XWG, Both, Gas - second installment in the Madame Bigger saga.
(Author's Note: The narrator from the first story was a female PI. She's the one speaking in the beginning, and throughout the story in alternating sections. I want to stress this fact because she plays a more prominent role in this story and I didn't want people thinking she came out of nowhere.)
1 - The Investigation Continues
Continuing my investigation in finding the elusive “Madame Bigger” led me, as the area's pre-eminent female Private Investigator, to a mansion on the outskirts of town. I had been in correspondence with the owner of the home (which, I’m going to go ahead and say was a palace). So my arrival wasn’t unexpected, nor was it unwanted. This was choice, for I very much wanted to speak to the man that resided behind its gate, within its walls.
For, the man that lived here was Madame Bigger’s first victim: Millhouse Rufus Swanson IV.
He was an heir to his father’s airline business. He now has to manage business from his master bedroom. An entire staff of butlers and maids wait on him hand and foot. From what I hear, the Madame really did a number on this guy. And I really wanted to talk to him.
Seeing as how this was her first victim, I assumed there was something here that could help me. Something that could get me closer to finding her for my employer. I assumed that, being her first victim, meant that she was still learning the trade of her devious devices. Surely she would’ve made mistakes. And I was going to pounce on them.
The large front door opened with the echoing collision and sliding of large locks. I smiled at the hired hand that was opening the door for me. He bent slightly in a bow. He then took my coat and led me down the foyer towards the spiraling staircase that framed the giant, circular, marble floor.
My heels clicked on the floor, sending resounding echoes throughout the place. Luckily, it was much quieter as we ascended the stairs, for they were carpeted.
Suddenly, there was a faint smell in the air. It wasn’t pleasant, to say the least. But it wasn’t horrible either. However, it gained strength the higher we got. It smelled like flatulence. I stole a glance at the man that was leading me to his employer. Surely it wasn’t him.
I put my finger to my nose, as if trying to ward off a sneeze. Mainly, I was trying to keep myself from breathing through that passageway. The smell became stronger and stronger as we pressed on. And suddenly, I could’ve sworn I heard someone actually break wind. It was muffled behind one of the doors. And, of course, it just so happened to be the door that the man was leading me to.
He turned the knob and opened the door to a considerably darker room. I opened my eyes as wide as possible to allow as much light as I could.
“Mr. Swanson,” I heard the butler call. “Ms. Dandridge is here.” It was nice. My name had never sound so dignified.
“Ah, Ophelia Dandridge,” Mr. Swanson called from the shadows with an almost booming voice. “Please, please, come in, come in.”
I moved to the silhouette of the bed, where the voice seemed to be coming from. Then, much louder than I had heard before, a long fart came from seemingly the same source as the voice.
My eyes began to focus, and I could finally make out the man I had come to speak to.
And what a man he was. An entire mountain of a man. He was clearly larger than even any Photoshopped tabloid image of fat men. He was a monument.
His large, domed breasts sat atop his wide field of a belly. He was lying back, his head supported by a very comfortable-looking pillow. His head was connected to his massive form by two distinct, flabby chins; a goatee on the chin on his face. His cheeks bulged slightly, and were of a rosy disposition. His hair was short and spiked. Had he been a few hundred pounds lighter, he would probably pass for a very handsome man.
“Thank you for putting aside time for me in your busy schedule,” I began.
“Nonsense. My time is worthless. Now, what was it you wanted to see me about?” Mr. Swanson asked.
“I’ve come about Madame Bigger,” I said, accenting the name. Apparently, the proper pronunciation was “Bij-jay,” with soft accenting of the J’s.
“Ah, yes. The most interesting stories always seem to involve a jilted ex-lover.”
“So she was your lover?”
“After a fashion,” he answered. “I first met her at the movies…”
================================================
2 - Milhous Swanson meets Madam B
It was after the film. I was waiting for my girlfriend while she was in the restroom. I was just out of the swim team for the season, so my body was still in top form. I was supposed to be working the field at this age. I was in my prime. I couldn’t just stay with one girl.
