So, here's the thing—I've come to a rather eye-opening realization. Turns out, I'm not exactly cut out to be an erotic fiction writer. Why, you ask? Well, I've never actually attempted to craft a proper steamy story. My characters barely kissed, they just monkey around.
It's not that I didn't want to do so; rather, I was not sure about my abilities to deliver the necessary sizzle. Well...
I guess, it's time to change. I'm throwing caution to the wind and diving headfirst into the grips of erotic writing. To keep me on my toes, I've decided to use the first-person perspective—another new territory for me.
And, rather than telling a long and winding story that goes round and round, I'll try to get right to the point, making it a short and condensed.
Without further ado, I present to you the first draft, a work-in-progress: an untitled F/F short story (first-draft means it's choppy here and there):
***
WIP - untitled F/F, first draft
Chapter 1
They say that cake is like a little bit of heaven, but it’s not. It’s much better than that.
I had been living on my own for about two years when I met Veronica. She was a friend of one of the people I knew from college, which is how we got introduced when I mentioned that I was looking for a roommate after the last one had moved out.
Veronica was two years older than me - twenty-six - but not so much as to make any difference. She was slim and athletic-looking with long legs and perky breasts sticking out under her T-shirt. Well, I thought, if anyone can get away without wearing a bra, it must be this girl. Not like me, if I didn't wear one, they would soon be hanging down to my navel. Her hair was brown, and she wore it tied up in a ponytail.
We hit it off right away. After we finished dinner, we went back to my apartment and sat out on the balcony, drinking wine and talking until two o'clock in the morning. She told me all about herself. How she grew up in New York City; how her parents were divorced when she was young, how she got into NYU, and now worked for an modeling agency downtown as a booker until she could find something else more interesting. I had no idea what "booker" meant, but it sounded important enough so I said "Wow!"
I listened intently, fascinated by everything she said. It wasn't just that she was smart or interesting, I also find her hot. Yes, I'm that kind of girl.
So what did I bring to the conversation? A few lame jokes, mostly about myself. When she asked about my hobbies, I panicked and I said: eating. Still, Veronica laughed and said that I was very cute. Maybe it was just her personality, maybe it was something else entirely. Whatever it was, I felt lucky to have found her. She slept on the couch that night because she had missed the last bus home.
The next day, we were already moving her things into my place.
We had a lot in common, and it wasn't long before we started doing everything together. We shopped together, cooked together, and watched videos together. Soon we shared everything, except our clothes.
You see, while Veronica, was tall and slim, I was short and... well, let's say what Mother Nature didn't give me in longitude, she made up for in latitude. I wouldn't call myself fat. No. Chubby? Well, maybe more like chubby plus some hefty tax. Whatever you want to call it, I was actually okay with it. But all my life, I had to listen to how I should be very careful around food or with my genes I'd end up like my cousin Emily.
In my opinion, my cousin was happy as a clam. Each new kid that she gave birth to at shockingly regular intervals brought her happiness and another 60 pounds. Once she and her husband couldn't count their kids on one hand, they stopped making more of them, but Emily's weight continued to climb up. To me, it was a success story. And a really huge one.
Back to Veronica. My new roommate was well aware of her naturally sexy looks and would dress accordingly: tight jeans, ultra-short skirts, low-cut tops with as much skin showing as possible. The first time I saw her dressed like that, I couldn't help staring. I mean, come on! Who wouldn't? And so did all the horny men (and women) wherever we went. If anyone tried to pick her up she would invent some ridiculous story just to make a complete ass of them. How she was a single mother in a hunt for a father for her poor child, me, or how we were nuns from Iceland on a secret mission or horse breeders from Oklahoma trying to open a butcher shop in town. Whatever story she came up with, it was quite shocking that a vast majority of men actually believed her. "They are dumber than my ass," she would comment afterwards. "I guess it's from all the blood leaving their brain when they see something tasty."
"It happened to me too, " I told her.
"What, your brain gets numb when you look in the mirror? Interesting."
"No, listen. One time I saw a store from a bus thinking it must be the new pastry shop I heard so much about. So I got out, ran back, flew straight through the door, gasping for air and ordered three of each of their croissants. Only then I looked around and it was some stupid clothes shop. I felt so deceived. Why would you name a clothing store Sweet Couture? How should I know that Couture means clothes? They should put a warning sign outside. Anyway, it turned out they did have some cookies for customers after all, which was lucky for me."
Veronica laughed so hard, that she almost choked. I said, "I know Vee I'm probably cramping your style, but I like going out with you", and she said that I was the one turning everyone's heads with my curves and she was lucky to go with me. That's how nice she was.
A few times, I caught her looking at me in a way that I usually look at a chocolate cake - with a mix of 9 parts of lust and 1 part of self-restraint. Although, in my case, self-restraint meant that 9 parts of me wanted to eat the cake, and the 1 part was too lazy to carry it home. I wasn't exactly sure how that analogy worked for Veronica, because even if we both ordered a cake in a restaurant, she'd always give me most of hers. That was another reason why I really liked her. She was such a caring girl.
More and more, I found myself at work thinking about her, and not in a way a polite girl should think about her roommate. Well, libraries are strange places. Quiet and spooky. You can easily get obsessed with anything there. It was when I found myself imagining the feel of Veronica's firm breasts squashing against mine that I knew I had a bit of a crush. I tried to imagine them squashing against someone else's chest instead, like my annoying coworkers, but I couldn't make it work. The very idea just made me jealous.
One evening, while we were sitting on her bed, engrossed in our phones, she suddenly said, "You know what I REALLY like?"
"What?" I asked.
She looked at me, grinned mischievously, and then shifted her attention back to her screen. "A nice pair of big tits!" she exclaimed.
"Come on, yours aren't that small."
"No, I don't want them. I said I like them. Like... yours!"
"Mine?" I felt myself blushing.
She set her phone aside, shifted closer to me, and reached across to lightly touch my breast. It was a gentle caress, just her fingertip brushing against my shirt, but it sent shivers down my spine. I remained still, frozen. She leaned forward and kissed me softly on the lips. My eyes widened, and I stared at her. She smiled and whispered softly, "I so much wanted to do that."
I could feel my cheeks burning. "To kiss me?" I innocently asked. "That's all? You could have that the first day we met." I tell truth when I'm nervous or horny. Or both.
"Damn," she said, "We wasted so much time.”
Our bodies pressed against each other, and I could feel her hard nipples through my shirt. I tilted my head, she kissed me again and I responded eagerly. Our tongues briefly touched, then our mouths opened, and her tongue investigate deeper. I felt her hands slip beneath my shirt, her fingers gently exploring the undersides of my tingling breasts. I was melting inside.
Seconds later, my shirt and bra came flying off, landing on the floor. My breasts swung freely, bouncing heavily against each other. "Oh, Claire! You are so mouthful," she whispered, kissing each nipple in turn before taking one into her mouth. She suckled it gently until I moaned aloud.
"Come here," I said, pulling her face away from my breasts so we could kiss again. Her tongue delved deep into my mouth, and I could clearly imagine what she was planning to do with me.
A few minutes later Veronica was hastily pulling down my jeans.I held my breath as cool fingers brushed against my chubby thighs. They made their way slowly up, stopping every few inches to caress my burning skin. Finally they reached the bottom on my cotton panties where they paused briefly before continuing upward. I exhaled loudly as they finally touched my pussy. I closed my eyes tight and moaned aloud as they began stroking me gently through the panties. I spread my legs wider and sighed deeply. This was exactly what I needed right now. I imagined I was floating in warm water, surrounded by darkness. There was no need to move, no reason to speak. All I had to do was let go and relax and get delightfully fucked by my roommate.
