Holiday Gift: Your NEET Angel GF

A gift story for everyone featuring a messenger angel becoming a flabby NEET with the reader!

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You click onto the next page of the manga you’re reading on your computer, reaching out with your free hand to grab another handful of chips and deliver them to your mouth. You can hear your computer chair creaking beneath you, reminding you to finally work up the energy to order a larger, sturdier one from an online retailer. You sigh and squeeze your protruding, rounded belly, grabbing a thick handful of loose fat. Your waistline hasn’t stopped expanding since you were hired for a sedentary work from home job a few years back. Lately, you’ve started having trouble seeing the scale past your chest and belly, but even that milestone wasn’t enough to motivate you to hit the gym. Instead, you ordered larger sweatpants and an oversized sweater for the holidays and settled in for a week long coffee-fueled movie and gaming bender.

As you move to click to the next page of your manga, a powerful glare is thrown onto your computer screens. You spin in your chair in surprise as a blinding light fills your slightly messy apartment. Within the light, a tall, feminine figure takes shape, clad in an immaculate white, almost diaphanous robe that cleaves close to her immaculate, slim curves. The woman before you flaps a set of pristine white wings, her hair an inhuman shade of spun gold. Her eyes glow with a silvery, welcoming light, and her flawless alabaster skin shines with a glowing radiance. She begins to speak in a quiet and gentle, but crystal clear voice, carefully intoning each syllable. Her face is at once delicate and defined, subtly curved and rounded at the cheeks with a certain gentle softness. “Be not afraid. I have come to warn you against the vice of sloth.” As she speaks, you can faintly hear the sound of birdsong and delicate, chiming bells.

Many things go through your mind, but you cannot take your eyes off her beauty. Summoning up all of your courage, you blurt out a stammering greeting and ask her name. You rise out of her chair, taking your seat with you as your flabby hips pinch the armrests to your body. You shove the chair back onto the ground, your thighs jiggling.

“My name?” Asks the angel incredulously. “Why, you are the first human to ask that. Most are left in awe, or fright...some even meet me with hostility...” Her thin, golden eyebrows furrow. “I am Vall’ell’theya.” She smiles at you, then shakes her head and resumes her grave expression. “But that is beside the point. I am here to warn you that if you continue down this path, you may never escape it, becoming a thrall to your own mounting vices.” 

You scratch the back of your head and politely suggest that there are certainly many people much more in need of divine intervention.

“Well...” Vall folds her arms. “It is not for me to question the Divine Will’s judgements...also, my order of angels are simple messengers. We cannot perform miracles or otherwise intervene in mortal affairs.”

You put your hand on your hip and express sympathy for her job, suggesting that she’s absorbing the flak for decisions being made above her head. 

“Yes!” she blurts, clapping her hands over her mouth a moment later. “B-but you must allow me to finish my warning!”

You hold up a finger and waddle sluggishly over to your fridge and pull out a large can filled with sugary iced tea. You offer it to her, asking if she’s travelled a long way. You gesture to your large, well-padded couch, swiping your hand over its cushions and clearing off the empty fast food bags that had been crumpled up atop them.

“Sit?” Vall looks down at her bare feet, which are hovering about a foot off the floor of your apartment. “Well...I suppose I’m not forbidden to...it has been a long flight.” 

You sit down next to her. You detect a gentle warmth radiating from the angel’s body. The pleasantly mild smell of floral incense and clean mountain air hangs around her subtly curvy, flawless hourglass figure. Vall takes the can, studies it, and pops the top, startling a bit at the loud snap of the can opening. She gingerly lifts it to her shiny lips with both hands, and takes a gentle sip, then another. “I have no need of mortal sustenance, but this is both sweet and refreshing!” She smiles, and you feel your heart start to beat faster in your chest. 

You ask if Vall ever gets to relax between divine visitations. 

“No, I have no need of rest,” she says, shaking her head back and forth. 

You raise an eyebrow and ask her if it isn’t enjoyable to take a break regardless.

“I confess, it is...time is a distant concept for me, as I exist partially outside its flow, but I am imbued with enough consciousness to...intellectually understand the concept of psychological fatigue...constantly charged with appearing before humans and correcting them for infractions that their very natures allow and encourage...” 