It was a topic of much quarrel between my girlfriend and I. I told her that I would try my best to keep my hands to myself.
Which I was doing okay, until that day at the movies when she walked into the lobby, alone and glowing.
Her black hair was cut short and straight. It framed her sharp features well. She was wearing a pair of tight jeans that hugged her long, thin legs. She was 118 pounds of walking desire.
She sauntered past and turned her head for an instant. Her eyes locked with mine. She smiled that unforgettable smile, one corner pulled upward. Her eyes moved with the weight of feathers. She gave a wink that knocked the wind right out of me.
Suddenly, the bag of popcorn I was holding was snatched from my grasp. My attention shot to the location of the disturbance, coming eyeball to eyeball with my girlfriend.
“What were you looking at?” she asked.
“Just a-a…” I stammered.
I went home that night with a red, hand-shaped mark on the side of my face.
================================================
3 - The PI's Insight
“I went home that night with a red, hand-shaped mark on the side of my face.”
I glanced at the first page of the report I had gotten from Swanson. I was stopped at a red light on Farthing and Fuller. I had made it out of the openness of the country, back to the edge of the city.
Realizing I hadn’t eaten all day, I turned the car into a McDonald’s parking lot. I glanced at my watch.
9:37 pm already! Trouble! My live-in girlfriend was going to have a fit.
Yes, I am a lesbian, try not to faint.
I sat in the parking space for a few moments and went through my files and photos. I found a picture of Ryan Steedleman before he met the Madame, and after he met the Madame. I had the readouts of what was found in the milk that he was forced to drink. I had a Polaroid of Mr. Swanson that he allowed me to take for my files.
I eventually found what I was looking for. The description of Madame Bigger from the Steedleman case.
It would seem that both men saw perfection, but both men describe completely different women. One that sounds like a punk, goth-whatever with purple hair and fishnet sleeves; and another that sounds like a much more distinguished woman.
She seems to be molding herself to her prey’s likings. Which would mean that she was specifically targeting these men!
I went back to Swanson’s report and began reading again.
================================================
4 - Swanson's Encounter with the Madam
After Shelly (my girlfriend) broke up with me, I ended up at the bar with the guys. They were buying me drinks to cheer me up.
And there she was.
She was sitting at a booth, all by herself. She didn’t seem to notice me at first, watching the television and slightly moving her head to the music. She glanced over and saw me staring directly at her. She laughed and put a hand to her cheek to show embarrassment. I smiled back to assure her.
I was still watching when she called over a barmaid and whispered in her ear. She pointed directly at me. Both women looked at me for a brief moment before the barmaid was off, completing the strange woman’s order.
She smiled at me, expectantly. Suddenly, a clack brought my attention to the bar before me. A large bowl of nachos was placed in front of me.
“From the Madame,” was all that the barmaid said.
I turned back and gave a friendly wave. I picked up the bowl and took out a chip. I turned my whole body and hopped off my stool. I began a drunken waltz over to her table, where she waited patiently.
I munched away at the nachos as sexily as I could, getting a little cheese on the edges of my lips and mouth. I laughed a drunken laugh. And she just smiled at me. Her eyes followed me the whole way to her seat, where I plopped down.
“I love a man that can eat!” she said with fire in her eyes.
================================================
5 - Analyzing the Madam's Motives
“’I love a man that can eat!’ she said with fire in her eyes.”
So, does she see this as a sexual thing? Does she get a thrill from fattening other men? I was still new to the whole P.I. thing, and still fairly young. Young enough to be naïve. I would’ve never thought that fat or anything fat-related could be considered sexual.
I mean, I didn’t think it was disgusting or anything like that. I had just never looked at it that way. The whole idea of feeding was becoming increasingly interesting.
