My 600-lb Goal, with Babs and Fifi.

Babs Bunny stuffed another handful of candy into her mouth, then, still chewing, passed the bowl to Fifi. The skunk eyed it anxiously.
“I’m stuffed, Babs,” she complained after a moment, “I don’t think I can eat another bite.”
Babs glared at her, swallowing her mouthful of chocolate so that she could speak.
“Just eat it, Fifi. Don’t you remember the plan?”
Fifi did remember the plan. However, with every day that passed she was become less and less convinced that this whole ridiculous endeavour it was a good idea. Still, she obediently grabbed a handful of the caramel candies and pushed them into her mouth, forcing herself to swallow them down. Her belly, already aching with the enormous meal she’d eaten only half an hour before, growled its dismay.

“I know, I know, Babs, it’s just…” Fifi hesitated, “I didn’t think that it would be this difficult. Don’t you think we’ve gained enough already? I feel huge…”
She looked down at her body, barely recognising what she saw. Her belly swelled out massively in front of her, bulging out to rest on her fat thighs as she sat slumped on the couch. Her chest, once completely flat, now slumped downwards towards her gut, massively overinflated by flab. Lower down, her hips flared out dramatically on either side of her, thick cushions of flab as soft as the purple fur that covered them. She’d always had a tendency towards bottom-heaviness, but the past hundred pounds or so had seemed to go exclusively to her butt, hips and thighs, leaving her with an absurdly exaggerated pear-shaped body.

“Fifi, what part of ‘600 Pound Life’ did you not understand?” Babs scowled at her, “You only hit 500 last week, and I’m not far ahead. We need to keep up the pace and get to 600 as soon as possible, or we’ll never be relevant again!”
If Fifi was the perfect pear, then Babs was the definitive apple. Her stomach sagged out almost past her knees as she sat, an enormous, formless expanse of flab that wobbled beneath her pink fur as she shifted on the couch, framed on either side by fat love handles and crowned above by two huge, oversized breasts that dwarfed even Fifi’s new bust. Unlike Fifi’s belly, which formed two distinct rolls, Babs’ gut seemed to be just one huge, toneless orb of fat that clung to her midsection, growing ever softer and larger as she gorged herself towards her dream of becoming relevant once again.
“Well… maybe there are other ways to be relevant?” Fifi suggested, one paw nervously massaging her painfully swollen belly as she spoke – not that she could do much to relieve her discomfort with so much fat cushioning her actual gut. “I know that you think that this 600-Pound Life show is the way to go, but, well… don’t you think that we’re going a little too far?”
At first, Babs’ plan had seemed fantastic. All they had to do was sit around, eat all the junk food they wanted, and put on a little weight – and that would, according to Babs, return the fading duo to relevance once again. Now though, having to deal daily with the burden of dragging around nearly four-hundred pounds of pure fat, Fifi was very much having second thoughts.

Babs narrowed her eyes, hastily swallowing down yet another mouthful of rich candy so that she could reply.
“Look Fifi, we’ve come this far,” she pointed out, her chins wobbling as she spoke, “Don’t you think it’s a little late to be worrying about that sort of thing? Are you really going to ruin this for both of us just because you’re working yourself up about ‘catastrophic health issues’ or ‘mobility problems’ or whatever?” Seeing Fifi’s expression, she sighed apologetically. “Look, I know that you’re upset about barely being to walk on your own anymore, but don’t you see – once we’re relevant again from being on My 600-lb Life, we won’t need to walk! We’ll be on TV again, imagine that! We’ll be famous. Trust me, this is the best way to get back into the public eye.”
Fifi hesitated, before letting out a long, miserable sigh. Her chest was aching again, as it seemed to do so often nowadays, and she kneaded her flabby breast with one pudgy paw.
“I guess you’re probably right,” she admitted reluctantly, reaching out and taking the bowl of candy back from Babs. She stared pensively down at the pile of rich caramel treats within it, trying not to see the bulging stomach and enormous thighs just beyond, “Just another hundred pounds to go…”