#fatspost

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Will wooper and steam bun

"Oh, how scrumptious! I love the design on these, too, they're quite whimsical..." Will mumbled to himself as he popped a few of the football-shaped chocolate malt balls into his mouth. They resembled little Wooper heads, complete with engraved smiles, and the novel cuteness helped him look past the concept of eating miniature confectionery simalcrums of, yanno, Wooper heads.

It wasn't clear where they came from, same with the steamed bun Will found on his desk, but he assumed it was just another treat from an adoring fan, or a gift from another elite. Either way, both were delicious, and after he polished off the candy, he rubbed his stomach, satisfied.

"Ohhh, perhaps I do need to locate our mysterious gift-giver, I must know where these delights came frooourrp!"

A burp slipped from his lips, and he silently blessed the fact that nobody was around to witness, but he was mid-thought as a ping! pam!! sounded out as two of the gold buttons on his vest shot off, chain tethering them together. Everything was suddenly... tight, and the shock led Will to immediately look down... only to see an alarming amount of fabric and skin obstructing his view to his shoes.

Will was a pretty skinny fellow, the only real deviation from him being a beanpole were his hips. Now, though, he was certifiably fat, with a plump gut spilling out from between his shirt and pants, but that was just the stomach; his thighs and hips found themselves plus inches as well, and his custom-fit pants were struggling. The psychic, trying his best to process this, stepped forward, which caused the pop! pop! pop! of the seams on the sides of his legs to ring out as they failed, more pale fat starting to spill through each rip like canned dough.

Finally, he found his words, "What on earrRRRRP!" His hands flew to his mouth, but another surge caused tearing noises to echo through his chamber. A jolt shot down his body, another wave of growth, as a new layer of softness rippled through his being. A new roundness to his face, with a layer forming under his chin to double up. That vest of his, which was trying its hardest to struggle against the magician's newfound wobbliness, gave up the ghost as the top two buttons fired off, and the vest split apart to reveal two rounded moobs, held back only by a shirt that was riding up over the solid mass of belly that surged out, peeling the garment upwards.

His navel was in view, and his thighs, as thick as his waist used to be, popped the pants apart into shreds, reducing them into glorified ripped short shorts. Naturally, his new fat, wobbling ass swallowed these up, curve of each silky-soft cheek in near-full display. But this wasn't just it, the sudden weight.

Will felt cold, as his clothes were now significantly more revealing, but he also felt... something else. His hands, aching to assess the damage, came to the sides of his curiously-rounded belly, and he noticed something: firmness. Not all of that was belly fat, and, as he ogled over the dome blocking his view of the floor, a dampness on his chest brought one hand close to his swollen breasts.

A lift and a curious shake, accompanied by a completely-alien sloshing, confirmed it. He was leaking, producing... and buried beneath his flabby gut was another life. For a moment, he was surprised: he thought he'd be more horrified. But instead... a warm feeling in the back of his brain was tamping it all down, a motherly instinct enhanced by his own psychic energies. He was agape, but soon enough, he found other thoughts to preoccupy him.

"Oh lord, my back aches! And my clothes!"

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Okay hear me out. Will but he's in denial about his weight gain.

"Cursed... machines! Blasted cleaners! I told them, dry clean only!" Will gritted his teeth as he attempted, unsuccessfully, for the fifth time today to button his waistcoat. However, wobbling, pale belly flesh made this all but impossible. Like bread dough rising from a bowl, it spilled up and over his undone pants. The yellow hem of his undershirt framed it, as he was past being able to cover that jiggling gut, moving and shaking with each exertion.

His pants were worse off. Will was naturally hippy, and the extra weight seemed to beeline there, causing his pants to be lower than before, further accentuating the belly fat sticking out. His ass, his hips, he couldn't even pull his pants all the way up!

Of course, Will knew what was wrong. It wasn't his rich, expensive meals, or his tendency to sit around at the Indigo Plateau. No, in fact, it was someone else's fault entirely.

"God damn washing machines!"

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Will but they soft

A soft Will as much a Will as any. Yeah, sure, those hips of his threatened to bomp anyone he dare try to scoot by, and that tummy of his was wobbly and sensitive, but, when you're a man like Will, you don't let these things bother you. After all, something something, more to love!

Didn't hurt that he had a seamstress' number on speed dial. He looked like a soft magenta pear.

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What if 600 pound Wicke?

“Hhhf, whew! What... what a workout...!” With the back of a flabby hand, Wicke wiped across her forehead. Aether Foundation had a big elevator that basically took you anywhere, but the walk from there to her office... it never failed to get her huffing and puffing.