I wasn’t necessarily aroused by the idea, just intrigued by its possibilities. I glanced into my rearview mirror and saw the golden arch. What would it be like? How would it feel to be knowingly fattened? What changes would your body go through? What ramifications would it have to get immense?
I guess there’s no harm in trying it out.
I opened the car door, and got out, bringing the report with me.
================================================
6 - Swanson's Encounter
I guess you can say the fattening really began the next morning. I was awakened by a tray being placed over my body in bed. I sat up to a silver tray with a domed plated on top of it.
She was standing over me, wearing one of my bathrobes with my initials on it.
My head was pounding from the night before and I pressed the heel of my hand to my eye, trying to suppress a migraine.
“I’m really sorry,” I began to the woman in my room. “But I don’t think I got your name.”
“That’s all right. Names can be so meaningless sometimes anyway. You’ll probably go all day without using it, naturally.” That’s what she said. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Not that it was deep or anything, but that I was having trouble processing any information fed to me verbally.
“It’s Cynthia,” she said.
“Millhouse,” I said. My words were hidden in a stern grunt of pain.
“Aww, are you hung over?” she asked.
“Looks like that’s the case,” I answered.
“Well look what we have here!” she said, lifting the dome from the tray. Underneath were four plates and on each one, a different treat. One plate had scrambled eggs. Another plate bore a bundle of bacon. The center and largest plate held three stacks of syrup-and-butter-laden pancakes. And the fourth plate was really a small bowl of grits.
All completed with a glass of milk. The milk seemed to be a little off-white, but I blamed that on the booze.
“There’s no way I can even look at that right now,” I said (which was true). I was way too hung-over and the first bite was going to cause me to vomit.
She grabbed the glass of milk and pressed it to my lips. She forced enough of the glass into my mouth to separate my lips. She titled the milk and let it pour down my throat.
I gave a few gags of desperation as I gulped down the milk. It tasted like the creamiest thing I had ever tasted. It flowed over my tongue like silk and continued down my throat and into my belly.
I suddenly felt a rumble in the pit of my stomach as the milk did its magic.
“This is a special concoction of mine. It’ll settle your stomach and you’ll be starving in no time,” she said, soothingly; reassuringly.
All the while, I sat helpless while the milk continued to work its way down my esophagus.
================================================
7 - Pondering the Puzzle Pieces Leads to - Emulation?
“All the while, I sat helpless while the milk continued to work its way down my esophagus.”
I lifted my eyes from the page and saw the mess on the table in the McDonald’s restaurant. I had eaten three double cheeseburgers without batting an eye. It was becoming apparent how some people were able to get that big. It was so easy to over indulge.
I took the last fry from the empty box of large fries and hungrily devoured it. I put the box into the other empty box of large fries. They fit together perfectly.
I felt my insides backed, my body felt solid and heavy. I gave a slight belch as the fullness subsided a little. I packed up my things and got into my car.
I wasn’t able to read any more before I reached our apartment. I turned the key in the lock and the door swung open. It was dark, so I dropped my bag and flicked on a light. The table was suddenly visible, so I dropped all of my files on it. I slumped into the chair at the table and saw my girlfriend, Kate.
She was sitting in the living room with her arms crossed. She was dwarfed by our giant recliner we had gotten as a house-warming gift from my family.
She stood up and started walking towards me. She was wearing panties with a small, silk nightie.
“Do you know what time it is?” she asked.
“Listen, I got held up,” I started as I stood up to face her.
“With what?” she demanded. “This Madame Bigger case? Can’t you just take a break for a while? It’s really starting to get to you,” she said.
“But this is all so fascinating,” I began. She smiled and pressed her finger to my lips.
“We can discuss it over dinner. I kind of anticipated you’d be late with your attitude recently, so I started cooking later. It shouldn’t be cold just yet.” She walked away and I stole a glance. I watched as her slender body seemed to sway into the kitchen.
I smiled and took my seat at the table. She placed a large bowl of pasta before me with a fork on the side. I looked up at her and she gave a friendly smile.