Her fingers pushed aside my panties and she slid a finger into me, then another one. My hips began to buck wildly, but she stopped them with an authoritative hand on my hipbone. She shook her head at me. "Not yet." she said, running her fingers round and round my entrance. I was dripping wet. "Do you mind if I taste you a little?" she asked, and I shook my head. She parted my lips with her thumb and finger, then bent down and licked my clit. I almost screamed. On a second thought, I certainly did scream.
I could hardly stand it any more. I grabbed onto the comforter beneath me and tried to concentrate on staying conscious. I came in spasms after less than five minutes. Moaning loud enough to wake the dead. Or the weed-smoking couple who lived next door.
It took me several minutes to regain control of my thoughts. When I finally opened my eyes, Veronica was smiling down at me. "Do you want some ice cream?" she asked casually.
I found the question a bit peculiar, but I nodded. Who wouldn't want ice cream after being thoughtfully fucked? Or anytime.
Veronica got up and walked to the freezer. As she bent over to reach into the freezer box her mini skirt rode up, exposing her black lace panties. The sight sent shivers down my spine. I realized that I was too preoccupied with my own orgasms to even undress her properly. That's not how I was brought up. I watched mesmerized as she stood upright again, holding a pint of Chocolate Haagen Daz in her hand. I didn't recall her buying it. I certainly would have noticed and probably it would be gone by now.
"Open your mouth, sweetie," she said with a smile. "You deserve it." She took a spoon and dug it deep into the container, carefully scooping the chocolate cream then bringing the spoon close to my open mouth.
"You don't have to feed me," I began, suddenly feeling self-conscious. I craved the ice cream so much, but I didn't want to look like a pig in front of her.
She gently placed her finger across my lips to shush me and shook her head. "I really want to. Now open wide, or no more fun today."
I chuckled and opened my mouth, allowing her to feed the ice cream into me. It felt wonderful; cool and soft against my warm tongue. And as always when I tasted sweets, I began to crave more and my stomach growled loudly as the creamy chocolate melted in my mouth. I swallowed and eagerly opened my mouth again, ready for another serving. This time, Vee scooped it directly from the tub into my waiting lips, dripping some onto my breasts. The coldness made me shiver slightly, but Vee swiftly licked it away with her tongue, and once again, I found myself wanting more. By the fifth or sixth portion, I had finished off half of the tub! Gosh! Somehow the whole situation made me horny all over again. I moaned.
"Good girl," commented Vee approvingly. "Finish it all and you'll be rewarded."
And so I did. And so I was.
***
The next morning, I woke up with an appetite like a horse, but I didn't eat anything. I put on one of those tight sweaters that pulls your tits out in front of you. As soon as I looked in the mirror, I knew I had really overdone it with the ice cream last night. You know those girls who have a spoonful of ice cream after sex, and then suddenly their skirt is two sizes too small around their hips? Well, that has always been me. Sure Veronica wouldn't want to be seen with a fat cow. I had to do something about that.
I barely ate the whole day, and after my library shift, we met with Veronica to do some grocery shopping. I felt everyone was looking at us. When we got back to our flat, I made myself a salad from the kale and spinach I had bought, very determined not to think about food in general. At that point I was collapsing from hunger.
I could tell something wasn't right because Veronica looked upset. I sat down on the couch, miserably picking at the salad with my fork and waited for her to speak. After a few minutes, she turned around and faced me.
"What is it?" I asked. "Is it about last night?"
She shook her head slowly from side to side. "No," she replied. "It isn't anything like that. It's just... well..."
"Yes?" I prompted, sensing this would be important.
"I thought we had so much fun last night," she said, looking at me. "And today in the store, you were constantly complaining about how you need to go on a diet and lose weight and all that."
"Look at me, then look at your self, Vee. I could hear people in the store whispering 'See those two? The hot girl and that lard ass."
"Who they called hot lard ass? Me or you?"
I was too hungry for her jokes today. Everyone knew I was overweight. It was hard to miss 220 pounds of wobbly flesh on a five-foot frame. But before I could say anything else, she carried on talking.
"I mean, sure, if you are unhappy with yourself, then fine, go on a diet. But I don't think you are. So I don't see why you should listen to some random people. I find you super hot. Not only that. If that hot lard ass gets 'accidentally' bigger while you are enjoying yourself, it would only make you even sexier."
I was speechless. My God, how many times did I moan about being overweight today? About hating my rolls of flab? And I was literally doing it only so she wouldn't think of me as some slob without any self-control. Otherwise, I'd be stuffing my face right now with something edible. Maybe I needed to rethink my attitude towards myself. Maybe I needed to stop worrying about how other people see me and concentrate on doing what makes me happy, especially when I obviously tend to misjudge the situation.
"So, what do you suggest?" I eventually asked.
"Let's go for pizza," she smiled. "Then let's buy a cake for later."
I laughed. "Okay, you're actually reading my mind. Just promise me one thing, though."
"Which is?"
"Promise me you won’t let me buy this fucking kale ever again. This thing is inedible."
We both giggled. Then Vee leaned forward and gently kissed me on the lips. I pushed her back lightly, looking into her eyes.
"So," I asked, "You really wouldn't mind if my ass gets bigger?"
She grinned. "You have no idea." And she pulled me close again, her hands stroking my fat backside as she pressed herself hard against me.
***
A few weeks passed by quickly and we were now settled into our routine. Every day we would go for dinner then end up in bed with me being fucked out of my mind and stuffed so much that I was unable to move without a wheelbarrow. Of course, it didn't take long and my body responded in kind. All my clothes got tight; my thighs rubbed together when I walked; my hips spread outwards and jiggled like two jelly pillows.
But what was happening inside my body wasn't just physical – it was emotional too. I felt good about myself. It was almost as if I had been waiting for someone to tell me it was okay to eat whatever I wanted and not worry about calories or exercise and here was Vee telling me exactly that! She loved every jiggly bit of me.
My job at the library suited me down to the ground; they put me on the front desk, letting me sit the whole day on my ass. The other girls there looked at me strangely because every day I was pouring out of my clothes just a bit more. I didn't care. I knew I was getting bigger and I didn't mind. In fact, I think they envied me slightly because I was chubby and happy and they were neither.
There was a shipping scale in the back room of the library which only staff used. One lunchtime, while everyone else went outside for their sandwiches, I nipped into the backroom and stepped onto the scales. It showed 262. At first I thought something must be wrong so I tried again and still it said the same! I sat down heavily on one of the chairs nearby. I’d gained over 40 pounds since meeting Vee. 40 freaking pounds! I was no longer chubby, I was fat. Then I laughed. What else did I expect from being stuffed every night like a Thanksgiving turkey.
I couldn’t wait to tell Vee. That evening we made love on the living-room floor while she fed me entire family-size cheesecake. I was more stuffed than any time I could remember. She kept telling me how much more sexier I'd look if I gain even more.
"I got it, I got it " I replied through mouthfuls of cake, “You like big girls, but you still haven’t answered the most important question.”
“Which is?”
“How big is big?”
Her eyes sparkled. But she just kept staring at me, smiling.
“Well?” I prompted.
She shook her head. “You have to find out for yourself.”
And I did.
***
A week later Vee took me to this restaurant where the food was always amazingly good. I suppose it's because they don't have any customers who can eat very much, so when someone like me comes along and orders two lasagnas for myself and a salad for Vee, they go out of their way to make sure we get our money's worth.
We sat outside under an umbrella, waiting for our starters to arrive, holding hands across the table, and talking like two lovebirds. I tried not to think about the fact that Vee was wearing a ridiculously short skirt on her skinny body. I was about to comment that the waiter must be a well-brought up boy from a good family because he managed not to stare at her panties with only occasional lapses of attention, when she suddenly said "Shit" and jumped from her chair like a iguana under attack by a hawk.
