az/fuark elphelt slob/gas/wg/stuffing

azure
i dont even play fighting games but theres something great about girls going from "svelte toned powerful warriors at the apex of physical ability"
to "heaving sweaty gassy blobs incapable of meager physical exertion without collapsing into an unkept greasy heap"

Fuark
the most basic of moves becoming sluggish and uselessly slow
movement itself nearly worthless as walk speeds plummet, jumping becomes near impossible
even the thought of running is enough to convince her to sit down, concede, and start her ???th lunch of the day right there

azure
her trying to do a light kick is a sight to behold
taking huffy breaths before grunting and groaning and trying uselessly to lift one leg off the ground
thighmeat squashing and slapping against her gut and sides as her fat foot barely manages to get an inch off the ground




azure
honestly i mostly just go with other peoples thoughts, which atm mostly involves googling "what is an elphet" to make sure im thinking of the right one

Fuark
I mean, a character having a specific favorite food only lends itself to fat bait scenarios, so...

azure
the perfect justification to use her getting way too much of it as a catalyst for suddenly not fitting so well into that intricate outfit

Fuark
cleavage window suddenly looking a *tad* bit more revealing what with the added poundage

Fuark
getting more and more awkward fitting her plump sausage hands and fingers into her gloves

azure
the only reason she looks so top heavy is because those blossoming tummy rolls and growing fatty sides are so squeezed and constrained by her dress
and all that meat is pushing her bosom up even more

Fuark
that corset she's wearing isn't helping at all in that regard, assuming it didn't snap of a dozen or so pounds ago

azure
its definitely going to get there, considering shes feeling more and more like a bloated, sweaty sausage trying to stuff and cram her wobbling gut into it with every dozen pounds she tacks on

Fuark
taking it off not unlike unbuttoning a pair of pants to give her stuffed, swollen tum a bit of extra breathing room after accidentally eating the whole thing (whatever that may be)

azure
its almost a little shocking just how much she piled on and plumped up so quickly
cute little stretch marks from her rampant gluttonizing as her lack of poise and slightly awkard waddling making it clear how unused she is to hauling around so much hot heavy doughy blubber

Fuark
poor thing, waddling about with all the soft, jiggly fluff definitely isn't made any easier by her heels

azure
theres only so much weight they can hold up, and shes fast approaching that limit by the time it becomes hard to imagine her smelling anywhere near as fragrant as those roses

Fuark
as if all the food stains weren't bad enough, now her folds all over are getting emphasized with fresh sweat stains
the smell of which she tries maybe a bit too hard to cover up with perfume

azure
its like the eye of the storm
the perfume overwhelming at a short distance
but get close enough to peel those sticky stained fabrics off of her perpetually sweating, almost always gassily overstuffed figure and its blatant how piggish she really is to be around

Fuark
on the topic of being musky and sweaty, is this a good time to bring up how she enjoys storing things in her tits?
bullets, grenades, and marriage certificates, to be exact

azure
good luck finding any bullets digging around in those damp flabby pockets

Fuark
the expanse of her tits already doesn't help, but her oversized, fattened arms only hurt her dexterity even more

azure
the awkward sound of clinking and metal on metal every time she belches huskily enough to wobble her impressive by normal standards bustline

Fuark
the exertion from having to clumsily fight against her own bulk only making whatever she's reaching for even sweatier by the time she's done
bo and musk sneaking out ever so slightly the deeper she reaches

azure
its one thing when the constant sweat and grease andodor of her naturally messy whale of a bod sticks to everything she touches and rubs up against
but its even worse when she's been glutting on junk food and that already enormous gut is groaning and rumbling with the worst kinds of gas one could imagine wetly trumpeting out of a girl so (formerly) beautific

Fuark
still *really* trying to keep that same dress of hers
even though each hot blast of air from her rear sends her gown flowing in the wind in the most unladylike way possible

azure
her ass and hips are already wider than the dress itself
fabric resting on her sweaty, dimpled shelf of an ass and barely able to hide her flabby cheeks and stretched out panties
but every deep, hot gurgle from under her swaying belly folds is only heralding a rank, deep, rear-quaking eruption of flatulence that ripples and blows at her formerly loose dress and chokes the air around her with steamy pungence

Fuark
seeing how energetic and optimistic she is, she tries to not let it get to her
but when you're a quarter-ton gas bag with a bizarrely unique smell of humid body odor and an excessive amount of strawberry/rose perfume, it gets a bit difficult to talk around

azure
peppiness in between wheezing and panting and huffing after short walks, shovelling entire meal courses down with abandon, and trying to quietly let out a little gas only to accidentally rip ass with enough potency and buildup to fill a small room