She sat down next to me with her own bowl and began to eat.
I was taken by Kate’s beauty. She was everything I wanted in a woman: tall, red-headed, sarcastic, smart, well-read, the works.
“I told you what this woman did, right?” I asked, twisting my fork to gather linguine.
“You mean how she fattens men and then leaves them? Like, a serial fattener?” Kate asked, her mouth full of pasta.
“Yeah. I’m beginning to think that she gets some sort of sexual pleasure out of it,” I said.
Kate lazily raised her eyebrows, feigning interest.
“I think I want to try it,” I blurted out.
Kate looked at me for a moment. She didn’t seem to be too surprised. Kate was always open-minded.
“You want to fatten me up?” she asked.
“No,” I said. “I want to see what it’s like. I want you to fatten me up,” I said.
“Lea,” she began, putting her fork down.
“Just a few pounds!” I protested. “You know, just to see what these victims are going through. It doesn’t have to be a lot. Maybe twenty pounds? No, thirty! That’s less than what actors gain for roles!”
She looked at me quizzically, sizing me up. I could tell she was having a hard time distinguishing whether or not I was serious.
And I totally was.
She pushed her bowl to me with a sly smile.
“You might want to see about getting the front door resized,” she said. “We’re going to make you huge.” Her lips curled into a devilish grin.
I smiled back, nervous, excited. We held each other’s gaze as I leaned my head down to take another forkful. Those double cheeseburgers were going to have some company. I began to think about the burgers already finding their places on my ass and in my belly. And I playfully predicted where on my body this pasta would show. My boobs? My hips?
She just sat there and watched.
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8 - Swanson is Sucked into the Vortex
She just sat there and watched as I shoveled in the food. It had been months since we first met at the bar, and I was beginning to consider myself in another serious relationship.
We were celebrating my birthday at the Kitten Club, the hottest strip joint in King City. And while the girls gyrated on stage and bore all, I was stuffing my face with the tastiest chicken sandwich I ever had.
My weight had climbed to 275 pounds. I would be lying if I said that I didn’t notice it as it was happening. Aside from the obvious vision of roundness I had become, my manboobs just now becoming visible, and my stomach beginning to fall over my waist, I was also a lot softer. I found myself to be physically comfortable most of the time, my plush body providing relaxation.
I looked up at her for a moment and smiled as I gathered a bite of chicken and bread. She smiled back, her eyes igniting and her body shifting from the pure joy and ecstasy she got from watching me gorge.
I wanted at one level to lose the weight and slim back down. I needed to get in shape for the swim team in a few months! But she almost encouraged a lazy lifestyle. I found myself sleeping in a lot more, and she almost waited on me hand and foot.
It was easy to see why I had let myself go. Suddenly, the gas pounded at the base of my belly. It shifted around inside and suddenly, found the slide that led out of my ass.
I farted really loud. A passing waitress gave a slight reaction to the noise, and another shriveled her nose.
But Cynthia just sat there and smiled. Without saying anything, she decided I needed more and flagged down another waitress. My face was burning with embarrassment at all of these skinny women serving this fat man. I didn’t want to be in this humiliating scenario.
But Cynthia seemed to be enjoying herself.
"Maybe it’s not so wrong after all. Maybe I should just let it happen." I thought.
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9 - Ophelia Begins an Experiment
“Maybe I should just let it happen.”
I put the report on the night stand and turned my attention to my swollen abdomen. I rubbed it to relieve the pressure, and got a few burps out, but nothing major.
Kate was already asleep next to me and I tried not to wake her. I pushed my fingers into my belly, experimenting and playing with the experience. I felt my ass cheeks tremble as a fart eased out of my rear. There was a low, muffled trumpeting sound. I suppressed a giggle and looked over to Kate who shifted under the sheets.
I watched her intently, waiting on a reaction.
“Did you fart?” I eventually heard her accuse in the semi-darkness.
I immediately broke out in laughter.
