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Pricilla floundered in the water. The adipose filling her body which normally kept her aloft only now seemed to be dragging her down into the lightless depths. Having never truely learned how to swim, Pricilla flailed her arms and legs, the thick folds of drooping flesh on her thighs rubbing, the heavy sacs of flesh hanging from her upper arms sliding across and hitting the expansive shelf of her side breasts to either side of her. The effort was barely enough to keep her fat cheeks above the water and she soon tired. Pricilla sank like a stone, unable to breathe. She was drowning... dying... Sleep left her with a shuddering gasp. The stoat could feel her overburdened heart pulsing rapidly in her neck. Her head felt like it'd been caught in a vice and she put her palms against it, as if trying to keep her head from splitting open. Breath rasping in the back of her fat congested throat, Pricilla reached for the plastic mask which covered her nose. The tube reached up the length of her snout and over her head in a rather silly looking mask. The tube was connected to a fan underneath the bed. The mask combatted the stoat's rather severe sleep apnea with positive pressure forced into her nostrils to keep her airway open... except now.

Pricilla tapped the mask and sucked air through her nose. She listened for the quiet whine of the working fan, and heard nothing. The battery must have died sometime during the night. "Damnit.." thought Pricilla wearily, her head pounding. She took the small mask off from around her nose, her meaty upper arm fat brushing against her cheek as she moved her arm, and breathed deeply. How many times had she stopped breathing in the night? Her sleep apnea, caused by the tremendous weight on her chest from her sheer bulk had robbed her of most of the benefit of her nine hours of sleep. As Pricilla lay there, panting like a dog and trying to calm her racing heart, it felt more like she'd gotten three or four hours of sleep instead. Feeling miserable, Pricilla nonetheless needed to get up and out of bed. She had more urgent matters to tend to, the call of nature being one, breaking her fast the second.

Pricilla proceeded to roll onto her side. The half ton ermine was secretly quite proud of her remaining ability to handle herself in bed. It seemed like a precious gift of independence where her weight was forcing itself ever deeper in her most private aspects of life. However as Pricilla pushed and pulled against her doughy ungainly body, she reflected that she was far from graceful in an act that most people took for granted.

Pricilla's breasts were among the worst offenders. Starting on her belly, the half ton stout rolled onto her side, twisting her legs about so that she could get them over the side of the bed; since passing 800 lbs or so, she could no longer do this in one motion. Her enourmous belly, breasts and ass dragged on the fabric of the bed as she moved. The stoat preseed down with her arms to shift her upper body. That in itself was a challenge because her chest was so wide around and her arms so thick as well. Sometimes, she had to reach under one or both of the breast jutting out before her with her free arm to be able to reach the bed's surface. Most of the work was resigned to her right arm, which was pinned under soft, fleshy flab. Needless to say, with herself weighing well over 1000 lbs, it was a lot of work. Nothing came easily or wanted to move easily and everything was rubbing against each other. Her legs rubbed against her belly as well as themselves, her arms rubbed against ehr chest, her boobs and her face as well. Her various creases opened, pinched or slapped together as she hussled her great weight the short distance to the side of the bed. Both of her soft, heavy breasts were flat on the bed, so big were they. Her right in the natural position, her left folding over it and touching the bottom of her thick, fleshy neck as well. Pricilla had to push it up and away to get her left arm into a good position for a last push. The skin of her belly and right breast pulled as she pushed away, bringing her legs over the side of the bed.

Then came some more bending. This time Pricilla had to bend at the waist. The only problem was that she sported about 450 lbs of flesh where there should have been nothing. Her gut got in the way, its heavy weight dragging over the comforter. The stoat shoved against it with her hands until she felt it pressing against her thighs. Now the hard part. The ermine with the vast white tummy had to lift herself against the force of gravity into the sitting position. She lacked the strength to do this directly. Instead, Pricilla had to roll about, using her weight in a positive way as much as possible. The weight of her ass helped imesely in the process. Swinging herself around, folding her great belly tight ahead of her, Pricilla reached the sitting position. She felt gravity's tug anew, pulling down on all of her creases as he bulk shifted.