Wicke’s clothes creaked as her massive gut quivered. Two thick, fat rolls of pale flesh were packed into that signature white dress of hers, although this was only the second week she had this one. Her style, unfortunately, was fairly form-fitting, and even after slipping on past the 580 mark did she maintain that iconic style. Which ultimately meant many size-ups, and many, many dresses accidentally popped apart after exerting herself by, say, bending over, or inhaling too deeply. 

Not that this bothered her! Assistant branch manager had its perks, and the dresses were free. The only real complaint she had was that her office was too darn far away from the entrance! Besides, she saw how the staff looked at her, the blushes and sudden look-aways from the men and ladies in the halls. Most of the weight went to her belly and chest, a pink, sweater-wrapped tidal wave of boobflesh sitting securely atop it like books on a shelf. That didn’t mean that ass didn’t get a fair serving itself, less a bubble butt and more a bio-dome, likewise secured tight and smoothed out behind stretched white fabric. 

Just thinking about it caused a coy smile to curl on the businesswoman’s soft, round face, dimpling her chubby cheeks. As she slid open the drawer to her desk, one of her plump hands plucked a RageCandyBar, imported straight from Johto. Yet another perk of the job: any kind of snack in the world you could ask for!

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Oh gosh, a blobby Will or Wicke would be,,, the best!

One day, however many ago (they all kinda washed together now), Will made a miraculous discovery that promised a breakthrough on his psychic abilities. It took some jetsetting and some riddles solved on top of mountains, but, sure as the snow is cold, the secret was laid out: the only way to handle psychic energies on par with the pokémon he commanded, Will needed to tack on some mass.

It almost embarrassed him on discovery. It seemed like he had been bumping up against his own limits, but the only thing limiting him was his waistline. As lithe as he was, it was holding him back. Fortunately, for one of means such as he, this proved to be a trivial task to rectify.

Sure, once he started serving himself up double portions, he found himself fighting against another kind of wall, but in time, he could handle it. Instead of feeling queasy and weighed down, he soon could push past it, and then a peculiar feeling... it wasn't enough to satisfy him!

Even as his waistline began to stretch, necessitating a visit to the tailor more and more, he continued to practice diligently, meditating with Alakazam and Xatu. And, much to his delight, for every bit of pale belly jutting further and further from his midsection, the easier he could keep up with both of them!

Sure, Karen, and to a lesser extent, Bruno made fun of him, but they couldn't lift a statue over their head with their minds. They were imbeciles, but it wasn't exactly anything new to listen to them chortle. Karen especially loved cracking jokes, though she never really needed a reason to have fun at Will's expense. At least with Bruno, there came a time once Will started having trouble sitting in chairs that the martial artist sheepishly asked if he could lift Will and use him for physical training.

You know Will was smug about that one. He even served as a vessel for transportation (after all, running around with a fatass like Will in your arms was a pretty good way to start sweating), at least until Bruno had to stop due to the psychic weighting too damn much.

In fact, around that time, there was a general concern about mobility. It wasn't that Will couldn't walk, but his doorways... made for someone of a much slimmer build, and now he found himself having to push his way through, massive ass and thick hips brushing up against the door jambs. Fortunately, that's what the League staff was for. After all, it's not like he had anywhere to go; between his quintuple dinners and his psychic training, he had little reason to move from where he was.

In fact, he barely noticed the moment he, a well-over-half-ton man oozing out of magenta clothes desperately clinging to him like a leaking can of biscuit dough, couldn't stand up. Between the massive gut spilling out in front of him, pushing apart his thick blobby thighs apart, and the dimpled wall of ass behind him, there was no way he could even maneuver himself into a standing position, much less move all that along.

However... the magician's eyes twinkled, and suddenly he felt the cool breeze of the mountains, soft grass beneath his mass. With a thought, and just a bit of concentration, he had done it.

He had teleported. Right outside the Indigo League. The psychic would have jumped for joy, could he jump, but instead he waggled his fat arms in celebration, cheering... and getting a little winded in the procees. "Hff, that just goes, hhhuff, to show! You can't, hough, stop Will! The, hhfh, the magnificent~!"

Fuck walking! Dude could teleport!

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Wonder Ball -> Whoppers for Wicke

"Mmph, oh, creamy, smooth... malty, oh! Like a chocolate milkshake~!" It was another day in R&D, Wicke passing through to get updates on everything. And, just her luck, one experiment, a food additive by the name of AF-1971, was in testing. Based off of everything so far, it appeared to be fine, and they had a malted chocolate flavor all ready for taste-testing. Who else could be so lucky after such serendipity!

