Chelsea stood before the bathroom mirror, it was her turn to pretty herself up- and Bonnie would just have to damn well wait until she was ready to cede the space to her.
She had just showered and brushed her pearly whites, so she stood wearing her night outfit of lacy lingerie. While she had admired herself she brushed her short red hair, smiling as she enjoyed what she saw. She was, as one might say- thick. The large woman is nearly three hundred pounds heavy, and so her bodies naturally feminine curves are swollen a good dozen inches. Her legs were thick and curvy, with wide womanly hips and a rounded butt that stuck out behind her. The middle of her pushed out, a rounded gut that hung far out over her waistline, and her breasts exposed a good deal of cleavage in her current lacy bra.
"Mmm," The heavy girl purred softly, "You've let yourself get soft, haven't you?" she whispered to herself. as her free hand moved to her side and pinched her love handle.
"God I must be /obese/ by now..." Her voice is soft, feminine, and with a breathy French accent. “Je suis ... une grosse fille…” she giggles, as her native tongue rolled off her mouth as she calls herself fat.
The Pomeranian’s staring at her own chubby body is broken by a rapping on the door, "C'mon now, open up already! It's been a half hour and you're not the only one that needs to pretty up!" her roommate demands, her own voice a clear southern drawl, and lacks much of the practiced femininity of Chelsea
Chelsea snorts, glancing back at herself with a roll of the eyes, "Can't put lipstick on a pig," she teased, and placed the brush beside the sink before stepping to the door.
Chelsea’s, roommate, a husky was looking rather bedraggled at the moment. The husky stood perhaps an inch or two taller, and was equally wide for her relative height, Bonnie did not look altogether filled with patience.
"Girl you call me a pig again and I'll eatcha," she threatened jokingly, and and then tried to push past Chelsea... which leads to the both of them jammed in the doorway.
Normally this would have been a non-issue, but with the width of their hips and the softness of their bodies the pair are left to awkwardly try and wiggle their way through as they had squished against each other. Both of them had tried to go the opposite way, and they had squirmed their fat bodies with effort before the creaking doorway bent. It creaked and bent before an audible popping noise heralded the two flying out awkwardly.
The pair had landed on hands and knees, and they had both cried out simultaneously, "Chelsea/Bonnie- your fat ass got me stuck in the door!"
The two glanced back, and when they realized all they could see of the other was their fat ass, they had both glance away quickly, both blushing. Chelsea huffed, and with great effort got on her knee and then grunted to get her overweight body back on its feet. She gasped lightly from the effort once she got up, and slapped a hand to her thick thigh as her eyes look down to Bonnie.
Chelsea opened her mouth to tease Bonnie, but quickly shut herself down before she had said what she was going to- that Bonnie didn’t need a whole birthday cake to herself. Bonnie had no idea Chelsea had known her birthday... or she had thought, anyway… so why spoil the surprise?
"Heeey petite fille, do you need some help getting up?" Chelsea giggled.
Bonnie... did, but she wasn't going to admit it. Her gut is large enough it hit the floor and pooled out slightly, and her large breasts are pulled downwards. They heaved with every breath as she slowly raises herself up, in a kneeling position before sticking out a fat leg and planting one arm on the floor.
"As if..." she huffs, "You could..."
With a deep grunt she gets herself to her feet, and promptly slams the door. “And stop using French! You know I can’t speak it!”
Sighing as she's finally alone, Bonnie heard Chelsea put on her coat and had left their shared apartment, Bonnie relaxed visibly and removed her bra and underwear before stepping into the shower.
Both girls had planned today for quite some time, and both of them are woefully unaware of how closely their plans overlapped. Chelsea went out to check bakeries and find the finest birthday cake money can buy. Bonnie steppe out of the shower fifteen minutes later and dressed herself in a simple T-Shirt and sweatpants before setting into the kitchen to start work on her own cake. Both of them are determined to make this day special for the other.
Alone in the house, Bonnie started work on the cake. The easiest part to start was the icing… and she would certainly require a great deal of it for the grand vision she had in her mind.
Alone in the house, Bonnie had spent a good deal of time working on her cake, dirtying her shirt with batter and over time she had crafted a substantially large 3 tiered leviathan of a cake. When she went to put the icing on it she found that was no easy task as her sizeable breasts would squish up against the counter and limit her reach, or else would flop onto the counter and squish the cake. Eventually she had decided just to roll with it, and the cake ended up with large circular creases on all sides.
Once it was ready, she ran a finger down it and sucked off the icing. This was a guilty pleasure she allowed herself, and she had moaned softly as she did. As she did, however, her rear end squished out and stretched her pants enough to rip the sides open slightly.
"Mmm, tastes just like mama used to make... except sweeter.” Bonnie commented, and eyed the fact that a half stick of butter and a pound of sugar remained.
The heavy woman giggled to herself, and decided to use both to make an extra layer of thick frosting. “That fat Frenchie’ll be so fat she’ll never get out of her chair,” Bonnie commented idly to herself, woefully unaware of her own weight ruining her pants.