At the same time a voice behind me shouted, "Fuckin' hell!"
I turned round in my seat and saw a blond young woman standing there. Oh boy, was she huge! Her arms were as big and round as my thighs, her enormous belly hanging over her shorts down to the middle of her fat legs. I couldn’t help wondering how could she carry all that weight around without falling over.
Vee gave her a warm embrace, almost disappearing in her bulk.
"This is Clair, she introduced me. And this is Rene,” she added. "You look even bigger than I remember.”
Rene chortled turning to me. I quickly closed my mouth.
"Claire, hmm?”
I smiled as politely as possible and shook her hand. “Nice to meet you,” I said. “How do you know each other?”
Rene shrugged. “Old story. We used to date a year ago. Then I decided I had enough and dumped her skinny ass."
Vee rolled her eyes. “As far as I remember it was mutual.”
“True." Rene said then looked at me curiously. Her eyes roamed over my body, lingering briefly on various parts. "Are you two a couple or something?.”
Before either of us could answer, Rene continued. “No offense, sweetie, but you don't look like Vee's usual type.”
"Shut up, Rene."
"What do you mean usual type?" I asked, squinting my eyes at the gigantic girl.
Rene laughed and slapped her fat belly with both hands. It made quite an impressive sound.
“Oh come on! You are like a half the size of what Vee usually goes for.”
I felt my cheeks flushing. "Well," I said."Then I have some work to do."
"Good answer I guess.”, Rene nodded approvingly, “Anyway, I don’t want to be rude, but I am dying to get to the buffet down the street." With that she, patted Vee on the shoulder and sauntered away, waddling and blocking entire sidewalk with her swinging hips.
"So," I said when we were alone again. “I'm half the size of what you usually go for?"
She grinned at me. "I wouldn't put a concrete number on it. Half, third, quarter...." I threw a piece of bread roll at her, and we both giggled until the waiter came back with the main course again trying his best not to stare at Vee's panties peeking under her miniskirt. He failed miserably. We ordered a bottle of wine and he left us alone after that.
The lasagna was fantastic. Two were even better. But the truth to be told I couldn't take my mind off something.
"How much she weighs?" I asked Vee suddenly. "Rene," I quickly clarified.
Vee looked at me in surprise. "I don't know. A year ago she was almost 500 pounds. Now she's definitely above 500. We actually split because Rene wanted me to get fat. That's not my style. I heard she found a girlfriend that is even bigger than she is and they are quite happy."
"Uh, I don't want you get fat either," I said resolutely. "You'd be eating my food and stealing my clothes. No way."
"So what do you want then?" She looked at me with those eyes and that little smile on her lips.
I didn't know why I said what I said next.. It just came into my head all of a sudden. "I want to you to keep feeding me until I'm bigger than she is."
We finished the bottle of wine, and we both felt quite drunk by the time we got back to our apartment. "You'd better hurry," Vee said as soon as we were inside my front door. "I'm so fucking horny!" And before I knew what was happening, she was all over me like a wet fuckin' fish! She tasted so sweet, I thought she must have been sucking on some honey flowers down at the restaurant.
We went into the bed and immediately our hands started exploring each other. I found myself getting more and more turned on. Her fingers seemed to know just how far they could go to make me cry for more. But then I touched her tight pussy through her skirt and that made me really horny too. I couldn't bear not feeling her again. So I slipped my hand underneath her small bottom, and lifted her leg slightly then started pushing her towards my face. She understood what I wanted to do. She moaned softly, then she rolled on top of me, and while kissing me passionately, removed her panties. My fingers were shaking as I helped her pull them down.
Then she moved her bottom towards my face and guided herself gently down on to my mouth. At first, it was like a slow, gentle dance to my tongue's rhythm, then gradually, ever so slowly, she began moan. Little noises came from deep within her body, and I could taste her as she became aroused. When she finally slumped forward across my shoulders, resting her head on mine, I realized she must had climaxed several times during the last ten minutes. She was exhausted, cuddling next to me, kissing my neck and ear. Then she fell asleep.
I knew exactly why Vee was so wild tonight. I cracked the mystery what made her tick. It was easy to test my theory.
"Vee?"
"Uhm?" she said from her sleep.
"I'm still a bit hungry. Would you bring me something sweet, please? Anything you can find in the fridge."
I could feel Vee's nipples hardening pressing against my side. She moaned but didn't move.
"You know what I said earlier?" I continued. "About making me as fat as Rene?"
"Yes?"
"Well, I thought about it. Fuck Rene. You can make me as big as you like."
She opened her eyes and looked at me. They were tired, sleepy, but still wide with amazement.
"I know you are fucking with me Claire, but it still makes me horny, my little peach." She kissed me on my forehead. "Thank you."
"Hmm..." I said then paused and frowned.
"What is it, darling?"
"Nothing... okay, I was teasing you a bit, but now I realized I could actually use a slice of cake. Or two. But don't worry, I can get it myself."
****
My 300 pounds came without any warning. One day I was a chubby adorable thing, and the next... With Vee at the helm the weight just piled on. It was all over, too; not just hips where I used to be plump, but my belly and thighs and bust and arms and everything.
I went for Christmas home and of course Mum was horrified, but then said with my genes I'm probably lucky it wasn't worse than it is. I suppose she was referring to her sister and my cousin Emily. Dad thought I should take more exercise, and my sister Tanya said I looked like a great big balloon. Well, I was a great big balloon, so she didn't have much choice about what I looked like. I didn't say that, of course, but that's how I felt. I told her all she needed to do was wait a year until her college starts and she would be as big as me in no time. That shut her up. She later privately asked if I can save her any clothes I outgrow. Smart girl. She could put two and two together.
Emily and her family came from the farm in New Mexico for a visit too. They rented a huge minivan but still had to leave a few kids at her husband's parents or they wouldn't fit all in. Mostly because Emily easily took half of the minivan just for herself, her belly and her ass. I was amazed at how much bigger she was when she poured out.
"It's this stupid heavy cream," she complained. "If I drink one glass, I need another straight away. Hey, I'm kind of thirsty. Do you have any? Jack! Stop hitting Michael or else. Oh sorry Jack. Pedro! No? Pedro is at Nana? So who the fuck was hitting Michael? Oh look at you, Claire. You must be enjoying your new job soo much. Books is it? You should probably stop eating them."
"Yes, thanks. You look very nice, too. The long hair suits you."
"Thanks, Claire!"
"And the dress looks fantastic!"
"That's not mine. It's my moms, made out of Costco bed sheets. I can't fit into anything anymore. But thanks anyway."
"It suit you, though," I insisted. "The fat plush bear pattern goes really nicely with that humongous ass."
"Oh, Clair, I missed you." and we hugged.
Well almost, because I couldn't put my hands around her waist, neither she could stick hers too far past her belly. So we kind of bumped into each other and held tight.
"You big, Claire," her husband Santiago said, when he came around to greet me. "Big belly. Pregnant, no?"
"No. I just grew while I was asleep last night."
Santiago shook his head sadly. "So many mystery in life," he said. "Maybe you get baby in belly during Christmas. You have boys in this town, no?"
"Santiago, don't encourage her," said Emily, laughing. "She's already bigger than I was even before our first kid."
"No problem, but she can go to farm and get very big. Drink milk, make cheese, make babies. Lots of space in house, no?"
"Thank you, Santi," I said laughing, "I'll think about it."
