Frankie WG

WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS WEIGHT GAIN, STUFFING, AND FAT WOMEN. IF ANY OF THE ASPECTS OFFEND YOU, STFU AND GTFO. HAVE A NICE DAY

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Frankie
by Apelord



"YOU TWO GET BACK HERE!!!!"

A shrill cry was heard echoing through the mansion's hallways, audible even outside the gate surrounding the property. Inside, the sound of pounding feet quickly followed the yell, and soon the blur of the sprinting runners split through the main hall, the dining room, the TV room; all throughout the vast Victorian home.

"MAC!! GO LEFT!!" Blooregard Q. Kazoo hollered at his creator.

"OKAY!" his best friend, Mac, responded in a panic.

"OH, DON'T YOU DARE!!" Frankie Foster shouted as she chased the two down the hall that would soon split in two different directions. She ran forward quickly, hoping to catch them before they split up.

But it was too late. By the time she reached the turn, they were already headed in two different directions, Bloo going right, and Mac going left. Frankie had to choose which one to go after. The decision was obvious.

"BLOO!!!!" she hollered as she turned right, following the blue blob as he rushed down the hallway. To both of her sides, imaginary friends were opening their bedroom doors to see what the commotion was, only to be met by a rush of air as the two scampered past them. But that didn't matter. All Frankie wanted to do was catch the troublemaker and make him pay for what he did. Her old faded green sweater flapped behind her as the gap between the two runners became smaller and smaller. The random colors of the various painting hanging on the wall blurred all around her and she sped up, the mischievous blue friend starting to get closer and closer, until soon she felt like she was close enough to grab him. With outstretched arms, she reached out, and with one last burst of energy, she dived forward to snatch the little runt…

THUD!!

She hit the floor forcefully and tumbled forward, arms empty. Bloo ran on victoriously, looking behind him and laughing at the poor girl.

"HAHAHAHA!!" he taunted, continuing forward. "MAYBE NEXT TIME, SLOWPOKE!!!" He ran straight, as Frankie looked on from the ground she laid on, ashamed. He started making raspberry noises at her, not looking ahead.

BAM!!

Unfortunately, the little blue blob didn't know the layout of the house, otherwise he would've known that the hallway turned right there. He did make a rather comically large splotch on the wall, though.

Frankie smirked and stood up, ignoring the pain in her shin. She walked over to the little troublemaker and stood over him triumphantly. Breathing heavily, she put her hands on her hips and looked at her catch proudly.

"You were saying, dumb-dumb?" she panted, grabbing him by the arm and yanking him out of the fresh dent in the wall.

Just behind her, she could hear the thump, thump of the house leader hopping toward them. She turned around, dragging a knocked-out Bloo behind her, as the giant rabbit bounded toward them, carrying the second mischief-maker underneath his arm.

"I found this running amok through the halls," Mr. Herriman stated, immediately looking at Bloo. "I had a feeling he had something to do with him."

"Sorry, Bloo," Mac said, looking down.

"Kbblegjgkelgflaetght…" his friend mumbled incoherently.



"HOW DARE YOU??!!" Mr. Herriman boomed, his loud, deep voice heard outside the door, where Frankie leaned against the wall, looking bummed.

She sighed deeply, trying to concentrate on her own shortcomings, while simultaneously blocking out the sound of, "THOSE CURTAINS WERE FOR DECORATION!! WHY ON EARTH DID YOU WEAR THEM AS TOGAS??!!!"

"Aw, man," she muttered to herself. "What's the matter with me?"

"What's wrong, dear?" she heard a high-pitched voice ask. She looked up, searching for who it came from. After a few seconds, she realized who it was.

"Hi, Grandma," she greeted, looking down and to her right. Sure enough, dear old Madam Foster, the founder of the huge foster home, walked over to her, her cane clanking against the tile floor.

Frankie sighed again and shook her head. "I don't know, Grandma," she said. "Lately, I just don't feel too good."

"Ooohh…" Foster said, concerned. "Sit down and tell your Granny about it."

"Well," Frankie started, sliding down to the wall to the floor, "it feels like, recently, I've slowed down. I mean, just a few minutes ago, chasing Bloo, I was running as fast as I could to catch him…"

"Bloo?" Madam Foster interrupted. "What'd he do?"

