Grunts and groans could be heard from the bedroom of the spacious Washington D.C apartment as Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez struggled with her pantsuit. It was a beautiful, chicly designed grey that helped show off her caramel tanned skin. Everything had seemed alright as she had slipped the first plump cankle into the leg of the pantsuit. She had recently upsized, the number of X’s in her sizing was starting to rival the 0’s in a congressional spending bill, and this was the first suit of the new line up. Her foot popped out the other side and her flabby calves and thighs started to fill out the leg of the pantsuit. The other leg soon followed and Alexandria turned back to waddle to get her shirt and jacket. There was a feeling dawning that only grew as the obese politician began to put on and button the matching grey shirt: She hadn’t gone up enough in her sizing. There had been a lot of benefits, rallies, and other meetings where food had been in abundance this month and Alexandria had eagerly glutted herself at every single one of them. So, despite the disappointment, it was certainly no surprise when she found that the buttons on her shirt no longer wanted to button.
“Dammit.” She mouthed quietly as her sausage fingers struggled with the buttons.
From dangling lower belly to her upper roll to her fluffy bosom, her padded fat fought the shirt at every step. It was going to be another day of sucking in, taking limited breaths, and watching her lunches. She started tucking the shirt into her pants, at the very least her bulbous body was going to make sure that the shirt stayed pinned against the waistline of her pants. Her stomach and booty were always willing to make sure that her shirts stayed tightly pinned against the rim of her pants, unlike her rebellious breasts which threatened to burst her shirts at the slightest intake of breath. She smoothed the shirt over the doughy padding of her body, finishing with her booty by giving it a couple love pats. She loved feeling it shake and wiggle as she took her ponderous steps forward, each buttcheek having to be heaved upwards and dropped down. Alexandria knew she had a beautiful brown booty, compliments of her Latin heritage, and she adored it.
Now that her shirt was in place, it was time for the hardest task. . .buttoning her pants. Even from the earliest moments of her fantastic and unceasing weight gain Alexandria’s belly had been a problem. She didn’t, and could never, hate the meaty expanse of stomach fat. It was just that her stomach was large and intent on getting bigger. It had grown from a little brown potbelly to a gigantic, double rolled, tidal wave of mocha fat. Meal after greedy meal was spent making sure that it was happy and healthy and growing, but its size had led to resentment of restriction. Alexandria often dreamed of eschewing the practice of tucking her belly in and making it suffer underneath tight shirts and belts. She would proudly stroll into the house of representatives, her lowest belly roll flopping over her lap and knocking against the fat above her knees and it would feel good. She, when she hefted herself down into the two chairs provided to her, could rest her fat arms on her warm fat. Alexandria stared down at herself, the words “one day” floating through her mind. Unfortunately today was not that day. Today she would maintain the status quo of making sure every bit of her luscious body was shoved down and covered by her pantsuit.
“Uuuugh, come on girl suck it up.” She grunted as she tried to bring the sides of her pants across the gulf of her belly-fat. She couldn’t see through her shirt, but she new that her stomach was bunching up in the attempt, her cavernously deep belly button twisting as the sides of her belly sloshed and moved against the force of her arms. There was maybe an inch or two of space between the button and the hole, a gulf that seemed almost impossible to cross. Alexandria tugged and tugged forcing her sausage fingers to grab the button tighter. She threw her chin to the ceiling, one of her chins disappearing back into her thick neck, and let out a yell of frustration. “Please!” Her arms shook in frustration as the button edged closer and closer to the hole. Atlas held up the heavens but he had never felt a struggle like forcing pants across a bloated waistline. Thwump. Thwump. Thwump. Alexandria’s heavy footsteps resounded through the building’s infrastructure as she walked backward towards the bed. “I just need a little more leverage.” The words came from gritted teeth. She tugged and tugged her pants trying to force them up and over the largest roll of her belly. What she succeeded in doing was making her stomach bounce up and down hypnotically through her shirt.
