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Best Served Wet

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Right! I didn't want to keep you waiting for part 2 so here it is!

 

 

Chapter 12: Best Served Wet (part 2)

 

Burp! Bubble!

Oof! That wasn't supposed to happen in a race! Francesca Serviss recovered from the stutter in her stroke pattern, which had been caused by the way her body had convulsed as she emitted a huge, gassy belch on emerging from her penultimate underwater turn.

Fran had been feeling very queasy for her last few lengths. Her tummy was complaining urgently about the sick-making, high-energy turns that Fran was executing. But there was no alternative! Even though her miraculously hard physique was providing lots and lots of power, Fran was having to push herself to her utmost velocity at every second just to stay ahead of the tireless, long-legged Blonde Beast.

The exertion of the endurance race was severely upsetting Fran's tummy. The two dozen fried eggs she'd enjoyed in her second breakfast at the local diner were most likely to blame for much of the gastric distress. They weren't sitting at all well in her mid-belly! Most likely because they hadn't been cooked properly! Fran had known they'd looked underdone, but she'd been too greedy to wait! Swallowing a load of chlorinated water on top of them probably hadn't helped, either.

Ooooh! Fran groaned inwardly. Too many post-breakfast puddings!

It was all the Fitness Essence's fault! As in Mexico, Fran had know that taking a big dose of the magic tonic would give her a colossal, uncontrollable appetite: and so the only thing to do was to ensure she'd cleared up all the food in the house before taking the potion. But, unfortunately, unlike the maid responsible for her poorly-stocked Mexican minibar, Francesca Serviss's housemaid in Gainesburg was well used to keeping the Serviss's big refrigerators stocked to bursting! Oof! Just the memory of how bloated Fran had felt after emptying the dessert refrigerator – with its six gallons of luxury gelato, the gallon of clotted cream with four dozen scones, the cheesecakes, the chocolate gateaux, the deluxe pies, and the two cheeseboards – was enough to bring a tear to Fran's eye. She'd felt terribly bloated afterwards! Her duvet-covered belly – she'd had the massive breakfast served in bed, of course – had towered above her like a mountain, so swollen it blocked out the view from her window. But, at last, Fran had triumphed over her entire household supply of tempting desserts! And, then, several spoonfuls of the Fitness Essence had sufficed to digest the massive bulk and get Fran into super-shape in super-quick time, ready for the Time Trials. Unfortunately, the potion had also given her a great gluttony for a second breakfast... but that was something the rest of the tonic had been able to deal with, back in the VIP dressing room. Still, Fran did fret that if all the weight from today's double-blowout breakfast came back tomorrow, she'd likely put on forty pounds of blubber just from the one day of overeating! She'd even be fatter than Professor Fowler! But, if the Essence gave her the glory of beating the beastly Chloe Southern, then so be it! After all, given her iron willpower, she could readily shed any extra weight by going on a little bit of a diet...

Fran felt desperately out of breath. She realised was getting a stitch (!) – an agonising sensation she'd been totally unfamiliar with since her student swimming days, and of which the painful reminder was most unwelcome! Oh! Fran huffed – crushing tightness gripped her chest, and she found herself struggling badly to draw enough breath to maintain speed!

Now, an underwater observer might be able to tell why Francesca Serviss was struggling for breath. Because an underwater observer would see the bulge of the sagging, H-cup breasts that had swollen out from Fran's chest over the last few lengths, growing a little fatter and saggier with each stroke she took, as the Fitness Essence that had been restraining them wore off and her bloated, post-pregnancy bosom resumed its natural corpulence. All the extra blubber, squeezed into a size six swimsuit and pressing in on Fran's lungs, would undoubtedly make it hard for her to suck in the air her muscles needed to maintain her hellish freestyle pace. What was even worse, with her most recent underwater turn, the imaginary underwater viewer would have seen Fran's belly surge outwards into the shape of a fat pot – further straining her lycra swimwear and putting more pressure on her flab-encased lungs, even at the same time as it sagged and dragged heavily in the water.

Fran now panted for breath with each stroke. She had to slow down to breathe properly, and rest her pain-wracked core muscles – her technique wasn't as precisely co-ordinated as she remembered it being all those years ago, and she'd been relying on raw power to outpace Chloe Southern, who, by contrast, had a freestyle pattern like a machine. Unfortunately, Fran felt her tremendous muscle power was starting to run dry. Oh well: she could always strain her muscles a bit harder, and rely on her astonishing, goddess-like physique to suppress the painful buildup of lactic acids! Fran strained and strained for every stroke. Her core muscles were in agony, and her diaphragm felt paralysed by the stitch! Her poor tummy felt extremely sick! And then, just as Fran was compensating, and powering onwards against the heaviness of the water's drag – which was becoming more noticeable with every metre – matters worsened terribly!

Urk!” Fran spluttered with shock, missing a breath and fluffing her swimming pattern so she lost an entire stroke. For a moment, she forgot her aching muscles entirely as a new, more horrifying and unexpected travail assaulted her in the damnably-long fifteen hundred metre race: her swimsuit had imploded!

Implosion was the only word for it! The damned lycra was somehow crushing inwards from ass to tit! Fran cursed as the material pulled so tight she could barely breathe! And then there was the cutting agony, as the doubly-stitched fabric around her hips suddenly shrunk three dress sizes and bit into her legs! It was a outrage! Her poorly-tailored swimsuit had failed her, right in the middle of a very important race! She would have the manufacturer's head on a plate!

Fran struggled on, but the heavy drag of the water, and the boa-constrictor tightness of her dud swimsuit was slowing her down badly! She risked a look behind to see how much lead she retained over the Blonde Beast.

 

*

 

Pain!

Chloe knew she'd lost ten percent of her speed and was going to lose more. She'd paced herself incredibly stupidly for a 1500 metres race, in the hope of burning out Prof Serviss's unnatural fitness, and it was only out of willpower that Chloe's strength hadn't failed completely. That said, Chloe was shocked that the gap to Fran Serviss hadn't widened in the last fifty metres. In fact, Chloe had somehow narrowed it. Maybe she'd made exactly the right call on how much the Professor had to draw upon?

Chloe gulped air. Her heart rate was at absolute maximum – it had been for several minutes – and she was a hundred percent certain her huge lungs and honed aerobic condition would let her claw back more distance on Fran so long as she kept breathing. Maybe her limbs felt like lead, but Chloe was a dedicated professional athlete and her willpower still had a core of steel.

 

*

 

Fran gritted her teeth. The Blonde Beast was eating up the gap, which Fran's first kilometre of magnificent athletic effort had built between them. To see the overgrown freshman gaining on her put a jolt of adrenalin straight into Fran's racing heart. She felt fat and exhausted – a silly notion, of course, because she was just feeling the fatigue caused by a hard endurance race – but victory depended upon her digging deep, and pushing herself to the limit!

There was, however, one major problem: Francesca Serviss was as lazy as fuck!

A truly great athlete, in extremis, and maybe only once or twice in their whole career, might be able to accomplish the impossible. It required skill; it needed luck; it took armfuls of natural talent; and years of dedicated training; but most of all, it called for an unbreakable willpower, tempered with the red heat of aching muscles, and slaked in the purest ice of cold determination until it was strong enough to push back against the very laws of physics themselves. Right now, Chloe Southern was that athlete. Francesca Serviss was not.

For over a decade, Professor Francesca Serviss had luxuriated in lifestyle of indolent excess. A rich husband who travelled often and an easy, overpaid job – obtained by fucking out the brains of the previous Vice Chancellor – had secured for Fran the opportunity to enjoy every indulgence she could imagine. And it was an opportunity she had welcomed in every possible way. Holidays in six star hotels, with a fine restaurant for each day of the week; five-course meals with several wines, as often as she could stuff them down; a maid to cook and serve the most enormous breakfasts in bed, and to ensure plenty of snacks were always available for Fran's legendary afternoon tea parties with her friends; and more than enough money to buy rich silk dresses in the next size up whenever the consequences of her binge eating habits caught up with her. Fran's idea of a challenge that required willpower, these days, was forcing down a third big pudding, or stuffing herself with a second five course dinner because she'd accidentally lined up two Tindr dates on the the same night (and, occasionally, she'd done that very thing on purpose, to savour the thrill she felt from having sex on a grossly overstuffed, massively overindulged belly). Her athletic physique had softened inexorably, until by her forties she had a body as soft and flabby as warm butter. But, for all the damage Fran had done to enfeeble her body, and all the flab she'd piled onto her once-athletic frame, the weakening of her formerly-steely competitive willpower had been much worse! After all, she had told herself on too many occasions, why push yourself hard at the gym when one can just go to the restaurant, share an enormous lunch with one's exclusive personal trainer, and then instruct him to fuck one silly until the calories from the trio of big puddings have been sexercised away?

In summary, as Fran gritted her teeth and tried to push herself to victory by drawing on her reserves of inner strength, she found she had precisely none available.

Ouch!

Fran felt a stab of agony run through her traps, and up her arms. A muscle strain! And a severe one at that! She writhed in pain, losing all her forward power from her upper body so that her swimming speed slowed and slowed. And she was too weak-willed to do anything about it!

Fran laboured on through the water. Her tummy roiled with severe gastric distress – she was, by now, certain that her maid had been buying insufficiently fresh eggs for breakfast, and resolved to chastise the girl severely for causing her to have a bad tummy ache during a big race – and she dipped into her final underwater turn gingerly, so as not to upset it any more.

Fran's turn was badly thrown off balance. It was because she was oblivious to the enormous swelling bulge of buoyant flab that was ballooning outwards by the second, as she burned through the final few drops of the Fitness Essence and her abdomen – catching up with her heavy, sagging bosom – began returning to its natural, grossly flabby and stretch-marked state.

 

*

 

Chloe's lungs felt white hot as she forced herself through her final turn. She saw Fran turn just ahead of her, and noticed the Professor had executed a truly execrable manoeuvre off of the final wall. It was the kind of junk motion on which a half-expert swimmer could make up over a second... And Chloe was way more than half an expert. Apart from that, Chloe didn't notice anything. Her vision was filled with splash, and her augmented sight couldn't clearly see the way that the dim cyan aura of magic around the Professor was flickering like an incandescent lightbulb that had only seconds left to live.

 

*

 

Katie Kane peered between spread fingers, while keeping her hands pressed firmly over her face to hide her rollercoaster of emotions. Not that anyone was looking at her, for once. All eyes were fixed on the Whale Pool, where the race of the century was mid way through its final length.

