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      I stared at the check on the table.  I walked through the living room, then back to the table.  I had been living in Germany for six months, and I knew that 500,000 euros was a LOT of money.  When I finally conceded to myself that it was real, and that I had earned this prize money as the sumo champion, I made a large down payment on a  flat in Friedrichshain, my favorite neighborhood in Berlin.  It was time to celebrate...
      My new house was packed with sumo wrestlers, fans, and friends.  A party with this many people needs a ton of food and a ton of alcohol.  But when the women are all plus-size, when they can eat whatever they want, when it takes two or three times as much food as a normal person could eat just to put a dent in their appetites, the amount of food we needed was incredible.  There were Turkish pizza delivery boys coming in with stacks of white boxes so high that they could barely see.  There was pounding techno music, there were enormous and sweaty girls dancing into the night, some shy and dressed modestly, but most proudly displaying their supersize bodies, arrayed in skintight pants and tops that bared enormously flabby midriffs.  And then there was Zaina.  She had smooth skin the color of coffee, and while not as big as I was, her body impressed me immensely.  Her fairly small feet and calves blossomed into outrageously thick thighs, which were met by a massive blanket of flab around her midsection.  Her small and nondescript breasts hung lazily, and her shoulders were small.  I was enraptured, and I sauntered over to her, bumping my huge ass against her belly in tune with the beat.  It wasn't long before we were back in my room, with me peeling off her panties and mashing my face against all her flabby bulges.
      "You sure have been spending a lot of time with Zaina," said Claire.
      "So?" I said.  "You know we're in an open relationship."
      "I'm just saying."  I pulled Claire close to me to hug her.  "You know I'll always love you."
      But my passion for Zaina continued.  In the middle of our most frenzied hook-up yet, Zaina took me to new heights of passion, and kept up with boundless energy as I flagged.
      "I don't know how you do it,"  I said.
      "I've got a little secret," said Zaina, as she pulled out a tiny vial.  My eyes widened.  "You've got to try it."  So I did a line, and we made love like rabbits until the sun rose.  When I woke up, my house was an insane mess, with bottles and bras and panties everywhere.  But I just cuddled up next to Zaina.  The days turned to weeks, and soon it was time to begin training for the next sumo season.  
      I was the reigning champ, and I felt confident.  The training was fine, Zaina was fine, even Claire seemed fine.  The first tournament, which I won handily, only made me more confident.  As the champ, I had a bye for the second tournament, which was a minor one.  So I blew off practice, spending my time in Zaina's arms.  We increased out pleasure with more and more lines.  
      On the last night of the third tournament, Zaina and I were making love again.  We were rubbing our massive tummies together, with me cramming chocolate covered strawberries and ice cream topped brownies into her mouth until she couldn't take it any longer.  I was perfectly satisfied, but Zaina always needed to take it to the next level.  She pulled out her little vial.
      "I don't know Z, I gotta wrestle in the last matches tomorrow."
      "Come on, a little bit can't hurt.  It'll probably give you an edge.  You know, more energy."  I snorted the line, and I was in heaven with Zaina once again.
      I looked at the clock, and couldn't believe that it was already 11.  Zaina and I rushed from our hotel to the training rooms at the stadium.  I warmed up, I practiced with a few wrestlers, and I got into the ring.  An up and coming wrestler named Clelia, who barely weighed 300 pounds, was giving me a run for my money.  I beat her, but I was already regretting the night before.  I was sweating like never before, and there must have been bags under my eyes.  Then I got into the ring with Valeria, and it was over from the start.  She sent me plummeting out of the ring in record time, and suddenly I wasn't the champion anymore...  
      I drank so much wine that night, I don't know how or when I woke up.  Every part of my body hurt.  Every sports page told of my defeat, it was even all over the internet - condolences and encouragements to get back on top were all over my facebook.  I looked like shit in every photo; my pictures looked like celebrity mug shots.  I didn't want to see anyone all day, but at night I called Zaina.
      "I know just the thing to get you back on your feet.  I found this great new club on Rupprechtstraße..."
      "Are you sure we should go out?  I mean, shouldn't we be training and stuff?"