Alexandria continued to grunt and strain as she backed up towards the bed. She threw herself backwards onto the bed when she felt her ass make contact. Within the space of a second there was a violent metallic squeak followed by a yell and gigantic boom. When Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez’s 600 pound body made contact with the bed the strength of the reinforced frame was put to the test. . .and it failed. The entire frame collapsed, sending the obese latina sprawling to the floor. Her weight shook the entire floor, causing several plates and cups to fall in her kitchen. “Yes!” Two chubby arms shot into the air; the pants were buttoned. Alexandria slowly struggled to her feet, bracing herself before deadlifting her wrecking ball body back into a standing position. Grimacing as she stood and waddled out of the wreckage of her bed, she grabbed the suit coat hanging on the bent and twisted pole of her bed. She shoved her bingo-wing arms into the coat and waddled out of the room to face the rest of the day.
~ A Long Day of Political Activity Later~
Glasses, plates, and utensils clicked and clinked throughout the restaurant. It was upscale, some hidden hideaway of luxury that politicians (and those that would buy them) made use of for decades. Sharply dressed men and women lined every table and bar being smooth talked by those that motivated political interests from the shadows. And now it was Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez’s turn.
She had been picked up from her apartment, she had just finished ordering a new bed, by a driver in a car. Obviously the person had done their research on Miss Ocasio-Cortez as they had sent a very wide seated limo to pick up the politician. Alexandria had sniffed when she saw the limo. It was all so trite. She may have been young in her 29 years, but she wasn’t stupid. Did they expect her to be wowed by a limo? The driver got out, opened the door and allowed Alexandria to shove herself inside. It was a tight fit; Alexandria had to pull herself fully in using the seatbelts. With one stout leg planted on the floor and the other kneeling on the seat she wiggled her way inside. The limo shook and jostled almost as much as Alexandria’s body. With gravity working on her pendulous breasts, she could feel them slipping out of her lacy, silver colored bra and sloshing out onto her gut. Her ass slowly passed into the car, the driver got a full view of the shaking, quivering booty folds, until she was able to plop down in the center of the seat. The limo bounced, the suspension held out better than Alexandria’s bed did, and Alexandria was able to spread her bulk through the seat; what should have been a 3 or 4 person seat was almost completely taken up by Alexandria. The driver produced a tray of “light” snacks for Alexandria before returning to the driver’s seat.
The ride to the restaurant was uneventful. Alexandria sat in the back, greedily grabbing treat after treat. Often the car would hit a bump in the road and the bottom of the car would scrape against the road. Alexandria would blush, stop her eating, and do her best to look sheepish for a minute or two. . .before returning to the platter of finely arranged finger sandwiches and other fine foods. She knew she was being buttered up, that this was hardly just opening pleasantries and courtesy snacks; she was only having trouble deciding if it mattered. She wedged the plate between her stomach and bust, her heavy, teardrop shaped shaped breasts securing the platter from the movements of the car, and used both of her chubby arms to grab and move food to her multi chinned face. As she ate, Alexandria hunched further down towards her food. Her chins soon rested on her pillow bosom. Each time that she moved an arm a fat bicep would brush against her face. When she had first come to congress they had said that she had a horse face, through months of gorging the animal of comparison had changed to a chipmunk.
All things considered, Alexandria only had two things to complain about: 1. Not enough food and 2.nothing to drink. Alexandria finished the platter halfway through the trip. The sandwiches and fluffy pastries had made her throat dry and itchy. “Uuuh, driver? Is there a drink?” She had tried to ask but her question couldn’t make it through the thick glass between her compartment and the driver’s. She tried to rock herself forward, just enough to get up and tap on the glass, but her overtaxed legs wouldn’t allow it. Her work was not accommodating to a woman of her size and weight, and her sagging tree-trunks were sorely tired. She was going to be lucky to waddle to and from the table tonight. Alexandria instead sat, rather huffily, with her arms crossed under her breasts. “Fine. Your boss should be a bit less cheap at dinner though, if you want to win me over.” The fat politician stared out the window, her fat face frowning the rest of the way. It was until she was seated in the restaurant that she dropped the frown.