Chelsea, out on her own, enjoyed a box of donuts while she was out window shopping for cake. Her walk had taken the well-dressed pomerian to the business district, and while her form-fitting purple blouse fit a woman of it’s size well, her size... not so much. She was by far the heaviest girl around and had gotten herself plenty of looks, all of which she had taken in stride as she had walked along. While she did, that donut box slowly emptied out during the constant breaks from the strenuous task of walking she had undertaken.
Chelsea passed to wink at a fox enjoying the fact her skirt gave one a damn good view of her heavy legs while she was sitting, and crosses them over before standing. The woman had spotted an opportunity, and she went to take it. Soon she stepped up to him, and gave his chest a poke before gently running her finger down it. Speaking with a breathy voice and using her accent to full effect.
“Mon homme...," she starts, really laying on the charm and flutters her eyelashes at him. "I see you like les grandes femmes…”
The man swallows, and starts to sweat as she continues on, "Why dontcha buy me a cake and you can just imagine what it'll do to me?"
Chelsea slapped her thigh, and dress was tight enough on her that her admirer could watch a wave of motion go up and down her as she smiles towards the smitten man.
“Sooo… this petite lady isn’t going to bring it home herself…” she started, and put back of her palm to her forehead before giving a dramatic swoon, “I’m just so… /heavy/, I already have to carry myself- I shouldn’t have to carry a cake too! You’ll simply have to pay for it to be delivered.”
The poor man was in Chelsea’s charms, and was reduced to her leading him to spend a months pay at least on a fancy- and large- cake. The colossal thing looks more akin to a wedding cake, and on the side a rough outline of Bonnie- notably heavier looking than the real one- is drawn in frosting. Chelsea had at least gifted him a view of her rear as she leaned on the bakery counter to order the cake made. Three hundred pounds of woman certainly leads to having an ample prosterior, to the point that she almost- but not quite- brushed the door into the elevator on their way back.
When it came time to bid him farewell, she slipped her number into his pocket and stepped away, turning back to lean over and allow him a view of her substantial cleavage before she had blown him a kiss.
Meanwhile, while Chelsea had been out, Bonnie had been getting to work. She had donned her favourite pair of daisy dukes and a simple tied-back bra to deal with the heat of the kitchen. Women of her size didn’t tend to be comfortable in hot spaces, after all, and Bonnie was well aware of how warm her thick coating of blubber tended to make herself.
The woman had a grand vision, and had been reading from an old cookbook to put it into action before she started. Her breasts hung down and squished against the surface as her belly squished around it, and her plump butt stuck out behind her. Quite a view, if only anybody was there to see it.
Not that she would’ve cared too much if there were, and she flipped the page to find what she wanted. An older family recipe, the Post-War victory cake her great grandmother had made in a fit of alcohol and joy. It was three tiers tall, and had been packed with more calories than one could get out of a smaller buffet.
Bonnie giggled slightly to herself, “That hog’ll be damn near unable to move when she’s through with this…”
The heavy husky leans forward to stand the recipe up on the table, having to strain herself as her large body was keeping her an extra half-foot back from the counter than normal, and then stands back with a huff. It’s the first time in a while she really considered how big /she/ had gotten, and glanced down to find that despite standing a foot back from the counter- her belly was still squishing against it.
“Bonnie girl, when did you get this big… god you look like a heffer.” she comments, and idly pinches at her belly fat before shrugging, “ Feel like one too… well… she don’t know it’s /my/ birthday… god knows I’ll be lucky if there’s still cake here when she gets back, ain’t that right?”
The woman flushed whens he had realized that she had talked to her own stomach, which responded in turn by growling hungrily. Bonnie quickly darted to the fridge, and she slammed together a quick sandwich using leftover breakfast bacon to consume in mere moments before she had set to work.
Bonnie started, as one would, with the eggs, and used her breasts as a shelf for the mixing bowl. She found her heavy breasts fantastic for the task, she just had to balance the bowl with her off hand, and that left her free to mix as she could catch up on missed television. She quickly noticed while making it that the recipe called for a /lot/ of butter and sugar. The pair tended to stock up, but she worried she might end up emptying their supplies by the time she finished.
Their sizeable double-wide fridge is indeed almost emptied by the time the mix was ready: all except for a half pound of sugar and a half stick of butter. Bonnie was just about to stick the cake into the oven when a grin had come across her face, and a devilish idea entered her mind.
“Silly me, forgot who I was cookin’ for,” she giggled, and added the leftover ingredients in just a few minutes. “Only the best for a ‘growing girl’…”
With the cake in the oven, Bonnie realized the need to keep Chelsea away for a couple hours. Her solution was simple, something she knew would work perfectly as she steps out of the room to her computer. She sat down on her chair, her wide ass making the chair creak substantially before she began to type.
“We're out of milk,” she messaged- much preferring the messenger here to her phone. Her fingers.. were less than nimble, after all. Knowing that Chelsea would be unable to return- that girl loved her milk- for at least another hour, she sat back in her chair… and the support for the rear snapped abruptly. The woman flopped backwards, now laying down and looking at the ceiling.