Fuark
the only thing that can send her whole landscape of a body jiggling better than her doomed attempts at cute poses and mannerisms is her booming farts
kicking off a chain reaction of jiggles starting with her double-wide chair-filling ass cheeks and just spreading outward from there

azure
no amount of sausage-fingered peace signs and failed attempts to lift one leg in a showy posture can make up for the fact that one wrong push and squeeze to that blubbery rolling apron of a gut is enough to have to belching and farting up a storm
clasps and straps digging into her flabby bulk as her latest pigout come back to haunt her in an air-fouling display of uncontrollable hoggish gassiness





azure
sometimes the finer things in life is just vacating your mind to think about cute girls weighing half a ton and absolutely blasting ass after guzzling down half their weight in junk food and sweets and other things to ack onto their greasy, rippling, mountainous physiques

Fuark
and this is when you don't even know terribly much about her so I'm terrified of what you could do to me with hitting even more specific notes

azure
you had me sold as "optimistic and energetic" because its so easy to imagine her trying so, so hard to stay upbeat and perky and outgoing even as shes sweating buckets just from heaving and waddling her elephantine self forward
dress bursting at the seams and stained with food and sweat and gut hanging openly out of the poor garment
belly audibly gurgling and roiling as a soft hissing fart becomes a long, deep, bassy string of body-quaking backblasts and she gives a shameless, piggish groan of relief before trying to switch right back to cute perky mode

Fuark
should I bring up that the whole reason she tries to be super pretty and ladylike is because she *really* wants a husband?

azure
oh no thats cute
trying so hard to act sweet and ladylike and appealing around the boys
hiccuping mid sentence from trying to hold her belches in and keeping that wide chubby face grinning despite her sweaty brow and mussy hair
until shes back to being alone and she can momentarily drop the act in favor of bending forward and letting out an ungodly wave of flatulence that shed been holding in as not to gross out her suitor
sucks her belly in to try to look a little slimmer for them and even though shes a greasy horrendously overweight monstrously gassy waddling blob of a girl she somehow still manages to look fatter once she lets go and her sizable gut flops out another inch or two

Fuark
she's naturally cheery even outside of trying to find a husband but
holy fucking shit this "trying really hard to act clean and proper despite herself in the presence of a guy only to just drop it when she's alone" is literally the best idea I've ever heard

azure
dates are the only time she puts on properly clean clothes and even then by the end of the night they're as stretched and warped and sweat-soaked and food-splattered as the rest
as she smiles awkwardly and tries to give her date a nice farewell bow without blowing the last few seams on her nice evening dress or belching heavily in the poor guy's face

Fuark
adding yet another tally to the "failed dates" counter as she goes back home to strip down to her underwear and smother herself and cake and ice cream while lazing on the couch and watching cheesy romance movies

azure
very few boys get to see her in her prime, because said prime is letting her full girth and blubber hang out
greasy rolls dimly illuminated by the tv as she guzzles down another tub and lazily lets out a couch-rumbling fart into the indented cushions without even bothering to move
sighing contently even as the straps of her bra come a bit closer to snapping under those bare sweaty hamblob arms and her chubby toes wiggle idly under her chunky calves
taking up the entire couch with her bulk and the entire room with her sweaty gassy aura




azure
reaching third base on a date with elphet is just the privileged of being wrist deep in her sweaty gut rolls
digging and massaging and occasionally pausing to help dump another tub of ice cream towards her mouth or give her flabby back rubs to help get out another deep heavy unladylike belch
fingers squashing her greasy rolls and huge blobby thighs and sides and bearing the brunt of every deep, pent-up, uncomfortably hot and stale fart the ministrations dislodge from that insatiable mountain of a tummy

Fuark
even if she manages to get this far any chances of the guy settling down with her go out the window when he thinks about how much money it's gonna take to keep this rose-haired behemoth satisfied every day
quitting while he's ahead before she can rope him into anything further

azure
the good news is they dont need to buy her clothes since shes evidently not worried about being well groomed
the bad news is that having a second source of food income just means shes going to be buying and eating twice as much

Fuark
I mean, she already dreams about being stuffed by her husband even when she's thin, god only knows how much she'd pack away with all this extra room in her gut

azure
she absolutely can eat the fish too, and probably so much more with the right encouragement
the right encouragement being literally anybody just giving her food until shes a gurgling, bloated, overstuffed mess
letting out constant belches and farts and groans as her already sizable gut works to digest it all into more pounds and she wobbles lazily against her own heaving, greasy, sweat-soaked figure

