Lardibutts
Aged Member
SSBBW (multiple), Explicit ~sex, lactation ~XWG Re-imagining of Size Matters by MAGM
[Authors Note:] It is early summer in the southern Mediterranean. Everywhere on my favourite island deliciously bulging soft new fat is being shyly exposed for the first time. The sights in the evening passeo are extraordinary; wobbly muffin tops in extravagant swaying motion engulf me. As the sap rises in my old veins, I have the urge to write again.
What follows is a remake of a mega saga: Size Matters by MAGM posted in 08-25-2006. The story seems to be forgotten, it only clocked up 2236 viewings in total.
What I particularly liked were the long intimate dialogues between a hesitant young girl and her SSBW mentor. What I didnt like were a lot of rambling sub plots and scarcely understandable digressions. Over the years, whenever I return to it on my hard drive I've stripped it out as I read. Now only the core dialogue remains.
My remake makes use of the original dialogue but locates it in my island setting. If you all feel I have plagiarised too much, then the moderators can step in and delete it.
by Lardibutts
Part 1 The northern ice maiden
The frail and delicate la Signora Carmella had been bubbling over with anticipation for weeks. Through Flavia shed be able to revisit the long departed Dolce Vita life style of her youth.
Standing at the balcony window of the Villa Manciate, a florid liberty style palazzo standing in its own grounds behind iron gates, she gazed out over the stylish boulevard onto the fashionable Panciuto beach just visible between the tamarisk trees. Away to the right, on the headland, was the flamboyant old casino, the centre of the islands celebrated nightlife. Beyond lay a kilometre strip of clubs, 5 star hotels and glitzy attractions.
Rheumy eyed, she pictured Flavia strutting out over the boulevard in her beach wrap and bikini to excite the boys in the beach cafe. At night her vibrant young visitor would be whisked away in a dashing open Alfa Romeo to dance the night away.
In a land of shining dark tresses, smouldering eyes and flashing smiles, the reality proved very different. Amidst the throng meeting and greeting arrivals off the Verona Ryanair flight, Signor Manciate and his wife had been shocked at their first encounter with Flavia. Bent under a gigantic back-pack, theyd found a tall artlessly pale and embarrassed young woman, blonde hair tightly plaited and pinned around her head in the northern Italian German-speaking Tyrolean fashion.
Flavia was taking a year out from her studies because her parents, anxious about the pressures of her exam years, felt she needed a break before university. Flavias dad had fixed for her stay with a business associate in Pannecotterra, the fairy tale Italian island way down in the southern Mediterranean.
Since the Tunisian coast is close enough to be seen on a clear day, the islands culture is a mixture of Arab and Italian. The islanders enjoy a cuisine of both pasta and sweet things in abundance, and love pampering their children and their womenfolk (not to mention themselves).
No doubt for these reasons, a recent EU health statistic identified the tiny islands population as the most obese in the whole of the European Union, a minor news item overlooked by Flavia and her parents.
Daddys contact was a wealthy man living in some style in the islands capital Panciuto. Signor Manciate and his wife were a dignified couple, short in stature like many Mediterranean island dwellers. Signor Manciate always wore a dark formal suit with waistcoat - partly to reinforce his importance, but mostly trying to mitigate the visual impact of a comical globular paunch.
Just as Flavias parents hoped, Signor Manciate and his wife had been delighted to agree to welcome their daughter; the couple seemed ideally suited to be kindly elderly grandparents acting in loco parentis for Flavia.
Carrying out an instant visual appraisal as they passed out of the little airport terminal, la Signora Carmella noted that Flavia would have had acne through her teenage years and that her metabolism must have pitched her into weight gain. Now, at eighteen, the young girls complexion had cleared but weight loss attempts had resulted in a kind of lumpen shapelessness. She saw how, struggling with low self esteem, the poor girl would have been ridiculed by the fast set at school and college.