To be fair, Katie had to admit that her best friend's final length was appalling. Chloe had obviously spent her whole coin of strength by keeping pace just behind Fran Serviss for the first 1450 metres. Hence her final length was, in point of fact, a sluggish crawl. It didn't matter. She'd already lapped the Largeville team, and the other competitors, twice in some cases. And, more to the point, Fran Serviss was, inexplicably, even slower.

Katie's eyesight wasn't perfect. Even so, without contact lenses she could still easily make out that Fran's swimming pattern was all over the place. Whereas Chloe's stroke pattern was technically excellent, except slow due to aerobic exhaustion, Fran's arms flailed and she kicked stupidly. It looked like she couldn't get her arms forwards, and couldn't remember how to do a basic kick. And in the freestyle, of all events! Actually, it made Katie furiously angry that the race was freestyle: she was pretty certain she could get Fran disqualified for illegitimate kick actions right now, if the race had been any other discipline. And then her best friend could win... Although... Katie forced herself to judge the distance.

Yes!” Katie yelled, jumping to her feet.

Katie Kane realised she'd actually just become the last of the Gainesburg swim-team to stand up and start cheering for Chloe – the rest of the girls, from Jasmine to Tiffany, and all the boys, had already eyeballed that Chloe was going to win for them. Katie glanced down the Gainesburg girls team row. Well, “Fireball” was nowhere to be seen. Big surprise. But everyone else was ecstatic.

Heh.” 

 

*

 

Francesca was utterly out of puff! And her tummy ached intensely.

Fart!

Well, that wouldn't do! Fran chortled at the thought that her tummy – severely overfed with poor quality food by both her maid and the local diner – might propel her to the finish line with immense, gassy farts!

In fact, Fran was losing ground rapidly to the Blonde Beast! It was because she couldn't seem to move her arms forward properly – as if they'd become disgustingly unfit and inflexible, all of a sudden, although that was a silly notion – as well as because the criminally poorly-made swimsuit was cutting off the circulation of blood to her thighs; and because she was struggling to suck in enough air because of the way the same flawed swimsuit had shrunk around her chest!

Fran sensed the splashing of water as the blonde closed on her. There was only one thing to do! The muscles she'd been using were utterly exhausted, but... Well, this was a freestyle race! And she had enough of a lead that she only needed a few more strokes at top power to speed herself to victory. Fran's mind raced, and she made a decision!

As a busty young woman, Francesca had always enjoyed the backstroke. It allowed her to show off her fabulous bosom, which – although more streamlined than Chloe Southern's immense boulders – did cause a noticeable quantity of drag whenever Fran swam on her front. Now, the thing about the backstroke was that it used completely different muscle groups to the ordinary freestyle! So, although Fran was tired, and her body fatigued from her day of glorious racing, she was certain she could pull off a few more high-powered metres of swimming if she rolled onto her back...

But, as it turned out, rolling axially onto her back and displaying her immense, bloated bosom, together with her burgeoning pot-belly, was perhaps the single most embarrassing thing Fran would ever do in her life!

A gasp ran through the audience.

Fran heard the audience gasp! She cackled, inwardly.

Yes! Fran thought. They're gasping because they're utterly in awe at the audacity and genius of my manouevre: switching onto my back to eek out a victory using the last few shreds of strength I have remaining in my overtaxed body!

That wasn't why the audience had suddenly drawn a collective breath of shock.

What had happened was that the audience – getting ready to rise for a standing ovation in honour of Chloe Southern, as they saw her overtake the seemingly-unbeatable Fran Serviss and strike for the finishing pad in the very last few yards of the 1500 metres, after a tireless pursuit of unforgettable heroism – were both shocked and horrified by the monstrous sight that emerged from under the water of the Whale Pool!

Fran rolled over onto her back.

The audience expected to see the rock-hard body of a young, professional swimmer. They had a clear memory of the way Fran's sixpack had protruded through her taut little swimsuit, as she'd stood at the starting blocks... What they didn't expect – and could never have expected – was the massive, gravid bulge of a gut that rotated around as Fran shifted onto her back and exposed her 50+ inch-and-rapidly-swelling belly to the world!

Fran eased herself in to a first, enjoyable backstroke action, as she heard the crowd go wild. She smirked triumphantly. Her swimsuit didn't feel so tight, all of a sudden, and she gave a little kick with her feet, looking forward to another glorious victory over her blonde teenage rival.

The crowd sounded insane! They were jubilant! It was the noise of five thousand spectators saluting a true champion! Fran congratulated herself inwardly, on her glorious, last-minute victory, and looked forward to receiving another gold medal on the podium. But... She did wonder why they were cheering so loudly, in advance of the point at which Fran had noticed herself touching the finishing pad... Hmmm... Perhaps there was a problem with the mechanism. But... On further examination, she didn't seem to have struck the wall of the pool.

Hmmm.

Rip!

The audience gasped again.

Fran breathed in happily. Suddenly, the gross tightness of her swimsuit felt relieved!

Tear!

Ah! That's better!” Fran sighed, as she took another gentle stroke on her back, and soaked up the adulation and shock of the crowd. Doubtless they were in awe because they'd never seen such a sight as her performance at any other athletic event they'd ever attended!

Shred!

Ah!” Fran breathed freely! She'd slowed down a lot, but that last breath was much easier than any other she'd taken in the last hundred metres... Any moment now, she expected to touch the finishing pad. She looked behind for it... No... It was still a couple of stokes away... Fran laughed to herself along with the chortling crowd, as she prepared to put in the final two strokes... To seize victory.

An unwelcome sound blazed forth over the loudspeaker. Fran was certain she heard the name

Chloe Southern!!!!!!!!”

Hmm, that couldn't be right. Fran thought to herself. After all, there shouldn't be an announcement of Chloe's name, after a race that Fran was about to win... Any moment now...

Fran grinned, as she felt her fingers touch the victory plate! Success was hers!

The sight which greeted Fran, however, as she turned her head to one side to gloat at Chloe Southern, and tell the irksome blonde that, once again, she'd been defeated by Francesca's superior discipline, training, diet, skill, and bosom, was a singularly unwelcome one. For the Blonde Beast was already floating – panting heavily, but looking happy – at the victory line.

What was going on?

Fran felt her tummy gurgle. She felt a little bloated! It was good to let her core muscles relax. She felt her abdomen swell up a little, as the tension of the race eased off.

What Fran didn't notice, not quite yet, was the way her now-naked belly in her burst swimsuit had bloated outwards by twenty more inches in the last twenty seconds. The audience, caught between cheering Chloe's impossible victory – in a time that set a new national record – and gasping at Fran's monstrous transformation, had noticed. And so had a number of wags on the internet, watching the livestream... The wittiest trolls among them raced – their fingers moving in a blur over their keyboards – to be the first to get a cutting remark in allcaps into the livestream's comments feed. By popular acclaim, and frequent imitation, the winning comment on Fran's shocking bodily bloatation in the Joshua Whale Pool soon turned out to be:

 

          THAR SHE BLOWS!

 

But Fran didn't know that yet. 

What Fran did know was that Chloe Southern – the Blonde Beast – looked irksomely happy. Exhausted, but happy. That couldn't be right.

Chloe panted. Until several seconds after she won the race, her eyesight had been too blurred from oxygen deprivation to notice, but after several deep breaths she did spot what the audience had been gasping at. And, that shocking sight was... The size of the behemoth into which Francesca Serviss had bloated, during the several seconds over which her cheating fitness magic had become utterly exhausted. Chloe had to admit, the sight was pretty shocking – and not one that anyone would want to have recorded for posterity on an internet livestream! Still, Fran Serviss deserved what she got, one hundred percent.

And what Fran Serviss got was fat! Immensely fat! Her belly had swollen and bloated beyond all believable bounds! It had burst the entire front of her swimsuit. It was so shapeless and flabby it didn't tower above her, but it did flop and bulge around her... And it bulged so far it touched and pushed against her swimming pool lane division markers – on both sides!

Hey, Professor!” Chloe panted.

What's that, Southern, you loser?” Fran asked, incomprehendingly, a few seconds before Chloe's answer prompted her to look down at her grossly-obescened body and emit a shriek that would echo down the ages.

There's something my best friend, Katie Kane, told me in a funny story. I think it applies to you at the moment, Professor!”

Oh yes, Southern. What's that?” Francesca Serviss asked.

It looks like. Heh! Um...”

Fran snapped impatiently at the blathering freshman.

What, Southern?”

It, heh! It looks like somebody's been eating too much pudding!”

 

* *

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This is unbelievably excellent. I think I see the endgame for the race with Tina as well; all the pieces are clicking into place. Kudos.

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57 minutes ago, ditto said:

This is unbelievably excellent. I think I see the endgame for the race with Tina as well; all the pieces are clicking into place. Kudos.

Thank you! Do click one of the Like icons if you've enjoyed it. There should be just a couple more parts to come in this chapter, and I haven't forgotten about Ms Tina Reilley!

 

 

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Right! This has taken ages because I have a new job finally, so I'm horribly short of time. But, anyway, here is the penultimate section of Best Served Wet. I'm thinking of putting it up on Amazon as an ebook, once it's done and gets a final edit, as I'd love to find out if there's any sort of market that might earn me a few beer tokens a year (any advice?). I'll still keep it here, as I've been really grateful for comments from the community, and I really like posting on Curvage. 

 

Chapter 12: Best Served Wet (part 3)


Tina Reilley realised her mouth was hanging open, and clicked it shut. Fortunately, no-one had noticed the unphotogenic way she'd been gaping at the chaos surrounding the Whale Pool. Nor had they spotted how the flame-haired swimming captain had allowed her tummy to pooch out in her tight swimsuit when she momentarily forgot about the need to keep her abdominal muscles well-engaged, lest any observers realise Tina's fitness was still not back to its best.

The weird tale that would live forever in the history of the Gainesburg College Aquatics Center was that, at the very climax of the race of the century, the ultra-fit senior competitor, Professor Francesca Serviss, had shockingly blown up into a super-fatty. The astonishing spectacle had sent a wave of confusion and alarm through the auditorium. Tina was just as shocked, but, unlike the dumb viewing public, she could make an educated guess about what had just happened. She caught a few snippets of discussion about “an allergic reaction” and “something in the pool water” but Tina had a gnawing suspicion neither of those things were the cause of Fatty Serviss's instantaneous blubberous engorgement.

