You've been staring at your gym teacher, Kayla, for a while now. In your defense, it was hard not to, with how much space she took up, but you feel like you should have gotten used to the woman who was nearly as wide as she was tall by this point. As you watched her stand in the middle of the field, her clothes practically drenched in sweat as her body struggles to even stand, you can't help but wonder how on earth she got like this. She apparently used to be a local celebrity, and was set to go to the Olympics as a track and field competitor, but you couldn't reconcile that with the ball of lard you were staring at. Her stomach was massive, nearly brushing against the blades of grass she stood on. Her ass wasn't much smaller, wide enough to where even the double-wide doors of the school were a struggle for her to enter. Her breasts were easily the size of ripe watermelons, and her thighs were easily twice as wide as you were. Her body type would have been more at home on someone whom had dedicated their life to gluttony, not a track star who'd lost her luster. Unfortunately, your staring seems to have been noticed, as you can see Kayla ponderously making her way over to you. You could have escaped if you really wanted to, even a brisk walk would out-pace her, but you found yourself firmly rooted to where you were. The fact that every step seemed to make her whole body wobble and jiggle, and that her shirt was slowly exposing more and more of the flesh of her stomach, probably didn't help. Guh-... Somethin' to say... Haahh... punk? It was clear the walk over had exhausted her. She sounded like she had run several marathons, and a puddle of sweat was already forming beneath her heaving bulk. This probably wasn't helping her already abrasive and bitter personality, still managing to scowl at you despite looking like she was on the verge of passing out.