Fuark
bulging mass of a gut hanging out the open part of her dress
sweaty and gurgling and full with an obscene amount of food more befitting a group of hogs rather than the pretty little waif she tries to be

azure
upper stomach so bloated and swollen she cant help but press both fatty hands down on it and leave messy food smears all over her flabby skin
even her flatulence sounding strained from how utterly stuffed she is
slowly thumping down in slow, waddling strides as every step makes her belch and rumble and groan and her slick belly apron slosh and sway and slap against those meaty thighs

Fuark
heels of her shoes on the verge of just splitting in two
the rest of her outfit not faring much better as her overfed mass bulges and stresses every seam
tits nearly spilling out of her cleavage window
the thick tire of fat that is her chins and neck fat nearly beginning to squish up against the shackle and chain around her neck

azure
cute eager voice coming out strained and husky and almost a little whiny from how utterly stuffed she is
having to pause every few seconds to catch her breath and adjust her clothes around her heaving blob of a body
letting out short deep bassy farts every few steps from the weight of her meal and body flab bobbing and wobbling and slapping together
sweat dripping down her triple chin and face red from exertion and heat and clothes about to blow from being tied around such a sweaty oozing flabby hog of a lady

Fuark
dress and face and chins splattered with a combination of food stains so mixed it's difficult to tell what she even ate exactly
belly having torn itself a nice big hole through her dress to pour out of
sticking out in front of her to only be agitated even further with every waddling, lumbering step that bumps into it
upsetting her putrid cauldron of a gut into pining out even more noxious fumes whenever she relaxes for even a moment

azure
groaning and huffing as the contents of her overpacked stomach roil and churn and gassily digest away, almost as hot as her steamy, sweaty exterior
the constant gripping and squeezing of her ruined outfit sinking into her rolls and curves not helping as another thunderous, air-fouling eruption of hot gas from her panty-ruining door-clogging ass brings her only momentary relief
somehow still enough of an utter pig to feel the urge to just have a *bit* more dessert despite the way her slick spare tire rolls slap and rub against her thighs and her exposed, greasy chest is pushed up against her flabby chins by the sheer size and weight of that tummy

Fuark
finally giving up and struggling to reach a fat-swaddled arm into the sweaty, moist canyon that are her breasts
fishing around for a box of chocolates she planned on giving to a potential date before her appetite got a *bit* out of control
eventually pulling out a damp box that smells less of sweets and more of an offensive mixture of unshowered body odor and whatever dropped morsels of food fell inside during her feasting only to be forgotten about

azure
hundreds of pounds ago she might have been able to look cute eating them, picking up one chocolate in her delicate fingers and popping it into her lips with an adorable smile
but at this point all she can muster is smooshing one between her fat, messy digits and pushing it into her blubbery face, her body heat having half melted them and adding a splash of rich chocolate brown to the tapestry of food colors on her cheeks and lips and chest
still managing a cute murmur as she gobbles up the box's contents and lets them drop against her whale of a body with a crass, masculine belch in contrast to the pleased, huffy noises she makes

Fuark
well, she still might look cute to someone who thinks landwhales greedily and sloppily shoving anything edible down their gullets is attractive...
being thin and clean wasn't really working out for her, may as well try to nail down a niche or two

azure
im sure theres an entire untapped market out there for girls who can eat half their steadily growing weight in fancy meals, can barely fit into their cute rose-patterned underwear, and consider a day off an excuse to laze around nearly-naked, fumigating a room with their bo and gas and guzzling down snacks until theres no hope of getting them back on their fatty feet without help

Fuark
I know I was insanely on board with the "desperately tries to act cleaner to attract boys" interpretation
but there's also something cute about her (very misguidedly) trying to lean into this as something actually potentially viable... even if she's just fooling herself and making excuses to pig out

azure
trying to strike a cute pose while shoving an entire slice of cake into her fat face for the boys

Fuark
"if broad appeal doesn't work, then I'll just focus in on a hyper specific style that people will go absolutely crazy for!"

azure
goes from "date clothes that show off my curves" to "date clothes that show off my curves and bulges and rolls and fat ass"

Fuark
if nothing else she's harder to ignore, between the sound of her explosive venting and smell entering any room before she herself does

azure
"do you maybe want to go back to the hotel and......give me tummy rubs?" [gurgling, barely-muffled fart from under her]