Tina was almost certain that, on her way to the pool, Prof Serviss must have passed by the table bearing the named Fittie Snax drinks which Tina had carefully spiked last night with Anneka Anville's costly Fatness Essence. And, being a selfish bitch who couldn't care less about stealing a competitor's energy drink, Francesca must have swiped one, and swigged it to give herself a little boost before the last endurance race! It made sense: the mega-fatness now encasing Francesca from toe to tit was exactly the sort of curse Tina had hoped the Fatness Essence would inflict on its intended recipient – if only Fran Serviss hadn't swiped Chloe Southern's drink!

Damn and blast! Tina seethed inwardly. If the Professor had chugged Chloe's drink, after Tina had spent so much money and effort spiking it with a special weight-gain potion... Well, the fatty Professor certainly deserved what she'd got.

And Fran Serviss had certainly gotten a lot! A lot fatter, that was! Her astonishing physique, which she had somehow achieved by undertaking a gruelling, three-month training sabbatical in a luxury Caribbean resort, was utterly ruined. In the blink of an eye, Francesca Serviss had lost it all: the blubbery 42-year-old laying on her back on the tiled floor was now quite possibly the fattest woman Tina had ever seen. Certainly much fatter than the morbidly corpulent Professor Fowler, and probably twice the size the formerly-plump Mayor's wife, Natasha, had been when Tina had seen her at her very biggest, at a swanky fundraising soiree before Christmas, prior to her recent fitness drive.

Tina suppressed her sneer at Fatty Serviss's well-deserved fate. It wouldn't be seemly for Tina, as the captain of the Gainesburg swimming team, to be seen openly gloating over one of her own squad suffering an acute and hideously embarrassing allergic reaction to pool water! Especially since Francesca Serviss (along with Chloe Southern) had just performed such heroics in the pool that they had made Tina Reilley the first Gainesburg swimming captain to beat a visiting Largeville team in over ten years. Still, Tina couldn't help but allow her lips to curl a little. The last race had not only embarrassed Francesca Serviss, but it had also ensured that Chloe Southern had utterly exhausted herself. The overgrown blonde wouldn't have enough left in the tank to pose any threat in the upcoming Joshua Whale 800 metres freestyle.

Tina paced up and down the tiled floor impatiently as she awaited that all-important race. Annoyingly, there was a long hold-up. Fatty Serviss's corpulent bulk had been hauled out of the pool by three strong young male stewards, but she was now laying down like a beached whale while awaiting an extra strong stretcher suitable for a mega-fatty – hardly a common requirement for a competitor at an Olympic standard swimming venue. Francesca's belly bulged and slumped free from the constraints of her burst swimsuit, and she waved deliriously at the audience, as if she were a victor saluting their applause. Tina wondered whether the professor had lost her mind, along with her physique. It seemed more than possible.

Anyway, Tina had no time to waste. Her rival, the blonde monstrosity named Chloe “Riptide” Southern, had been half-carried back to the Gainesburg team seating by her friends, who now crowded around her in raucous celebration as she panted helplessly in her chair. This was exactly the way Tina wanted her! Tina Reilley was sufficiently self-aware to realise she wasn't back to her peak fitness after her post-Christmas weight-gain. Tina also knew – to her extreme annoyance – that her peak fitness hadn't been anywhere near good enough to beat an in-form Chloe Southern. And the last several races had definitively shown that Chloe was in better condition than Tina had ever seen. However, the busty blonde beast was also, for now, exhausted. And the all-important Joshua Whale freestyle was the very next race. Unfortunately, Fatty Serviss was causing an immense delay to proceedings, and the blonde showed every sign of recovering in the meantime. She was starting to look around and reply to some of her nauseatingly happy companions' comments and back-slapping.

A smirk touched Tina's lips as she was struck by a glorious idea. It was a risky one, but in view of Fran Serviss's recent mega-fattenation, it might just work.

Tina slipped out one of the emergency exits of the Aquatics Center, leaving it propped open with a nearby sports bag. She dashed across the lawn behind the building. When she came to the Fittie Snax tent, easily identified because its awning was emblazoned with the alluring silhouette of Katie Kane – in her thinner-hipped days, Tina noted – Tina checked on the drinks.

Hmm. Looks like Chloe's drink is still here!” Tina noted, with some surprise, after glancing through the luridly fluorescent energy drinks. Likewise, the other drinks she'd spiked – for Katie Kane, Tiffany Thompson, and a couple of others – were also present and full.

That was odd! If Professor Serviss's mega-fatness hadn't been caused by the Fatness Essence in Chloe's drink... That meant her disgusting corpulence had been caused by something else!

Wait!” Tina said to herself. “Surely not!” Surely Professor Serviss hadn't guzzled Anneka Anville's highly dangerous Fitness Essence in order to become temporarily slim again for the competition... Tina thought for a moment.

Oh!”

On reflection, that was exactly the sort of thing the vain and lazy Professor Serviss might do.

Humph! Well, at least everything's still here!”

Tina dashed back inside the Aquatics Center. She kicked aside the sports bag she'd used to prop the fire exit. As soon as she spotted a couple of her cronies in the audience, she clicked her fingers to summon them over. In short order, a pair of fashionably-dressed East Coast girls named Cordelia and Portia hustled up to Tina.

Cordelia! Portia! Go and muster the troops.” Tina ordered to her sidekicks. “Tell them I'm bringing up the Fittie Snax photoshoot. Tell them I'm eager to use this blasted medical delay for something useful!”


*

 

Yay!” Chloe replied between gasps for air. She thought it was the safest reply to an admirer who'd just offered to put her on the front page of some college magazine.

Meanwhile, Chloe's lungs still hurt and she coughed as she wondered when she'd be able to throw off the spinning vision and the painful stitch in her diaphragm that had caught up with her as soon as she'd tried to drag herself out of the pool after finishing – after winning, in fact – the 1500 metres freestyle. It had taken Katie and Beck to pull her out and carry her, or she would have collapsed on the floor from exhaustion. In fairness, Beck could have carried her on his own, because even with her recently bulked-up boobs and muscles she wasn't that heavy, but Katie had loyally insisted on sticking to her side like glue. And it had felt nice to get carried somewhere by her friends.

Chloe leant forwards, delighting the viewing public with an immense amount of livestreamed cleavage as she rested her supernaturally huge boobs on her knees. It was an easier position than sitting up properly, and she didn't feel like she had the energy to do anything else. The thought crossed Chloe's mind that, just possibly, her frequent submission to the temptation to use breast-growth sorcery, which had resulted in her straining her swimsuit to its limit with her bra-busting 40H buoys, might not have been the best way to optimise her race performance... Almost certainly, Chloe imagined, if she'd stayed at her still-ample 40C she would have beaten Fran Serviss easily – and probably not just in the last race. Still, Chloe quickly squashed the thought. She adored her huge boobs. And, just as important, Beck adored them even more, and Katie and her other friends loved looking at them. (And playing with them, in Katie's case...) In fact, Chloe was already daydreaming about whether she could afford to go up just one more cup size. Or maybe two. Or three – at the absolute maximum. She had no doubt that three more cup sizes would be enough to give Beck all the super-busty girlfriend action she wanted to give him. Probably. At least, for now...

Katie Kane had been soothing her friend by rubbing Chloe's back, and Chloe looked up with a confused expression when she noticed the massage had stopped.

Katie Kane was looking unhappily at a couple of the part-time swimmers on the Gainesburg team. Portia and Cordelia were two of Tina Reilley's high-class circle, and they'd come to pass on some instructions from their queen. Cordelia whistled to shut up the crowd of happy Gainesburg swimmers around Chloe.

Uh?” Chloe asked, as coherently as she could manage.

Hey Chloe. Good race. Weird about Fatty Serviss, right?” Cordelia said dismissively.

Uh, huh.” Chloe replied.

Tina wants you outside! And you two.” Cordelia nodded at Katie and Tottie. “We're going to bring up the Fittie Snax promo shoot and do it while the stewards are sorting out the whole 'oh-no, she's-turned-into-a-whale timeout' for Francesca.”

Katie and Tottie sighed in unison. They really hated Fittie Snax drinks, and they were heartily fed up of having to do photoshoots in which they pretended the stuff was good. Chloe hadn't done many shoots, but she felt too tired to move.

Can we do it later?” Chloe asked.

No! Get your asses moving!”

Chloe groaned. Her swimming scholarship technically required her to make herself available – and look pretty – for this kind of promotional work, so she levered herself up and readjusted her swimsuit around her cleavage. It was both an erotically-supercharged action, and also completely innocent.

Ooof. Okay. After you two.” Chloe said.

Cordelia and Portia led Gainesburg's hottest hotties outside.

 

* *

 

The blue sky over the sunny Gainesburg College lawn and the terracotta back wall of the Aquatics Center was a photographer's dream. The colors were so vibrant they nearly outshone the chemiluminescent content of the Fittie Snax energy drinks. Nearly, but not quite. The lurid orange, red, and green drinks, arrayed on a round wooden table under a Fittie Snax branded canopy, seemed to shine with an inner light. And that was just to any onlooker with normal human vision.

For Chloe Southern, who had practically forgotten that she'd enhanced her eyesight with a Detect Magic spell a couple of hours ago, the lurid radiance of the Fittie Snax stall was something else entirely.

What the fuck?” Chloe hissed. Ahead of her, Katie Kane assumed her friend was asking about how Katie's silhouette had found its way onto the branding of the Fittie Snax, and laughed about it.

Actually, Chloe was asking a question to herself: in the additional color channels she could currently perceive, what did a blazing “orange” mean? Whatever it was, it couldn't be good.

Chloe slowed her pace. The hot summer air felt good against her wet skin, and promised to dry out her clingy competition swimsuit in quick time. She felt like basking on the lawn, but the sorcerous glow from the energy drinks stand demanded her attention. On getting a bit closer, Chloe realised there were a few specific bottles that were shedding a radiance that only she could see. And it was with rising alarm Chloe realised they were promotional bottles: one of them was Katie's.

This one's yours, Chloe! Go pose by the flowerbed and drink up!” Tina Reilley's voice cut into Chloe's awareness.

Incidentally, Chloe had noticed as soon as she'd walked onto the lawn that the bitchy red-haired swim-captain was completely dry. It had been annoying to not have had the chance to race against her: Chloe had been looking forward to thrashing her out-of-form captain, but the race schedules hadn't allowed it. Worse, Chloe was now exhausted from heading up a day of racing against Largeville and Francesca Serviss, and doubted she had anything left to give in the 800 metre race in which she and Tina were both drawn. Anyway, that was the least of Chloe's worries.

