#stuckage

Even the tub that'd developed on the girl's softening stomach managed a slow jiggle, undulating under the pressure, the insistence, of Kanade's newfound appetite. "I guess…" Kanade looked away from the blaring sparkle of her PC, and the endless symphonic lines always parading across it. She took a spy at the digital clock next to her monitor, and sighed. "I guess it's lunchtime." She surmised, one hand dropping from her keyboard to pat at her so-expectant stomach. Her soft stomach. No longer bony and rigid, but just a little flabby. The feeling of her own body being so malleable made Kanade blush. She was getting fat. She was allowing herself to get fat.

But, she wouldn't be growing without food. Without lunchtime, for sure. As Mochizuki Honami had insisted no end of times, lunchtime could be the most important part of a growing girl's day. "Lunchtime…" Kanade echoed herself, steeling her legs before getting up from her sometimes infinitely comfy gaming chair. Her throne of lethargy, that had hardly ever allowed her to escape it. That chair had been the singular steward of her own wasting away. Now, though, it was just a compatriot. A companion, nobly observing as Kanade gradually filled more and more of it's seat.

Usually, Kanade's lunchtime meal was delivered to her. Asahina Mafuyu, or Honami's hands, would be offering her everything. As if they didn't want her to get up, or do anything besides swill about in her fostering obesity. "Maybe they're making something nice?" Kanade wondered aloud, patting her belly again, and blushing once more as she realized it was really starting to hang. The drawstrings of her shorts were almost fully covered by the rubbery overhang of her stomach. After all, they'd gotten a lot shorter, as Kanade's ass had developed. Pulled short by her thick rear, and then covered entirely by Kanade's sloshing tummy.

Nonetheless, Kanade slowly paced downstairs. Sometimes, especially when standing, she felt a great deal plumper than she was; upon her weak legs, Kanade's hundred-or-more kilo body was a weight she could barely manage. "Unnff…" She wheezed as she waddled down the stairs, cradling her belly in one hand as if that'd help anything. "Where is everyone…?"

As Kanade's freshly sweaty body reached the bottom of the stairs, the soft cheeked girl wondered how she'd suddenly gotten so unfit, again. Her body had entirely boomeranged in it's fitness; she'd gone from a measly wimp, to a well-eating and healthy physique, and then somehow back once more. Only this time, she was fat, too. "I've gotta…" Kanade whined, groping hunks of fat from all over her body. "I've gotta get back on the treadmill, huh?" Her chest, her arms, and especially her belly. Everywhere was squeezable, and terribly receptive to the pinching from her fingertips. "Or just… Do anything…" She blushed again, finding she was enjoying the shape and size of her newly-risen boobs.

Kanade padded through her house, always sniffing about for Mafuyu or Honami's distinctive smell. What she found, after a short while, was enough to make her still. "Mafuyu?" Not just Mafuyu, though. Mafuyu's ass, jammed into a doorframe. Ripe, round and thick as the rising sun. Gigantic.

"Kanade…" Mafuyu moaned, having to look to her left slightly to even see the first impressions of her girlfriend. Mafuyu was stuck in an awkward alignment, meaning she couldn't possibly turn to face Kanade. "You came down…"

Approaching the landwhale absolutely stuffing up the doorway to her kitchen, Kanade's blush turned to a fiery fierceness. "Y-You're stuck? Actually?" She stammered, growing so close to Mafuyu that she could grab either of those flabby buttcheeks, in each hand. She'd watched Mafuyu swelling up for weeks, and months, but never expected that this would happen to either of them. That they'd grow, and grow, until they became too big to be housed.

Mafuyu turned her head back, away from Kanade's spying eyes. "Mhm." Dressed in a tight, tatty tank-top and a pair of shorts not too different from Kanade's usual outfit — only a half-dozen sizes larger — Mafuyu's bulging body was on display for all to see. Her love handles swelled gladly over her hips, and just a taste of her ass-crack could be seen, poking above the hem of her panties. "S-Stuck." Mafuyu shook her body slowly, achieving little more than making her plentiful fat rolls jiggle, all down her back.

Kanade gulped. "I-I'll help you get out!" She nodded to herself, then stood back a step. "I c-can do this…" Talking to herself now, Kanade took a stiff stance; one foot sliding back, whilst the other pressed hard forwards. Just as she was about to push, though, Kanade took a look at her hands. Her pudgy, hard-working fingers. She was about to dive them, clean into her own girlfriend's ass-meat — because she'd gotten too fat for a doorway. "We're so big…"

On the other side of the doorway, Mafuyu's own blushing turned up ten thousand degrees. They were so big; Mafuyu knew that quite perfectly. After all, she was the one who was so big that she couldn't get into the kitchen, anymore. "P-Please." Swallowing the body-swallowing humiliation she was feeling, Mafuyu rubbed her own belly as it began to gurgle with hunger.

"Three — Two — One…" Kanade's brow grew sweaty, before she'd even done anything. "Push!" She clenched her eyes shut, and threw her hands forwards. She sunk, wrist-deep, into Mafuyu's meat. Either hand smacked to ass-fat, Kanade heaved and heaved.

Nothing.

Not a foot of progress, not an inch, not a millimetre. Mafuyu didn't move. Because she was huge, of course. Both girls had tried their best, but Mafuyu's massive ass had well and truly won.

"Push!"

Nothing.

"Push!"

Nothing.

"P-Push…!"