"I don't know, something about a curtain," Frankie waved off. "Anyway, I was running as fast as I could, but I just couldn't reach him. I remember when I was able to catch him before he had a chance to get anywhere. Now, he's running me all around the house, and I still couldn't get him. He had to run into a wall to stop himself…"

"Ooohh," her grandmother interrupted again. "Is he hurt?"

"No, he's fine, whatever. The point is, I'm slowing down, and I'm trying to figure out why. I mean, I'm only 22, so it's not like I'm getting too old. And I don't have a cold or anything. I think I just…"

"Are you sure you don't have a fever, dear?" Foster stopped her yet again. "You look a little pale…"

"Would you listen, Grandma?!" Frankie snapped. "I'm getting fat!"

"Ooh," her grandmother gasped, shrinking away from her granddaughter. "Please don't yell at me, dear."

Frankie sighed. "I'm sorry, Grandma. But I'm getting fat! I mean, I've been eating more, haven't been exercising as much, my clothes are getting tighter…I'm getting softer."

"No you're not, dear," Foster comforted, patting her on the arm. "You don't look any different than what you've always looked."

"Are you kidding me?" Frankie blurted out, lifting up her shirt and pointing at her midriff. "Do you see that belly?"

Sure enough, her once concave stomach rounded out into a newly formed belly. It was small, but definitely noticeable, especially with someone as thin and svelte as Frankie. Now that Grandma Foster really paid attention, she could somewhat see what her granddaughter was complaining about. The small tummy she was worried about laid gently on the rim of her skirt, which seemed a little tighter fit around her waist. Her hips seemed a little more protruding than before, along with a set of slightly rounder thighs and calves. She did seem a bit less skinny, her grandma had to admit.

However, Madam Foster still didn't see this as a problem. "Oh, pish-aw. That's nothing but a little baby fat. Everybody has it. I mean, even I have it," she said, starting to lift up her shirt.

"GRANDMA, NO!!!" Frankie yelled, looking away. "UGH!!"

"What is it, dear?" Madam Foster said, putting her shirt down.

"Okay. First of all, don't you dare say you were trying to make me feel better by comparing my body to yours. And second of all, don't you ever…EVER try to show me your belly again!"

"Well, I'm sorry. I try to cheer you up and this is the thanks I get."

Frankie sighed. "I'm sorry Grandma. I just…feel so fat."

"You're not fat, dear. You're still in shape."

"But I can't even catch a four-foot, legless, blue blob."

"Well, in his defense, he's gotten pretty darn fast from all the times you've chased him."

"And I always ended up catching him. On my own. No wall or anything. But now…I've gotten so fat, I…"

"You are not fat." Madam Foster persisted. "You are one of the skinniest, prettiest young women I know. You just had an off day."

"You think so?" Frankie asked, sounding a little less depressed.

"I know so," Madam Foster said, putting an arm around her granddaughter's shoulders. "Now, forget about all this foolishness. Go up to your room and rest, you deserve it with all the work you've been doing."

"Thanks, grandma," Frankie said, standing up. "But Mr. Herriman's gonna be looking for me to go out and get some new curtains."

"Oh, phooey on him," her grandmother said, waving an arm. "I'll cover for you. If he asks where you are, I'll tell him I don't know. Go enjoy your day."

"Really?! You're the best, grandma!" Frankie exclaimed, picking up the short old woman and giving her a big hug. "I better get up there before he's done yelling at the kids," she said, setting her down and running up the stairs. "Thanks again! See you later!"

"Sweet kid," Madam Foster said to herself as her granddaughter bolted up the stairs and out of view. "A little weird, though. Now better get back to what I came down here to do in the first place. Those beavers aren't gonna feed themselves!"

And with that, she scooted out of the room, laughing manically to herself.


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Frankie drudged up the stairs angrily, a small mob of imaginary friends behind her, yelling commands at her like she was their own personal genie.

"Frankie! There's a giant spider in my room! I need you to kill it!"

"Frankie! I need my bike tires pumped!"

"Could you make me a sandwich, Frankie?"

"It's like a giant clog, Frankie! The toilet just won't flush!"

The overworked young woman groaned and clutched her head, trying to ease her pounding brain. "I'm sorry, guys," she tried to voice over the shouting. "I can't. It's my break. I get thirty minutes off. See me then."

Her words fell on deaf ears. The demands didn't stop, they just worsened. She swore she even heard someone ask for a massage! She's only one woman!