When the blonde turned around, her eyes widened. Tina was holding out an orange energy drink in Chloe's direction. And it blazed, to Chloe's eyes, like the Sun. It looked like dangerous stuff.

Go on, Southern! Mmm, mmm! You missed out on the last photoshoot didn't you? But I can tell you these new energy drinks are absolutely the best thing you'll ever taste! So, go on, take it!”

Um...” Chloe stalled.

Go and drink your damn drink for the camera! Then we can race! I for one am looking forward to thrashing you!”

Right...” Chloe finished thinking. She lifted the plastic bottle out of Tina's hand. She noticed the way the New Yorker's lips curled as she did so. Chloe felt her heart race. She gingerly unscrewed the cap, and turned to pass by the Fittie Snax stall with its array of lurid bottles on her way to her assigned position in front of the camera. But, as Chloe casually tossed the bottle from hand to hand, her wet fingers, tired from miles of swimming, somehow managed to fumble the catch and she sprang back as the orange bottle of Chloe Southern Blonde Fittie Snax drink flew to her side and crashed into the display of other bottles.

A great flood of color and carbonated fizz whooshed over the display table as half a dozen open Fittie Snax bottles crashed over and mixed with Chloe's. And, for anyone who could see sorcery, the colors mixed in utterly weird patterns. In fact, for anyone with an advanced academic knowledge of sorcery, the oscillating whirl of colors would have set alarm bells ringing. But Chloe didn't know that: she only knew enough to keep well back from the stuff.

Whoops!” Chloe said. She kept her fingers crossed that she sounded sincere. “Sorry! Butterfingers!”

The effect on Tina Reilley was immediate.

You stupid klutz! What have you done?”

Oh, sorry. Guess my hands were a bit tired. Probably you shouldn't have scheduled me in so many races... Then I'm sure I wouldn't have dropped the...”

Arrrrghhh!” Tina Reilley screamed at her.

So, Tina, it's okay, right? I can just pose with one of the other bottles, can't I?” Chloe asked, enjoying the furious look on Tina's face. Chloe was certain she'd just dodged some sort of bullet, although she wasn't sure what.

Baah! Fine! Get on with it!”

Chloe headed across the lawn and tried to suppress a laugh long enough to practice smiling for the camera.

 

* * 

Hello. My name is Tina 'Fireball' Reilley, and Fittie Snax protein bars keep the girls on my swim-team in the tip-top condition I demand of them, so that we can win our competitions against any opposition!”

So said the red-head, pointedly making clear she was the team captain, while scowling heavily at the two taller and bustier blondes beside her. One of them was merely very busty, and the other one, who seemed to be the main target of the captain's ire, had a rack that was truly epic, despite being squished in a tight, wet Gainesburg College swimsuit.

And cut!” Called out a director. “That's a wrap for today.”

The super-busty blonde yawned as she followed the other hotties back indoors.

All the hotties passed by the mess on the table of the Fittie Snax stall without noticing the bubbling, fermenting mixture of liquids, which an astute observer would see were undergoing some sort of chemical reaction. And an astute observer would have been alarmed at the way the lurid orange liquid was starting to rise up from the pool, and form a great bulge or blob of goo, as if fuelled by some internal power.

I can't believe you fucking dropped your own personalised drink, Southern.” Snapped the red-haired hottie, before pushing her way through the crowded back door of the aquatics center.

Yeah, well. I don't really give a flying –” Chloe started replying, before realising her bitchy swimming captain hadn't waited for a reply.

At the door to the Whale Pool, an elderly man in a white suit and Stetson hobbled out onto the lawn with the aid of his walking stick. Most of the swimming hotties had rushed in because the Joshua Whale race was finally ready to start. Chloe wasn't in a rush. She yawned. Normally she could breeze her way to victory in an 800 metre freestyle, but she was too tired for the next race, and she was going to drop out instead. Her epic 1500 metres victory would have to be enough for today.

The old gentleman's expression burst into a huge grin.

Miss Chloe Southern! May Ah say it really is a great pleasure to finally meet you in the flesh! Alas the College couldn't arrange for us to meet before today, but Ah have to say you have been worth every second of the wait! You are truly a beautiful young woman, and a fine swimmer into the bargain!”

Chloe looked over the gentleman. He was in his eighties. His white suit looked expensive. She decided he was probably some sort of rich sponsor: certainly, a man would have to be either rich or eccentric to get away with wearing that ridiculous white hat. Chloe had never met him before, but he seemed to know her.

Oh, thank you, Sir!” Chloe tried to step around the old man,

But where are mah manners? Pray allow me to introduce mahself! Mah name is Joshua T. Whale Junior. Of the Louisiana Whales!”

Oh. Whale? As in the Whale Pool?” Chloe asked. Okay, she'd been right about him being rich.

The very same! And, as Ah saw you taking a break from the proceedins after that very peculiar end to the last race – regarding which, Ah have to say, Ah'd been suspectin all day that Miss Serviss had somehow been suckin it in, but Ah had no idea just how hard she'd been suckin – Ah said to mahself: Joshua, this is perfect opportunity for you to introduce yourself to your chosen champion swimmer!”

Chloe grinned. She like the sound of being someone's chosen champion swimmer. Of course, she had no idea what Mr Whale was talking about, but champion still sounded cool.

Erm, thank you, Mr Whale. But, um, what do you mean by champion? Not that I don't like the sound of it.”

Oh, well, Miss Southern. Ah mean to say, that it's mah great delight to have you racing on mah behalf in the very next event! The Joshua Whale 800 Metres Freestyle, they're callin it, since Ah've paid for the pool. And Ah very much look forward to seein the look on your Vice-Chancellor's face when I present the winner's bowl to you! Ah can't wait to see you thrash that fancy-schmancy Tina Reilley with your finer athleticism.”

Oh.” Chloe said sadly.

Joshua Whale seemed to pick up on the blonde's dejected tone.

Oh? Oh, what, Miss Southern?”

Erm. Well, I'd love to be your swimming champion, but honestly, I was about to walk inside and drop out of the race. That last fifteen hundred metres took everything I've got. I can barely stand, right now.”

Joshua Whale's eyes widened in alarm, and his white moustache practically boinged outwards.

Wut?”

Sorry, Mr Whale. I mean, you've already seen my best race today.”

But, but, but! You can't!”

Um. I sort of can. It's in the rules.”

Whale's mouth worked silently a few times before he spat out his next line. He even forgot to ogle the blonde's vast cleavage as she started to walk around him.

But. Ah've got ten million dollars riding on you! You can't pull out!”

Chloe stopped walking.

Ten what?”

Ten million dollars!” Whale repeated. “On a wager. You know. That you'll beat that second-rate replacement swim-captain, Tina Reilley. In the next race! The one named after me. You do know about the wager, don't you?”

Chloe drew a blank. There was no way she would have forgotten any conversation containing the words ten million dollars.

Um. This is going to sound bad, Mr Whale, but... Nope! I hadn't heard about that!”

What!” Whale exclaimed. He was in such shock that his hammed-up southern accent began to slip. “But that's impossible! How could you not know?”

Well, I don't think anyone ever mentioned anything to me about a wager.”

Never mentioned the wager to her! Those lousy, rotten, cheatin scoundrels! I knew I should never have trusted a Professor to organise an honourable race! They've cheated, you know!”

Um. How do you mean?”

They've rigged the race. They've concealed our wager from you, and you've worn yourself out with a lot of other events! Those cads! They know a Whale would never go back on his word about a wager, even if they behave dishonourably! I've been cheated! But it's not your fault, Miss Southern. Oof!” Wheeze “I need to sit down!”

Joshua Whale had been struck by a shortness of breath, and Chloe helped him onto a nearby bench where he fumbled in his jacket pocket for his inhaler.

Um. Sorry, anyway.” Chloe ventured.

Whale seemed to have a little color return to his cheeks. He patted the statuesque blonde respectfully on the knee.

It's not your fault, Miss Southern. It's mine! I've been a stupid old man, and I've been played by a fancy-pants East Coast professor. I've nothing to grumble about.”

Well, I wish I could help, but...” Chloe patted Joshua Whale's trembling hand as she tried explaining. “Sport isn't an exact science, but it's not far off. And I know, from, like, training times and things, that right now I can't beat Tina if she's fresh. Any other time, yes, easily. Tomorrow, no problem. Hell, in an hour's time, probably---”

Whale's head jerked around.

An hour?”

Yeah, maybe. But the race is about to start.”

A loud strength suddenly returned to Joshua Whale's voice.

Oh no it isn't, Miss Southern. Not until Ah press the button to sound the startin gun! It's mah race, y'see! And Ah was going to say a few short words of dedication beforehand... But now... Well, God save the bottoms of the sitting audience, Ah can feel a very long speech coming on! Come on! Help me inside, and then get yourself back out here for a nice long rest, and Ah'll see you in an hour!”

Whale grabbed his stick, and gripped his blonde champion's arm for support as they both headed, wearing expressions of grim determination, back into the Aquatics Center.

 

* *

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Right, I do believe I've found time to finish Best Served Wet! There may be an epilogue (especially if I've forgotten to explain how some things finish). And I will edit the story together to make an amazon e-book of it when I get time. Hope you enjoy the conclusion of the story!


 

Chapter 12: Best Served Wet (part 4)

 

Tiffany “Tottie” Thompson yawned epically.

Tottie was stuck, waiting by her pool lane, and she was bored to tears. The elderly sponsor, Joshua Whale, had been invited to say a few words before starting the event named after him. But, disastrously, as soon as the aged multi-millionaire had gotten the steward's microphone into his grip, he'd begun recounting the last hundred-and-fifty years of his family history at great length, in what felt to Tottie like real time. The boring speech was causing time to grind to a halt, and Tottie wondered whether she could get away with pretending to faint from boredom. Of course, as a semi-professional athlete, that wouldn't be a great look for her.

Tottie was getting worried that Joshua Whale would reach the end of his family history and then immediately carry on recursively with a story about the time he once told an incredibly boring speech about his family history, and so on, forever. If he did, Tottie was pretty sure she was going to feign passing out so she could be stretchered off. After all, she had a red-hot date to get to straight after she finished this swim, and he was taking her to a dessert bar to celebrate the end of her training diet. And she could hardly wait: as soon as the race was over, Tottie had to get herself into shape for an upcoming plus-modelling gig she was doing in London in a week's time. And that meant she had to cut right back on her gym time and concentrate on non-stop binging with rich meaty dishes and plenty of icecreams. Tottie patted her rumbling, swimsuit-clad tummy, and promised herself she'd be out of the aquatics center as soon as possible. Her tummy continued to protest that sooner would be better.

