fatjohn2: john/rose drunk stuffing feeding weight gain

As she pulled into the winding road leading towards the mansion, Rose was silently thankful to whatever ancient deities presided over the realm of driving. She had only received her license two weeks ago, and while her mother saw no problem with entrusting her with an extraordinarily expensive car, she was still a tad worried about those ditches lining the highways.

It had been John's idea to visit Rose during a vacation he earned for "excellent attendance", although Dave insisted it was more along the lines of "being too fat for the office chairs". It also likely had to do with Easter coming up. Regardless of the reason, a full eight days off had been secured, and Rose was more than happy for the company. It turned out, she had gotten much more company than she expected.

When she met John at the airport, that Monday morning, she had been more than a little surprised at the Heir's gains. John had weighed in at a fair 302 pounds, and coupled with his somewhat short physique, it gave the impression of a boy who had been fed a tad too much over his life. There was a waddle in his step, owing to his bulging thighs, and his stomach hung over his waist just enough to be visible. For all intents and purposes, however, it was as if he had never changed; Rose quickly found herself in the midst of a rather squishy hug, meaty arms wrapping around her neck. Same old John.

After the tubby teen had been packed into the passenger seat of the car, a rather uneventful drive had ensued. Now, as they drove closer to the extravagant mansion Rose called a home, John was staring out the window, wide-eyed as if he had never seen a tree before. An oversized lollipop was gripped in one chubby hand, already half-devoured like it's two brethren that had fallen prey to John during the drive.

"Oh, wow, this is so cool! I mean, I know you said you lived in a really big mansion, but this is just..."

Rose simply allowed herself a slight smile and continued driving. He mind was elsewhere, already forming the basis of a mental psychoanalysis into her friend's gains. Dave had been particularly heavy on the fat jokes recently, and while she had originally chalked it up to the self-proclaimed coolkid running out of material, he had apparently had a valid point. For what it was worth, John was as endlessly happy as always, though. Was Dave covering for himself? It didn't seem like he had been openly taunting John, if his giddy outbursts were any indication. She would have to delve into this.

As they pulled into the parking lot and John's rambling slowly ceased, Rose pushed the thoughts out of her mind for the moment. This was still a vacation, after all; it wouldn't do any good to spend the entire time mentally working herself. She stepped out of the car, walked to the other side, and extended a hand to John. Getting the boy out of the car was a slight hassle, and as Rose gripped one flabby arm and pulled, she hoped she could get through the week without breaking any important bones.

---

Later that afternoon, both teenagers were lounging in Rose's room, basking in the other's company. Rose was working a black scarf, attempting to master knitting techniques she had received from Kanaya, while John absently chewed caramels and fiddled with a mobile game on his PDA. The atmosphere was ripe for psychoanalysis, and Rose decided to break the metaphorical ice about John's gains while she had the chance.

"Has Dave taken a sudden interest in the culinary arts?"

John paused, before looking up with a beaming grin. "The other week, he managed to cook a turkey! I've been trying to teach him how to cook, see, and it took him a while but he cooked it pretty well! Like, not just barely cooked, it was really yummy, and..."

"So, he's finally begun the grueling crawl away from the dark recesses of microwave dinners." Rose smirked, before pressing onwards. "Has he been eating more for himself?"

"Um...I don't think so. He hasn't really changed much. Eating, I mean."

"Ah. So most of the food is for you."

John set down the PDA, blushing slightly. "I...I guess? I mean, yeah, he's been nice." He gave a conscious glance to his plump lap, which Rose picked up almost instantly.

Placing her own knitting needles down, Rose put on her best therapist face, turning to face John. "Has he been encouraging you to eat more?" She tilted her head ever so slightly, and John turned slightly redder. "That would explain all the weight-related remarks recently."

"I...um....yeah, I guess. I-I mean, he doesn't mean it! He's always really nice, even when he won't admit it, and, um, he...likes it?" John smiled nervously, biting his lip slightly. "He seems really happy about me...eating, I guess. And it's nice!"

John continued rambling for a few moments, but Rose's mind was already running a mile a minute. She had spent the better part of a decade trying to decode what made Dave tick. At first, she thought it was the smuppets, and as much as he denied ever caring for them, she could sense a hint of denial in such statements. But now, she would have to re-evaluate; she had never expected her ectobrother's psychological infatuations to be centered around the layers of flab accumulating on his friend-roommate.

Then again, there was one way to surely hit through Dave's emotional armor. As John sat before her, giggling slightly at his own rapid-fire talking and reaching for another handful of caramels, Rose quickly decided how she was going to spend the vacation. She smirked to herself; this was going to be a fun week.