Before you know it, Vall is off on a stream-of-consciousness rant, describing her thankless duties as an angel and lack of acknowledgement from humans or the shapeless divine order from which her form was woven. 

Almost twenty minutes of angelic venting later, you swallow hard, steel your courage, and gently rest your hand on hers. A pleasant tingle travels up your fingertips on contact. You look her in the eyes and tell her you acknowledge her hard work, and think she deserves to spend some time off. 

“‘Time off’?” Vall repeats slowly. “But whatever would I do?” She glances down at your hand, but makes no motion to pull hers away. 

You shrug and try and think fast, grabbing your T.V. remote. You explain you have tons of streaming subscriptions and video games, and that you could order a few pizzas to share. 

“I have never tasted such a thing, though I am aware of the Concept Of Pizza and the elements of its material being, including its rich scent.” she answers innocently. 

You promise it will be worth her while to stay and watch a few shows, giving her a warm, sincere, and enthusiastic smile. 

An hour later, Vall is leaning forward on the couch, gawking at a large-breasted anime girl fighting a giant robot. She’s already on her fifth slice of pizza, taking mindless bites from the cheesy, greasy, meaty treat as if her stomach was truly a metaphysical, bottomless vessel. “Are there other foods you think I should try during this respite?” she asks after the episode is over, her vibrant pink tongue slipping out and sliding around her lips to cleanse them of residual oil.

You promise there are plenty of different foods she could try, especially if she stayed the night. You ask if she’s ever been cuddled before. 

Vall stares at you blankly. “Demonstrate, please...” she says meekly. 

You lay your doughy arm over Vall’s petite shoulders and press her against your soft, bulging body. Something between a whimper and a gasp emanates from Vall’s lips, interlaced with the fleeting sound of ethereal, strumming harp strings. “This...this feeling...” she sputters. “It is even more pleasant than pizza!” she exclaims in amazement, her cheeks coloring a watercolorish red hue, as if a divine brush just gently dabbed the canvas of her skin. “Yes...I will stay. Show me more...please, show me so much more!” she begs. 

---

A full year has passed since Vall visited you, and in that time she has not left the apartment once. Seemingly perpetually fascinated with your games, manga, and food, she has spent her days binging, guzzling soda, and requesting increasing amounts of affection. You watched the angel’s body transform by the day as layer after layer of ungainly-looking flab expanded her celestially forged body. 

Hearing Vall growing frustrated with her current hero shooter team composition, you turn to watch, covering your ears.

“You all must learn to tank more appropriately!” she shouts into her mic just as her character is killed again. “YYRATH!”  she curses, her voice booming into an unearthly echo and shaking the windows of the apartment. A bolt of luminous light leaps from her lips into her headset mic, setting it aflame. “Oops~” Vall mutters, embarrassedly running her flab-swollen fingers through her limp, greasy, tarnished-looking gold-brown hair. 

You shake your head and tell her it's okay, but suggest she stop playing that genre of game for a few hours. You get up with great effort; Vall’s near constant eating habits have rubbed off on you, and at over 650 pounds it’s a concerted effort to even waddle your flabby body across the apartment. You can feel your half-exposed gut swaying to and fro as you move, as well as the steady mash of your thigh bulk rubbing against itself. To your amazement, Vall had gone from slender to even heavier than you are in the year you’ve spent together.

“Could you bring me another few bottles of cola?” Vall asks sweetly, reaching behind her and scratching her stocky, blocky-looking rump through her tight, sweat-stained sweatpants. The oversized XXXXL black tee shirts she ordered for herself are rapidly growing too small for her frame, leaving a molten-looking pour of sweaty belly blubber to spill across her lap and over her legs. Her breasts have gone from pert, ripe fruits to squishy sacks of yielding blubber. Her glowing skin has lost much of its radiance, dulled by sweat, bodily oils, and cellulite speckles. Vall’s visage has ballooned out, giving her orblike stocks of cheek fat accompanied by a significant extra chin that merges seamlessly with neck rolls. Stepping past the piles of garbage that have built up around your live-in girlfriend, you grab a plastic chinese food bag and load it up with fresh 2 liter bottles of soda. 