Her thighs were titanic in size and spread her legs apart like a man's for her. However, her belly was still vast enough to touch the comforter to either side of her; quite heavily, in fact, several inches of pudge resting on the soft surface. Her knees spread, though also covered by her apron of white fatty fur, the front of herself flowed down and out, so that the bottom rested below the halfway point on her calf. Pricilla lifted and pulcked at her bellly and torso rolls where the flesh pinched uncomfortably. Her arms hung from her elbows because of the girth of her chest. She took several deep breaths and adjusted her left breast which had swung back into its usual position. She was evenly porportioned, but those portions were quite large. Both breast hung roundly to her third torso roll of the six she sported in total. The sag was not so great - she was only twenty-four, remember - so much as they were just big. The huge jugs were no small reason as to why she had to sleep on her stomach and why she needed a sleep apnea mask in the first place.

Pricilla planted her palms on the smooth, soft surface of her love handles, her widest point. The furtermost reach of the flowing skin was actually just beyond her reach now as she sat there. She shuffled her titanic caboose on the bed forward until her feet - appearing small and delicate in the scope of the rest of her, despite the fact that she wore a size 12 - touched the carpet. She rubbed her soft pads against the carpet before adding more weight. She shuffled forward a bit more.

Her target lay ahead of her. A stout metal bar as one would find in a hospital or a handicap stall of a public restroom, bolted into the wall and running along the length of it to a wide double door leading out of the dim bedroom. Pricilla took several more deep breaths. This year, more than previous years, she was aware of the danger. Denise herself said that she should be present from the time she awoke to assist her, but Pricilla refused. She wanted to hold onto this for herself alone... for as long as possible. So, despite the fact that a fall now could very well seriously injure her, Pricilla pushed off from the bed, letting her great belly carry her forward.

She locked her knees as soon as possible. As the legs straightened, she could feel her paunch slide across the furred surface of her thighs. The bottom of her extensive belly lifted... slightly. The bottom curve still dropped below her knees. Her belly button transformed from a gaping hole in which someone could easily fit their closed fist into a long vertical slit. The rolls lining her long weasel's torso shifted as well. The whole of herself wobbled unsteadily as she rocked, supporting her own weight. Her center of gravity was as tiny as a pea. Pricilla tottered. One step, then two. She shuffled her feet like an infant. It was actually scary how unbanlenced she felt. The stout held her arms straight out at the sides and lurched forward.

She let out a long breath when she grasped the handrail with a white knucled paw. Safe. Gripping it, she waddled slowly into her own bathroom.

Step by step, Pricilla waddled towards the open doors. She lurched, her shoulders tottering back and forth, because of the thickness of her thighs forcing her legs apart; she felt the rolls there rub against one another, more so around her knees than near her crotch. Pricilla walked, or rather hobbled with a lot of weight on her left arm, which gripped the handrail tightly. She needed to, it was all too easy to lose her grip with more than half a ton of flab wavering around a tiny center of gravity. At her arm, her plump forarm creased at her wrist and the upper arm fat sagged down low over her elbow which was little more than a dimple on her thick, meaty arm at this point. Her arm was so thick, she had a nice, deep "Y" crease at the joint, even when it was almost fully extended.

Pricilla hardly thought about this, however. Walking required her full attention. She grunted and puffed as she moved her oh-so-heavy body. At no time was any of this easy or taken for granted for her; not anymore. She thought only of keeping balenced on her feet and where she would be sitting next. The transition to cold tile floor hurt the molting ermine's soft pink pads.

The bathroom was lavish and beautiful. It sported a tile floor with a clean, elegant design and the rose pearl color of the walls leant the room a warm color. Pricilla had an arsenal of lotions and skin creams and powders, most of which she kept on the counters for easy access. This lent the counters around the sink a somewhat cluttered appearance. The glass cubicle at the far end of the bathroom dominated the availible space. Pricilla, however followed the handrail to the nearest sitting location, her comode.