      "Cate, I'm sure you can fight your way back to the top.  Right now you just have to relax."
      "Just...just stay here with me."  And she did, but I could tell all night that she wanted to be at the club, shaking her fat ass, drinking at the bar and probably doing drugs in the bathroom.  I loved Zaina, but deep down inside, I knew that she was a bad influence.  She was a middling wrestler too, and I knew she would never be even a division champ.  The next day, I swallowed my pride and rang the bell as I stood on Claire's doorstep.  I was fat, but I was barely in shape.  I felt like a huge, flabby blob of worthless flesh, enervated by booze and drugs and staying up all night.  I was waiting for Claire to gloat, to say I told you so, but it didn't even need to be said.  She hugged me.  I thought that would be the hardest part, but it would only get harder.
      "Alright, one, two, three, push," said Claire.  I threw myself at the tackling sled, trying to push it across the field.  It sputtered along and then I slipped, falling facefirst into the mud.  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Claire powering the sled all the way across.  Beneath her prodigious fat you could tell there were rock-hard muscles.  She lifted me out of the mud without even straining herself, without even getting herself dirty.  I had a long way to go...  Claire and I worked out all day and then went to the cafeteria.  We sat down with some young wrestlers who were chatting away.
      "They say she can bench press 350 pounds."
      "She beat a gorilla in an eating contest."
      "She's gaining a pound every three days, she's gonna be huge in no time."
      Claire and I were intrigued, and we asked who they were talking about.
      "Just 'Kumiko?'  Does she have a last name?" I asked.  The wrestlers just looked at us.
      "The Kumiko.  As in, the new champ."
      "She was just born to be a sumo wrestler.  They never let her wrestle as a girl in Japan, because it was really frowned on at the time, but when her parents moved to Hawaii, she went crazy, wrestling every day.  She had a growth spurt when she was 13, she went from being this tiny girl to absolutely huge, giant ass, giant belly, big muscular arms.  She won every age group tournament she was ever in."
      I looked at Claire.  "This is what I have to deal with."
      I had an industrial scale, the kind they use to weigh cattle, installed in my house.  I had felt so content with my body.  Certainly I was fatter and more pleased than I had ever been before.  And yet, something was lacking.  The constant working out had added serious muscle mass.  I weighed myself.    The scale read 504 pounds.  I thanked god that I was still over 500, but I evaluated myself carefully in the mirror.  Sure, I was fat, far fatter than average, and yet, to be honest with myself, I wasn't fat like the typical supersize housewife who weighed 500 pounds.  I didn't have a massive, bloated gut hanging down almost to my knees, I didn't have an ass that filled a whole couch, I didn't have two massively fat tits that would bust out of any bra that could be made on earth.  And I wanted all of those things.  I wanted to transcend mere super size, to enter a mythical realm of the truly hyper-obese, to fill so much space that my body would be a body of legend.  As stood there, I fantasized about those red numbers on that black display.  I imagined the numbers racing upward, 550, 600, 650, more, more, more, the numbers swirling out of control into oblivion.  Could I weigh four times my recommended body weight, five times my recommended body weight?  It was at that moment that I knew there was no turning back.  I was going to increase my weight massively, and there was no telling where I would stop...
      There was Kumiko to worry about.  Supposedly she was training in a supersecret facility high in the Japanese mountains, recovering after every practice in natural hot springs, with her trainers and the snow monkeys the only witnesses to her progress.  No one knew how much she weighed, but rumors swirled endlessly.  Some wrestlers swore that she had the densest body ever known, that if she looked like 500 pounds, she must weigh 750, and if she looked like 750, she would crush everyone.  Some said that her waist was 70 inches across, her hips even bigger, that her belly stuck so far out that she couldn't touch her own belly button, that she ate 20,000 or 30,000 calories every day.   The only picture of her from the past year was inconclusive.  It was blurry, and she was standing between two trees.  She was certainly huge, but whether she was mindblowingly fat or not was impossible to tell.  Anyway, it didn't help to worry about rumors.  I was going to get as huge and strong as I could be before our match.  I was going to turn my body into a fortress, fortified with hundreds of pounds of soft, smooth, slowly undulating fatness...