At long last, Joshua Whale finished a chunk of his speech, describing his second wife. Before the wheezing old bore could draw enough breath to begin – presumably – on the subject of his third wife, the Vice-Chancellor himself intervened! Tottie didn't much like the smarmy Vice-Chancellor, Professor Jolyon Champagne: it was pretty obvious to her, as a posh home counties girl, that he had been kicked out English high society for being too much of an oily moneygrubber. And she hadn't previously imagined such a thing was possible! Still, as he snatched the microphone while unctuously apologising to Joshua Whale for the necessity of speeding business along, Tottie would quite happily have kissed the sleazy middle-aged academic. She drew in some breath, and tried to summon up some enthusiasm for the imminent race. After all, with Chloe Southern nowhere to be seen, Tottie's central-ish pool lane was only one empty lane away from the bitchy Tina Reilley: Tina was almost the only other credible distance swimmer in the race now, which meant Tottie theoretically stood a chance of winning the handsome cash prize, along with an equally handsome – but impractically huge – silver bowl.

Oh. Bugger.

Tottie's stray thought about her invincibly-fast friend, Chloe, seemed to have summoned the towering blonde up from somewhere. Somewhere, in fact, where she seemed to have been sleeping on a lawn. Or, at least, Tottie guessed as much by the way the blonde brushed a few bits of grass out of her cleavage and yawned.

Fuck me, her tits are massive! And I thought I'd gotten used to seeing them this semester! Have they grown again... And can she give me some tips? Galaxy Models would have to pay me triple if mine were half her size...

Oh, hey!” Tottie greeted the blonde, as she hustled onto the adjacent starting spot and blocked Tottie's view of the scowling Tina Reilley. Tottie also mouthed, silently: “your tits are fucking massive!”

Oh, gee, thanks!” Chloe mouthed back.

The race started, and soon became brutally tactical. It was a slow, scrappy race, and finished with a hard sprint. The final two lengths put paid to a lot of the fringe competitors' hopes of somehow seizing an improbable victory over Tina “Fireball” Reilley and Chloe “Riptide” Southern, and pocketing Joshua Whale's generous cash prize. Tottie herself had been in enough races to see it coming. Both Chloe and Tina had made a whole series of pace changes in the early race, but neither could break free of the other – Chloe because she was clearly exhausted, and Tina because she wasn't really in the blonde's league. Tottie had paced herself accordingly, and she fully expected to see her blonde Californian friend and her flame-haired rival explode away from the penultimate turn. Not that this was any help in letting Tottie keep up with them when they did: too many boozy dinner dates and all-night sexathons this semester had softened the Brit's hips and thighs to the point she couldn't really keep up with her college's fastest swimmers. Still, Tottie was pleased to reach the finishing line in fourth place, and even more delighted when she cleared water from her eyes and checked the board to see whether Chloe had managed to hold on to her speed in the near photo-finish.

Yes!” Tottie exclaimed. The yellow digital text of the college's expensive timing system was infallible, and – ignoring that she'd finished a few seconds back – Tottie basked in her friends' success.

  1. Chloe “Riptide” Southern (8:48:50)

  2. Katie “Sugar” Kane (8:48:78)

  3. Tina “Fireball” Reilley (8:49:20)

 

*

 

Katie's smile dazzled her many admiring photographers. Her smile shone brighter than the gleaming silver medal which she'd balanced on her ample bust, brighter than the puffy white clouds in the Floridian summer sky behind the podium, and almost as bright as the afternoon Sun. It was even brighter than her freshly blow-dried peroxide blonde hair.

The whole day was running behind schedule. Mostly because of the delay for the stewards to wheel off the shockingly-but-deservedly ballooned figure of Professor Fran Serviss; but also because of Joshua's delightfully detailed and inspiring speech. Katie had really enjoyed hearing all about his family during the glamorous Prohibition era, and his escapades in the sixties, and it had really stoked up her energy levels for the race. She'd been disappointed when Joshua had been cut short by the Vice-Chancellor. Still, she fully expected him to tell her all the rest over dinner tomorrow night – as Joshua Whale had awarded their medals, beaming ecstatically, he'd invited Chloe and Katie to the Gainesburg Brasserie for a slap-up dinner, and Katie had immediately accepted on both their behalves. Sure, Chloe had frowned a little bit at that – probably because, as Katie knew, Chloe had plans to celebrate her victory by chaining Beck Bronte to her bed and ravishing him repeatedly with all the sex techniques she'd been practising from some book she'd been reading. Apparently the book was called “Advanced Sex Tips for Girls” and Chloe was pretty sure she needed about seven days straight to get through all the positions she wanted to try most urgently. Some of them had sounded so erotic that Katie had needed to finish herself off with a vibrator after hearing Chloe's descriptions.

Anyway, that all sounded great, but Katie really wanted to stuff herself with a huge dinner at the brasserie. She was very hungry. It was too bad the college had invited so many VIPs to the summer time trials: as soon as the race had finished they'd hastened outside and were scoffing all the food! By the time the medal ceremony was finished, and Katie finished hugging her friends, she couldn't find a single food stall with anything left that she wanted.

Dammit!” Katie grumbled to herself.

The food had pretty much run out, and the only place Katie could spot any delicious carbs was at the partially-tidied Fittie Snax stand.

Damn.”

The Fittie Snax energy bars tasted horrible, but Katie was so hungry she resolved to grab one before heading down town for a burger. This was the reason why Katie Kane found herself standing in line behind the tautly-clad, honey blonde Mayor's wife, Natasha, who was scoffing the aromatic remains of a hog roast and a double-decker slice of cheesecake while she chatted to Tina Reilley and awaited a choice of Fittie Snax energy drinks to wash down her calorific snacks. Katie wondered just how the busty middle-aged woman stayed so slim. She seemed to be quite used to stuffing her face, yet her tight red summer dress showed off a lithe 24 inch waist with just the merest hint of a pot-belly.

Gurgle!

Katie played with her smart phone. She didn't notice that the flatulent gurgling sound was emanating form the gooey, colorful residue of Fittie Snax drinks spilled on the grass. She just thought it must be the Mayors wife's overindulged belly struggling to deal with all her food.

 

*

 

Tina Reilley fumed inwardly, whilst outwardly smiling and accepting fulsome congratulations on her team's performance from Natasha Smithe, the expensively coutured, skinny-busty wife of Mayor Smithe.

It was true, of course, that the Gainesburg hotties had triumphed over their Largeville opponents today. But that was scant consolation for Tina, who had just catastrophically lost the race on which she'd concentrated her entire semester's efforts! The Vice-Chancellor would be furious. And Tina could kiss goodbye to getting a share of the ten million dollar donation he'd relied upon her to win!

How was it possible, though, for Tina to lose to Katie Kane, as well as to the blonde beast? Chloe, Tina could understand, although she seethed about it! After all, Tina had never beaten Chloe without successfully spiking the blonde's drinks before a race... However, Katie Kane was just a common curvy cow from New Jersey! How could such an also-ran beat Tina Reilley, one of Manhattan's finest athletes? It must be, Tina fumed, because Chloe had baited her into an utterly exhausting, tactical race, and all the while Katie must have been pacing herself properly: reserving the little talent she had for the final sprint. And leaving Tina with – Bah! – a pathetic bronze medal! That wasn't in Tina's life-plan! Her political career would hardly benefit from a third place finish in a mediocre collegiate event! There was only one thing for it: she would have to get Chloe and Katie disqualified somehow. But how?

Hmm.” Tina mused. Perhaps she could somehow get Chloe and Katie to fail a drugs test. After all, her near-success at spiking their named Fittie Snax energy drinks had almost secured sporting triumph for the talented Ms Reilley, and perhaps all she needed to do was persevere a little more with the same plan.

Gurgle! Glurp!

Or perhaps not!

Tina hadn't previously noticed the gurgling background noise in the Fittie Snax tent. She'd tuned it out on the assumption that Mrs Nathasha Smithe's bloated pot-belly was producing unusually loud digestive noises as it struggled to process the hog roast she'd crammed down on top of a 12 oz cheeseburger with large fries!

It was a disastrous oversight on her part, Tina reflected later, that she'd failed to notice the Fittie Snax goo, which had pooled on the ground next to the stand and inflated into a great hemispherical bubble like a partially-inflated orange beach ball. When it inevitably popped, the dire effects of the splash were so awful that Tina feared her dreams of political greatness were ruined forever!

Burst! Splash!

Yuk!” Shrieked Natasha Smithe, as she wiped lurid orange goo off her face, whilst swallowing the little bit which had found its way into her last big mouthful of roast pig and apple sauce.

No sooner had Natasha exclaimed her horror, than Tina started to see what the formerly-svelte Mayor's wife was horrified about! It was the very same terror seizing the minds of the other ladies in the Fittie Snax marquis... And among those innocent and undeserving victims of fattening alchemical calamity was the once super-fit swim captain herself: Tina Reilley!

Tina shrieked, and heard her cries mix with the disbelieving yelps of the women around her!

 

*

 

Katie Kane looked up from her phone. Weird shit was happening all around her, and fast!

Somebody seemed to have chucked a water balloon of orange gunk into the crowd of VIPs and hotties ahead of Katie in the Fittie Snax line. Katie checked her reflection in her phone, and was relieved to see her lovingly blow-dried hair didn't seem to have been splattered. As a bonus, the rest of her seemed unscathed too.

The Mayor's wife had certainly been splashed. And the middle-aged honey blonde was doubled over, clutching her pot-belly. She was blowing up!

Well, that serves her right for taking all the hog roast! Katie thought hungrily.

Natasha! Are you alright?” Cried one of the Mayors wife's cronies.

Natasha Smithe could only gasp in return, as her windpipe was occupied with expelling a massive BUUURRRRP! Her belly swelled up, even as she belched and clutched at her rapidly-distending middle. Until, suddenly, her costly red dress tore a side seam!

Rip!

Oh! I shouldn't have had that second cheeseburger!” Natasha moaned with an agonised belch, as her thighs and ass suddenly swelled to elephantine girth. The side of her red dress tore the rest of the way down, and the exquisite French couture clung on by a thread at the shoulder.