She set her great cheeks down carefully and mostly by memory, seeing as she could not exactly turn and look to see what she was doing. Two steel medical cabinets had been rolled in to either side of the large, expensive, though standard toilet. Pricilla needed the extra seating width or else several hundred pounds of flab would hang over the sides of the toilet, leading to severe discomfort.

Proper toilet hygeine was probably one of the biggest and most embarresing problems Pricilla had encountered since exiting mere "moridly obese" and finding herself a truly and unusually super-sized individual. She had been on the verge of having her body servant wiping her ass for her. But then, while surfing the internet one day, she'd come across the solution.

The toilet was japanese and the fact that its water tank was low slung and allowed her rear end to flow slightly over it from behind, as well as out to the sides was the smallest conveniance. The toilet had a control panel affixed to the wall at her right. It would lift its seat on demand if she needed it to; not that she really needed that particular feature. However, as much as Americans would like to believe otherwise, there were alternatives to such basic things as toilet paper which are ubiquitous in the States. One of those alternatives is the bidet and the japanese toilet happened to not only have one built it, it was also robotic and could be controlled remotely. Pricilla was freed from a singular humiliation by brilliant Japanese science and culture. She was by now used to the tickle of the stream of water - which could be temperature controlled in this model - as well as the stream of air which dried her.

As she was drying herself, Pricilla fumbled under her right breast for her cell phone. She kept it high up and in the middle, fortunately and her breast was so massive that it rarely fell out of that crook. She looked up Denise's number with a single press to the touch screen. The stoat texted the lithe weasel with one hand. "Shower-time." the message said simply.

"5-minutes" came the response.

Pricilla looked down at the thing in her hand, small compared to the scope of her body around it. When she was done, she got up laboriously, using both handrails to either side of her. She moved carefully to the sink and set her phone in its charger. The half ton female opened the door to the large shower stall one handed, still gripping the hand rail. She eyed the menacing distance for a moment. Then, tail waving on her buttocks behind her, she managed the distance, holding onto the shower stall frame at the half way point before plopping her wide rear onto a tiled shelf which lined the opposite wall.

She took a few deep breaths to steady herself. She still didn't feel 100% since her mask had failed some time during the night. After turning on the hot water, the stoat let her eyelids droop for a few moments as steam began to fill the room. She leaned her head back against the wall, the tile feeling chill against the hotdog rolls behind her head. She cupped her breasts with both hands in a natural relaxed position and felt the hot water running down before her warm the air and dampen her calves and the front of her belly. She reached down and scratched at her side, as rearward as she could reach. Some brown fur came away under her claws. A few weeks more and she'd turn completely white. Pricilla sighed and closed her eyes. The passage of time seemed tiresome sometimes.

Normally she'd get started before Denise arrived. However, she was feeling out of it and did nothing but let the water run as the minutes ticked by. Eventually, Pricilla heard the door to her room open and a few seconds later, Denise appeared in the bathroom doorway. The thin, long bodied weasel was dressed in a two piece bathing suit; polka-dot in Denise's usually terrible fashion sense. Her ears perked and she grinned at seeing Pricilla through the foggy glass. The massive stoat deigned to open her eyes at the energetic intruder. "Good morning!" said Denise in a perky voice as she stepped in.

Pricilla waited until the weasel had opened the door and slipped into the stall before speaking. "Can we skip it today? My mask turned off last night and I'm feeling groggy."

Denise who, after all, was a trained nurse, flowed forward. "Your CPAP shut off?" she asked in a worried voice as she peered into Pricilla's bloodshot eyes and placed a hand under the fleshy folds of her neck to feel her pulse without so much as a whisper of permission. "Why didn't you call?"

"I just found out this morning." waving the overreacting weasel off. Now she was regretting even mentioning it.

Denise put a hand on her waist. "That's dangerous for you, Pricilla. Do you understand what could happen if-"

Pricilla waved her paw again, opening and closing her palm in a "yak-yak" gesture. "Yeah, yeah. I know. I get the concept of not waking up again."

"Hmph." Denise snorted and tilted her slender hips the other way. "Sometimes you make me wonder." she chided.

"Alright! I get it. Can we please just get on with this so I can get my breakfast?" said Pricilla, exasperated.