During her first days at the villa Flavia continued being painfully shy and retiring. Deathly white, she hid away out of the sun in her bedroom and at mealtimes ate scarcely anything. She would just sit eyes downcast at the table, say nothing and look homesick.
Comparing things with her maid, la Signora Carmella heard how the poor girl always scuttled back to her room where she escaped back into her iphone and resumed the endless texting of her friends back in the Tyrol.
La Signora had got her driver to take Flavia out shopping with her in the Lancia but the girl had looked gawky and ungainly towering over all the bustling assistants in Signora Carmellas favourite gown shops.
The only scrap of information that was in anyway positive got relayed back to la Signora from the cook via the maid. Signora Carmellas driver who usually shared the fat cooks bed - reported that hed dropped Signora Carmella and Flavia off for a cappuccino at Panciutos premier Café Braunzucker during their expedition and afterwards the prim northern maid had mentioned how proud shed been at seeing her fathers produce on sale in the cafés display cases. For this was the business link: Flavias dad dispatched northern mountain delicacies southwards, Signor Manciates luxury island produce went northwards.
Hearing their drivers remark, the Manciates resolved to show Flavia their own shop on Saturday morning. Here she could see her fathers baked Tyrolean produce arranged on show alongside the Manciates own Pannecotteran delicacies.
For Signor Manciate was the proud owner of a famed chocolate business. His shop on the Corso Garibaldi, Panciutos prime shopping street, was no less luxuriously appointed than the Café Braunzucker several doors along,
Gold trimmed sparkling glass fittings floated over a glasslike polished marble floor, displaying the most delectable food items of every manner and type. Clad in a slinky gold silk shift, Maria, the roly-poly effervescent little shop assistant who worked front of house for Signor Manciate was checking her tables and chairs when they arrived, she returned to the counter to greet them warmly.
Signora Carmella was delighted that Flavia had made more of an effort for the trip. Shed re-plaited her hair and was wearing a new bottle green trouser suit from her back-pack, though still of an austere militaristic cut. Even so, at 5 10 she still loomed, gaunt and awkward over the sparky bubble butted Maria.
They had scarcely begun to take stock of the array of delicacies on display before a large party of Japanese tourists arrived to fill the shop and demand the full attention of Maria and the proprietor.
Propelling Flavia brusquely through a bead curtain to be out of the way, la signora hissed You must come behind to see how we make all our chocolates
Disoriented at first, Flavia found she was in a cool dark cavern of a space, filled with the most deliciously heady aroma.
Aha! bellowed a great deep voice, Signora Manciate! Bon giorno! Is this the famous Flavia? So you have brought the mysterious ice maiden from the north to visit us? My but isnt she a beautiful great girl
Her eyes growing accustomed to the dark, Flavia saw a vastly fat black woman advancing towards her. She had never seen anyone wider than this woman. Sideways on, she seemed at least a good 4 feet from low thrusting prow to high shelving bum. She too wore a gold shiny garment similar to Marias though it was blasting apart, failing to contain her bulk.
Flavia . . la Signora began you must meet la Signorina Marronecaramellato our Chocolatiere.
La Signorina Marronecaramellato? Ha! Who the hell is Meena Marronecaramellato?
Listen, everyone calls me Meena or la cremeria! or la svezzagrande (shorthand for the the bigweaner).
The woman laughed uproariously as she struggled to heft her enormous bulk. Why? Because of these two beauties, theyre the biggest and the best girls in Pannecottera arent you my lovelies?
Flavias eyes boggled; she couldn't help fixating on the womans enormous pendulous breasts, thrusting well out down at her waist:
My God! They're huge, I wonder how I mean how could anyone ever manage that much breast flesh? Flavia thought.
"You want to stare at my tits all day honey or ya going to find out how I make chocolate with them?"
Flavia tried to stammer out some kind of reply but before she could do so the woman had pushed on into her, crushing her up against the wall. Looking Flavia straight in the eye, she was mouthing as if to kiss her.
Youre my kind of girl, I love em tall like me. Come along, well soon get you settled in.