      "Claire...I want you to make me into a fat girl."  I said this with a straight face.  Claire waltzed over to me.  I was lying on my back, and she had to lift up my enormous gut just to touch me down there.
      "You're already a fat girl.  You're superobese.  I can barely get my arms around you."
      "You know what I mean.  I want to be megaobese.  Ultraobese.  I want to be the fattest fatass that ever waddled into a sumo wrestling ring.  I'm telling you this now, and I give you permission to do whatever it takes.  If my future self tries to stop you, I want you to take that skinny bitch and stuff her full of the fattiest junk food you can find."
      "Let's start."  So Claire did what she did best, what turned her on the most.  She turned me into a pig, and made me eat everything.  At first I was excited, but as the days went on, I was exhausted by the routine, the stopping at every fast food joint, every beer garden to down pitchers of rich dark beer and bratwursts and sausages, every convenience store for chips and ice cream and cookies.  Finally, I was nauseated.  That's when Claire really got me.  It was after a marathon session of pigging out, a mountain of mashed potatoes and sauerkraut and knockwursts, so much that my bloated belly exploded through my jeans, shooting the riveted top button across the restaurant.  I begged Claire to take me home, thinking that I could drag my defeated fat ass to my bed and then pass out.  But Claire had other plans for me.  
      When we got home, she tied my hands behind my head, tied one huge rope around my enormous gut, with the rope sinking so deep into my flab that it was only visible by way of the new roll that it created.  She proceeded to stuff me with pepperoni pizza and buffalo wings.  I fought back the urge to throw up every single moment.  And then I was crying, wondering why, why was I doing this, why was I letting Claire do this to me.  And then I remembered.  It was an act of mercy.  Claire was rescuing me from mediocrity; she was allowing me to become the best.  And I stopped crying, and I ate, and I ate...
      I wrestled my way back into contention, but deep inside me, the fear of Kumiko gnawed at my very existence.  I nervously checked down the days until our match.  And yet, I had reason to believe that I would at least not be blown entirely out of the water by the superabundance of Kumiko's body.  I had Claire on my side, and she was transforming me.  Like some twisted god, she was molding my body as we ate, as we practiced, as we made love.  It seemed sometimes that I was growing right before her eyes, like a teenager's growth spurt gone wrong, in the horizontal but not the vertical direction.  My belly was plunging lower and lower each day, my hips and thighs becoming ever wider, and as we redoubled out efforts, Claire forcing me to pig out on superpremium ice cream, on salame secchi and cheese-covered meats and pastas covered in truffle oil, fat found its way into every single part of my body, filling out my ankles and wrists, covering me in innumerable new rolls and folds, until I thought, maybe I have a chance.  Maybe I can do this...  
      The stadium was packed to capacity, and the fans were frenzied.  The most impressive female specimen I had ever seen strode confidently to the scale to be weighed in.  She had a perfect porcelain doll face, with not the slightest bit of fat around her chin, and silky jet black hair.  She placed her massive body on the scale, puffed her belly out, and the crowd roared.  Her belly extended regally and imperiously in front of her, in two gargantuan rolls, with a third roll under her breasts and a massive roll of lower fat covered by her bikini bottom, her thighs thicker than other wrestler's entire bodies, so much fat packed onto her rear end that her ass sagged down onto her thighs.  Her back was packed with so many rolls of fat that they were almost impossible to count as she moved and flexed.  The announcer told the crowd: 791 pounds, and they went wild again.  Her body was so huge, and her pink bikini was so small and tight, that it seemed like an afterthought, almost like it wasn't even there, like she was just an enormous naked blob of quivering flesh.