In fact, not only did she drop the frown but she started to smile. It would have been impossible not to. As she was led to the seat, the waiter making sure that the guests all tucked in their chairs and gave Alexandria the widest berth possible, she saw who was entertaining her for the night. The lobbyist was exactly the opposite of everything Alexandria was expecting. She was a young woman, seemingly younger even than Alexandria, with platinum blonde hair. She wore a skin tight, glittering silver dress. She smiled cheerily, the force of her personality overcoming the wall that Alexandria had tried to build up. The woman stood gracefully and pulled the three chairs out for Alexandria. Before the two took their seat she held out a fair hand and offered her name: “Josephine”. Alexandria beamed and took her hand awkwardly. In the time during and after gaining her now famous weight, Alexandria had never felt as awkward as she did right now. Every line and curve of Josephine radiated charm, poise, and femininity. In comparison Alexandria felt like she was a house that had sprouted legs and started to fumble about.
“It’s nice to finally meet you! Watching your career, especially recently, has been nothing short of a treasure.” Josephine’s voice was a clear and bright but controlled.
“Thank, thank you. It’s certainly been a ride.” Alexandria shook her hand, wincing as she felt her blubber jiggle in rhythm with the handshake.
“It is going to be a treat to hear about it.” As she talked, Josephine moved from a handshake to supporting Alexandria as she took her seats. Even though she stood half a head shorter than Alexandria and had thin limbs she had no trouble supporting Alexandria as she lowered herself into the three chairs selected for her. No matter how much Alexandria tried to prevent it, there was always a point where she just had to trust gravity and let her rotund body fall into the seat. The game was trying to get her ass as close to the chair as possible before letting Jesus take the wheel. She would slam into the seat and her body would break into a fit of jiggling, everyone of her rolls taking the opportunity to move freely. After Alexandria had felt the full weight of her titanic body sink onto the chairs she started adjusting herself. She had to widen her sitting posture, letting her massive stomach take its rightful place between her meaty thighs. She itched at the lip of her pants, it had been a long day and her stomach was starting to chafe against the fabric prison it was confined in. Rather than try to move her guest closer to the table, Josephine slid the table closer to Alexandria so that it was almost touching the larger woman’s prodigious gut. By the end of the meal it most likely would be touching or overflowing onto the table.
Josephine slid into her seat catlike, seemingly without even touching it. She put her hands to either side of her face, they were small and the nails were painted a deep red, and rested her elbows on the table. She smiled again. Alexandria was known, among other things, for her expressive face but hers always seemed to get her into trouble. Smiling too widely with her large eyes fully opened often provided her detractors with an easily mock-able still image for a news report. The piles of fat around her face had gone a long way to softening her “crazy eyes” and “crazy, socialist ex girlfriend” expressions, but Alexandria was likely going to fight this battle her entire life. She doubted that Josephine ever had that problem; her smile was bright and warm, but without making her look unhinged. Even as she spoke, Alexandria’s dinner companion lost none of her appeal: “I’m dying to know all about you! I think you could be of great service to my business here in Washington. We are looking for young women with the power to influence and change things.”
And so dinner was off. They started off by talking about what got Alexandria into politics, her schooling, her home-life, her future plans. It was all about her. Alexandria quickly noticed that the conversation topics always revolved around specifically her life and actions. When originally invited, Alexandria thought it was going to be two hours of heavy eating (that was happening regardless) and discussion over proposals and bills. It was refreshing to speak on a topic she knew thoroughly. “. . .It has been really exciting to ride this, mmmppphh, ground swell into congress.” Alexandria answered, buttering and stuff rolls down into her gullet as she talked. “ I just, hopef, dat I can . . .” she swallowed and took a large swig of the wine provided for the two ladies. “ . . . deliver on everything that I promised.” She sighed, thinking equally of the empty basket of rolls and the responsibility placed on her. “My constituents put their faith in me, I want to make sure that I can deliver.”