(Continued in post 10 of this thread)
(Author's Note: The narrator from the first story was a female PI. She's the one speaking in the beginning, and throughout the story in alternating sections. I want to stress this fact because she plays a more prominent role in this story and I didn't want people thinking she came out of nowhere.)
1 - The Investigation Continues
Continuing my investigation in finding the elusive “Madame Bigger” led me, as the area's pre-eminent female Private Investigator, to a mansion on the outskirts of town. I had been in correspondence with the owner of the home (which, I’m going to go ahead and say was a palace). So my arrival wasn’t unexpected, nor was it unwanted. This was choice, for I very much wanted to speak to the man that resided behind its gate, within its walls.
For, the man that lived here was Madame Bigger’s first victim: Millhouse Rufus Swanson IV.
He was an heir to his father’s airline business. He now has to manage business from his master bedroom. An entire staff of butlers and maids wait on him hand and foot. From what I hear, the Madame really did a number on this guy. And I really wanted to talk to him.
Seeing as how this was her first victim, I assumed there was something here that could help me. Something that could get me closer to finding her for my employer. I assumed that, being her first victim, meant that she was still learning the trade of her devious devices. Surely she would’ve made mistakes. And I was going to pounce on them.
The large front door opened with the echoing collision and sliding of large locks. I smiled at the hired hand that was opening the door for me. He bent slightly in a bow. He then took my coat and led me down the foyer towards the spiraling staircase that framed the giant, circular, marble floor.
My heels clicked on the floor, sending resounding echoes throughout the place. Luckily, it was much quieter as we ascended the stairs, for they were carpeted.
Suddenly, there was a faint smell in the air. It wasn’t pleasant, to say the least. But it wasn’t horrible either. However, it gained strength the higher we got. It smelled like flatulence. I stole a glance at the man that was leading me to his employer. Surely it wasn’t him.
I put my finger to my nose, as if trying to ward off a sneeze. Mainly, I was trying to keep myself from breathing through that passageway. The smell became stronger and stronger as we pressed on. And suddenly, I could’ve sworn I heard someone actually break wind. It was muffled behind one of the doors. And, of course, it just so happened to be the door that the man was leading me to.
He turned the knob and opened the door to a considerably darker room. I opened my eyes as wide as possible to allow as much light as I could.
“Mr. Swanson,” I heard the butler call. “Ms. Dandridge is here.” It was nice. My name had never sound so dignified.
“Ah, Ophelia Dandridge,” Mr. Swanson called from the shadows with an almost booming voice. “Please, please, come in, come in.”
I moved to the silhouette of the bed, where the voice seemed to be coming from. Then, much louder than I had heard before, a long fart came from seemingly the same source as the voice.
My eyes began to focus, and I could finally make out the man I had come to speak to.
And what a man he was. An entire mountain of a man. He was clearly larger than even any Photoshopped tabloid image of fat men. He was a monument.
His large, domed breasts sat atop his wide field of a belly. He was lying back, his head supported by a very comfortable-looking pillow. His head was connected to his massive form by two distinct, flabby chins; a goatee on the chin on his face. His cheeks bulged slightly, and were of a rosy disposition. His hair was short and spiked. Had he been a few hundred pounds lighter, he would probably pass for a very handsome man.
“Thank you for putting aside time for me in your busy schedule,” I began.
“Nonsense. My time is worthless. Now, what was it you wanted to see me about?” Mr. Swanson asked.
“I’ve come about Madame Bigger,” I said, accenting the name. Apparently, the proper pronunciation was “Bij-jay,” with soft accenting of the J’s.
“Ah, yes. The most interesting stories always seem to involve a jilted ex-lover.”
“So she was your lover?”
“After a fashion,” he answered. “I first met her at the movies…”
================================================
2 - Milhous Swanson meets Madam B
It was after the film. I was waiting for my girlfriend while she was in the restroom. I was just out of the swim team for the season, so my body was still in top form. I was supposed to be working the field at this age. I was in my prime. I couldn’t just stay with one girl.