      Then it was my turn.  I walked proudly to the scale, knowing that every part of my body had been bloated to immense proportions.  My belly, which had started out as just a tiny little tummy poking out, those years ago, was now a pure flabby apron of the most breathtaking proportions, which finally stretched out in all its glory all the way down to my knees, with my belly button a cavernously deep hole, with a huge crease extending from the bottom of my gut all the way up to that belly button.  My whole belly bulged forward dramatically, and I had rolls gathered at my sides, huge fat-laden saddlebags on my hips, two exceedingly stout legs and a furniture-crushing ass to match Kumiko's.  My gigantic arms were propped up at my sides by my incredible overall fatness, and two of the fattest, juiciest blobs of tit-flesh rounded out my heaving chest.  The announcer called out my weight: 805 pounds, and I was filled with the warmest glow of contentment I had ever felt.  I was even fatter than Kumiko!  Though I was a mere fourteen pounds heavier, not really enough to matter at this weight, I was stunned and thankful that I didn't weigh less than she did, as I had expected.  But my warm glow soon turned into an iron resolve, since the true goal here was not just being incredibly fat, but also winning, becoming the ultimate champion, a shining exemplar of the sumo ideal, a living monument to the glory of mega-obesity.  We entered the ring and performed the ritual purification.  Then it began.   
      It was a fight that the fans would remember forever.  We were two of the strongest, most unbelievably, impressively fat girls that the world would ever know, each of us at least three feet wide and laden with rolls upon rolls of luxuriant fat, each of us bloated to epic proportions with nonstop eating.  When the match started, we circled each other warily.  Then Kumiko, a girl who weighed more than a grizzly bear, a girl who weighed almost as much as a horse, exploded towards me with lightning speed.  Two bodies quivering with unimaginable fatness collided with incredible force.  I grappled with her, struggling against her impossibly powerful arms.  We broke apart.  She came in to slap me, and when we collided again the first row was showered with sweat.  Two of the fattest guts ever known to the fairer sex had met each other in time and space, and both of bellies were jiggling insanely, reverberating with shockwaves that I felt all the way down into the core of my being.  I was still quivering when she pushed me down, and my knee fell towards the ground, lower and lower, until I was mere centimeters from defeat.  But I recovered, pulling on her bikini bottom with savage force, and sending my fattest opponent yet to the floor.  She crashed with incredible force, and the first round was over.  The crowd erupted.
      My trainers wiped me down, and gave me water.  Kumiko was incensed.  I expected her to come at me immediately in this next round with savage fury, and hoped to turn her momentum against her, but she was too smart for that.  She bode her time, feinting at me, rushing at me, pivoting, until I finally made my move at her.  She tried to work my momentum against me, but I skirted the very edge of the ring.  I recovered, but it was too late.  Out of nowhere, an immense wall of flesh blocked my entire field of vision.  It seemed to swallow up my whole world.  It was Kumiko's massive, flabby gut, all four rolls of her body hitting me with incredible force, and even though I was one of the most obese girls on the planet, and trained to take a hit like that, there was nothing that could stop me from being smashed out of the ring onto the ground beyond.  The crowd erupted once more, and the tension was unbearable as we entered the final round.
      Both of us were weary from our superhuman exertions.  I don't remember much of the fight.  The crowd was deafening.  We traded blows, we grabbed each other with our massive arms, we dug deep into each other's fatness.  We were evenly matched the entire time, and the match went on far longer than usual.  It was here than my stamina paid off.  Kumiko looked invincible, but I knew that she must be tired.  I rushed her, and I endured a volley of slaps.  She grabbed at my bikini, but I wriggled free.  I ignored her blows.  She tried to outmaneuver me, but there was no stopping the inevitable.  I grabbed at her.  She and I were so fat, I could barely get my arms around her, and her withering assault almost stopped me.  But I persevered, and with all my training, I lifted her up, a girl who weighed over seven hundred and fifty pounds.  I lifted her barely an inch of the ground, but it was enough.  She had been a pure, elemental force of earth and weight, but she was now disconnected from that earth, while I remained.  Suddenly, she was a creature of the air.  As the adrenaline surged through my body, my muscle fibers working overtime and double overtime, I sent this air elemental through her new element.  The crowd gasped as her body took flight.  Every flabby roll seemed frozen in time, but as her center of gravity moved, it took every jiggling ounce of her body out of the ring, through space, and onto the unforgiving ground.  Then it was over.
The sequel to Sumo School for Girls, [link] which was itself the sequel to The Pillow Girl, [link] making this the third part.
PKBerry Featured By Owner Apr 24, 2013
A very well made series. I love how far the characters have come since pillow girl. Keep up the good work!
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