Josephine rose a hand and snapped her fingers twice, instantly signaling a passing waiter. “It’s so refreshing to hear that! I spend my time around such cynics. It’s good to hear some honesty and humility for a change.” She curtly and wordlessly signaled to the waiter to refill everything at the table; her eyes never left Alexandria’s soft face. “Ladies like yourself come along so rarely.” Alexandria looked away in embarrassment as Josephine said “yourself”. She had no idea why. It just felt like she was fatter or heavier when the blonde said that.
“Oh. I, uuuh. I don’t know about that.” Alexandria did her best to recover her composure.
“It’s true! I’ve seen a lot of women enter politics but I don’t think any are poised to have the kind of career you are going to have. I just see some big things in your future.” Maybe it was the inflection that Josephine put on certain words, maybe it was the look in her eyes, maybe it was just the wine starting to go to Alexandria’s head but each sentence seemed to make the room a little warmer and her a little fatter. Josephine was the dinner guest that Alexandria had been waiting for since she came to Washington. Funny, charming, sexy; the slim woman was the complete package. Each of her thoughts was as intellectually stimulating as the last. Alexandria found herself laughing so hard that her gut started to shake loose from her pantsuit. Not wanting to disrupt the conversation, Alexandria had found that most people were not pleased to watch a person tuck their fat back into their clothes, the obese politician pulled herself a little closer to the table and hope that her gut was well hidden enough. Even with that bit of awkwardness, the two’s conversation continued unabated until the food arrived.
It certainly was a spread. Alexandria was a girl who was getting used to good eating but this was clearly something on a new level. Thick steaks (cooked so rare that they could still “moo”), scalloped potatoes, and plates of fried vegetables. “See, there’s a certain level of advantage dealing with people like me.” Josephine winked as she motioned for Alexandria to start in on the meal. Alexandria wanted to respond with some clever little comment about lobbyists but her gluttonous stomach overtook her. Sausage fingers quickly grabbed fork and knife and began to slice and stab at the beautifully marbled steak. Alexandria ate and ate, stuffing more and more of the meat down her gullet. If her stomach was exposing itself before, which it was, it certainly was as she pigged out on the dinner. The balloon of fat and dough continued to expand as warm heaps of scalloped potatoes joined it; Alexandria washed everything down with large gulps of wine. Through it all Josephine watched it and smiled. Both of the women’s night was progressing better than expected.
When it was all said and done, the plates on the table were completely emptied leaving one very full congressional representative. Alexandria sat in the chair, ass fat filling and overflowing every inch of space, with her hands on her stomach and a very satisfied grin on her rounded face. Her button-up shirt was now strained from all angles. Her lower belly had fully forced its way through the space between her pants and untucked shirt and rested between her wide thighs; caramel colored fat was also leaking between the buttons on her shirt. Alexandria had forced so much food into her body that it had expanded to the absolute maximum. She knew that she was one bite or breath away from her shirt completely exploding. Slow, heavy breaths came from her mouth, each intake of air bringing her breasts closer and closer to finally bursting open her bra and shirt. “What a great. . .meal.” Alexandria’s voice was barely above a whisper, she had to pause to stifle what would have been a tremendous belch. As much as she would have enjoyed it, she doubted that Josephine would have.
“Wasn’t it though?!” Josephine leaned forward to put her hands on the table, giving Alexandria and the rest of the restaurant a view of large breasts. “I don’t think that I’ve ever had quite that much food in one sitting.”