Denise eyed her after retriving the loofa on a stick from where it hung on the wall. The weasel had entered the steaming spray and was already soaking, the water smoothing her brown fur along her long body. She wapped the handle of the loofa a couple times against her opposite hand like a teacher's pointer as she stared down her charge who outmassed her eight times over. "Not until you promise you'll call me if this sort of thing happens again."

Pricilla frowned at the weasel's insolence. "I'll have you know that my father-"

Denise cut her off when she placed the loofa at the stoat's roundly hanging neck wattle. "You're father doesn't pay me to take unnecessary risks. Do you have any idea what he'd do to me if you died under my care?"

Denise was older than Pricilla by five years and sometimes she felt like an older sister. Now, however, Pricilla thought she was acting more like her mother. "You don't have anything to worry about, Denise." Pricilla drawled.

The loofa pressed a little harder into her copius neck meat. "Then you have nothing to lose by making me this promise." Denise said with a grin.

"Fine, I promise, OK? Jesus, let's just get this over with, I'm starving!" complained Pricilla, finally liting an arm to bat away the offending loofa. She was too slow, however, as Denise pulled it away.

"As you wish, my lady." said Denise with a mock bow and pulled the shower spout from its socket. She pointed it at Pricilla and promptly doused her.

The stoat's expanding weight made for a downward spiral in personal hygeine. The fat swaddling her torso and arms decreased her mobility and her ability to bend and reach. At the same time, the fat expanding from her body generating numerous rolls and cavities in the skin all over the place as well as her simple girth ensured that there was more of her to clean than ever. At this point, even with a loofa on a long stick, Pricilla could only hope to clean her head, breasts, the top of her belly and the six rolls lining her side; well technically, six on the right side, five on the left. Everything else was out of reach.

Denise, having worked with Pricilla for the last three years, was now intimately familiar with her boss's daughter's body. Soaping up the loofa, she bent her back to the task at hand.

Denise was brisk and businesslike with a task that might have made other people squeamish. The other female weasel seemed not to think much of Pricilla's nakedness nor even the fact that over half a ton of excess flesh had expanded her body into a maze of creases and folds, all of which needed to be clean and pampered with skin treatments to prevent detrimental chafing, jock itch and yeast infections all of which Pricilla was very prone to without proper prevention. She'd had to learn this the hard way.

One would have thought that Pricilla's body would appear hideous what with her gratuitous width, lack of neck, the many rolls folding over her sides and back and that gut! Not even mentioning her globular, sagging ass dimpled with so much cellulite that it was visble through the fur or the "vaginas" she had in place of elbows where the upper arm fat bulged out and sagged below the joint. But apparently Denise didn't seem to see this. All the slender weasel saw was a task to be performed and she did her task well, weilding her loofa and sponge with champion grace and a surprising amount of force from such a mild looking creature.

Not to say that Denise was delicate in the slightest. For a weasel she had some meat on her and not all of it was chub. She was 145 lbs though she didn't exactly share this with Pricilla often. Usually specific weights were in catagory of things they simply didn't talk about. Where Pricilla sat, Denise stood and then later crouched, shoving the loofa home into the - sometimes tight- rolls lining her side. She stopped about 45 degrees facing her back which was a seperate job. During this time, Denise handed Pricilla a soapy sponge as the water continued to fall down in the middle of the chamber, closer to Denise than Pricilla now.

"You're not getting out of it that easily." said Denise

Pricilla only grunted and took the sponge. The overstuffed stoat used it on her boobs and under them; which in itself took up a lot of time considering their round breadth and heft. Her father, when he was feeling cruel, said that they were going to hang to her waist when she was older if she didn't do something about her weight. Pricilla could feel the stretch marks under the fur on the upper portions of her chest, but thankfully, the skin hadn't seemed to start a downward march... yet. If they reached to her second torso roll, it was just because they were really big. Pricilla's girls bulged roundly outwards from her chest, that wasn't saying that she didn't need support to help with the sagging that was there, but even without, the stoat sported an impressive cleavage that cleft her chest most of the way down their length. It took Pricilla's entire arm length to reach the front of each massive mammary.