"Listen," she repeated, increasing her volume. "I'll be back in just a few minutes. I need some rest, or I'll go insane! Just, wait, please! I'll be with you in a moment!"

"But Frankie, it's a HUGE spider! It's like the size of a baseball!

"But it's supposed to rain soon, Frankie! I need the tires inflated NOW!"

"But I'm HUNGRY, Frankie!"

"It's a GIANT clog! And the nearest bathroom is a whole hallway away!"

Frankie sped up to get away, but so did the mob. "PLEASE, guys! Just give me a few minutes! I'll get it then! I just NEED A BREAK!"

All the mixed voices behind her just got louder and more obnoxious, all blending into each other and worsening her migraine. As she quickened her pace, she heard the pounding feet get louder and closer, until she was sure they were all going to trample her. She gritted her teeth angrily and set off in a slow run, quickly copied by the "friends" behind her. She looked up to see how close she was to her goal, momentarily relieved when she saw it was only a few doors away. The relief was quickly replaced with more anger as the mass of voices suddenly seemed to get much louder, and she grimaced painfully. She couldn't take it anymore. It had to stop.

Frankie reached the knob and wrenched open the door forcefully, taking a swift turn to face the uncontrollably whiney group of friend with mind-numbing rage in her eyes.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!!!!" she yelled at the top of her lungs, scaring the mov slightly. She slammed the door shut with all her might, causing a deafening SLAM!!!!, and locked the door

She stood there momentarily, panting heavily, waiting for the comforting silence to calm her fury.

Suddenly, she realized the level of tranquil soundlessness surrounding her; for the first time that day, she was completely alone.

She sighed. "Finally!" she muttered to herself, flopping down on her bed.

It had been two months since the incident with Bloo and the wall, and there had been more such times where that has happened to her, although sometimes it's hasn't been a wall (one time it was Eduardo). But the point was she was slowing down, and it wasn't just that day.

Since then, she definitely noticed it, and she couldn't blame it all on "baby fat": she was getting bigger. She hadn't been exercising as much, and she had been sneaking extra servings at dinnertime. Even as she laid there, she noticed that her belly actually rose up from her shirt, something which had never happened before. She had always had an exposed navel when she wore her small white shirt, but now it rose much higher, resting just below the halfway-mark of her midsection. Her skirt, which had always been a little loose, clung to every inch of her new, fatty thighs and hips, the parts of her that seemed to have gained the most fat. It got to the point where she sometimes found it difficult to walk without them rubbing together. And even her butt had gotten bigger, so now it was a common occurrence for her skirt to ride up her back thigh when she walked. The only thing that seemed beneficial was the new plumpness in her breasts, which seemed to have rounded out somewhat. She hadn't weighed herself since then, but she could tell it was easily a thirty, maybe forty-pound difference.

There was a knock on the other side of the door, accompanied by some mumbled voices. Apparently, the mob of complaint-makers had returned, if not the same ones then others that had some problem they needed her to deal with. "I'M ON MY BREAK!!" she yelled, throwing her pillow at the door. She sighed and slammed her head against her mattress. She hated days like this, which, unfortunately in this house, occurred at least once every couple of weeks or so. Every time this happened, everybody seemed to pile it on at once. One friend needed a toy fixed, one friend broke a vase, one friend got his head stuck in something…it just all gets so stressful, she needed a brake.

Luckily, she had one such brake. It was her dirty little secret she enjoyed on rare occasions of dismay. It was her favorite little pick-me-up. And even though she had a limited supply, she had enough restraint to intellectually decide which days were bad enough to use it.

Today…was one of those days.

Smiling naughtily to herself, she stood up and kneeled down beside her bed. Scrounging her arm in the small area between her bed and the floor, she searched for her dirty secret.

Soon enough, she found it: a small wooden box with a combination lock on it. She knew the combination by heart, as she'd had to break into her secret stash maybe-one-too-many times. She spun the numbers: right…21...left…6...right…35. She gave the lock a tug, and it immediately it gave way. She opened the box, anxiously anticipating the prize she kept in it.

There, sitting all alone, staring back at her, was one brass key, surrounded in a plush material. She picked it up in awe and set the box back on the bed.

She giggled to herself as she made her move. Moving quickly to the other side of her bed, she took down a painting she kept just above her dresser, revealing a small safe built into the wall. She stuck the key into the hole and twisted it, excited as she heard the tumblers click open.