---

Rose's mother had a systematic network of culinary suppliers, allowing her to purchase and indulge in the finest alcohols in the country. She had always encouraged Rose to enjoy such a lavish luxury, and while Rose gagged at the thought of downing such disgusting liquids, she was thankful for such a situation for once in her life. She had no trouble placing orders to some of the most famous confectioneries she could find, rich chocolates and sugary candies that would normally have dieticians running for the hills. She also begrudgingly purchased several strong alcohols, as well as quite a few high-strength digestion aids.

As she finished placing the order for a gargantuan quadruple-chocolate layer cake, she let slip the beginnings of a maniacal laughter not unlike her mother, before clasping a hand over her mouth. Lousy stupid goddamn inheritance.

---

Most of the week had been spent hanging out with John and waiting for the various orders to arrive. Rose expertly avoided having John see any of the foods, hiding them in the pantries far from the chubby teen's eyes, while simultaneously keeping the Heir occupied with a rapid influx of high-calorie snack foods. John had managed to pack on several more pounds in the meantime, and Rose couldn't help but gently prod the bulging fat whenever John was too engrossed in other activities to notice. If Dave liked it so much, he'd quite enjoy John after their little vacation.

Finally, Sunday morning rolled around, and Rose was up early to ensue that the stage was set for her plan. The food was placed in optimal positions, and the kitchen table was prettied up. As she heard the creaking of the floorboards as John crawled out of bed, she couldn't help but grin at her handiwork.

John wobbled downstairs, clad in pyjamas, only to freeze when he saw Rose standing next to the lavishly prepared table. "O-oh, good morning, Rose!"

Rose nodded curtly, before motioning to the chair. "Good morning, John. I thought that since you are returning home tomorrow, we should make the most of this day. I prepared a fine meal as a form of send-off gift. You may also consider it a day-early Easter present."

An infectious grin broke out across John's face. "Aww, Rose, that's so great!" He lunged forwards and caught the thinner girl in a smooshy embrace, before sitting down at the table. "Are you sure it's not too early for this, though?"

"Nonsense, John. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day." With that, she darted into the kitchen, only to return with a plate of french toast and an unlabelled bottle. Placing the toast between them, she opened the bottle and poured both John and herself a glass of the cool, clear liquid.

After scarfing down two pieces of the french toast, John lifted the glass to his lips, sipping it before shuddering violently at the taste. "Er, Rose, what is...?"

"A rather exotic drink my mother is unusually fond of." Truth be told, it was a ridiculously potent wine, and as Rose took a long gulp from her own cup, she had to fight against her gag reflex at the burning taste. She prayed her family's high alcohol tolerance would kick in. Seeing Rose swallowing the wine, John mustered up his courage and downed the entire glass in one gulp. It took all of his willpower not to bluh it back up, but he managed to keep it down, only to be rewarded with a soothing sensation.

"That...that wasn't that bad." OK, so it was horrendous, but John wasn't about to admit that in front of Rose. As he finished off the rest of the syrupy toast, Rose poured him a second glass, which he down quicker than the first. He was beginning to feel somewhat light-headed, and as he pushed the empty, sticky plate away, he was content to sit and smile as Rose stood, returned to the kitchen, and came back with a huge plate of fried chicken.

Whatever bit of John's brain would tell him that fried chicken was very much not a breakfast food was silenced by the tipsy giddiness he felt as he tore into the greasy meat. It was amazing, quite possibly the best chicken he had tasted, and twenty minutes later he was picking at bones and licking his fingers to savor the taste.

"How was it, John?" Rose had yet to touch any food herself, instead opting to lean forward and smirk at John. She hadn't expected the boy to be this much of a glutton, but that only made things easier on her. She was admittedly worried that she would struggle to get all of the food into his gut, but as she stood, John gazed up at her with still-hungry eyes. "Shall I procure dessert?"

"That'd...be great, Roseeeeee..." John swayed slightly, and Rose couldn't help but quirk an eyebrow. Two glasses, and he was already this drunk? The boy had no alcohol tolerance whatsoever, and had she known that from the start she wouldn't have given him such strong drinks. Still, this would make things easier in the end.

First on the dessert menu was ice cream. Rose procured an entire mixing bowl from the kitchen, dumped a tub of ice cream into it, and placed it in front of John. His eyes instantly lit up, and he began digging into the cold treat with the large spoon he had been given. Rose left the room again, humming quietly to herself as she began mixing a fondue. Behind her, she heard the happy "mmphs" and "mmms" of John as he ravenously attacked the ice cream.

When the fondue was finished, she returned to find John guzzling the melted ice cream from the bottom of the bowl. It had been a little over an hour since the feast began, and as he drank the last of the ice cream, Rose swapped the empty bowl for the hot chocolate fondue. The Heir instantly began devouring the molten chocolate, as Rose dumped the empty ice cream bowl in the sink. Picking up a plate of salty, chocolate-covered pretzels, she returned to the table in time to find John gulping down the last of the fondue.