By the time that Denise had moved on to the rolls lining the other side of Pricilla's body, the lavish ermine had moved on to her arms, which were far easier than her breasts. Even when Pricilla lifted her arms over her head, her thick upper arm flesh draped heavily over the pancake-flat surface of the side of her breast. She needed to really shove the sponge home underneath the heavy curtain, but this was easier said than done given the width of her chest. It was getting to the point where the stoat couldn't reach across the girth of her chest to her opposite armpit. Somedays it seemed like she could get it in all the way... but not today. With a sigh, she asked Denise to do it for her; the weasel happily obliged, shoving the soapy loofa into the dark crease under her arm. Pricilla moved onto her belly and her face as Denise worked on her back.

The stoat had to shift herself on her solid tile shelf to allow Denise to climb behind, armed with the shower-head between her dainty canines. She hummed as she worked. Pricilla didn't know exactly how to feel about this. Certainly not the average person had to be handled in such a private and base way and on a daily basis. Denise did not complain and did her job happily, but it was this very impersonalness which irked her. Pricilla, when Denise touched her with the loofa and rubbed the soap into her fur with her paws felt more like an object than a person, much less a woman. Granted, it would be even more weird and undesirable if Denise were "into" it or something similar. Pricilla shuddered at the thought; it'd be almost like getting raped everyday. But still, sometimes Pricilla thought she was just being hosed down like a racehorse. In the end, however, she just didn't know how to feel. It was not as bad as it could have been, she supposed.

Denise climbed down and got to her knees on the floor before Pricilla for the most difficult part. "Ready?" she asked politely.

Pricilla grunted and leaned back until she felt the wet tile behind her head and shoulders. Denise grabbed the lowermost part of Pricilla's apron and heaved it up against her shoulder. She let out a feminine grunt and hefted it still higher. Still the heavy paunch rested mostly on her thighs. Denise walked on her knees a bit foward between Pricilla's legs and shoved her loofa into the airless folds under her paunch and between her legs. The showerhead, on its long hose, followed after. Pricilla sighed at the sensation of the water running between her legs while the rest of her slowly dried.

It was hard work for Denise and Pricilla had to help as well. Her live-in nurse told her to lift her up her tummy and the stoat complied, gripping her paunch with both hands and straining backward with Denise lifting from below. It probably would have taken a man's strength to lift the damn thing properly for the job, however the thought of a man here doing this was intolerable to Pricilla; and her father as well.

Pricilla had massive folds on her inner thighs that sagged diagonally and rubbed against each other. Even when she spread her legs as far as she could, the innermost bulges still touched. The lower most sagged below her knees, sometimes even hitting her calves when she walked. Both knees were lost inside folds of molting soon-to-be white fur, with a huge belly stretching over them as well. Everything needed to doused and cleaned out. Denise paused to apply more soap to her loofa stick, the weight of Pricilla's paunch resting on her shoulders. Steadily, the female weasel worked her way inward, the folds growing tighter and more congested as she moved in.

There was a large fat pad which rested on top of Pricilla's genitals. At first, it had grown to form a "Y" fold with her touching thighs. Apparently, it had kept growing long after the time had past when Pricilla could examine her crotch by lifting her paunch and long past the time when she could feel it with exploring fingertips. Denise lifted up and the half ton stoat shivered with the contact to the region. She hissed threw her teeth and stifled a whimper at the feel of the shower head brushing over regions lower still. Now was the only time when the ermine felt any stimulation down there anymore. It seemed intense, even though it was just water and the handler was female; embarrassingly intense because Denise was as platonic as they came. Pricilla just held her breath and focused on lifting her paunch up a little higher.

The feeling past as the Denise let down the fleshy pad and moved up and to the side, getting at the last crease where her paunch was attached to her abdomen. Pricilla licked her chops, at once grateful that the unwanted passion had fled and yet also hungering for something which she had lost with her escalating weight. It was not as if she could masturbate by herself anymore. Asking anyone else was taboo, be they employee or family member. Pricilla had just resigned herself to living a celibate existence long ago.