The Holiday were in fact great. Meeting uncles and aunts and cousins, some of whom I hadn't seen since I was six or seven, and they're all saying, 'Oh, you've grown, haven't you!'
Well, no shit!
I spent most of my free time with Emily. I told her about Veronica and how she wanted me to get bigger.
"Does' it turn you on" she asked me, quite casually, while we were sitting down by the fireplace one late night drinking egg nog.
I must have looked puzzled because she grinned at me. "Oh, don't worry, it does me!" she said. "You don't get to my size without getting turned by it."
I knew what she meant. But I had never really talked about it before with a family. "Yes," I admitted, feeling embarrassed. She nodded. We sat in silence for a while, then she said, "Do you know what I really want right now?"
"Yuck. I'm not fucking my own cousin. And on Christmas! You have no shame."
"Ha ha, very funny. No, let's go to the kitchen and see what's left in the fridge!"
And off we went, me pushing Emily's ass through the kitchen door. She was in the stage when it didn't make much difference if she tried to go tits first or hips first or ass first, she'd get stuck anyway.
As soon as we got into the kitchen, she started rooting around in the fridge. She emerged with two cartons of heavy cream. "Now, you have a simple choice to make. This is one way ticket. Once you start messing with this shit, there's no turning back."
I thought about it for a moment, then grinned, grabbed one carton from her and opened it.
"Good choice, your Vee will lost her mind when she sees the size of your ass after Christmas."
And so we sat down, me on one chair while Emily taking three and started gulping it down. I wasn't sure about the taste, it was greasy and sticky, but Emily seemed to enjoy it so I tried not to disappoint her.
"There!" she said finally after she finished hers. She looked at me with her eyes sparkling and licked her lips. "You are doing it all wrong, Clair. As always. You're supposed to pour it down your throat, not sipping it like tea."
So I tried again, following her instructions, and it worked better, although I still couldn't finish the whole carton and I was this close to barfing.
"It gets easier," she said, "Don't worry. Now I'm dying for some cake. We can sit on the sofa and talk about our sex life."
It did get easier, Emily was right. She didn't get to be a mother to five screaming boys for nothing. By the end of weekend I was drinking entire carton of double cream a night and by Friday I put all my bras into box labeled "For Tanya after graduation".
Whatever secret was hidden in the cream, it worked fast! Soon I couldn't fit into any of my jeans, even the new stretch ones. Everyone had to get used to me crawling around the house in old shirt, my boobs bouncing like two pet goats, wearing only panties, no skirt or shorts and using the shirt itself as a makeshift mini dress. I mean, I had to wear something, didn't I?
It was only mildly embarrassing when we had visitors, especially ones with teenage boys. I assumed most of them would be staring at my tits anyway, whether I was wearing a bra or not and the movement under my shirt only added to their excitement. As far as I was concerned, I was doing society a favor. Better to be paralyzed by staring at bouncing boobs than doing drugs. Gosh, they did ask to go to toilet a way too often.
Mum said I looked disgraceful and suggested some of uncle's Bob old shorts might help cover me up a bit. But they didn't really. They were so tight around my legs that they almost blocked off my circulation and the camel toe was too much to bear for anyone. And there was still my ass sticking out from the back. While I was trying to pull them up, they split clean down the back from top to bottom. So I ended up back in just my panties and the shirt.
Strange creatures, Mums. Instead of totally flipping out why her lovely 300 pound daughter started suddenly growing in front of her eyes like a juicy tomato plant, she took it as a sign I missed her home cooking and started giving me extras, even buying cakes and pies from the local bakery to fill me and Emily up between meals. She'd still say occasionally that I needed to watch what I eat. But I did. I watched it very carefully.
By the time I was ready to go back to the city I couldn't fit into anything. Wearing "anything" on public transport was quite frowned upon by the folks, so my dad drove me to a fat, tall and ugly shop near the station. I tried everything and then left having bought a maternity dress. I've got my money worth, as I've got to sit in empty front seat on a bus, because "of my delicate condition".
A lady from next seat winked at me. "I remember when I was carrying twins. It was hard. Tell her Rupert."
"Hard," the man next to her agreed. “You get swollen.”
“And you have gas,” the woman added.
The man nodded his head. “Yep. Gas all over the place. Sometimes it goes boom!”
Chapter 2
"Holly Hellfire!"
Vee stood on the bus stop gawping at me. Well, perhaps 'gawping' was the wrong word; more accurately, she stood open-mouthed, staring at me while the bus driver was pulling my luggage out of the bus and stacking it beside me. He gave me a cheery wave and wished me good luck with "the baby".
Vee's mouth opened wider if such a thing could possibly be. Her tongue came out and touched her lips several times still not having enough breath to speak.
"Sudden Horizontal Growth Spurt Syndrome," I explained. "It's apparently very contagious, having spent three weeks in close proximity to my enormously tall cousin."
She recovered slightly. "Well, it certainly explains the dress. If I weren't so selfish, I would sent you right back for a few more weeks so I could watch your ass rip it to shreds."
Her hands were all over me before I could reply. My boobs were cupped, my belly was rubbed, my hips were squeezed. All accompanied by little moans and groans which made me feel like home. When she reached round to grab my ass, I pushed her away.
"Not here, people are watching,” I told her. " And besides, I'm so hungry, that I’ll faint if someone doesn’t feed me soon!" That wasn't exaggeration: my knees were trembling and my stomach was growling like a 19th century sailor on shore leave.
"What kind of savage do you take me for?” she laughed. “I’ve booked us a table at an Italian place”.
"The one with the big stove?”
"I assume it has big stove, but we haven't been there yet. I met the owner at a Christmas party. Antonio. He has been looking forward to meeting you.”
“Really? Why?”
"Let's say we share certain preferences."
“Oh dear God!”
As we walked through the door of the restaurant, Antonio himself rushed up to greet us. He was a big man, not as big as my cousin Emily, but certainly way bigger than myself and built like I always imagined an Italian restaurant owner should be. His smile lit up his face and he took both my hands in his own. “Claire! You are more beautiful than Vee could ever describe you," he sang.
He stopped mid-sentence and pulled back. "Dio mio!" he gasped in horror, looking at me from head to toe. “You must be absolutely famished. People could hear your tummy rumbling from across the street."
He led us straight to a table near the window where we sat down.
I was so hungry that my head began to spin as soon as I looked at the menu. The letters just danced around before my eyes. I haven't realized until now but spending most of my days with Emily, my stomach was constantly stuffed.
I haven't eaten for good five hours, except some sandwich and a family bag of M&M's and some cookies from the couple on the bus. I felt like my stomach was going to eat myself. Or Veronica. She should have known better than to dress in that red mini skirt and white blouse.
If I'd swallow her whole, it would be pretty much her own fault for looking like a delicious slice of cake. Oh fuck, I thought. Everything around me looked like a cake, except Antonio. He looked like a giant puffy pizza dough.
Antonio probably saw the confusion on my face because he took the menu from me.
“No need for that”, he said. “I assume,” he looked at Vee, “you’d want something like a salad. And for you, my dear,” he turned to me and smiled, “everything but salad.”
I blushed. I do that when people read my mind. His smile was warm and friendly with a promise of lots of food.
He didn't disappoint.
First course: antipasto platter – cold cuts, olives, artichokes hearts, prosciutto ham, marinated mushrooms, and a lots of stuff I didn't recognize.
It was amazing how much Antonio managed to cram onto my plate.
Second Course: Linguine con Pesto di Basilico, No comments.
Third Course: Pollo alla Romana or as we would say chicken breast sautéed with sun dried tomatoes, fresh basil leaves and minced garlic.
Fourth Course: Tiramisu with ladyfingers layered with mascarpone cream, covered with espresso powder dusting and grated dark chocolate.