The metal door creaked as it opened, revealing inside the treasure she had kept for all these many, many years…

Frankie's eyes glazed over as she saw it; the most beautiful sight in the world: cookies.

The Grand Canyon, the coral reefs, and even the sight of a rainbow after a small rain on a sunny day paled in comparison to the beauty of her secret stash of her grandmother's famous double chocolate-chip cookies. Ever since she was a little girl, she always kept a secret stash of the chocolaty delights hidden somewhere. As she grew older, she became more sophisticated in the way she hid them, from a simple metal lunchbox hidden in the corner of her room, to a mixture of combination locks and hidden safes requiring specially-made keys. And during a certain marketing fiasco including a little blue mischief-maker and the discovery of the secret recipe, she made sure to stock up on every last cookie she could get her greedy litte hands on without eating, thus tripling the amount she had saved up.

"Ooh…" Frankie cooed as she admired the piles upon piles she had kept in the safe. "You are all sooo pretty…Hold on."

She walked over to the mini fridge she kept in the corner of the room, next to her computer desk. She opened up the door and looked inside. Way in the back, behind the water and the sodas, she always kept a full container of milk just for these occasions. She reached far into the back and grabbed it, carefully lifting it over all the other drinks, knocking a few over in the process.

But that didn't matter now. All she focused on was the upcoming stuffing she was about to go through. She didn't even need a cup; she'd been through it before, she knew what to do.

Rushing over to the safe, she took out one cookie and stared at it longingly. She slowly lifted it up to her mouth and took one bite. The taste was divine; the way her grandmother baked each chocolaty morsel into the batter was a thing of absolute perfection, her mouth watered just thinking about it. The way they tasted, you couldn't eat just one; you had to eat more. Throwing all control to the wind, she quickly grabbed a handful of cookies and shoved them all in her mouth, one by one, followed by a quick drink from the milk container. The rich, creamy milk mixed with the chocolate so flawlessly, every bite was like a mouthful of heaven. She took another handful, this time shoving most of them in at once, so much flavor that all she wanted was more. A few more handfuls later, she had lost all sense of restraint and started taking them in by the armful, literally dragging the chocolate goodies into her greedy maw, chugging the milk to make every cheek-full go down easily into her expanding stomach.

Suddenly, she realized the milk carton was oddly light. She checked inside, surprised slightly when she saw that it was completely empty.

"Huh," she said to herself. "That's weird. I usually don't finish off the milk that quickly."

The moment she stopped gorging her face, she realized just how full she really was. The mixture of cookies and milk pushed against the edge of her stomach, bloating out her belly to fair proportions. Splotches of milk dotted her shirt and her sweater, even small amounts on her skirt. She leaned back uncomfortably, no energy to even get into the bed.

"Oh, man," she said, holding her distended gut in her hands. "That may have been too much…" She looked over to the safe, still about half full of the cookies. "Who am I kidding?" she chuckled. "You can never have too much!"

The digesting of her volley-ball-sized stomach soothed her as she began to slip into an uncomfortably taught sleep.

…

"Frankie!" POUND, POUND, POUND "It's been thirty minutes! The spider's still there!"

Frankie groaned and sat up slowly. She looked at the clock, and sure enough, it was the end of her break.

"I'm coming!" she yelled back, grunting as she stood up.

She looked down at her stomach, which still seemed slightly distended, pushing out rather far past her shirt and sagging downward. The bulge of fat blocked out part of the view of her feet, staring back at her where there used to be nothing. She prodded it with her finger; it was still firm, but her finger sunk in at least an inch into the flab.

"I think I need to start going to the gym or something," she sighed.

POUND, POUND, POUND "FRANKIE!!"

She groaned again, this time due to the life full of stress she would have to return to. "I'M COMING!!" She stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind her. At least now, she wouldn't be working on an empty stomach.


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Frankie stood in front of the wide double-doors, breathing deeply to calm herself. A few days had past since her cookie-stuffing. She had been obsessing about her weight ever since she saw that her stomach was partially blocking view of her feet. She had spent all that day going around asking whether or not the friends thought she was getting fat. Unfortunately…

Bloo: …I'm gonna get in trouble if I say yes, aren't I?

Mac: What? No, no. Of course not…Not at all.