“Oh, uh, yeah. I don’t think I’ve ever been that full before.” Alexandria looked down at herself sheepishly. Her eyes didn’t make it past her pendulous breasts but she knew about the hundreds of pounds of fat that lay below. It must have sounded ridiculous for Alexandria to say that. She dealt with amounts of food this large daily! But Josephine only nodded and smiled as naturally as if Alexandria said that the sky was blue. The other woman sat patiently, whether for the bill or for Alexandria to bring up another topic of conversation but neither option presented itself. The waiter, seemingly avoiding their table after a scene of gluttony, was nowhere to be seen and Alexandria was far too stuffed to think about speaking. It happened every time. The young politician would stuff herself to the point where her brain started to shut down. From the top of her head to the tips of her porky toes, her body was screaming at her to nap and rest; let the food transform itself into more fat. So silence hung in the air over the table, the two women staring at each other while the restaurant went on as normal around them.
In the mildly uncomfortable silence, Alexandria huffed and shifted a buttcheek in an effort to gain purchase on one of her chairs. Her puffy, rolling, cellulite ridden body could rest comfortably on most any surface; provided that she had enough space to spread out. She had had to manage her bulk on multiple chairs before, and would most certainly in the future, but that was not to say that she was at all proficient at it. She had no idea how ladies of her size, what few there were, managed to stay comfy and centered on their sitting devices. Unless she was on a couch, bed, or large spot it felt like she was trying to balance at the top of a cartoonishly small column. Even with her readjustment, she could feel most of the fat sinking back to where it was originally. She wondered if it was possible to have a staffer around to help arrange her body, keep her fat in order and in place.
Josephine, ever the observant one, noticed her dinner companion struggling to get comfortable. “We’ve been so engrossed in our dinner,” Alexandria could feel Josephine's eyes lodging in one one of her deeper stomach rolls, “that we haven’t even discussed my proposals. But I’m pretty sure we can knock this out quickly.” Josephine’s silvery voice then launched into what her company had wanted her to discuss, Alexandria’s food stuffed brain was increasingly unable to follow exactly what Josephine was talking about. Alexandria was still lucid enough to remember the golden rule: don’t trust lobbyists but that wasn’t getting her very far currently. It wasn’t so much that the topic was too lofty, it was just that everything else around the two ladies was preventing Alexandria’s full concentration. The room was hot (Alexandria could feel sweat pooling in her folds), her bountiful flab could find no way to rest comfortably on the two chairs (part of her right buttcheek was getting pinched between the chairs), and the noise of the other patrons was starting to bother her. Alexandria just wanted to lie down and enjoy the feeling of fullness.
“Is this all making sense? I can launch through it again if you need.” Josephine was an angel as she sat and waited for Alexandria’s response.
Alexandria put a sausage under a chin fold and rubbed it, hoping she looked pensive. “Oh no, I think I’m fine.” Alexandria stifled a yawn. It was time to get this over with. Whatever she didn’t get she could push past with a little bravado. If she looked strong, confident, and ready it would all go her way. So it was time to start strong. She put her hands on the table, feeling her flabby biceps wobble, and leaned forward. She felt the whole table shift and a large portion of her gut rub on the soft fabric of the tablecloth. “Let’s get down to brass tax.” Josephine smiled.
~ After a Long and Thorough Discussion~
The 2nd, 3rd, and 4th floors of Alexandria’s upscale apartment complex shook as Alexandria danced through the widened door. It was a chaotic mess of a dance; full of undulations, jumps (as much as a 600 pound woman can jump anyway), and slides. It was the vestiges of dancing that Alexandria remembered from her time as a skinny woman just entering politics, rather than the behemoth that she had transformed herself into. In her wild attempt at dancing her shirt split apart, buttons shooting across the room; their taps against the floor and walls providing the music to her dancing. With her gut completely free, she gave one huge jump, landed, and vigorously jiggled her stomach. She knew that she would tire soon, her body wasn’t given to any sort of aerobic activity anymore, but she was going to enjoy it while it lasted. She had beaten her first lobbyist! It had been a tough fight, Alexandria remembered conceding much more than she thought she would, but in the end Josephine had said that Alexandria had negotiated very strongly. “Well, you drive a hard bargain, but I think I can manage all that.” Had been Josephine's exact words, but Alexandria hadn’t exactly been listening at that point.