As she swallowed the sample, the manager brought her hand to her cheek, face giving off beams of satisfaction. The various employees watching on gave each other a thumbs up, proud the boss was so satisfied. However, among all the self-congratulation, a forgotten side-effect began to work its magic...

Wicke blinked in surprise as a peculiar pressure found itself building within her midsection, first stirring slowly before a sudden boost caused a gurgle to rise up her throat, causing her to give a small burp.

The white of her dress quickly tented out, her normally-soft stomach ballooning with something thick and sweet. The taste on her breath... chocolate cream. "...I think someone forgot to tell me something...!" Wicke's tone was a bit alarmed, sure, but there was also a bit of annoyance in it. As she undid the straining clasps of her dress, the bulging globe of her cream-stuffex tummy plopped forward, muffled sloshing coming from within.

The research scientists began to look sheepish, some flushed with embarrassment. They had indeed forgotten to mention: the additive was meant to deliver a dense, quickly-digested caloric load... though they were still working on preventing the small, dense sample from expanding when it hit the stomach.

Wicke's belly churned dully, half covered with her pink sweater, and half peeking between that and her dress. As she tapped her foot, hands on hips with a stern expression, she expected an explanation, but instead, the next part of the food additive's metabolism worked its magic.

The businesswoman's stance wobbled as a thick gwllrrrnnnn rang from her busy belly. Quickly-digested wasn't an exaggeration, as mass tacked onto her body quickly, an already-soft body expanding inches in every direction. A layer of fat helped fuse her head and neck further, a brand-new double chin propping up the original, as thick coats of blubber began stretching the arms of her dress out as mass tacked onto beneath.

Her fingers grew chubby as she traced them along her jiggling cheeks, gasping in surprise. "What now?" Wicke's fat upper arms brushed against massive, watermelon-sized... well, melons, straining against her thin sweater and propped up by rings of fat forming above and below her still-packed, gurgling gut.

Not to be outdone, thick tree-trunk-like thighs fought against the dress that attempted to squeeze them and a massive, shelf-like ass that jutted out behind her.

For a moment, everyone was silent. Wicke tried to get familiar with the new half ton plus; it was hard to pat herself down now, her massive bust kept pushing up against her thick arms, and she couldn't see past the plateau of pink fabric made up of her chest.

However, a smile would creep across her chubby cheeks, dimpling them slightly. Wicke's eyes lit up as a realization struck, and she thrust a chunky fist into the air triumphantly. "...oh my... I can mark AF-528 as an outstanding success!"

AF-528... Aether Foundation scientists were working on a fabric that felt natural, but could take sudden stress and forces without ripping. Wicke had been wearing a dress custom-made of the fabric, which hadn't tore to shreds in her sudden growth. All she had to do was undo the clasps, and, although the dress was no-doubt tight, she could still move and breathe in it!

You know what they say, when life gives you chocolate, use it in an impromptu experiment!

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Wicke us Pregfat. Both fat and pregnant

As Wicke sat at her desk, typing up the latest reports concerning the Alola branch's most recent expenditures, a stirring in her gut caught her attention. Immediately, a light, chubby hand reached into snack drawer as the businesswoman cooed, "I'm working on it, I'm working on it~"

To be honest... when Wicke found out she was pregnant, she was already seven months along. Sure, she had some nausea at some point, but she attributed it to some bad food, and the somersaults coming from her stomach were thought to have been hunger pangs.

After all, who could blame her: even months before it would've happened, Wicke frequently got mistaken for being pregnant. That white dress of hers had always clung tightly to her round, expansive gut, but that's just because she was already fat as hell. But now, that wobbly dome was baby-laden, a definite firmness beneath if one were to press into her flabby flesh.

Of course, she was large enough to not change much size-wise, looking bloated around the midsection if you were used to her rotund figure, hence why it slipped by her... with one notable exception.

Breasts! Big, bountiful, sloshy boobs. While she was stacked before, the hormones and milk production caused her fat-enhanced tits to overflow her bra and crawl upwards, so much so that in a sitting position, thanks to her belly pushing upwards, she could see the pink knit of her sweater, bust creeping into the bottom of her vision.

Not that she complained, though. As she snacked on a handful of Lumiose galettes, the stirring within her went away. Hunger pangs or baby cartwheels, one usually came shortly after the other, and the mixture of snacking and gentle, circular tummy rubs always helped soothe whatever was causing her belly shakes.