Wilt: Maybe, a little bit…I'm sorry, is that okay?

Eduardo: Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no…You no fat!

Coco: *translation* You think you're fat?! What about me? Look at this paunch! What about that time you said you broke the scale to read ten pounds heavier? You were lying?!

Cheese: I LIKE CEREAL!!

Frankie: …Cheese, go home.

Mr. Herriman: Well, maybe you've grow a little…portly. Nothing too serious. Perhaps you should drink more carrot juice.

Madam Foster: No, of course not. Now where did I put that cheese wheel?

Unfortunately, everyone she has asked has either been one of her friends, relatives…or Cheese. They were too afraid of hurting her feelings to tell her what they really thought. She needed to ask someone who wasn't afraid to say what they were really thinking; someone who wasn't afraid of things such as emotions or friendship clouding their judgment; someone who always said what was on their mind, whether people wanted to hear them or not.

Frankie took one last deep breath, and knocked on the door.

"Duchess?" she asked. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"WHAT?!!" she heard the angry, spoiled monster of a friend yell back. "GO AWAY!!!"

"Duchess. It's Frankie. I just need to talk to you for a minute."

There was a silence on the other side of the door, followed by, "Why?"

"Listen, it'll just take a minute. It's kinda personal."

"PERSONAL?! Go somewhere else with it!"

"No, I need your word," Frankie said, deciding to appeal to Duchess's giant ego. "I know you have the best opinion of anyone in this house."

Once again, there was silence behind the giant double doors. "Well that is true…Come in, child."

Frankie pushed the door open slowly and it creaked loudly. 'Creepy,' she thought, entering the giant room nervously. Despite the eerie atmosphere, the inside was pure royalty. She was always jealous when she walked in there; why didn't she get a room that big? God knows she deserved it. The huge poster bed sat in the middle of a cream-colored paintjob, accompanied by the pure white carpet. The huge, light pink curtains draped over the humongous Victorian-style windows, graceful in every detail. Ornate furniture sat at each side of the bed, filling the room with their elegance. The only flaw that she could find, was this hideous yellow stain that was on the bed, also known as Duchess.

"What do you want?" she asked, impatiently, vomit-colored glob all over her face and cucumbers over her eyes. "Can't you see I'm exfoliating?"

"I just your opinion on this," Frankie begged, walking over to the side of the bed. She took one deep breath, and dove right in. "Do you think I'm fat?"

"Fat?! That's what you interrupted my peace and quiet for?"

"I just need to know what you think. Everyone else has been lying to me, and I know that your always truthful."

"Child, I'm sorry to say, but no, you're not fat. You've always been very thin; it's about the only good thing that I have to say about you."

Frankie sighed and shook her head. "You haven't seen me in the last couple months, have you?"

"No," Duchess said, taking one of the cucumbers off her eye. "Why? How much have you?…OH DEAR LORD!!!" she yelled once she got a look at the young Foster. "DID YOU EAT A CLONE OF YOURSELF?!!"

Frankie blushed and rubbed her feet together. "That bad, huh?"

"OH, IT'S WORSE!! You look like you've doubled in size! How much have you've been stuffing your fat face these last couple months?!"

"So…you think I should start going to the gym?"

"You should get your fat butt to a lip-o-suction before your blubber suffocates us all, porky!"

"Okay, that's enough," Frankie said, scuffing out of the room, face as red as a tomato. "Thanks for being honest." And with that, she slammed the door behind her.

Duchess shook her head and sighed, putting the cucumber back on her eye. "Goodness! I'm just sitting here, enjoying myself, and Piggy comes in here asking if she's fat!"

Meanwhile, outside, Frankie shuffled down the hallway, head down and not moving her arms. "That's it!" she mumbled to herself. "I'm getting my fat butt to a gym!"



Frankie breathed heavily as she kept up a slow jog on a treadmill. Sweat rolled down her face, some being caught by the red sweatband she kept on her head, yet most of it ending up falling either onto her workout clothes or the treadmill that kept her moving. Her exhaustion, which kept her at such a slow pace, was second in her mind only to her determination to lose the weight. However, with every passing moment, her fatigue grew larger and larger, until she was sure she couldn't go on any longer. With labored breathing, she panted her way that extra few feet, but she knew she couldn't go much father…

Ring, ring…ring, ring…

She stopped, taking a giant breath of relief. Still breathing rather heavily, she reached inside her pocket and took out her cell phone, leaning on the handles of the treadmill. "*huff* H-*huff*-hello?" she panted.