By the time I finished the table was so far away pushed by my belly that I couldn't even remember if it was round or square.
I was tired but I felt great. So did Veronica apparently. She was practically humming. So did Antonio. He was actually humming, but Italian restaurant owners tend to do that.
I don't remember much after that. I know we got a taxi home, although I can't recall getting into the car or leaving the restaurant. I was floating somewhere between earth and heaven.
What I do remember is that once we got home, Vee dragged me into the bedroom. She undressed me slowly, taking her time to admire every part of new me. Once naked, she laid me down on our bed and kissed me deeply, sucking my tongue. Then she licked along my jaw, down my throat, over my fat boobs, my nipples, my huge belly, my trembling thighs… everywhere she went, she left behind a trail of fire. Finally, she settled between my legs. It sent shock waves throughout my body. If I hadn’t been so full, I would have arched up off the mattress like a bridge in a Japanese garden.
She repeated everything again and again, each time sending more shock waves through me. I lost count of how many times she brought me close to orgasm only to bring me back from the brink. I begged her to let me come; I hadn’t been properly fucked in three long weeks, but each time she would just smile, change the angle of her fingers or move them faster or slower. Occasionally she’d slip two or three inside me to watch me nearly pass out from the intensity of it. She was toying with me. I felt like a cat being teased by a laser pointer. Or catnip. Or whatever cats get excited about these days.
Finally, when I thought I couldn't take any more, she let me go over the edge. I screamed and bucked and thrashed against the sheets. I was so loud that I actually scared myself. Afterwards, exhausted beyond belief, I fell asleep instantly.
And then I woke up. My mouth tasted like an oily rag. The phone read 3 am. I rolled over on to one side and sat up as quietly as possible.
I had been halfway across the room when I heard Vee's voice. "What's wrong? Where are you going?"
"Shit. Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," I said without turning around. "I'm hungry as fuck. Do we have any heavy cream in the fridge?”
***
Of course, the next day we went shopping for a whole new wardrobe. I wasn't about to show up at the library in a maternity smock; that would raise way too many eyebrows.
We found some really neat stuff at the mall. A new bra that pushed everything up and forward, so I could finally walk without my boobs constantly bouncing around.(Although my nipples got so used to just hanging down inside my shirt that they would get quite aroused whenever the bra brushed against them.)
When the salesgirl came back to the changing room and asked if everything was okay, I couldn't answer because I was too busy being horny. Neither could Vee, since she had her mouth full of my tits.
Shirts were pretty easy to pick, except stretching them in one direction made them shorter across the other so within two steps the shirt's bottom would be dangling at my navel. I was wondering if a cropped top might be too casual attire for the library, but Vee said not to worry since most visitors wouldn't be able to see below my tits anyway. All I needed to do was just get close enough and jam them in their faces. I supposed she had a point.
I also picked a short black skirt for work. It looked quite smart, Vee insisted, especially from behind. "People could lose their minds when you bend down to put books back on the bottom shelf," she promised. She seemed confident about it; perhaps she was speaking from personal experience.
I tried on about 20 pairs of jeans before finding one that could cover both my ass and my belly at the same time. The only trouble was getting into them; it took Vee to hoik me upright after each time I fell over trying to put them on. But once they were done up, they worked.
"Fuck me!" I exclaimed when I looked into the mirror. Next to tall and slender Vee, I looked like a balloon on short, fat legs trying to smuggle a couple of basketballs.
"I agree," said Vee. "You look incredible." She gave me a little kiss on the nose, then stepped behind me and squeezed my breasts together with both her slender hands. I pushed the top of my ass into Vee's front and twerked against her. She moaned and licked my ear softly. "One more time for the road, Clair?"
"Yes, please," I replied politely.
"Oh, hell no, not again," the salesgirl growled nervously outside the fitting room door. "You two in there, can you stop fucking in the store? My boss could be here any minute!"
"Is your boss the blonde lady with that massive ass?" Vee asked while licking my boobs.
"Yeah," came a muted reply after a brief pause.
"You should ask her out. Her ass looks really juicy."
"I know. But she's married. Can you go, please? If she sees me with my hand down my skirt again, it will be my third strike."
"Okay, just give us three more minutes," Vee mumbled from somewhere between my thighs, hidden from my sight.
"Two seconds," I corrected her, barely able to speak. "One! Fuuuuck, I'm so hungry," I added after I could breathe again.
"The pizza place across the street is having two-for-one today," offered the helpful salesgirl.
Chapter 3
The first thing I wanted to do when I got to work Monday morning was to head to the back room and step on the scale.
But there was some commotion going on in there. The library was hiring new girls, and the interviewees were lined up outside the door waiting their turns. I couldn't just waltz into the room, take my shoes and skirt off and weigh myself in front of everyone. That would be highly unprofessional!
So I waited.
On Tuesday there was a quarterly fire alarm test.
On Wednesday we had a staff meeting about sexual harassment. I asked if they could possibly harass me another day, but they said it was mandatory.
Thursday? I don't even remember.
Oh yeah, I had to call sick, because the night before I got drunk. I don't mean tipsy, I mean stinking paralytic. One of Vee's uni friends was having a birthday party. In a barn. An actual working dairy farm. With cows and shit. And hay. Lots of hay everywhere.
Renee was there with her even bigger girlfriend, drinking like a pair of blow-fish. Naturally, I tried to keep up. And I did, until I couldn't remember which way was up. By the end of the week I had forgotten all about weighing myself and so did Vee and we had a really very fulfilling weekend.
I finally managed to sneak into the backroom at the end of the next week. I stepped onto the scale but before I could see the numbers, I quickly closed my eyes and started doing some mental arithmetic.
I was around 305 pounds when I left for Christmas break. I had been eating constantly and sitting on my ass under the watchful eye of my colossal cousin, but not over-stuffing myself until I couldn't move. At least not everyday. It was more like having a never-ending supply of food in front of me, and nibbling away at it throughout the entire day.
So, 320 pounds? That sounded about right. But then again, since I had outgrown all my clothes I added a little bonus. 325 then.
Jesus, I hadn't even been thinking about myself in terms of numbers, but 325 sounded big. But also, if I were being honest, that was almost two weeks ago and since then Vee has been stuffing me full of cakes, doughnuts and ice cream.
'Ahhh,' I groaned just thinking about it. So, with that in mind, I opened my eyes..
"Fuck me," I said politely, when I saw the number. I closed my eyes again, trying to process the information, then opened just my left eye. The number was still there, looking down at me.
348 pounds.
Of course, deep down inside I knew the scale was right, but I was still in a bit of shock. Then I noticed a little text below the display: Max 500 pounds. I giggled. "We'll see about that," I said to the scale.
When I arrived home, Vee wasn't there. She must have still been at work. I sat down on the bed and contemplated my next move.
Well, I thought, 348 pounds - that's just two pounds of ice cream away from 350. It seemed like a perfectly doable task for the evening.
I stood up and headed to the kitchen. Inside the fridge, I found two tubs of ice cream: one vanilla and the other chocolate. I took them both out and placed them on the table.
Then, I grabbed a spoon and scooped out a generous portion from each tub. I licked the spoon clean and put it back on the table.
No, not like this. This would take forever.
It was time to put my cousin's method to the test. I defrosted each tub in the microwave, then mixed them together in a pot. I tasted it again, and it seemed to be even better than before. It felt like a warm chocolate-vanilla silk.
Perfect.
I dragged a kitchen chair to the closet near the entrance. After a bit of struggle, I managed to place my right leg on the chair and tried to swing myself up.
"Oh, fuck me!" I said aloud after several attempts. There was no way that I was going to get my fat ass up onto that stupid chair.
