the puddles of perspiration which pooled on the floor. Gas gouted from their rumps in great blasts, spreading a stink that would never be removed from the walls. Nagatoro’s mouth was filled with Sana’s distended breast, the other flopping over her back. It was like there were three people trying to batter her down, Sana’s pumpkin breasts exploding to new sizes thanks to her gluttony. Whenever Nagatoro could gain a breath, the smell of Sana’s flatulence filled her lungs. She was immersed in the other woman’s awful body and horrid smells without reprieve. It seemed that Nagatoro’s own gaseous eruptions were subverted into Sana’s own. She wheezed, feeling her legs going numb and arms slipping. 

There was a loud thud which shook the room. A wheezing, pathetic fart drifted from Nagatoro’s buttcheeks. She lay dazed, nearly unconscious with Sana towering over her. The art club room had been reclaimed, though not in a way which redeemed it. “The. . .artistic. . .spirit. . .BBBBUUEEERRUUUP. . .triumphssccch!” Sana, as proud of herself as she could be, waddled with arms crossed to the crushed couch. She flung herself into it, covering Nagatoro’s throne with her own fat and smell. “Non-club memebersscch. . .must. . .vacate!” The club president said proudly. Senpai sighed, looking down at the collapsed blob of fat he was now in charge of rolling out. He knew that Nagatoro wasn’t going to let this insult slide. The war between her and Sana was only getting started.