"Miss Frances?" Mr. Herriman's voice rang on the other end of the line.

"*huff* Yeah? What *huff* do you want?"

"Why do you sound so tired?"

"Because, *huff* I'm at the gym. I told you b-*huff*-before I left."

"Well, you must return home immediately."

"Why?"

"Because there is a…*ahem*…"stain" on the carpet."

"WHAT?!" Frankie yelled, stepping off the treadmill. "Just a stain?"

"You don't understand. It's a…*ahem*…present…from those dreadful imaginary puppies, and it's on the antique rug in the main hall."

"Can't you get someone else to do it? I'm busy, here!"

"But it's your job. If I wanted other people to do it, I would pay them to do it."

"Then do it! Just give someone a few bucks to clean it up! Someone will. I need to stay here and work off all the weight I've gained."

"Well that is irrelevant. You have to keep your personal life and your professional life separate, and right now, you're on professional time. You just have too much work to do at the house. Get over here this instant!"

Frankie groaned loudly and kicked the treadmill. "Fine!" she yelled, hanging up the phone angrily. She grabbed her workout bag, slung it over shoulder, and stormed out of the gym. "I'll never get skinnier at this rate!"



One year later…



Frankie lounged out on the rooftop, soaking up the sun with every inch of exposed skin. Her eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses, a large, relaxed smirk on her face. The sun shone brightly in an almost-cloudless blue sky, the perfect day for a tan. Beside her beach chair sat a bottle of sun block and a tall glass of icy lemonade, condensation forming on the full glass. In one hand, draped over her side, she held a magazine that she had stopped reading a while ago, and in the other, a popsicle. She yawned lazily and scratched her stomach, enjoying this moment of peace and quiet.

Oh, and did I mention she was fat?

Why, yes. She was now, and had been for the last few months, quite a big woman. Her large stomach surged forward mightily, demanding attention from all to its massive beauty. As she laid there, the colossal mound of flab invaded the space between her huge, meaty thighs. Her astonishingly wide hips jutted out far past the edges of her beach chair, the sides digging into her soft fat. Her giant, fatty rear end strained the somewhat flimsy chair, and with every movement it made a very audible groan. Even her breasts were bloated with corpulence, to the point where they were almost the size of her head. Her chubby cheeks curved upward in a soft smile, giving her a large double chin. Every inch of her pale skin was shining brightly with the rays of the sun, the sheer size of her flabby body proving to be nothing short of jaw-dropping.

Yes, she was fat, and she did have a problem with it at first. She did all she could to try and lose weight. However, there were similar incidents like the one at the gym, where Mr. Herriman called and brought her back home before she could do any good. That lasted until she stopped bringing her cell phone, but it only served as a deterrent, as he soon started calling the gym itself to bring her back. Eventually, the gym got tired of the constant calls every day, and ended up canceling her membership. She became depressed and even more stressed out, increasing her food intake, and the number of cookie-stuffing's she did throughout to week, neither of which did her figure any good.

But then, as she reached her peak weight, she began to accept her size. She even started to realize a few perks of being so big. For one, she never had to worry about chasing down Bloo, Mac, or any other friend that got into trouble. She also got extra portions during dinner, which she enjoyed, considering that she usually cooked the meals, she was glad that she could actually eat it. She even seemed to be in a better mood an a daily basis; something about accepting being that big, it took the pressure off of her to diet, exercise, and do God knows what to keep skinny. She just seemed to enjoy herself more now.

She sighed loudly, stretching her fleshy arms sluggishly. "I think I should probably put on some more sun block," she said, reaching over and grabbing the bottle of sunscreen. She took a lick from the popsicle and popped the top, squirting some in her hand. She put her hand to her broad belly and started rubbing it in, feeling the softness of her fat flood through her chubby fingers. The various inches of her chubby skin were essentially rubbed down by her probing fingers, until her entire vast midsection was shining with sun block.

"Hey Frankie," she heard young Mac say as he opened the door onto the roof.

"Hey Mac," she greeted, sitting up, resulting in a very audible groan from the beach chair. "What's up?"

"Some of the friends and I are going to the park. Wanna come along?" he asked.