La signora Manciate, feeling like a burden was lifted from her shoulder, slipped back through the bead curtain into the shop.
Nearly an hour passed before the Manciates were through with helping Maria deal with the Japanese party. Most had sampled the various treats sitting down at the tables before deciding what to buy. Then followed the extended ritual of wrapping pretty little parcels and decorating them with elaborately flowery ribbon bows.
In the excitement of serving the Japanese, Signor Manciate had forgotten completely about Flavia until his wife reminded him. They went through into the back to find her but everything was in darkness. Then they heard peals of laughter coming from the other end of the great stone vaulted work area. Passing around the broad stainless steel work tops they traced the source of the merriment to a little cave-like relaxation area at the back. Flavia was lying back, draped over a chaise lounge while Meena was selecting little titbits for her to try. Flavia wore a big white work apron like Meenas but the front was streaked with chocolate; Flavias mouth too was caked in chocolate.
She says she likes my bitter chocolate and bitter lemon butterflies best! Meena laughed But she also likes your chocolate shells filled with ricotta brandy too Signor
The Manciates could not believe the transition. It was like chocolate had somehow cast a spell over their troubled ward.
I said she deserved a rest because she worked so hard helping me with the chocolate butterflies.
Yes but I mainly helped by eating the ones Id messed up, Flavia giggled.
Shes a fast learner though, and Meena bent to kiss her on the forehead approvingly. Ive been showing her the rest of our range.
Oh do we have to go already? said Flavia, and she made puppy like pleading eyes at la Signora Manciate.
Well we could go and get lunch at the club and collect you on our way home if you prefer, said Signor Manciate.
Ooh yes that would be lovely.
The Manciates went out to their car marveling at the transformation in their troubled guest.
Whod have ever thought shed hit it off with Meena, la Signora said.
Her husband merely grunted a response. Hed read the signs. He already knew a thing or two about his little Meena and her ways; Flavia would be a very different shape after his Chocolatiere had done with her.
He himself felt turned on by the idea, thats why he so loved the business he was in but he would never let on to his wife.
to be continued
[Authors Note:] It is early summer in the southern Mediterranean. Everywhere on my favourite island deliciously bulging soft new fat is being shyly exposed for the first time. The sights in the evening passeo are extraordinary; wobbly muffin tops in extravagant swaying motion engulf me. As the sap rises in my old veins, I have the urge to write again.
What follows is a remake of a mega saga: Size Matters by MAGM posted in 08-25-2006. The story seems to be forgotten, it only clocked up 2236 viewings in total.
What I particularly liked were the long intimate dialogues between a hesitant young girl and her SSBW mentor. What I didnt like were a lot of rambling sub plots and scarcely understandable digressions. Over the years, whenever I return to it on my hard drive I've stripped it out as I read. Now only the core dialogue remains.
My remake makes use of the original dialogue but locates it in my island setting. If you all feel I have plagiarised too much, then the moderators can step in and delete it.
CHOCOLATE LOVERS
by Lardibutts
Part 1 The northern ice maiden
The frail and delicate la Signora Carmella had been bubbling over with anticipation for weeks. Through Flavia shed be able to revisit the long departed Dolce Vita life style of her youth.
Standing at the balcony window of the Villa Manciate, a florid liberty style palazzo standing in its own grounds behind iron gates, she gazed out over the stylish boulevard onto the fashionable Panciuto beach just visible between the tamarisk trees. Away to the right, on the headland, was the flamboyant old casino, the centre of the islands celebrated nightlife. Beyond lay a kilometre strip of clubs, 5 star hotels and glitzy attractions.
Rheumy eyed, she pictured Flavia strutting out over the boulevard in her beach wrap and bikini to excite the boys in the beach cafe. At night her vibrant young visitor would be whisked away in a dashing open Alfa Romeo to dance the night away.