“I . . .am going. . .to sweep. . .this city!” Alexandria shouted between gasping breaths as she wiggled her hips towards her bedroom. Her energy was already flagging. It was time for bed and time to enjoy the taste of victory while enjoying some other snacks. As she danced, she let her belly force the button and zipper open on her suit pants. Her massive hips, thighs, and cankles wouldn’t let them fall off of her but they would at least start the process. A well placed hip check brought the door to her bedroom open and she entered sideways (she had to widen the doors piecemeal while her salary caught up). When she was in the bedroom she started to wiggle out of the XXXXL pantsuit. She whipped her jacket and ruined shirt off ( a nearby chair caught that). The real effort of the night was extricating herself from her pants. Positioned in front of a trifold mirror (the only instrument that could even hope to give Alexandria a view of her vast body) she put her fat hands into her waist line and started to scrape her pants off. She crouched and wiggled, peeling the skin tight pants off. A mound of cellulite riddled ass-fat revealed itself as Alexandria panted and forced the clothing to her ankles.
When it was all said and done, Alexandria stood, nearly naked, beaming into the mirror. “They said an obese, young, latina woman could never do it. . .but we’re proving them wrong!” Alexandria did her best to hug her body but there was more of her left out than included; it was so hard to reach all of her fat now. She undid her bra and let her huge, tear drop breasts fall to either side of her stomach. Alexandria ignored her aching knees (long since swallowed up by fat) and stood in front of the mirror playing with her fat. It was her reward for a day finished and job well done. Her stomach bounced and wobbled as she lifted and dropped parts of it. She wasn’t strong enough to lift the whole thing anymore so her arms had to be content with exploring the upper most regions. “There is so much you and I have to do together! We are just getting started.” Her palms massaged deeply into her second belly roll. The ritual continued for minutes unabated, with Alexandria slowly working through every reachable part of her fat body, turning as need so the image was captured in the reflection. Only when every bit of available fat had been played with, and she had been reduced to a panting mess, did Alexandria think of retiring to her bed. The big girl swiveled herself around and. . . “Fuck.” Alexandria saw the shattered mess of her bed and frame and remembered her unfortunate run in with it earlier. “Looks like a fun night of sitting on the couch.” Alexandria waddled/trudged out of her room, her only consolation was that she could grab a carton of ice cream from the fridge on the way. One last snack before she went to be dreaming of food and a long career in politics
Josephine also lay in bed. One hand draped it’s way down her curvaceous body while the other scrolled through photos of her large dinner guest. It was possible to chart a progression of both Alexandria’s weight gain and political career by simply scrolling through her instagram page, something which Josephine was very much enjoying doing. She had just reached the point where Alexandria was unable to see her feet anymore when a call came through the line. Josephine groaned and answered. “Yeah. Yeah.” she couldn’t hide the irritation in her voice as she spoke, eager to return to her scrolling. “It went through exactly like we expected. She’s fun though. I do hope that I get to see more of her in the future. . .a lot more. She’s my kinda politician, gullible.” Josephine rolled her eyes as her boss continued to talk, this was so unnecessary. “I don’t know what more we could want. She agreed to pretty much everything but thought that I was the one losing out. Inexperience of youth, I guess.” Her boss continued to probe, wanting the exact details of what was discussed and what was agreed to; unlike Alexandria he had a very extensive working knowledge of the subject. The conversation eventually ran its course and he hung up. Josephine eagerly went back to her stalking of Alexandria’s social media. With any luck her company would keep her coming back to Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, she saw big things in the future from her.