"Sure," Frankie replied, standing up. "There gonna be food there?"

"Sure. I'll pack a couple sandwiches."

"Cool. I tell you what; you go get the friends in the bus while I get dressed. There's an extra set of keys in the top drawer of Mr. Herriman's desk. Just go ask him for them; tell him Frankie said you could. Do NOT let Bloo get anywhere near them!" she added sternly, thinking back to the time when the blue runt did steal the bus…They were still paying for that little incident.

"Gotcha," Mac agreed, heading back inside the house. Frankie walked over to the chair, grabbing her sunscreen and lemonade, which she chugged quickly, and folded the beach chair up and putting it underneath her flabby arm, pressing it against her fatty side. She walked back inside the door strolled through the various corridors until she reached her room.

Not really knowing where else to put it, she leaned the folded up chair against the wall. She finished off her popsicle and started taking off her swimsuit. After putting her underwear on, she reached inside her closet and grabbed her patented green jacket and purple skirt (a larger size, of course) and quickly threw them on.

After she was dressed, she walked back out into one of the many hallways until she was in the main room, where Madam Foster was wandering around.

"Hello, dear," she said sweetly. "Are you going somewhere?"

"Yeah, Grandma," Frankie answered. "Some of the friends decided to go to the park. You wanna come?"

"No thank you dear. I think I'll just stay home. You enjoy yourself, though."

"Okay. See you later, Grandma," she said, heading out the door.

She walked down the sidewalk to the parked and waiting multicolored bus sitting on the side of the road. The door was already open and she could see Mac standing on the bus steps.

"Hey Frankie," he said once she reached him. "On your sandwich, I only used three different kinds of meat. Is that okay?"

"Eh, it's fine," Frankie waved off. "As long as you got my chips."

"Yeah, got those."

"Okay. Now on the bus, kiddo. Let's get rollin'!" she announced, stepping onto the bus.

She wedged herself tightly between the giant wheel and the driver's seat, her wide butt jutting out into the aisle.

"Come on, slowpoke," she heard someone say right next to her ear. "Let's go!"

She turned around to see who it was, and surprisingly, there sat Madam Foster, eagerly waiting in her seat.

"Grandma?…" Frankie pondered. "What?…"

"Hurry up!" her grandmother repeated impatiently. "We're getting bored back here!"

"I'm beginning to like her," she heard Bloo whisper to Mac.

"Okay then," Frankie said, starting the bus. "We're off!" And with that, she pulled out and drove down the road, leaving the giant Victorian house behind.



Frankie laid back in the grass and sighed, the soft ground tickling the back of her neck. Her giant belly swelled upward and shook slightly with every breath, bursting past the bottom of her small T-shirt. Every last morsel of food Mac packed for her were resting in her gargantuan stomach, which wasn't even close to full. She patted her belly comfortably, resulting in ripples echoing across the surface of her skin.

She was hidden beneath the shade of a tree, which blocked most of her view of the sun. Small tufts of clouds drifted through the blue sky gracefully. The friends she had brought with her were running around, enjoying themselves like small children. Madam Foster was somewhere in the fray as well, moving rather quickly for a woman her age. It was these kinds of days that brought a smile to her face; just so peaceful…

SMACK!!

"Hey!" Frankie yelled, sitting up, her massive stomach folding up beneath her. She looked over by her side, where there rested a red plastic Frisbee, which had just hit her in the side. Her large layer of cushy fat absorbed most of the impact, but not enough for her not to be surprised.

"Sorry, Frankie," Mac hollered, walking over to her. "Bloo can't throw."

"It's okay," Frankie said, tossing the Frisbee back to the little boy. "Just be careful."

"Hurry up, Mac!" Bloo yelled, walking over to his friend.

"Hola, Frankie!" Eduardo yelled, waving his hand to get her attention, as if his giant purple, furry body wasn't attention-getting enough. "Look over here! I'm going to take a picture!" he said, making a gesture toward his camera.

"K!" Frankie hollered back. "Hold on," she grunted as she hefted her bulky body on her feet, "let me stand up. Mac, Bloo, get ready for the picture."

"Oh, let me get in on this one," Wilt said, walking over to them.

"Okay," Eduardo yelled once everyone was ready, placing the camera up to his eye. "Say cheese!"

"CHEESE!!"

SNAP!!

"Oh, this one's a keeper!"