In a land of shining dark tresses, smouldering eyes and flashing smiles, the reality proved very different. Amidst the throng meeting and greeting arrivals off the Verona Ryanair flight, Signor Manciate and his wife had been shocked at their first encounter with Flavia. Bent under a gigantic back-pack, theyd found a tall artlessly pale and embarrassed young woman, blonde hair tightly plaited and pinned around her head in the northern Italian German-speaking Tyrolean fashion.
Flavia was taking a year out from her studies because her parents, anxious about the pressures of her exam years, felt she needed a break before university. Flavias dad had fixed for her stay with a business associate in Pannecotterra, the fairy tale Italian island way down in the southern Mediterranean.
Since the Tunisian coast is close enough to be seen on a clear day, the islands culture is a mixture of Arab and Italian. The islanders enjoy a cuisine of both pasta and sweet things in abundance, and love pampering their children and their womenfolk (not to mention themselves).
No doubt for these reasons, a recent EU health statistic identified the tiny islands population as the most obese in the whole of the European Union, a minor news item overlooked by Flavia and her parents.
Daddys contact was a wealthy man living in some style in the islands capital Panciuto. Signor Manciate and his wife were a dignified couple, short in stature like many Mediterranean island dwellers. Signor Manciate always wore a dark formal suit with waistcoat - partly to reinforce his importance, but mostly trying to mitigate the visual impact of a comical globular paunch.
Just as Flavias parents hoped, Signor Manciate and his wife had been delighted to agree to welcome their daughter; the couple seemed ideally suited to be kindly elderly grandparents acting in loco parentis for Flavia.
Carrying out an instant visual appraisal as they passed out of the little airport terminal, la Signora Carmella noted that Flavia would have had acne through her teenage years and that her metabolism must have pitched her into weight gain. Now, at eighteen, the young girls complexion had cleared but weight loss attempts had resulted in a kind of lumpen shapelessness. She saw how, struggling with low self esteem, the poor girl would have been ridiculed by the fast set at school and college.
During her first days at the villa Flavia continued being painfully shy and retiring. Deathly white, she hid away out of the sun in her bedroom and at mealtimes ate scarcely anything. She would just sit eyes downcast at the table, say nothing and look homesick.
Comparing things with her maid, la Signora Carmella heard how the poor girl always scuttled back to her room where she escaped back into her iphone and resumed the endless texting of her friends back in the Tyrol.
La Signora had got her driver to take Flavia out shopping with her in the Lancia but the girl had looked gawky and ungainly towering over all the bustling assistants in Signora Carmellas favourite gown shops.
The only scrap of information that was in anyway positive got relayed back to la Signora from the cook via the maid. Signora Carmellas driver who usually shared the fat cooks bed - reported that hed dropped Signora Carmella and Flavia off for a cappuccino at Panciutos premier Café Braunzucker during their expedition and afterwards the prim northern maid had mentioned how proud shed been at seeing her fathers produce on sale in the cafés display cases. For this was the business link: Flavias dad dispatched northern mountain delicacies southwards, Signor Manciates luxury island produce went northwards.
Hearing their drivers remark, the Manciates resolved to show Flavia their own shop on Saturday morning. Here she could see her fathers baked Tyrolean produce arranged on show alongside the Manciates own Pannecotteran delicacies.
For Signor Manciate was the proud owner of a famed chocolate business. His shop on the Corso Garibaldi, Panciutos prime shopping street, was no less luxuriously appointed than the Café Braunzucker several doors along,
Gold trimmed sparkling glass fittings floated over a glasslike polished marble floor, displaying the most delectable food items of every manner and type. Clad in a slinky gold silk shift, Maria, the roly-poly effervescent little shop assistant who worked front of house for Signor Manciate was checking her tables and chairs when they arrived, she returned to the counter to greet them warmly.
Signora Carmella was delighted that Flavia had made more of an effort for the trip. Shed re-plaited her hair and was wearing a new bottle green trouser suit from her back-pack, though still of an austere militaristic cut. Even so, at 5 10 she still loomed, gaunt and awkward over the sparky bubble butted Maria.