I looked up in despair at the top shelf. Why did I have to be so short? Veronica would have had no trouble reaching it with her long legs and arms like a monkey.
I of course didn't mean an actual monkey. Yuck. I meant a sexy monkey. Oh, that sounded even worse. A monkey in a sexy dress? Ah, forget the monkey! With her long arms like...whatever has long arms, it's sexy and it's not a monkey. She'd be able to reach the top shelf with those. She could also swing up onto the chair with ease, like a mon... oh for crying out loud!
Then I remembered. The stepladder on the balcony that we used as a stand for flower pots! It was made of sturdy metal so that should hold this soon-to-be 350 pound baby whale.
I carried it back inside and set it up next to the chair. It was a bit wobbly, but I managed to get both feet on it and hauled myself up. I stood on the second step for a moment or two, catching my breath. Then I reached up and started rummaging through the boxes on the top shelf.
"Oh look," I said. "I forgot that I had one."
It was one of those straw hats with a big brim, like sexy 1960s film stars wore on the beach. But that wasn't what I was looking for. I put it on my head and kept digging around. I owned snorkeling glasses and a harmonica?
"Here we go." I knew I put it there. One of those things that someone thought was hilarious to bring to a party, then forgot to take home.
I pulled out a large black plastic bag. I opened it and stared at its content. "Yup, that will do."
I brought it into the kitchen, put it on the table, then took my library shirt off. After some thinking, I also removed my bra and pulled my skirt down. What the hell, I took my panties off as well. Better be safe than sorry.
I took it out of the bag, washed it, then carefully poured the melted ice cream mixture into the the funnel, put the beer-bong's tube in my mouth and raised it over my head. I breathed deeply and turned on the plastic valve. Emily would be so proud.
And that was precisely the moment when the door flew open.
"Nice hat," Veronica commented right from the entrance, only barely raising an eyebrow. "You look like one of those 1960s film stars."
Chapter 4
Things moved quickly after that; Veronica immediately incorporated the beer bong into our sex life. I mean, how could I resist having her pouring a mixture of ice cream and heavy cream down my throat until I couldn't remember which way was up? And she loved doing it. She loved seeing me getting stuffed, horny, and helpless, all at once. My body rewarded her effort by rapidly expanding. I'd spend most of my free time lying on the couch watching movies or reading books while she fed me various delicacies and fucked me senseless.
Of course, we did venture out into the world on occasion, like going to the grocery store. Vee, being herself, loved to attract attention by playfully squeezing my growing belly with one hand while filling up our shopping cart with various cakes using her other hand. She would clearly announce her plan for the evening so everyone around could hear, "I'm going to stuff you so much that you won't be able to move tomorrow!"
In response, I would pout my hungry mouth and say disappointingly, "You always only promise..."
She would then begin kissing me intensely before exclaiming how incredibly turned on I just made her. These public displays of affection sometimes caused quite a stir among the elderly shoppers, who were more interested in purchasing their discounted grapefruits than learning something new about the youth.
One day, about two months later, Vee decided to take me to the pier. The weather was perfect – a clear sky, a light breeze, and the sun warming my skin. The air was full of the smell of saltwater and fresh fish, and the sound of children laughing and playing. We sat on a bench; I couldn't walk for too long. I hadn't weighted myself for some time, but I knew I was getting closer to the 400 pounds.
Veronica put her arm around me and kissed me softly on the cheek. "I have some bad news," she said. I looked into her eyes, trying to read her expression. One could never be sure with Vee what bad news was.
"But, I think I cleverly managed to turn it into an opportunity," she added, proudly.
"Let me guess," I said, trying to keep the situation light. "You read on the internet that funnel feeding ice cream can give me a double chin, but then it occurred to you that you have a huge thing for double chins." I started sounding like Vee. And I already had double-chin.
"Darn, you're good, but no. You remember how I told you our firm started doing some collab with an agency in Osaka? Well, they are sending me there because apparently, I look the most Japanese, with my blond hair and all.
"But that's great, no?"
"They are sending me there for six months."
I watched the waves crashing against the wooden jetty, the pier bouncing slightly from the impact, while trying to process the information.
"Six months," I managed after a while. "There's always a silver lining, right? So, you’ll come back, and we'll watch those funny cat videos together once again. I'll be fine."
No, you won't," Veronica read my mind. She pushed her hair behind her ear and gazed at me. "You'd miss me so much that you'd even start eating salad just to feel closer to me. We can't have that."
"No."
"So, we devised a cunning plan. A huge opportunity, if you will."
"Who's 'we'?"
"Me and Emily."
"Which Emily?" I frowned.
She gave me a surprised look. "You're not telling me you've forgotten your gorgeous 600-pound cousin?"
"No, but... how do you even know her?"
"You've talked about her so much, so I looked her up, and now we regularly chat. She offers some excellent nutritional advice. Anyway, we put our heads together and came up with a great solution."
"Which is?"
"You're going to move in with her, and she'll keep an eye on you."
"I have a job here ..."
"You can barely squeeze between the bookshelves. In just a few more weeks, they might have to let you go due to the traffic hazard your ass pose."
I opened my mouth to protest, but what was the point? She was right. Every morning, I dreaded the sight of the library stairs, as if they had a secret nighttime agenda to sneak in a few more steps just to piss me off.
I looked out at the sea. "But what will I be doing on a farm in New Mexico?"
"Oh, Missy," she said, her voice tinged with playful emotion. "You can take two guesses. You know your cousin. She's the one who called it a 'huge opportunity', with a rather peculiar emphasis on the word 'huge,'" she added.
----
It was nearly two weeks since I'd seen Vee off and I was halfway across America to New Mexico. All my possessions were in a storage, and I had no home and no job. Life, eh? Somebody should do something about this sort of thing.
Somebody should be made responsible. If only I knew who. Certainly not me.
In the end, though, after the tears had dried up, it all seemed quite reasonable. Six months wasn't such a long time, after all.
From Vee's point of view, in her own fat-obsessed way, Japan was perhaps the worst possible destination for a girl who liked to fondle a genuine four hundred pounder jiggling in front of her eyes.
That's right, four hundred pounds.
I had ballooned a bit, having spent the last couple of weeks doing little more than scoffing buckets full of Ben & Jerry's, although I still hadn't worked up the desire to stand on the scales so it was only an estimate.
Maybe it was some kind of perverse revenge for having been abandoned by Vee for half a year. Either way, the image of fattening myself senselessly, just so that I could call her every few days and say 'Oh, Vee, I wish you were here, I can't get into any of my clothes. What should I do?', did have its erotically blackmailing taste to it.
Emily had been surprisingly enthusiastic about the whole plan when I called her. "We can take turns in the shop, do trips to town, watch movies, painting each others toenails ... And, of course," she added, "summer will be here. We can get the kids out of the house and ship them and Santiago off to his parents, and then the whole place will be ours to destroy. Don't pack too much clothes, you know, you won't fit into your East coast skankwear in a week."
At least she was honest about what lay ahead for me. She was a compulsive baker herself, although at her size she had to keep a close eye on how much she ate.
"They creep up on you, the pounds," she said, mournfully. "You wake up one morning and your tits are hanging out of the bedroom window, then you're fucked and they have to lift you out with a crane through roof. Santi says he will get himself one of those things, if I ever get that fat. But I told him, six-hundred-fifty pounds is where I draw the line, before our youngest gets married. After that, fuck it. Let Santi have his fucking crane. And if any of our boys take after their dad's taste in women, we could all do worse than having a handy crane in a family. Just look at the size of our next-door neighbor's daughter. She started at college this year, and I tell you, when she comes home for next Christmas, she will have to use the double door at their back."