Kanade was beginning to feel weak. More than that, she was feeling puny. Weak and wimpy, Kanade's arms were practically spaghetti, before the squidgy behemoth of Mafuyu's butt. "Mafuyu…" Kanade sighed, bringing her damp hands back from that fat-obelisk. "Why didn't you tell me earlier? I could've called Honami…"

It was bad enough that Long Haul had to deal with the monotony that came with his given alt-mode on a day to day basis. He’d grown used to the growled reminders from his leader and the scoffs and amusement from fellow ‘Cons getting a laugh in at his expense. He could tolerate all of that, and he did so with a heaping side of grouchy attitudes and grumbling under his breath.

Tolerating his place in the Decepticon army (and in his own gestalt) got a whole harder to do when work was slow and daily tasks were cut down. With nothing to do, Long Haul did nothing, and with no one to call him out on his sudden lazy streak, Long Haul stopped caring. The rest of the Constructicons were taking it easy, too, as was the rest of their faction. What other choice did he have than to sit back, stuff his face with the excess fuel piling up in their storage, and wait until he was needed for some more heavy lifting… or—Primus, he hoped—something a little greater than groundwork.

The sitting around and growing fat wasn’t the issue Long Haul was having. It was the struggle he found in getting back into the flow of things after spending weeks—maybe even months—doing nothing but sitting around in a heap of purple and green armor and gaining weight as they watched the days go by and anticipated the return of Megatron’s soon-to-come commands.

He didn’t mind a little break here and there. Breaks meant he could take a load off and wonder about going back to work and finally getting to do something better than the menial work he was always supposed to be doing. It was recovering from the break that did him in, and while he was struggling just as hard as the rest of his gestalt was, Long Haul found that the period of idle play and lounging around all day had left him a little more… pronounced, in the rear.

“I do not have a big aft,” Long Haul had growled to no one in particular on the day that Megatron had finally reappeared out of his ages-long silence. “Something must have changed while we were away from the main area for so long.”

Something certainly had changed, he knew, and it wasn’t the doorways that had suddenly slimmed down or the strange and amused looks he continued to get as everyone went back to the old normal. He knew it from the moment he’d squeezed himself out of the Constructicon pile and headed for the door, and he knew it from the extra weight bearing him down on his back end.

Long Haul wasn’t about to come out and say that most of the weight gain he’d experienced during their break had gone right to his aft (and maybe to his thighs), but Primus, it had. He felt it as he waddled one step at a time, and he noticed it now as he stood trapped between the doorframe entering into the Decepticon base’s mess hall.

Oh, what a way to make an entrance. Long Haul grumbled under his breath as he wiggled and grunted, but no amount of pushing or squeezing made his ample hips and plump, round aft fit any better through the door. Behind him, he could hear his fellow Constructions muttering, and in front of him, he could see the small crowd of ‘Cons gathered inside struggling to hide their amusement and snickers behind their cubes of energon.

“You’re too big to fit!” Bonecrusher spat from behind him. “Your aft takes up the whole doorway!”

“It does not,” Long Haul managed to grumble back between his struggles. “I’m just… urgh—I can’t… I can’t get through!”

He was sealed in tight from the pudge on his love handles to the big, wide load he carried on his aft. He could almost feel his massive aft cheeks squishing together and cramming their way into the doorway, but even scooting backwards and trying to break himself free wasn’t working. He was stuck fast and stuck tight, and with his chunky thighs squeezed against each other and his aft filling up every little bit of lingering empty space, Long Haul knew he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

The mess hall had come alive with the roars of laughter and ‘Cons sneering at his pitiful predicament, and Long Haul did his best to snarl and glare back at each and every one of them despite the way his faceplates burned with shame.

“Hook him up and drag him out, mechs!” one soldier barked out between bellowing laughter as he nearly fell out of his chair. “Get ‘im outta there! We can’t stay in here forever!”

“Heave ho, Constructicons!” another bot managed between snickers. “Push, push!”

Amidst the deafening sounds of laughter and taunting, Long Haul could hear Scrapper shouting steady orders at his fellow Constructicons on the other side of the wall. Big, cold servos were on his aft and covering his thighs and back a moment later, and Long Haul braced himself against the wall, anticipating the worst.

“All right,” Scrapper said, “on a count of three, we’re going to push him through.”

“And if that doesn’t work?” Scavenger’s voice was faint and sounded nervous. “What then?”

“First things first,” Scrapper snapped back. “Ready, team? One, two…”

The pressure suddenly grew, and Long Haul gritted his teeth and prepared to squeeze his way free. The room was alive with the sounds of grunts and struggles again, and as the doorframe cracked and creaked around him, Long Haul could feel his frame squeezing through.

The first push was unsuccessful, and the second one got Long Haul moving. On the third push, as he clawed the walls and struggled to force himself through, the doorframe gave way and Long Haul came crashing to the ground inside of the mess hall, followed by the rest of his team.

The Constructicons were a heap of soft frames and sluggish movements as they struggled back onto their pedes and turned to help Long Haul up off of the floor, as the poor mech was off-kilter with the size of his massive aft weighing him down. He brushed them off a moment later and stormed towards their table, his ego bruised and his hips and aft aching from the strenuous struggle.

“Things must have gotten smaller since I was away,” he muttered loud enough for others to hear as he side-stepped between tables and ignored pointed stares. “Fragging infrastructure… that’s why you call the pros to do your construction for you.”

He was the pros, of course, and he had made the building—along with the rest of his team. He was blushing hard as he felt small servos taking smacks at his massive aft and heard the snickers from fellow ‘Cons up close, but he managed to waddle his way to the far end of the room where their table was sat.

“Finally,” he sighed, “now to get some fuel going and—WOAH!”

Things weren’t quite over yet, he realized. The moment Long Haul squeezed into the small space between the table and benches to sit himself down, his new weight was off-centering the whole fragging thing. The table toppled before the rest of the Constructicons could sit down, and with it, so did Long Haul.