By the time Denise crawled out from under her paunch, the shower was pretty much complete. The more slender weasel shut of the water and handed the stoat a towel before proceeding to her back. Pricilla pulled the towel under her breasts and rubbed it against the top of her belly while Denise used hers on the many folds of her back which was both long and very wide. By the end of it, Pricilla was standing so Denise could dry her rear and they had gone through no less than seven towels which lay damp on the tile shelf for Denise to later take down to the laundry room.

Pricilla sat down on a towel, moving her tail out of the way as her blubbery cheeks dropped like beef shanks. Denise, attempting to stifle a small sigh of fatigue inexpertly, moved out of the shower stall. Pricilla watched the weasel's curvacious hips sway with an easy grace; long-bodied and shorter legged than other species, Denise swaggered in an extra-feminine way, tail waving. Pricilla might have matched the gait... if she were literally 1,000 pounds lighter. She returned with bottles and ointments from the counter. These she set on the shelf before wiping her still wet forehead. She smiled and handed Pricilla the lotion, whiskers twitching.

Pricilla managed a smile of her own. While she was applying moisterizer to her arms and the areas she could reach, Denise once again went diving. This time to apply powder inbetween Pricilla's now dry legs and under her prodigeous belly. It seemed an odd time to speak, what with several hundred pounds of fatty gut over her, but Denise did so anyway. "So what are your plans for today, Pricilla?"

"Beyond breakfast?" asked the single minded stoat.

"Yeah!" said the weasel sarcastically, throwing a few extra syllables into the word.

"Well, I went swimming yesterday..." started the obese ermine as she buttered up her round, flabby cheeks and bilious neck roll.

"Dr. Kaczar says you should go swimming everyday." reminded the weasel who seemed to have a painfully perfect memory for these sorts of details.

Pricilla decided to ignore the comment, because she could. "...So I guess I'll sit on the couch... and stuff."

The weasel poked her head out from under the horizon of Pricilla's belly like a meerkat from its burrow. The live-in nurse flashed the spoiled stoat a dirty look.

Pricilla laughed nervously, which caused her belly to wobble and forced Denise to adjust her grip on it from below. "Denise! What do you expect me to say? That I plan on going for a hike today?" Denise's round ear twitched and she cocked her head. Pricilla spoke a little more firmly. "I plan on sitting my fat ass on that couch and catching up on some of my shows and then I'll probably finish that drawing like I was meaning to on my tablet, and then maybe some blogging...?" Denise opened her mouth to speak, but Pricilla blundered on, "I don't know! I don't like planning my days. You ought to know that by now!"

Pricilla waved a sausage fingered hand at her and Denise's ears fell just slightly. She snorted a little through her nose and said. "I do know that. I've been living here for three years."

Pricilla crossed her arms, or rather, laid her forearms against each other. "Then I don't know why you bother asking." said the stoat in a chiding tone.

Denise let down her belly suddenly and it slapped against her calves and the tile she was sitting on. All of that fatty connective tissue falling like that pulled on Pricilla's insides, causing her to gasp. she glared at Denise, a hand on her chest and mouth open, suddenly breathing heavily. Denise looked at her firmly and said. "Because I care."

That rendered even the pompous ungracious stoat silent for a few moments as she recovered from the sudden belly drop. Denise offered her a hand. "Come on. Let's get you dressed and out to the living room."

So Pricilla walked, one hand on the hand rail and one in Denise's paw back out of the steamy bathroom. The air in the bedroom, dry and cold, chilled the lotion still drying in Pricilla's slightly damp fur. When Pricilla left the safety of the handrail, she did so cautiously. She couldn't lean on Denise like she could Lorenzo and his solid equine muscle. Still, Denise was not a frail lilly and could help her with her balence as she shuffled across the carpet; she gripped her hand tightly. It was still better than a cane.

Pricilla set 1,100 pounds of fattened stoat down gratefully on a long, sturdy leather-bound ottoman at the foot of her bed. It was almost long enough so that her belly didn't flow over its sides... almost. Denise went into the stoat's closet. Pricilla hadn't been in there in years.