Emily had always been practical.
I stepped out of the plane at Albuquerque Airport and there was Santiago, grinning broadly as he looked me over from head to toe.
"Madre de Dios, Claire," he said, shaking his head slowly. "You are a big woman now." He sounded genuinely impressed.
"Thanks, Santi," I said modestly. "Do you really think so? I mean, I only gained hundred pounds since we last met."
"No problemo. Emily can sort that out for you."
We drove back to the farm. The bleak landscape rolled past outside, the air scented with sagebrush and dust. I tried hard not to think about the fact that this was where I was going to live, and concentrated instead on the gigantic coconut cream cake resting on my knees.
"Eat it," urged Santi. "It's Emily's recipe. She'll murder me if we bring any of it back."
We pulled up outside the farmhouse. Emily was waiting outside, waving. A huge banner hung across the front doorway, saying 'Welcome Home Claire'. Balloons floated in the air.
"You look dreadful from the trip," she said, giving me a colossal fat hug. "Come in, you must be starving. There should still be some lemon meringue pie left."
I followed her in, feeling a mixture of excitement and terror. This was going to be my life for the next six months - living out here in the sticks, surrounded by nothing but miles upon miles of countryside, and mountains and hills. And putting on weight until I became the size of a small house.
I couldn’t help but notice how Emily had to turn sideways to make it through the doorway and I wondered whether or not I’d end up like that one day. Probably, I thought when I sat in the kitchen. Same genes, same love of food, same desire to please our loved ones. I wouldn't be surprised if one day I couldn't squeeze my ass through the door in any direction.
The first couple of weeks passed quickly enough. I settled into my new life. Emily showed me around. It was a fairly small operation, with ten staff members, acres of cornfields, a herd of cows, and a string of horses. (Okay, maybe they don't call them strings.) Plus a huge bakery.
Emily's job was running the shop and bakery, and I was her new assistant. Business was booming. Customers came from far and wide to buy Emily's famous pies and cakes. They also bought her sauces and dressings, all of them containing massive quantities of cream and butter, just like the cakes. No wonder the clientele was vast and expanding. Hahaha, literally. I didn't actually feel that fat, compared to some of the other girls who visited the shop.
My day was filled with eating. Every time we took an order for something really rich or sinfully decadent, she would give me a meaningful glance and whisper, "Make two, just in case you mess up again!" And sure enough, I would mess up and the cake would find it's way to the staff room where we would scoff it down. By which I meant mainly me, since Emily was quite firm about who from the two of us needed the extra calories more urgently.
"Our customers shouldn't be heavier than the staff," she explained patiently. She paused, expecting a question. When none appeared, because I was busy wolfing down an Opera cake, she continued, undeterred. "It makes our store look unhealthy."
I swallowed my mouthful and said, "It's a bakery. They come here for the sweets."
She shook her head. "I see all these young ladies coming in here. And if they see an employee who is slimmer than they are, what sort of message does that send out? They might think they ought to cut back on the cakes if a girl who makes the things is not as big as they are." She pointed at me with her chubby finger. "You need to put on more weight."
"You can see I do my best," I giggled, licking icing sugar off my fingers.
"You need to try harder. How much do you weight?"
"About four hundred?" I made a wild guess. I haven't weighed myself for some time.
"Four hundred pounds, Claire?" she snorted derisively. "What a load of crap. You can't possibly be four hundred pounds. Not with your thighs and ass. Four thirty, maybe. Four forty at the outside. You're wearing my skirt which fit me perfectly well when I was four fifty.
"Ems! I'm not THAT big!"
"Well, I suggest you ought to be honest with yourself. Get on the scales first thing tomorrow morning. If you are under four thirty, I'll tell my clients you've got incurable anorexia and I won't push it. But If you are four thirty, you'll do what you are told. Your poor little girlfriend is thousands of miles away, and she trusted your fat buttocks into my care, and I mean to see them blossom. Scales first thing tomorrow morning. And have something to eat, you look pale."
---
The next morning, I found myself standing in Emily's and Santiago bedroom, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. Like I was a specimen being examined. Which was probably exactly what I was.
Emily had insisted that we should get Veronica on the video chat for authenticity. Fuck authenticity! All I wanted was not to upset anyone. Especially not a girlfriend who happened to have a particular taste for fat girls. In a morning panic I tried to stuff myself full of everything edible in the house, including a whole tub of whipped cream. Perhaps I could push my weight to four ten and we could all laugh about it.
"Go on, skinny girl," snorted Emily.
"This is classic," sighed Veronica over the chat. "Classic".
I used to call Vee every other evening before going to bed, while she was getting ready to start her day. It made me feel connected to her. But now I felt too much connected. I wished she wasn't witnessing this shambles. I gave Emily a sheepish look and stepped onto the metal platform. It was like stepping on ice. I tottered slightly, and heard a faint moan from the phone.
"Hold still," ordered Emily. "Chin up, head up, shoulders back, and don't forget to breath in."
"But then I can't see the display," I complained. "My tummy's in the way."
"Never mind, darling. Let me get help from the fat experts abroad."
She lowered the phone beneath my belly, presumably aiming the camera lens downwards at the scale's display.
"Fuck me!" said Veronica's voice from somewhere near my pussy. "Have you been a bad girl, Claire?"
"What does it say?" I asked desperately.
"It says ... hold on ... let me grab a screen shot, okay? So you can believe me."
The phone buzzed. Emily glanced at the screen and grimaced. "Mmmm!" she whistled, turning the phone so I could see the image.
The picture showed two fat feet and a display panel between them. I squinted.
"Let me zoom it for you. Here!"
There it was. In black and white clarity. I blushed deeply.
"Look at you!" said Emily, with a broad grin. "Four hundred my ass."
"Can't be right," I said helplessly. "I can't be ..." I peered at the screen again. "... four hundred and forty five pounds!"
Chapter 5
I still couldn't quite take it all in. Yet somehow, it made perfect sense. All those months of Veronica pouring cream down my gullet as foreplay; followed by my efforts to eat away the tears of her departure; followed by my near-total inability to squeeze myself into airline seat. Then weeks of sitting around and eating cakes and pies from dusk till dawn, under the relentless eye of my six hundred pound cousin. How could I not be almost four hundred fifty pounds? I actually felt proud.
Yay, I hadn't let anyone down. Not my cousin. And certainly not Veronica. Five more pounds and she'd have a girlfriend on her way to five hundred. I imagined her hand going down between her toned legs, and slipping her piano-player fingers deeper inside her, lost in ecstasy at the very thought of me getting bigger and bigger every day.
I could barely just manage to restrain myself in the shop from doing the same. What would the customers say? Or perhaps they would understand. Maybe they were all getting fat and horny. Fat and horny, getting even fatter and hornier.
"Slow down with that cake, Clair, or you'll burst!"
It was the first time, I had ever heard Emily use such words. "What?" I gaped at her in astonishment. "Slow down?"
"You've been acting since this morning like you're about to be judged at a country fair for best porker of the year."
"You told me I had to fatten up or our customers would never buy a single cake from us. I'm only doing my job."
"That's right, but I have big plans for you for the next two months, and I want you conscious. At least part of the time."
It was the first day of Summer holiday and Emily's boys and her husband were on their way to his parents' house down south. We had the place to ourselves for two months, and Emily could do to me exactly what she had done to herself over the last fifteen years, without interruption.
"Plans? What plans?" I was being deliberately dense.
"From now on," she announced theatrically, "you shall obey every order I give you. You shall eat whatever I say. You shall drink only half-and-half. You shall be swallowing constantly. And once each night, you will receive a mandatory force-feeding session. If you do not consume all that has been set before you, you will suffer the consequences. In addition, you will address me as 'Miss Emily'. At least until the end of August."