It was a topic of much quarrel between my girlfriend and I. I told her that I would try my best to keep my hands to myself.
Which I was doing okay, until that day at the movies when she walked into the lobby, alone and glowing.
Her black hair was cut short and straight. It framed her sharp features well. She was wearing a pair of tight jeans that hugged her long, thin legs. She was 118 pounds of walking desire.
She sauntered past and turned her head for an instant. Her eyes locked with mine. She smiled that unforgettable smile, one corner pulled upward. Her eyes moved with the weight of feathers. She gave a wink that knocked the wind right out of me.
Suddenly, the bag of popcorn I was holding was snatched from my grasp. My attention shot to the location of the disturbance, coming eyeball to eyeball with my girlfriend.
“What were you looking at?” she asked.
“Just a-a…” I stammered.
I went home that night with a red, hand-shaped mark on the side of my face.
================================================
3 - The PI's Insight
“I went home that night with a red, hand-shaped mark on the side of my face.”
I glanced at the first page of the report I had gotten from Swanson. I was stopped at a red light on Farthing and Fuller. I had made it out of the openness of the country, back to the edge of the city.
Realizing I hadn’t eaten all day, I turned the car into a McDonald’s parking lot. I glanced at my watch.
9:37 pm already! Trouble! My live-in girlfriend was going to have a fit.
Yes, I am a lesbian, try not to faint.
I sat in the parking space for a few moments and went through my files and photos. I found a picture of Ryan Steedleman before he met the Madame, and after he met the Madame. I had the readouts of what was found in the milk that he was forced to drink. I had a Polaroid of Mr. Swanson that he allowed me to take for my files.
I eventually found what I was looking for. The description of Madame Bigger from the Steedleman case.
It would seem that both men saw perfection, but both men describe completely different women. One that sounds like a punk, goth-whatever with purple hair and fishnet sleeves; and another that sounds like a much more distinguished woman.
She seems to be molding herself to her prey’s likings. Which would mean that she was specifically targeting these men!
I went back to Swanson’s report and began reading again.
================================================
4 - Swanson's Encounter with the Madam
After Shelly (my girlfriend) broke up with me, I ended up at the bar with the guys. They were buying me drinks to cheer me up.
And there she was.
She was sitting at a booth, all by herself. She didn’t seem to notice me at first, watching the television and slightly moving her head to the music. She glanced over and saw me staring directly at her. She laughed and put a hand to her cheek to show embarrassment. I smiled back to assure her.
I was still watching when she called over a barmaid and whispered in her ear. She pointed directly at me. Both women looked at me for a brief moment before the barmaid was off, completing the strange woman’s order.
She smiled at me, expectantly. Suddenly, a clack brought my attention to the bar before me. A large bowl of nachos was placed in front of me.
“From the Madame,” was all that the barmaid said.
I turned back and gave a friendly wave. I picked up the bowl and took out a chip. I turned my whole body and hopped off my stool. I began a drunken waltz over to her table, where she waited patiently.
I munched away at the nachos as sexily as I could, getting a little cheese on the edges of my lips and mouth. I laughed a drunken laugh. And she just smiled at me. Her eyes followed me the whole way to her seat, where I plopped down.
“I love a man that can eat!” she said with fire in her eyes.
================================================
5 - Analyzing the Madam's Motives
“’I love a man that can eat!’ she said with fire in her eyes.”
So, does she see this as a sexual thing? Does she get a thrill from fattening other men? I was still new to the whole P.I. thing, and still fairly young. Young enough to be naïve. I would’ve never thought that fat or anything fat-related could be considered sexual.
I mean, I didn’t think it was disgusting or anything like that. I had just never looked at it that way. The whole idea of feeding was becoming increasingly interesting.
I wasn’t necessarily aroused by the idea, just intrigued by its possibilities. I glanced into my rearview mirror and saw the golden arch. What would it be like? How would it feel to be knowingly fattened? What changes would your body go through? What ramifications would it have to get immense?