The rich ermine stroked her round, sagging collar of fat thoughtfully, the ceiling fan rotating above ruffling her mostly white fur. "What about the blue mumu?"

"Nope!" cried Denise from the closet. Pricilla could hear her ruffling through the various garments, most of which were too small for her now.

Pricilla put her fists against her fourth belly rolls. "Why not? It's comfortable."

"Because you look like my grandmother in that thing!" said Denise, she poked her head out the side of the door, grinning openmouthed so Pricilla could see all four canines.

Pricilla huffed and turned her head away. "Well, what do you suggest, oh Queen of Fashion?"

Denise emerged, holding high billowing garments which for her could litterally have served as small tents. "How about these?"

Pricilla frowned. "No." she said flatly.

Denise looked again at her selection. "What's the matter? How about the green top?"

Before the weasel could turn, Pricilla said, "It's too much trouble getting into and out of." Denise now frowned, and put a hand on her hip. Pricilla showed her teeth. "It's my house and I don't see why I can't walk around her nude if I wanted to!" And that was the truth. At this point, Pricilla felt more comfortable in her own skin than she did with often ill-fitting cloth draped over her. She was so huge that all of her clothing that still fit had to be custom made - usually in Germany - and still she thought that nobody could really design clothing that fit her well; mostly because hardly anyone was her size and could tell them what to do.

Denise stuck her tongue out at her. "You'd frighten away half the staff."

"Good!" cried Pricilla, waving an arm which wobbled greatly. "It's time we got some fresh meat in here."

Denise smirked and looked at the ground, shaking her head. "Don't be lazy, you'll look great in the green top."

Pricilla sighed and relented, only because it was easier than continuing to fight. "Fine, fine. Whatever you say, Denise."

Denise let loose a little squeal and went back to fetch the other garment.

Later, she was kneeling on the bed and pulling back with all her strength on the back of Pricilla's bra. The stoat held up her breasts, but the underwire was cutting into her. The creamy tops of her breast spilled generously over the cups which were large enough to hold cannon balls. "Are you trying to gut me, Denise?" Pricilla complained.

Denise grunted and finally got the hooks in place with a final shove of effort. "You're the one who insists... on wearing these things so tightly." she panted.

Pricilla gestured to her extended cleavage and said, "Well, as you can see, I need a lot of support." When Denise let go, the cutting sensation eased, but she could still feel the pressure of it under her more than generous chest.

Denise waved her off. "Yeah, and you out grow them every two months, like you've out grown this one."

That was an exaggeration. One of these imported, reinforced bras was good for at least... four or five months. "I don't mind if it's a little tight." insisted Pricilla.

Denise lifted her eyes to the seated stoat. "They aren't going to sag if you get something that actually fit you."

Pricilla snarled. She'd cut right to the heart of the matter. Her father's cruel words dug into her brain and refused to leave, his harsh criticisms of her and her extreme weight remaining with her long after she herself had thought them forgotten. But wasn't there truth to what he said? There stretchmarks on her chest were evidence and honestly, how could she expect her skin alone to support all of that weight? Pricilla was horrified by the prospect of having grandma tits by the time she was 30. "Just give me the shirt." she said roughly.

Denise tossed her it and zipped it up the back. The top showed Pricilla's neck and shoulder's, but was fairly high cut. The green fabric crossed in front of her, the left side over the right, just below her left shoulder. The fabric was loose, light and billowy. The long shirt came down nearly to her knees... which meant that her belly still showed generously under it when she stood. denise helped her into khaki colored bottoms. There were also loose and billowy, almost like a dress, though there were two seperate leggings. The crotch on these was quite low, but still slid up between the lowermost touching thigh bulges. The fabric there actually helped with the rubbing, however. the bottoms thankfully had a totally elastic waistband. Pricilla grunted when she had the thing in place. "Happy now?"

Denise moved from her other side where she'd been helping to lift the bottoms into place. "Yes." she said smugly, then added. "You look great!"

Pricilla snorted in amusement at the idea. "Sure." she said noncomittaly. "Now let me get some breakfast before I faint here!"

Denise tittered and helped Pricilla to the door.