They had scarcely begun to take stock of the array of delicacies on display before a large party of Japanese tourists arrived to fill the shop and demand the full attention of Maria and the proprietor.
Propelling Flavia brusquely through a bead curtain to be out of the way, la signora hissed You must come behind to see how we make all our chocolates
Disoriented at first, Flavia found she was in a cool dark cavern of a space, filled with the most deliciously heady aroma.
Aha! bellowed a great deep voice, Signora Manciate! Bon giorno! Is this the famous Flavia? So you have brought the mysterious ice maiden from the north to visit us? My but isnt she a beautiful great girl
Her eyes growing accustomed to the dark, Flavia saw a vastly fat black woman advancing towards her. She had never seen anyone wider than this woman. Sideways on, she seemed at least a good 4 feet from low thrusting prow to high shelving bum. She too wore a gold shiny garment similar to Marias though it was blasting apart, failing to contain her bulk.
Flavia . . la Signora began you must meet la Signorina Marronecaramellato our Chocolatiere.
La Signorina Marronecaramellato? Ha! Who the hell is Meena Marronecaramellato?
Listen, everyone calls me Meena or la cremeria! or la svezzagrande (shorthand for the the bigweaner).
The woman laughed uproariously as she struggled to heft her enormous bulk. Why? Because of these two beauties, theyre the biggest and the best girls in Pannecottera arent you my lovelies?
Flavias eyes boggled; she couldn't help fixating on the womans enormous pendulous breasts, thrusting well out down at her waist:
My God! They're huge, I wonder how I mean how could anyone ever manage that much breast flesh? Flavia thought.
"You want to stare at my tits all day honey or ya going to find out how I make chocolate with them?"
Flavia tried to stammer out some kind of reply but before she could do so the woman had pushed on into her, crushing her up against the wall. Looking Flavia straight in the eye, she was mouthing as if to kiss her.
Youre my kind of girl, I love em tall like me. Come along, well soon get you settled in.
La signora Manciate, feeling like a burden was lifted from her shoulder, slipped back through the bead curtain into the shop.
Nearly an hour passed before the Manciates were through with helping Maria deal with the Japanese party. Most had sampled the various treats sitting down at the tables before deciding what to buy. Then followed the extended ritual of wrapping pretty little parcels and decorating them with elaborately flowery ribbon bows.
In the excitement of serving the Japanese, Signor Manciate had forgotten completely about Flavia until his wife reminded him. They went through into the back to find her but everything was in darkness. Then they heard peals of laughter coming from the other end of the great stone vaulted work area. Passing around the broad stainless steel work tops they traced the source of the merriment to a little cave-like relaxation area at the back. Flavia was lying back, draped over a chaise lounge while Meena was selecting little titbits for her to try. Flavia wore a big white work apron like Meenas but the front was streaked with chocolate; Flavias mouth too was caked in chocolate.
She says she likes my bitter chocolate and bitter lemon butterflies best! Meena laughed But she also likes your chocolate shells filled with ricotta brandy too Signor
The Manciates could not believe the transition. It was like chocolate had somehow cast a spell over their troubled ward.
I said she deserved a rest because she worked so hard helping me with the chocolate butterflies.
Yes but I mainly helped by eating the ones Id messed up, Flavia giggled.
Shes a fast learner though, and Meena bent to kiss her on the forehead approvingly. Ive been showing her the rest of our range.
Oh do we have to go already? said Flavia, and she made puppy like pleading eyes at la Signora Manciate.
Well we could go and get lunch at the club and collect you on our way home if you prefer, said Signor Manciate.
Ooh yes that would be lovely.
The Manciates went out to their car marveling at the transformation in their troubled guest.
Whod have ever thought shed hit it off with Meena, la Signora said.
Her husband merely grunted a response. Hed read the signs. He already knew a thing or two about his little Meena and her ways; Flavia would be a very different shape after his Chocolatiere had done with her.
He himself felt turned on by the idea, thats why he so loved the business he was in but he would never let on to his wife.
to be continued