“… and I need a new chair.”
Chelsea, already in the elevator at that point, fumed. “Out of milk? Uuggghh, I swear I had checked yesterday,” she fumes, stuck in an awkward position. She craved milk with every meal. So she had to take an abrupt detour on the way back, and bought herself a gallon of heavy cream. She had arrived just in time to meet the cake delivery, coincidentally, and became quite anxious.
Pacing in the elevator had been difficult, with her own body taking up a large part of the space otherwise occupied by an uncomfortable looking man and a cake, but she managed it anyway. “Eyes to yourself,” she directs, and took a moment to re-apply her lipstick and gave her hair a brush before she swept out of the elevator into the hall.
Her footsteps are surprisingly elegant considering her angry march, but not for very long before putting her weight down repeatedly on her heels results in them snapping, and the large woman cries as she falls forward awkwardly.
Chelsea had fallen right onto her fat belly, and huffed in annoyance as hair had fallen over her eyes. She strained to get back onto her feet, but she’s three times the weight of most women and it took some time and effort to finally get herself up. She fumed inwardly at herself from the embarrassment and wrote a reply to Bonnie’s last message.
“And I need new heels,” she sent off, and then continued- less her footwear- toward the door.
Chelsea entered, and had quickly ordered the delivery man to place the cake upon the table. Once it was placed she quickly shoo’d him away and posed beside the table. She pulled at her dress and adjusted her bra to look as good as she could, annoyed for a few moments as her large breasts had some trouble fitting well into her apparently undersized bra.
To the point where, eventually, it snapped. Chelsea rolled her eyes indignantly before she just yanked it out to throw it aside. A matter to worry about later, but she was briefly saddened by the loss of a brand new bra.
Her outing earlier didn't just result in a cake, she'd gone clothing shopping as well and damn did she look good. Form fitting and rather tight jean pants, with pockets that seemed painted on- rather uselessly so considering how tight those pants were on two hundred fifty plus pounds of heavy dog girl. She had also chosen a pair of thigh-high heeled boots made of a shiny brown leather, and they looked rather stretched. Over her upper body, she'd bought a nice tube top that was /very/ stretched, especially trying to contain her commendable bust. She'd purchased something that exposed her belly on purpose- nothing else fit her in that area, so it was better to just let that gut pour out.
She leaned on the table for a moment, yipping in surprise as it cracked under her weight and she grew a red flush on her face.
“Merde!” She exclaimed, had she really gotten /that/ heavy?
"Boooonnie, what's going on?" Chelsea whined, her accented voice as feminine as always, "Hurry up!"
Bonnie soon appeared around the corner. She still wore the same from earlier: nothing fancy- short shorts and and a tied up old shirt that covered- for the most part- her two sizable mounds. She was carrying a cake in her arms, and Chelsea just stared. A stare that was soon met by Bonnies own, as she looked out towards Chelsea's own cake. "Ch... Chelsea- why d'ya'ave a cake?"
"Why do... you have a cake?" Chelsea returned, and leaned on the table, not noticing how it creaked. “Mon Dieu… what a cake…” she added, her voice soft and her mouth watering as she looked towards it.
"... for yer birthday, silly!" Bonnie stated, and Chelsea matched her quickly, "Well that's why /I/ got you a cake, don't you tell me you we're trying to surprise..."
Snap, crack. The table gave way under the massive amount of weight being pushed on it. Chelsea’s cake thankfully just slid along the floor, but the heavy girl herself is left with nothing to hold her and with a loud oomph, she flops to the floor on her side. Thankfully the woman is padded with enough fat that it’s not a real problem. Except the for fact that her breasts had wobbled free of even the confines of her dress, and were now openly on display.
“Dégage!” She barked angrily, directly her anger at that table as she slams a chubby fist into it. The effect is probably not quite what she wanted as her fattened hand simply slaps against it and makes her body wobble enough for a rip to form above her belly.
Bonnie had been left to do her best not to laugh, and she placed her own cake down on the oven so she could come to friends aid. “Lookatchu now, you’ve gotten so damn fat you broke our table. What’s next, breaking the bed?”
The woman leaned down, and that proved very quickly to be a poor idea as she yelped to feel a tear immediately form along her rear, which only became worse as she continued leaning down when her belly pressed outwards enough to press on the front button. It immediately popped off, zipping past Chelsea as her gut swelled through the opening and pushed her shorts down her legs.
Chelsea giggled, and slapped her hand to Bonnie’s. “Help me up, you piggy, I think we both need new clothes.”
Bonnie was quick to agree, and with the effort of both women Chelsea is soon on her feet. “Agreed, but where are we going to get two tarps at this time of evening?”
Chelsea sighed, and attempted to adjust her shirt to prove she wasn’t /that/ far gone, but just ended up making the tear she had caused altogether worse as her thickened body wobbled. Relenting to fate, she just yanked it off and tossed it aside to stand before Bonnie in the nude.
“I am a French woman, Bonnie. I will wear nothing less then the finest silken tarp that money can buy.”