By the time you huff and wheeze your way back to Vall, she’s already opened and eaten through the bulk of a full-sized pack of chocolate cream cookies. Grabbing the last handful from the sleeve, the angel crams six cookies into her mouth at once, chewing greedily. She lets out a sighing “-BWOOOORPH!-” that momentarily deafens you, the sound carrying with it the blaring of warlike trumpets. Being so close to Vall means there’s no escaping her body odor, which has developed into a musky, cloying herbal odor with no shortage of underlying womanly stench beneath it. Your lungs burn as you breathe it in, barely able to handle the divinely potent bouquet. “Thank you~” Vall purrs, her humid breath washing over you. “Why don’t we watch something?” she asks, eying your enormous body lustfully. She extends her hands and runs them across the portion of your gut that’s hanging out of your sweaty, stained shirt, sending electric tingles through your belly fat. She hovers out of her steel-reinforced chair, her obese curves becoming jellyfish-like as their weight is picked up by divine force. 

You stare at the shifting, wobbling dance of the angel’s hundreds upon hundreds of pounds of excess body weight. A long, explosive howl of gas erupts from her backside, creating a visible ripple in the air behind her that swims with prismatic color. The accompanying, heavily voluminous stench carries undertones of fresh rain. Vall takes your hand and leads you over to the couch, her wings lethargically flapping behind her, shedding crumbs.

She guides your overburdened form onto the sofa, hovering in front of you and pressing her lips against yours. You taste chocolate cookie residue and the faintest, ever-present sweet tang of honey in her saliva as her tongue dances with yours. Her hand runs through your hair as her belly layers on top of yours, her breasts pressing heftily against your chest. You feel more and more of her weight leaning upon you, which only intensifies your makeout session. You stretch as best you can and run your hand along her lusciously thick side-rolls, occasionally grasping to give them an affectionate, appreciative squeeze. 

“Mmm...can you please?” Vall begs, wiggling off her leggings and showing off the naked pale expanses of her enormous heart-shaped hips and boulder-stocky thighs. She hovers higher, delicately lifting her belly like a maiden bashfully lifting her skirt to show her ankles while she spreads her legs, revealing a perfectly sculpted mound of angelic sex crowned by a heap of gold-brown furred, domelike fat. You push heaps of her sweaty, tingling-to-the-touch blubber aside to better allow your lips and tongue access to the inner crease of her femininity. As you play your tongue across her nethers, you taste a striking, spiced white wine...accompanied heavily by a very earthly sweaty musk and arresting sexual tang. 

“Oooh~” Vall sings, her cry echoing several times through your apartment, somehow growing louder rather than quieter with each repetition. Her wings flutter as she squeezes her thighs around your head, enveloping you with her body’s excess. Another burst of gas escapes her rear, jiggling it wildly and briefly causing every light in the room to snuff out. You barely notice it, as the amount of thigh bulk closing around your head is depriving you of both sight and breath. “Almost~” she begs, lifting her arms high over her head and unsealing a wave of erotically charged, almost physically tangible body odor. 

 Sweat drips down your terribly out of shape body as you manage to get your lover to finish, which heralds a cry of lust so sharp that it goes silent, reaching a pitch inaudible by human ears. A few nearby glasses shatter into dust. Vall lets her full weight collapse heavily onto you, giving you a momentary gulp of air before smothering you with her overburdened breasts. Her hands grasp your sweatpants, tugging them down with expert grace. “My turn~” she promises, reaching beneath your belly and sending a luminous spark into your nethers, instantly sending you to the peak of arousal and holding you there. As she gets onto her knees and finds what’s between your legs, her tongue salves your sensitive flesh, each stroke perpetuating an orgasm that stretches on for so long your limbs can’t help but spasm. A low thunderclap of a belch is unleashed upon your sex, its warmth, heat, and force sending you into a gushing finish. Giving you a few more greedy licks, Vall finally rises and collapses next to you on the couch, not bothering to put her pants back on. 

“So,” she whispers, her voice seeming to bounce around the inside of your head until it lances pleasantly into your heart like an arrow. “What should we order in tonight?” she takes her plump fingertip and slowly traces a circle around your belly button, waiting for an answer.