Fuark
lord help anyone that offers to foot the bill of a dinner date.
good news: repulsive stench and constant gas clears out the restaurant completely, just you and her for extra romance

azure
two hours of just watching this absolute hog of a girl go wild at her meals, until her belly is pushing into the table and shes undoing her dress a bit just to make room and cant go a few words without a hiccup or deep booming belch
theres invariably something intimate about a lady who isnt afraid to fart around you
even if the sheer amount of rank hot gas shes polluting the room with might make people wish she was a little more modest about her ungodly gassiness

Fuark
aww, she's comfortable enough around you to relax and be herself!
...which sounds nice in any normal relationship, but here the "relaxing" is a bit nore literal as she's perfectly happy to make room for more food constantly
making good use of both ends to ease the constant bloating of her gut

azure
comfortable enough to kick her shoes off and get out of those tight messy clothes and let it all hang out
not minding or not realizing any stares at her gargantuan dimpled ass or hanging, sloshing gut or bra-straining chest
as she lays back and gets extra cozy to resume stuffing herself into a sweaty slobby food coma

Fuark
patting her food bag of a gut contentedly, peeking an eye open to ask her darling for a proper belly rub
assuming someone on the staff hasn't already braved her oppressive aura of smell to politely tell her to leave and please never come back

azure
her sheer overflowing bulk filling up her half of the booth as she folds her massive flabby arms behind her head and leans back cutely and expectantly
that flabby avalanche of a tummy bulging onto the table and looking just as smeared and stained as the piles of plates around it
gurgling and rumbling softly under their hands as they squeeze their palms into that enormous doughy mass and inadvertantly help push and squeeze out another godawful series of body-quaking farts from such a pent up, food-loaded girl
biting her lip a bit as she lets loose under the table and sighing blissfully at the relief

Fuark
fiiiinally dozing off into a cozy little food coma, much to the chagrin of everyone forced to stay after dark and clean up after this comically fat, bloated pile of sain-covered flab
who, despite being asleep, STILL won't stop farting somehow

azure
constant bubbling braps and trumpets and blurts that roll out of her even as she snoozes and sprawls out
with the occasional heavy deep brassy fart that very nearly wakes her up, only for her to sigh in relief in her sleep and go back to murmuring and dreaming about more food

Fuark
I mean, she can sleep standing up so she's (unfortunately) probably pretty tough to wake
not a problem when she's stinking up her bedroom or living room after passing out on the couch but
not terribly desirable for anyone but her here

azure
any attempts at shaking her up just leaves your hands slick and greasy and her rolled over in a different sort of gassy flabpile

Fuark
shaking her just agitates her like one of those dozens of bottles of soda she downed earlier
and well it's not like you can actually *move* her

azure
rolls sloshing and slapping against each other as hr entire body jiggles and quakes
followed by a deep bubbling sound from under those layer of sweaty belly fat
followed by her already sizable gut swelling up just a bit more and a slight look of disconcert on her fat smeared face
until she finally lets out a rank, deflating, four-second-long fart that bubbles hotly out of her gargantuan cheeks

Fuark
biiig sloppy relieved grin spreading across her face, smushing her cheeks and chins with an audible sound of sweaty, messy fat squishing against itself

azure
at the very least she makes a wonderful self-heating self-vibrating flabby doughy pillow to anybody with no sense of smell or hygiene

Fuark
her gut alone's probably big enough to serve as a bed
but given the amount of food you have to stuff into her it's probably cheaper just to grab a hotel room for the night
smells better, too

azure
at this point its hard to even find a tub or shower you can shove her into, not that itd make a diffrence after one long hot day of eating and basic walking

Fuark
just cleaning every visible inch of her is one thing, but when you take into account how many rolls and folds you'd have to get under? forget it.

Fuark
it'd be tough even if she did already shower regularly but at this point it's probably more practical to just try and go nose blind to her

azure
its a good way to see and feel just how much shes grown
just how much dense blobby weight is packed into those heaving assets and sweaty rolls
how deep her folds are, and just how hard is it to fully encapsulate the sheer size of her
from her massive thighs to her porked-up chest to her blobby arms and triple chinned fatty face
to that gargantuan heaving mountain of gurgling dough weight she calls a gut

Fuark
she *definitely* enjoys reminded you just how much of her there is to love
and most certainly isn't just saying that as an excuse to attempt to eat her weight in food at any given opportunity

azure
every time she blows apart a pair of panties or gets big enough for her ass to hang out of her latest dress she just claims it means there more of her to cuddle and appreciate
as if it wasnt impossible to get both arms around just one of her titanic thighs as it is




Fuark
hey there's a reason I'm half-decent at rambling about fat girls farting, i've read lots of material to study up on

azure
i can tell youve spent a lot of time investigating the concept of hugely obese ladies ripping ass, and its time well spent