I guess there’s no harm in trying it out.
I opened the car door, and got out, bringing the report with me.
================================================
6 - Swanson's Encounter
I guess you can say the fattening really began the next morning. I was awakened by a tray being placed over my body in bed. I sat up to a silver tray with a domed plated on top of it.
She was standing over me, wearing one of my bathrobes with my initials on it.
My head was pounding from the night before and I pressed the heel of my hand to my eye, trying to suppress a migraine.
“I’m really sorry,” I began to the woman in my room. “But I don’t think I got your name.”
“That’s all right. Names can be so meaningless sometimes anyway. You’ll probably go all day without using it, naturally.” That’s what she said. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Not that it was deep or anything, but that I was having trouble processing any information fed to me verbally.
“It’s Cynthia,” she said.
“Millhouse,” I said. My words were hidden in a stern grunt of pain.
“Aww, are you hung over?” she asked.
“Looks like that’s the case,” I answered.
“Well look what we have here!” she said, lifting the dome from the tray. Underneath were four plates and on each one, a different treat. One plate had scrambled eggs. Another plate bore a bundle of bacon. The center and largest plate held three stacks of syrup-and-butter-laden pancakes. And the fourth plate was really a small bowl of grits.
All completed with a glass of milk. The milk seemed to be a little off-white, but I blamed that on the booze.
“There’s no way I can even look at that right now,” I said (which was true). I was way too hung-over and the first bite was going to cause me to vomit.
She grabbed the glass of milk and pressed it to my lips. She forced enough of the glass into my mouth to separate my lips. She titled the milk and let it pour down my throat.
I gave a few gags of desperation as I gulped down the milk. It tasted like the creamiest thing I had ever tasted. It flowed over my tongue like silk and continued down my throat and into my belly.
I suddenly felt a rumble in the pit of my stomach as the milk did its magic.
“This is a special concoction of mine. It’ll settle your stomach and you’ll be starving in no time,” she said, soothingly; reassuringly.
All the while, I sat helpless while the milk continued to work its way down my esophagus.
================================================
7 - Pondering the Puzzle Pieces Leads to - Emulation?
“All the while, I sat helpless while the milk continued to work its way down my esophagus.”
I lifted my eyes from the page and saw the mess on the table in the McDonald’s restaurant. I had eaten three double cheeseburgers without batting an eye. It was becoming apparent how some people were able to get that big. It was so easy to over indulge.
I took the last fry from the empty box of large fries and hungrily devoured it. I put the box into the other empty box of large fries. They fit together perfectly.
I felt my insides backed, my body felt solid and heavy. I gave a slight belch as the fullness subsided a little. I packed up my things and got into my car.
I wasn’t able to read any more before I reached our apartment. I turned the key in the lock and the door swung open. It was dark, so I dropped my bag and flicked on a light. The table was suddenly visible, so I dropped all of my files on it. I slumped into the chair at the table and saw my girlfriend, Kate.
She was sitting in the living room with her arms crossed. She was dwarfed by our giant recliner we had gotten as a house-warming gift from my family.
She stood up and started walking towards me. She was wearing panties with a small, silk nightie.
“Do you know what time it is?” she asked.
“Listen, I got held up,” I started as I stood up to face her.
“With what?” she demanded. “This Madame Bigger case? Can’t you just take a break for a while? It’s really starting to get to you,” she said.
“But this is all so fascinating,” I began. She smiled and pressed her finger to my lips.
“We can discuss it over dinner. I kind of anticipated you’d be late with your attitude recently, so I started cooking later. It shouldn’t be cold just yet.” She walked away and I stole a glance. I watched as her slender body seemed to sway into the kitchen.
I smiled and took my seat at the table. She placed a large bowl of pasta before me with a fork on the side. I looked up at her and she gave a friendly smile.