"A question, Miss?"
"Go on."
"Before I get fattened up to your gargantuan proportions, Miss, forced-fed while handcuffed to my bed and filled with heavy cream from that massive pink funnel you have in the kitchen, may I please have another slice of cake, Miss? It's fucking delicious, Miss."
Her eyes twinkled, she started chuckling, breaking character. "Fucking hell, I reckon we'll get along all right, Claire."
"Miss?"
"Mmm?" She stopped laughing and looked at me expectantly.
"If you're going to be called Miss, what am I supposed to be?"
"I dunno, you dirty little minx. I suppose I could call you Apprentice?"
"Apprentice?" I made discussed face. "You've got to be kidding. What is this? One of your medieval fantasy? Miss."
"Well, you got me there. What do you want me to call you?"
"Ah. Um ..." I rubbed my chin. "Couldn't I be called Piggy? Veronica says it's demeaning to call me that, but it might be good for my morale."
"Piggy?"
"Yeah. Or You Fat Pig, if I don't behave myself."
"Right. Then how about a few more more slices of that cake, Piggy, and we shut this place down for the rest of the afternoon. Deal?"
"Deal, Miss."
"Um, " she hesitated briefly. "How did you know how we like to use the funnel with my husband?"
Chapter 6
Emily took out a long plastic pouch with creamy yellowish substance inside.
"Open wide, Piggy."
I did and Emily squeezed some of the contents from the pouch onto my tongue and then instructed me to close my eyes and swallow. I did as I was told. It tasted familiar, sweet. Custard we used for the cakes.
She gave it another squeeze that filled my mouth.
“Yo are going to be such a fat Piggy," she predicted. She did liked the name. I did too. It has some submissive ring to it. And if people of authority wanted me fat, what I was supposed to do?
Oh boy, this could be interesting, I thought after swallowing. I was already stuffed to the brim.
Emily really didn't waste our first day. From the moment we came to the house she was shoveling food to my mouth. Pasta with butter and cream, cakes, ice cream.
She massaged the pouch for a few moments before she began to squeeze it again. Every squeeze brought sweetness of creamy custard down my throat, somehow making my stomach growl happily at the prospect of being stuffed yet again.
Traitorous bottomless bitch, I lovingly cursed my belly. It was conspiring with Emily to make me bigger. The entire universe seemed bent on getting me fatter. All right then. Let them have their way. They can make me as big as they desire. I'll get fatter. I'll be very good Piggy.
A warm sensation spread slowly throughout my body. Starting at my deep navel, it surged upwards, reaching my fat boobs, then cascaded down into my chubby pussy and all the way back. I had nearly swooned with pleasure. I was kneading my fat belly, but I wished I was alone so I could knead more than that. I moaned involuntarily.
"Look at her," grunted Emily approvingly. "She knows which side her bread's buttered."
There was no point in denying it. Not in front of Emily. She didn't get to be 600 pounds by some accident. We certainly had a few weird kinks in common.
"It's like looking at myself from 15 years ago," she mumbled as if reading my mind. "Turned on by my own fat."
The custard continued to fill me up. And each time I moaned the custard flowed faster and I felt even more stuffed. My tummy was so stretched by now, I thought I was going to split. Or barf all over my cousin.
Emily saw the panic look in my eyes.
“Too much?” she asked.
I gulped down the last of the custard in my mouth, feeling my already distended stomach threaten to burst. "Sorry, I can't...," I managed to say, then caught myself. "MISS."
"Well, you'd better get used to stretching your little townie gut of yours, because this stuff comes in one gallon tubs," she squirted some custard into her mouth and closed her eyes with pleasure. "I can't be finishing food after you. No. I'm sure Santiago wouldn't mind if I got even wider, but I struggle to get through doors as it is. So I'll give you pass, Piggy. Just for tonight. Off you go. Sleep well."
She helped me to my feet and steered me towards my room. I wobbled, unable to walk straight. When the door closed behind me I flopped onto the bed like a whale-sized bag of custard. I couldn't even roll over, never mind raise a limb. If only Veronica could see me now, sprawled helplessly across the bed, bloated beyond all recognition and more horny than ever before. A single glance at this fat sexy girl would bring her off in an instant.
Unfortunately, given my present condition, there was no possibility of giving my achingly hungry pussy the attention it deserved. In fact, moving a finger seemed almost out of the question...
In my dream, Emily and Veronica kept fattening me until I filled the entire width of the queen bed and they were jumping and giggling on top of me. Of course, Emily bore an uncanny resemblance to Lara Croft, tall and slender, with boobs like two fucking beach balls and Veronica's golden locks cascaded down, all the way to her tight bottom. Their thighs ground against my fat as their slender bodies bucked and twisted above me. Their perky tits and fucking beach balls rubbed against the vast expanse of my belly. Tongues touched, delving deep. Oh, God! If I hadn't been trying to hold back, I would have screamed. "I love you, Piggy," murmured Veronica in my ear. "One day soon, you're going to be bigger than my ex girlfriend Emily."
---
What a lovely morning! Still slightly hungover from yesterday's massive intake of calories, I could almost taste custard on my lips. Let's not beat about the bush. In a second I peeled off my shirt and undies. Shaking fingers found their way inside me, sliding home effortlessly into my famished pussy. Bloated as I was from the night before, I was still uncontrollably horny. "You're going to be bigger than Veronica's ex," I mumbled.
My fat pussy felt good under my touch. Give it another few months, and Vee was going to need both hands to get a grip on it. Before long, I was going to need both hands just to raise my belly high enough for her to get there. But of course, by then, my thighs would be overfilling with so much blubber that I would have to force them open wide enough for her to get anywhere at all. I imagined how much fatter I would grow. How much wider. How much heavier my boobs would become, splaying out across my belly and dangling lower and lower.
Oh, my fat titties. They needed attention too. I lifted the left one and brought it to my lips. I had almost forgotten what it was like not to have been able to do that. And yet, I remembered distinctly the first time I discovered that I could. That was before I had even met Veronica.
I was in the shower on one fateful morning, idly speculating whether there might be some useful function for which I could put my tits and my tongue to work. Why not give it a try?
I grabbed my slippery breasts, heaved them upwards, and was amazed to find the tip of my tongue could reach my nipples.
Such innocent times. After Veronica had got her claws into me, I didn't need to stick my tongue out any more. In no time I could get the entire areola inside my mouth without even trying.
And right now, the skin of my left boob was already pushing against my nostrils. At this rate, I thought, I would be soon able to hide my head entirely beneath them. Veronica would enjoy seeing that. Nothing pleased her more than watching my tits grow. Or watching me grow. And as far as I was concerned, I was a very willing subject. I wanted to see the stunned look on Vee's face when she'd see what Emily had done to me.
A vivid image came, taunting my raging horniness. Five-hundred-pound Rene and her over-stuffed whale of a girlfriend.
"Fuckin' hell, how come's your Crowshank's now bigger than my Porker?'", I could hear her saying in amazement. 'I am so fucking JEALOUS!'
Veronica would laugh of course. "Ha ha, you stupid cow, Clair's not done growing yet. Am I right, Piggy?" Then she'd kiss me in front of everybody and my legs would turn to jelly, and I knew beyond any shadow of doubt that before long I'd be down on all fours with a fucking tube in my mouth, sucking like a good girl, begging Vee to pour one more gallon of pure heavy cream in the bong.
I exploded in a series of shattering orgasms.
Practice does make perfect, after all. Ten out of ten, I awarded myself a shiny gold star.