Katie looked around quickly.

The Mayor's wife wasn't alone. She might be well ahead of the other ladies in terms of her Fatty Serviss-like transformation, but there were others.

Katie's jaw dropped as she saw the fattened-up, gerbil-cheeked face of her red-headed swim captain, Tina Reilley. Tina was wiping orange goo from her face, with fat fingers, and she looked... super-chubby around her bust and thighs, and rapidly swelling. The tight black cocktail dress she'd slipped into was riding up as her ass fattened by the second, revealing the bottoms of the Gainesburg College promotional bikini she wore underneath.

Shit!” Katie yelled.

There was something in the orange goo! There must have been the same thing in the pool water, and Professor Super-Fatty Serviss must have swallowed some! That must be why she'd blow up into a whale!

Katie's head spun. She'd been in the same pool... Had she got lucky, and been missed? There was no time to wait and find out!

Katie ran for it.

She was in shape, and it would take her no time to escape the Fittie Snax marquis. Indeed the whole side of the tent was open to the warm Floridian breeze of the college grounds. Katie could get there in seconds, except for...

Trip!

What the fuck?” Katie screamed as she fell. That was impossible. She was a confident cross-country runner, and she was wearing cute but practical sandals. She couldn't possibly trip. Not on her own anyway...

Katie hit the grass and rolled. Her shin felt sore. And she recognised the impact of a deliberate kick, at the same time as she realised the chubby fifteen stone red-head sneering down at her was in fact – albeit in a torn black dress, with a free-flopping belly – the college's bitchy, self-obsessed swim-captain, Tina Reilley.

What did you do that for?” Katie whimpered. Her leg hurt.

Hah!” Tina gloated. Even as her belly, bust, and ass swelled up by inches per second, Tina Reilley found time to sneer over her victory.

Think you can beat me, Tina “Fireball” Reilley, in a swim race and get away with it?” Tina continued. “Hah! Well, you may have your little silver medal, and you may still have somewhat of a fit body...”

Tina winced as she prodded her swollen tum, onto which some orange goop seemed to have slid down from her bulging, bikini-clad bosom.

But not for long! You, New Jersey, loser bitch! EAT THIS, SUGAR KANE!”

Tina jumped aside. Her bulk wobbled as she shifted herself a few feet.

A few yards distant, and no longer hidden behind Tina's plumped-up, two-hundred pound bulk, Katie noticed a bulbous orange sphere of lurid orange gunge. Its color reminded her strongly of the Fittie Snax drinks... Weird, huh? But weird wasn't all! Katie quailed in terror as she realised that (1) her leg felt broken, and she couldn't run, nor probably even move far, and also (2) the orange ball was inflating like a three-yard high puffball, and it's viscid surface was tearing open as it began to burst!

 

*

 

Chloe breathed in the free air of Florida, and basked in the glittery reflection of her gold medals. It had taken a while to extricate herself from the crush of VIPs and friends who wanted to congratulate her on beating the seemingly-invincible Fran Serviss (who, a hell of a lot of people were now suggesting, looked like she'd had some bad reaction to an illicit, performance-enhancing drug, perhaps one that she'd been using on her unbelievably effective training sabbatical), and then recovering to win the Joshua Whale 800 metres.

Chloe was particularly happy about the 800 metre freestyle. She'd been too tired to just win by relying on her fitness, so she'd had to use her brain. She'd dreamt up a tactical race plan while she'd been laying on the lawn, and, slightly to her shock, it had worked perfectly. Chloe had worn down her bitter red-headed rival, without giving away the fact that she couldn't have pushed even one stroke harder, and then she'd won. Her brain felt strange, like she'd exercised it and it was now basking in endorphins as it recovered from the exertion. It was a strange feeling, but Chloe decided she liked it.

Chloe sat on a secluded log and sighed. Probably, her brain needed more oxygen, and she felt like rewarding it.

Somewhere in the distance, there was a scream.

Chloe looked up.

The voice sounded – a bit – like her friend, Katie.

Katie?” Chloe called out.

No reply.

What the hell. Ytilibisivni.” Chloe stood up, vanished, and started to sprint.

 

*

 

Somewhere in the Booke of Darke there was a chapter of explanation about “ninth level magic,” which was supposed to be among the most powerful and demanding, and required a lifetime of dedication to master.

Or, Chloe had discovered, she could pretty much just say something she wanted backwards, and it happened.

By the time she raced onto the Aquatics Center lawn, Chloe was too late. There was something blinding in the distance – to her augmented vision, it looked like an orange nuclear explosion – and it was centered on the Fittie Snax tent. It was, Chloe was certain, the same stuff she'd spilled on the ground, and then carelessly ignored on the principle that it was now safely dealt with. But it hadn't been, because, Chloe realised to her horror, the alchemical magic had transformed into some hideous blob, which was about to explode... And it was about to do that right in front of her best friend in the world, Katie Kane.

There was no way Chloe could cover the distance to Katie in time... She wasn't even close enough to grab her friend with telekinesis. Except...

Ezeerf Emit!” Chloe yelled, and suddenly felt like a bolt of lightning had hit her spine on its way to the ground. It hurt.

Although she'd never met another, Chloe was pretty certain she was a powerful sorceress. And she also hadn't had time to read that much of the immense Booke of Darke, and so she had an approach to sorcery which lesser or more cautious practitioners might describe as utterly blasé. Even Chloe, however, realised that stopping time itself in its tracks might be pushing the boundaries of safety.

In practice, what that seemed to mean was that Chloe felt like she had a ton of bricks on her back as she kept running across the college lawn.

Around her, onlookers stood frozen, gazing at the Fittie Snax tent, jaws often open in mid-exclamation.

Chloe felt the force on her back intensify. Around her, the formerly absolutely-frozen people began to move at a glacial speed. A butterfly flapped its wings, and Chloe dodged around it.

By the time Chloe reached her friend, she felt like her own speed was being sapped by the weight pressing down on her. She guessed that time itself didn't much appreciate being told what to do, and felt like reintegrating her back to the same speed as the rest of the world. Which was annoying, because it felt like she was carrying two tons of bricks, now... And right at this moment, she was about to try and add Katie Kane's weight to her load.

Katie was lying on the grass in the Fittie Snax marquis.

A wall of lurid orange and blue goo seemed to have exploded, and flowed glacially through the air. By the time Chloe started heaving her friend into her arms, the goo was only a few feet from her – it had already splattered a dozen women in the marquis. Chloe noticed, but barely registered, a whole wall of the stuff had splashed through Tina Reilley, leaving her plastered from head to toe. The bitchy swim-captain's cocktail dress was drenched and ruined – and it was also burst open at the seams!

Shit! Chloe thought. So that's what that fucking drink does! The one she tried to hand me!

Katie Kane was too heavy. Chloe struggled with all the strength of her tired muscles, but pulling her best friend into the fast timesteam was too much for her. Chloe strained, but there was no way Katie was moving. Stuck in the regular timestream, Katie was – to borrow a phrase from Tottie – as immovable as the Rock of Gibraltar.

Shit. Sorry, Katie!” Chloe murmured. “But I'm not gonna leave you!”

Chloe had eyed her escape route to the lawn. But what she did instead was to hurl herself over Katie's body. She was pretty sure she could shield her friend from the bulk of the alchemical wall that was approaching at an ever-faster pace. And she had to! It was, after all, Chloe's fault that the lurid stuff was exploding like this in the first place... Well, actually, it was Tina Reilley's fault... But Chloe suspected the bitchy swim-captain was about to get more than her due.

Chloe had time to wish she'd worn something more solid than her promotional bikini. She also wished that the goo wouldn't get in her hair... Even as she rolled her tall, statuesque form over her smaller, although still 5'9'', best friend.

At the last moment, Chloe's brain decided to repay the favor of being given some oxygen.

Oh, shit! Why didn't I think of ---” Chloe cried, as tiny droplets of the leading edge of the wall of orange alchemical goo began to splatter wetly against her skin.

Tneiliser Erehps!”

 

* *

 

If time itself had taken any annoyance at Chloe halting it for a while – at least for herself – it clearly didn't decide to take any revenge today.

By the time the Gainesburg fire brigade had been called, and had dragged several six-hundred pound mega-fatties out from the smouldering wreckage of the Fittie Snax tent, and the ambulance men had given the Vice-Chancellor a soothing vallium-esque drug to calm his hysteria, Chloe's armored shell of solidified aether could have disintegrated. It certainly would have, had it been subjected to an unfavorable flow of time. But by the time it did disintegrate, and flake away into the charred ground, the vicious alchemical goo which had covered it seemed to have evaporated – its power spent on what it could find, such as the now-blubberous flesh of the ultra-fat former swimming champion, Tina Reilley.

A cute young medical graduate, on his first assignment as a paramedic, gave the marquis a final inspection for any casualties he'd missed. He'd assumed there had been some sort of gas explosion at a hot-dog eating contest. The immensely obese state of some of the patients he'd helped to hoist onto strengthened stretchers was absolutely shocking. Not one of them could be less than four hundred pounds! One, a red-headed young woman, must have been pushing six hundred pounds of blubber, despite being not more than twenty years of age, and her vast belly and flopping breasts had spilled over the sides of the ambulance bed. Apart from her shocking obesity, she wasn't in bad condition – just cuts and bruises – but she could certainly do with a long visit to fat camp!

Um. Medic?” Someone called. “My friend has a broken leg!”

The cute paramedic looked up in shock as two blonde hotties emerged from the wreckage of the super-fatty tent, one carrying the other. Obviously it hadn't just been filled with fatties taking part in an eating contest: that wouldn't explain the pair of 10/10 busty, bikini-clad fitties in front of him.

Triage rules be damned: I'd definitely have treated them first if I'd noticed them! Where were they?

Um, I think my friend and I were shielded underneath something. Could you help carry her? She's fatter than she looks, and I'm totally putting her on a diet when we---”

Chloe!” the less tall peroxide blonde with the broken leg cried plaintively. “Don't call me fat in front of the cute paramedic! Just tell him I love pasta and I'm a great cook.”

That's the pain talking, Katie. He's only an 8/10.”

An eight's totally good enough for me, Chloe! I'm between boyfriends! And he could give me morphine! My leg really hurts!”

The taller blonde – she was over six-foot tall and stacked with a rack and curvy hips like a fertility goddess – seemed to be carrying her friend through willpower alone. She slumped on the lawn as soon as she handed over her charge into the strong arms of the paramedic.

