#intoxi

Dorothy had promised that this would be a safe mission. It'd be a safe mission, for a portly, out-of-action spy and her far portlier girlfriend. She'd promised that the place wouldn't have any traps, and Ange would just have to waddle in, get her greedy hands on the goods, and heave her fat ass out of the joint before anyone notices. Ange would have preferred her to use less weighted wording in her mission reports, but she didn't have any authority over her, anymore.

Ever since Ange had started looking far more like an aubergine than a spy, tucked into her too-tight jumpsuit, Dorothy MacBean had taken over the leadership of Team White Pigeon. Ange had only continued to grow, after that; she'd ended up at a heftier-than-hefty one-hundred and fifty kilos. Her belly sagged about in her jumpsuit, that Princess Charlotte still demanded she wear whenever the two of them were alone. Ange's body sagged, swelled and curved sumptuously — but none of that was supposed to matter, tonight.

It didn't matter if Ange was half the size of a whale. All she needed to do was navigate a few stairs, avoid a few well-packed fridges, and vanish a small lockbox out of the master bedroom. Or, that would have been the case, if Dorothy hadn't lied.

"Haah… Haahh…" Ange's special breath-training had held out for five minutes, but now she was reduced to a slow, mindless wheezing. With every breath though, she didn't feel as if she was dying. She didn't feel like she'd been poisoned, in the slightest. If anything, she felt… Lighter.

"H-Uff…!" Panting, Ange rolled onto her back, ashamed as she watched the infinitely tight fabric of her jumpsuit slosh out atop her stomach. She heaved and panted, barely even realising she was breathing in the gas, anymore; so taken up by shame, she was preoccupied by her own belly before her lungs.

In the last minute of slow, measured breathing, Ange's limbs had grown alarmingly light whilst her head became heavy. She'd been so careful to breathe in only fractions of a mouthful of mystery-gas, but that hadn't helped. She could feel it, riding up on her; a full-bellied stupidity.

"Hehehe," there was a tiny whisper, not far from Ange's tubby thigh. Just audible above the continuing hiss of the pumps, whoever had chuckled had a devilish flick to their vocal chords. "Hehehe, A-Aange~!" That voice came again, and it wasn't hard to pin down who had made it.

"Nhh?" Ange's throttled noise, this time, was markedly more confused. Charlotte had come on the mission, hadn't she? She'd been caught in the trap, too; she must've been breathing this stuff for minutes more than Ange herself. It was simply a miracle she was still alive — but, she sounded odd.

"Ange~," Charlotte cooed all of a sudden, as her chubby cheeks lurched into view. "Your thighs are soo fat," she giggled, drawing herself in closer until she was practically drooling onto Ange's naked thigh. She pawed over the exposed skin greedily, as if she'd never even seen it before.

"C-Charlotte!" Ange whined, feeling her lover's hand groping up her leg. Second by second, she was honestly finding it harder and harder to pin down any singular sensation, though. "Charlotte…" The only thing that remained was her adoration for the blushing, trilling princess — and, the fact that that very princess apparently adored Ange's obesity.

"Bii-iig belly…!" Charlotte crawled in closer, her double-chin suddenly visible as she carelessly caressed Ange's stomach. The largest segment of her massive lizard-body, Ange's belly was big enough by a titanic margin, to be called that; a belly. "So much… Tub!"

Ange blushed, cringing against the assault of Charlotte's fingers. "Chawlod…" She moaned, wheezing as one of her girlfriend's fingers slipped into her belly-button a short way. "Sho fadt…" The steel of Ange's sense melted beneath the thousand-degree flames of the gas she was now gobbling up. "We-we-we're wuuge…"

"Mhmm!" Charlotte, who seemed to have so much more energy than Ange herself, was face-to-face with her within a few seconds. "Huge," she echoed Ange's words, the weight of Charlotte's body threatening to crush Ange beneath it. Decisively, Charlotte was easily fifty kilos bigger than her beloved.

"Nhh… Unnhh!" Ange cried out, her hands slapping up against Charlotte's jumpsuit, and needling through the tiny little tears her obese body had inevitably torn into it. "Hu-Huge…!" She nodded, tears in her eyes as Charlotte laughed into her mouth. The infection that had taken Charlotte wholesale had now wormed clean into Ange's brainstem.

Charlotte sat back, heaving her hugeness until her own belly's bottom was sitting, fat and round, atop Ange's belly. "We're jusht gonna get — Hic — fatty-fatter!" Moaning and drawling with an affection most unlike her proper princess-self, Charlotte plapped her tummy, over and over, as her eyes seemed to circle senselessly about in her skull.

Ange gasped, poking Charlotte's tummy with both hands now. She didn't get much of a chance to really indulge in her girlfriend's size, during a normal night, so Ange's lust was absolutely aflame with lust at the present moment. "F-Fatter, Ange!" She screamed, her thighs tensing as she grabbed a hunk of her own gut, and a handful of Charlotte's massive, over-filled belly.

Charlotte nodded deliriously. "W-We're whalesh, Chah-lot!" She puffed her belly out further and further, as if inflated by the nebulous gas the two were drinking by the lungful. "Gweedy, and gay, and — Nnnghh!"

The two globs of fat came as one. The room — the whole house — was lit up with squealing, self-deprecating moans and whines. The girl's bellies rubbed up against the other with glee; the girls, obsessed with eachother, snuggled into chubby cheeks and heavy chests. The pumps had stopped pumping, ages ago, but they didn't seem to care. Their cheeks were still ruddy, and their bodies still stank with sweaty, horny heaviness.