She sat down next to me with her own bowl and began to eat.
I was taken by Kate’s beauty. She was everything I wanted in a woman: tall, red-headed, sarcastic, smart, well-read, the works.
“I told you what this woman did, right?” I asked, twisting my fork to gather linguine.
“You mean how she fattens men and then leaves them? Like, a serial fattener?” Kate asked, her mouth full of pasta.
“Yeah. I’m beginning to think that she gets some sort of sexual pleasure out of it,” I said.
Kate lazily raised her eyebrows, feigning interest.
“I think I want to try it,” I blurted out.
Kate looked at me for a moment. She didn’t seem to be too surprised. Kate was always open-minded.
“You want to fatten me up?” she asked.
“No,” I said. “I want to see what it’s like. I want you to fatten me up,” I said.
“Lea,” she began, putting her fork down.
“Just a few pounds!” I protested. “You know, just to see what these victims are going through. It doesn’t have to be a lot. Maybe twenty pounds? No, thirty! That’s less than what actors gain for roles!”
She looked at me quizzically, sizing me up. I could tell she was having a hard time distinguishing whether or not I was serious.
And I totally was.
She pushed her bowl to me with a sly smile.
“You might want to see about getting the front door resized,” she said. “We’re going to make you huge.” Her lips curled into a devilish grin.
I smiled back, nervous, excited. We held each other’s gaze as I leaned my head down to take another forkful. Those double cheeseburgers were going to have some company. I began to think about the burgers already finding their places on my ass and in my belly. And I playfully predicted where on my body this pasta would show. My boobs? My hips?
She just sat there and watched.
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8 - Swanson is Sucked into the Vortex
She just sat there and watched as I shoveled in the food. It had been months since we first met at the bar, and I was beginning to consider myself in another serious relationship.
We were celebrating my birthday at the Kitten Club, the hottest strip joint in King City. And while the girls gyrated on stage and bore all, I was stuffing my face with the tastiest chicken sandwich I ever had.
My weight had climbed to 275 pounds. I would be lying if I said that I didn’t notice it as it was happening. Aside from the obvious vision of roundness I had become, my manboobs just now becoming visible, and my stomach beginning to fall over my waist, I was also a lot softer. I found myself to be physically comfortable most of the time, my plush body providing relaxation.
I looked up at her for a moment and smiled as I gathered a bite of chicken and bread. She smiled back, her eyes igniting and her body shifting from the pure joy and ecstasy she got from watching me gorge.
I wanted at one level to lose the weight and slim back down. I needed to get in shape for the swim team in a few months! But she almost encouraged a lazy lifestyle. I found myself sleeping in a lot more, and she almost waited on me hand and foot.
It was easy to see why I had let myself go. Suddenly, the gas pounded at the base of my belly. It shifted around inside and suddenly, found the slide that led out of my ass.
I farted really loud. A passing waitress gave a slight reaction to the noise, and another shriveled her nose.
But Cynthia just sat there and smiled. Without saying anything, she decided I needed more and flagged down another waitress. My face was burning with embarrassment at all of these skinny women serving this fat man. I didn’t want to be in this humiliating scenario.
But Cynthia seemed to be enjoying herself.
"Maybe it’s not so wrong after all. Maybe I should just let it happen." I thought.
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9 - Ophelia Begins an Experiment
“Maybe I should just let it happen.”
I put the report on the night stand and turned my attention to my swollen abdomen. I rubbed it to relieve the pressure, and got a few burps out, but nothing major.
Kate was already asleep next to me and I tried not to wake her. I pushed my fingers into my belly, experimenting and playing with the experience. I felt my ass cheeks tremble as a fart eased out of my rear. There was a low, muffled trumpeting sound. I suppressed a giggle and looked over to Kate who shifted under the sheets.
I watched her intently, waiting on a reaction.
“Did you fart?” I eventually heard her accuse in the semi-darkness.
I immediately broke out in laughter.
(Continued in post 10 of this thread)