The paramedic himself made a note about them both in his diary: it was his first day at work, and he was eager to remember everything. The very tall blonde turned out to be some sort of swimming champion who would go on to win an honorary Olympic gold medal under highly unusual circumstances, and the quite tall peroxide one was named Katie Kane, and she was very appreciative for the attentive care she received for her broken leg. But those were both completely different stories.

 

* * *

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Oh my god i loved this story from the word Go. The scenario, the characters, imagery, the dialogue!

My only disapointments are not having enough time with super sized Professor Serris having to eat crow as she motors around on a barely working mobility scooter, Katie piling on weight while she's benched, Tottie taking a boob growth potion and gorging for weeks, Tina suffering the indignity of being the biggest, least in shape girl in fat camp and then a post olympic medalist Chloe beginning to train again after a long winter off spent with the book and a lot of food.

  I'll happily buy it on Amazon if you self publish it.

 

Further note, I'd love to hear the description of Joshua T. Whale's ex-wives. Ideas gallop from an intrepid 1920s flapper journalist investigating a fad of feederism speak easies from the inside, to a french resistance femme fatale new american curves spilling out of her new bikini post war to a harem of early 50s cheese cake queens competing to have the widest hips and biggest bust...

 

I might have to steal that middle one.

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On 3/2/2020 at 2:23 AM, Batman76 said:

 not having enough time with super sized Professor Serris having to eat crow as she motors around on a barely working mobility scooter

Hehe! Thank you! Well, that gives me an idea for a snippet of Epilogue, which I'll put below.

 

I've given Best Served Wet an edit for typos and things, and I've put it up on Amazon as a single (90 000 word!) e-book. I've enjoyed writing this story, and sharing it is the main thing for me, so there's no obligation for anyone to buy it and/or review it, but i'd be happy if a few people do. If anyone happens to have Kindle Unlimited, they should (I believe) be able to read it for "free." 

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B08611D1KN 

 

 

Epilogue

 

A tortured noise disrupted the tranquillity of a lazy July morning in one of Georgia's most beautiful, scenic valleys. It was the sound of grating gears, straining steel, and overburdened engines.

For Professor Francesca Serviss, the noise which was blaring around her was an ugly, mechanical sound – the sort of low-class noise she associated with public transport. It was not the sort of noise that would be emitted by any vehicle she would own. But therein lay the problem. Fran hadn't been been able to bring her own sports car with her to the Tranquillity Valley Spa and Weight Loss Retreat, because she'd been too fat to drive it! For that matter, she'd been too fat to squeeze into the passenger seat, as well!

And so, on a sweltering hot morning, Francesca Serviss was sweating like a pig in the open air, as she journeyed unsteadily and sluggishly up a steeply inclined road, mounted atop the grossly cheap, rickety mobility scooter she'd been forced to borrow from the spa's parking lot.

Drat!” Exclaimed the Professor. “Argh!”

It was an abject humiliation! As a very important woman, she shouldn't be condemned to sweat buckets as she struggled through an hour-long journey that she could have made in five minutes of air-conditioned comfort in her Ferrari! And, as tight as the Ferrari seats had become, they were the height of luxury compared with the too-hard cushion of the pathetic mobility scooter, which was so narrow that Fran's corpulent, stretch-pants clad abdomen spilled over both sides!

Bah!” Fran harrumphed in annoyance.

Fran tried to ignore the discomfort of the journey, and focus instead on the reward... She'd booked herself in for a delicious Sunday lunch at an expensive restaurant. The restaurant had been newly refurbished, and was situated conveniently next door to the Tranquillity Valley weight-loss spa. Now, “next door” did mean five miles up hill, which was a major expedition for the mobility scooter, but after six weeks of near-starvation on only 1400 calories per day, Fran had grown desperate enough to make the attempt.

The pathetic mobility scooter was a vastly underpowered vehicle of ancient vintage. It looked like it was thirty years old. Its bewildering dashboard presented an array of dials and knobs which the Media Studies professor didn't understand in the least. Although some of it was pretty self-explanatory. There was a speedometer, although since the needle was currently wobbling between the “3” and “4” miles-per-hour markers it could be more accurately described as “slow-ometer.” And there was an ominous, red “engine overheat” warning lamp which was flickering on and off, and draining precious volts from the ageing lead-acid battery as it did so. And there was an all-too-understandable brass plate, inscribed with the instruction that the pathetic scooter was designed for a rider of “at maximum 350 lbs.” Fran had flagrantly ignored that that particular notice. After all, it wasn't her fault that Anneka Anville's toxic Fitness Essence had transformed her into a bloated whale of a woman, far in excess of six hundred pounds! And it certainly wasn't from any failing on Fran's part that, after spending six weeks in an exceedingly expensive fat camp at the College's expense, she'd only lost a paltry twelve pounds. In short, the fact that Fran's bloated frame was vastly overtaxing the scooter's motor was – while obvious – not a subject she cared to dwell on.

Come on!” Fran shouted impatiently at the pathetic scooter.

Professor Serviss pushed the accelerator pedal to floor. She was hot, and her voluminous red top and grey stretch pants were both slick with sweat and sticking uncomfortably. But the “speedometer” needle barely flickered upwards at all. The scooter's too-small wheels screeched with alarm as the vehicle shuddered jarringly through another pothole.

Bah!”

Francesca reached into her handbag. She'd run out of her luxury French mineral water, and had chucked the bottle aside into the forested verge. But at least she still had a few chocolates, which she'd smuggled past the spa's gate guards. She popped a couple of the decadent Belgian choccies into her mouth. They had, however, melted disgustingly in the summer heat.

Uck!” Fran grumbled. She was certain that Katie Kane and Chloe Southern, her sporting rivals, didn't have to put up with with semi-molten chocolates. In fact, she suspected both of those blonde whores were at this very moment having fresh, cool choccies popped into their mouths by adoring, buff, boyfriends. The thought was too much for Fran! She wasn't allowed to bring paid companions into the Tranquillity Valley Spa, and therefore she hadn't been sexually satisfied for weeks!

Arrgh!”

Another irritating sound, higher-pitched than whine of her pathetic scooter's struggling motor, further ruined Francesca's morning. It was the sound of a second mobility scooter, climbing up the hill behind her. And it sounded like it was gaining!

Oh no!” Fran cursed.

Professor Serviss was the fattest woman in the Tranquillity Valley Spa, but she wasn't the only woman from Gainesburg. Indeed, in the aftermath of the disgusting explosion in the Fittie Snax tent, the College's lawyers had agreed to pay a seven-figure sum for several of their now-morbidly obese VIP guests to be treated at the exclusive weight-loss clinic. When Fran had sufficiently recovered from her ordeal to process this information, the news had been a very unwelcome shock. True, one of the Gainesburg ladies, Natasha Smithe, was quite delightful company. But another stricken attendee – the odious Professor Pamela “Fatty” Fowler of the Anthropology Department – happened to be Francesca's least favourite person in the whole of academia!

Francesca had spent much of her last ten years at Gainesburg College rubbing Pamela Fowler's nose in the fact that Francesca had a superior track-record as a competitive swimmer, and, indeed, had maintained a slimmer and more admirable figure even as both ladies approached middle age. Unfortunately, Fatty Fowler – who had only been splashed by a little bit of fallout from the Fittie Snax explosion, and had thus “only” ballooned up to five-hundred pounds – was now savouring every opportunity to make little vengeful, snarky comments about Fran's weight. And Francesca had learned to recognise the high-pitched whine of a slightly-faster, less-overloaded mobility scooter being driven incompetently by her bitter rival.

Fran checked her mirrors. Her bitter rival, Pamela “Fatty” Fowler, was indeed speeding up the hill behind her at a velocity that must have been in excess of six miles-per-hour!

What ho, Professor Serviss!” Came a cackling cry as Fatty Fowler drew alongside, slowing her scooter so that she could gloat. “I see you're still too fat for your scooter to manage this hill, Francesca!”

Bah!” Fran snorted angrily. “It's this battery! It's absolute crap, and doesn't carry a proper charge!”

HAHAHA!” Fatty Fowler gloated. “I think you'll find, Francesca, that what it can't carry is your fat ass!”

So said, Fatty Fowler stepped on the gas, and her scooter's velocity zoomed upwards to at least five miles-per-hour. A smell of hot, smouldering axle grease assailed Fran's nose as her rival sped ahead.

Fran floored her accelerator pedal, and willed her pathetic scooter to greater effort, but to no avail! On the steep incline, which must have been a gradient of almost one-in-ten, Fran's immense fatness was too great a load for the poor motor to go any faster.

Soon, Fatty Fowler was so far ahead that Fran barely overheard her rival's words as she chuckled to herself.

Hah!” Muttered Fatty Fowler. “That stupid Whale hasn't even discovered the Speed-Booster button on the dashboard! Heh!”

Fran drew breath sharply. So that was it! Her bitter rival was speeding ahead, but not because she was a svelter load! It was because she'd discovered some technical secret!

Fran huffed as she leaned forwards and scanned the dashboard. She could feel the old competitive spirit returning – the spirit which had seen her trounce the out-of-form Fatty Fowler in their only ever head-to-head swimming contest. Fran knew that she was in an uphill race against her rival, and she absolutely must win!

Aha!” Fran cried in triumph, as she stabbed at a brass toggle switch with her plump fingers.

The scooter surged forwards. The acceleration was immense! Soon, the speedometer crept to five miles-per-hour. And then to six! Fran chortled with delight as she rounded a turn and saw she was gaining on Fatty Fowler!

The gap began to close. One hundred yards yards, ninety yards... Fran started to think of her rival's disappearing lead in terms of lengths! And then fractions of a length.

What made it all the more delicious for Francesca was the way her grossly obese rival was obviously hunched forwards over her vehicle, with her foot pressing the accelerator pedal all the way home! Fran floored her own pedal, and willed the speedometer up to an astonishing seven miles-per-hour.

Up ahead, Fatty Fowler was stabbing buttons at random on her dashboard, desperate to find a way to give her machine more juice. But there was none left! In fact, her own “Engine Overheat” lamp was glowing a lurid red, and the needle of the engine temperature dial was all the way into the red danger zone. That would account for the nasty electrical burning smell emanating from her overtaxed scooter.

Fran surged up behind Fatty Fowler. It was the Stamford swimming competition all over again! Pamela was clearly out of puff!

Bang!