Rose sat down next to the gorging boy, placing the pretzels within arm's reach and gazing down at John. His stomach had bloated outwards from the influx of food, and he hiccuped as he discarded the fondue and caught sight of the pretzels. Reaching one flabby arm over to the plate, Rose subconsciously reached out and gently stroked John's swollen belly.

"How are you feeling, John?" she murmured. John responded with a derpy grin and a happy moan, stuffing the pretzels into his mouth, as Rose rubbed the top of his gut. The teen was in complete bliss, amplified by the wine, and having his tummy rubbed was only the icing on the cake. As the pretzels vanished into his mouth, he felt Rose tugging on his arm, and he obediently stood, wobbling slightly.

Standing up, the effects of the feast were plainly visible. John's t-shirt had rode up his gut, his smooth navel visible, and the added weight was throwing him off balance. His stomach itself was bloated, sticking outwards noticeably, and as he very nearly fell over, Rose caught him under the shoulder and began walking him towards the couch. His weight was pushing down on the smaller girl, but the warmth and softness of his fat counteracted the discomfort nicely.

Collapsing on the couch, John laid down, stomach flopping to his side, as Rose quickly returned to the kitchen. It was time to put the final part of her plan into motion. Lifting the massive chocolate cake, she slowly hauled it to the living room, plopping it down in front of John. She knew that the boy had a psychological phobia of cake, but with any luck the alcohol in his system would counteract such fears.

There was a long silence, as John stared at the mammoth confectionery before him, before he slid off the couch with a loud thump, sat upright, and dove directly towards the chocolaty heaven before him. Rose had forgotten to retrieve forks, but John was simply using his hands, grabbing and tearing large pieces off the cake. Chocolate splattered onto his face, hands, shirt, gut, and floor, and Rose was secretly thankful that the living room featured hardwood flooring.

Sitting next to John, Rose patted the flubbery boy's back, eliciting a happy squeak, as John continued to literally cram the cake into his mouth. His stomach was bubbling angrily at the continued influx of food, and when he paused to groan in discomfort, Rose took the opportunity to slip her hand under the overstressed tummy and loosen John's pants. As he sighed in delight and resumed devouring the poor cake, Rose began rubbing his belly in slow, firm movements.

---

It took almost an hour, but John had managed to fit most of the cake into his stomach. Bloated beyond all expectations, his pace slowed and faltered before he collapsed back, lying on his back on the cool floor. His gut stood straight upwards, groaning and churning, and John could only shut his eyes and moan, with the occasional hiccup or belch. His entire body was smeared with chocolate, across his face, his stomach, his clothes.

Rose had been watching from her seat next to the Heir, and she quickly darted to the bathroom, grabbing a damp cloth. She made a quick pit stop to the kitchen as well, for a fork. As she returned, she plopped back down and began wiping John's face clean of the chocolate. "I'm officially impressed, John. Most people would not have taken such a meal in stride."

John could only gurgle in response, and once his face was clean, Rose turned her attention to his stomach. Gently tugging off the food-stained shirt and tossing it to the side, she began washing the enormous belly in front of her. It was rock-solid, with not a trace of softness to be found, and as she rubbed over it with the wet facecloth, it made distressing noises. Once she was content that all of the chocolate had been removed, she placed the cloth with John's dirty shirt, leaned down and rested her head on John's tummy, looking downwards at the bloated boy's face.

"Shall we continue?"

John stared back up at her, blue eyes wide, before blushing red and opening his mouth. Rose took this as a positive sign, breaking off small pieces of the remaining cake with the fork and feeding them to the boy. For almost two hours they stayed like this, Rose gently feeding John, until the remaining cake had vanished and John slipped into a food-induced coma. As he slumbered, Rose gave his gut one final pat, before quietly slipping off to clean up the kitchen and wash the clothes. John would spend the rest of the day sleeping off the ridiculous meal, and as he let out a soft burp in his sleep, Rose couldn't help but smile to herself.

Take that, Strider.

---

Dave sat at a bench in the airport, beats pulsing through his earphones. The week without John had been surprisingly dull; he never realized how much he missed the little goober until he was gone. As the airplane finally landed and Dave stood to head towards the meeting place, he was relieved to finally make up for lost time.

As he turned the corner and caught sight of John, Dave completely froze in place. Waddling towards him, sucking on a rock candy, John was much, much larger than he had remembered. His gut jutted out, doughy rolls drooping down to meet his massive thunder thighs, and his moobs were visible even though the stretched-out shirt he wore. As he gaped at his massive boyfriend, he heard the familiar ding of Pesterchum, and turned to glance downwards at his mobile.

TT: 353lbs.
TT: Happy Easter, Dave.

He looked upwards and caught sight of Rose in the window of the airplane, with the most diabolical, shit-eating grin he had even seen in his entire life. Dave swore, shuddered, and walked forward to meet John.

Silently, he admitted defeat to Rose. He'd have to get her back good.