Fran felt a surge of delight as she saw a great billow of smoke, and a little flame, emerge from the workings of Fatty Fowler's engine. Pamela's scooter rolled to a stop. And then, even better, it began to roll backwards down the hill! Clearly, the brake wasn't able to hold it! Pamela Fowler was too fat for the brake!

Bwahaha! Looks like you're too fat for the brake to hold you!” Exclaimed Francesca, as her rival veered crazily backwards down the hill.

In truth, Fran had barely swerved aside in time, but she spent the next five minutes in rapt glee as she stared in her rear-view mirrors to watch her rival slowly trundling backwards, downhill, all the while trying desperately and uselessly to restart her smoking scooter engine.

All's well that ends well!” Fran exclaimed, and patted her rumbling tummy. Lunch would be served soon, and it would be a big one!

 

* * *

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Right. Now, I *think* this Chloe Southern chapter probably belongs to Best Served Wet, "Book 2". I wrote it as an epilogue to Milf Avenue, but I *think* that I'd like to do a future Chloe Southern story with some new villains. Villain #1 will be Ms Samantha Trimm, the disciplinarian and sadistic new Fitness Director of Gainesburg College, who is exceedingly angry that Chloe has been allowing her team to slack off...

 

Best Served Wet

Book 2

 

Chapter 1: Miss Trimm Takes on the Team (part 1)

 

November.


 

According to the Booke of Darke, the most legendary book of spells in the entire history of New England, a talented sorceress could perform some frighteningly powerful magic whilst standing between a pair of mirrors. And an enclosed octagon of full length mirrors offered further possibilities, more fearsome still.

Chloe Southern, Florida's state swimming champion and – ever since her winter vacation in Maine a year earlier – the girl who had inherited the Booke of Darke from a very distant aunt whilst simultaneously having an adventure during which she had discovered herself to be a talented sorceress, could only agree! Yes: standing in the middle of an octagon of full-length mirrors could indeed have some frightening effects!

Of course, Chloe's reasoning probably wasn't the same as the explanation in the Booke. Chloe's reasoning would mainly involve her present situation. And Chloe was standing in the mirrored changing booth of a mid-market jeans store, where the ability to read the label on the the back of the only pair of stretchy jeans she could squeeze into was, indeed, very scary.

Fuck no! And these are snug!” Chloe gasped.

Chloe blew out her cheeks theatrically. Her multiple reflections did the same, and then joined her in staring disbelievingly at the brown paper label on her rear that was stamped with “US 16. XL.” in heavy black ink.

Chloe Southern was not a girl given to panic or hyperventilating. A couple of months ago, with steely determination in her very beautiful green eyes, she'd stared down the 90 metre deficit that her team-mates had produced in the 4 by 400 metre freestyle relay after a hard day's competition against their college's fiercest rivals. Chloe's mind had been utterly calm. Her only concern had been deciding which Gainesburg bar boasted the best cocktails with which she could help her opponents to drown their sorrows after Chloe inevitably clawed back the distance and snatched their gold medals. Well, maybe that hadn't been Chloe's only concern – she also had a policy of never cheating by using magic in a race, and that meant she had to concentrate to restrain her sorceress powers from autonomously doing “helpful” things for her. Things like transmuting the painful fatigue toxins in her system into oxygen. But that was only a partial fix for Chloe's sorceress advantages – and the whole issue had led Chloe to sadly conclude that it wouldn't be fair for her to compete on the national squad. Winning in Florida state was one thing – that was well within the reach of the talents and skills Chloe had possessed for years, so it wasn't really unfair on anyone when she did. As for the national squad? Olympic glory? Maybe. But Chloe's strength and stamina levels were through the roof thanks to the long-lasting effects of a year of using strength spells – for various excellent reasons, in her opinion – and so she'd reluctantly resigned herself to inventing excuses why she couldn't compete internationally. Because she hated the idea of winning unfairly.

One of Chloe's excuses for dodging the national swimming squad, despite her ability to flirt with world record times and occasionally (outside of officially timed events) smash them into small pieces, was that she “struggled with her weight” and “could not handle the stress of international competition.” That had become Chloe's go-to excuse. The first part, Chloe had started to suspect when her size 12 jeans from last Fall refused to squeeze past her thighs, was pretty clearly true. She had excuses for that too: “My boyfriend likes me fluffy, and I love food! Especially when he fucks me afterwards when I'm so full!” Or there were the simpler excuses, “I'm on a bulk,” and, “I do a lot of weight training,” and, “my friend Tiffany says that, because I'm a cute 6'2'' foot blonde with big boobs and good skin, I could get a really great contract in plus-modelling if I filled out a little, so I am!”

Anyway, Chloe took a deep breath and restored her mind to meditative calm. Almost. Then she sighed and decided to give her reflections a pep talk until she felt better about her newly bulked-up assets.

Okay Chloe: what did you expect? I mean: you know you eat a metric fuck tonne, and then you ask your boyfriend, who is a feeder, by the way, as you know very well, to spoon-feed you a kilo of peanut butter afterwards. And donuts. Sometimes cheesecake. Plus, you think a gallon of milk blended with six bananas and a kilo of whey protein is a nice post-swim recovery snack, to get you ready for weight training. Plus you love cheeseburgers. Plus you never met a kind of pasta you didn't think was better when you cook a huge pan of the stuff along with another whole pan of bolognaise and then eat until you feel heavy. Plus your friendly magic book told you that the stronger your sorceress powers became, the more insatiably hungry they would make you – and you've spent the year developing them anyway and you made friends with a huge power nexus under LA which basically doubled your appetite overnight... Plus... You get the picture, Chloe! What did you expect would happen?”

The blonde swim-team captain felt a lot better after her monologue. She'd decided that her reflections were, despite being very curvaceous from all angles, also pretty hot. They also looked super strong. 

But still, size 16? C'mon! That means I'm basically all ass!”

Hmm. The towering, Amazonian blonde was definitely not all ass... There were boobs, for example, and her rack was absolutely epic. And there were bulging shoulders, and lats and traps, and... Basically, Chloe was very solidly muscled. Which probably explained how she could out-wrestle her swim-captain boyfriend without breaking a sweat. Plus, even if she was super-curvier than last year, she was still a mouth-watering 10/10.

Mmm. Chloe licked her lips... So this was how Beck felt about her! No wonder he wanted to fuck her all the time!

The tall, curvy blonde sounded happier. Well, she had a lot to be happy about! True, her butt might be growing from “bouncy” to outright “very curvaceous,” but on the plus side she could deadlift six hundred pounds unaided, and squat eight hundred, and it wasn't like her plans for the year involved being skinny.

Chloe emerged from the changing booth with a super-dazzling smile, and handed the unwanted smaller pairs of jeans back to a pretty brunette sales assistant. The new pair – size 16 and stonewashed white-grey – were apparently seventy dollars.

Seventy bucks? I guess that'll teach me for getting fat!” Chloe remarked to the fashionably-dressed boy at the checkout. His only reply was a sort of throaty gurgling sound, which Chloe decided to take as a compliment.

In short order, Chloe had gratefully accepted a store discount. She suspected her boobs had earned it for her: the checkout boy had scanned her jeans without taking his eyes off her chest, and she doubted he'd noticed the bit of drool that slipped from his mouth in the process. Chloe guessed she should take that as a compliment, too, even if it was a bit gross. 

The super-strong, curvaceous, blonde captain of the Gainesburg College swimming team exited the store, carrying her cute new winter stretch jeans. She felt pretty good. She'd squeezed in some shopping in between her morning's 18 mile swim and her yoga session, which would be followed up with – Yay! – lunch, and then weight training later. It was obviously true that Chloe was bulking out into a super-curvaceous young woman, but since she was keeping her swimming times at her state championship speed, that didn't feel like an issue to her. After all, if you can swim faster than your competitors, didn't that pretty much cover everything in the job description of a college swim-captain? And, if so, who cared if you got fluffy for your boyfriend?

Infelicitously for Chloe Southern, she was about to meet her college's brand new “Director of Fitness.” And the friendly blonde was about to discover that Ms Samantha Trimm, MBE, took a very dim view of student athletes who were as eager as Chloe to just enjoy their lives when they could instead be honing their bodies into ever more efficient medal-winning machines – for the glory of the college, and its new fitness director!

 

* *

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By God, Chloe's immense raw strength alone is enough to turn me on. I like an athletic girl turning into an out of shape blob sputtering and gasping but holy shit! An 800 lb squat!? She really is power girl!

 

Also her being up to a size sixteen while swimming eighteen miles a day is fantastic! 

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6 minutes ago, Batman76 said:

By God, Chloe's immense raw strength alone is enough to turn me on. I like an athletic girl turning into an out of shape blob sputtering and gasping but holy shit! An 800 lb squat!? She really is power girl!

 

Also her being up to a size sixteen while swimming eighteen miles a day is fantastic! 

This would beat the women's world record for an unequipped squat by 100 lbs (or more depending on the source).

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16 hours ago, Batman76 said:

By God, Chloe's immense raw strength alone is enough to turn me on. I like an athletic girl turning into an out of shape blob sputtering and gasping but holy shit! An 800 lb squat!? She really is power girl!

 

Also her being up to a size sixteen while swimming eighteen miles a day is fantastic! 

She's a super-strong, friendly, Amazonian blonde sorceress, who loves to eat. I like her.

 

16 hours ago, boss frond said:

This would beat the women's world record for an unequipped squat by 100 lbs (or more depending on the source).

Ah, yes, good point. This is intended (more or less). Chloe at the start of her freshman year was about as strong as it's possible for a female swimmer to be. Chloe in her sophomore year is considerably stronger and bulkier, due to the effects of being a sorceress (well, not exactly - in this story, the New England witches were just super-fat, because their magic made them gluttonous. The effect on Chloe is slightly different, because she works out relentlessly.)

 

Chapter 1: Miss Trimm Takes on the Team (part 2)

 

Late afternoon, shortly before dinner, was when the extensive weight room of the Gainesburg College Aquatics Center reached its busiest state, and the air filled with the clank of metal on metal and the grunts and heaves of athletic exertion. It was Chloe Southern's favourite time. Partly because she got to drool over the hunks of prime beefcake on the college football team, who tended to work out around then; and partly because she'd been put in charge of the college's sports teams over the summer and she'd discovered that letting the boys perv over her curvy, strong physique was great motivation for them. Also, she needed beefy boys around to spot her for heavy lifts, since she trained way above the weights that her girlfriends could handle.

Anyway, Chloe lay back on an inclined dumbbell press bench and luxuriated in the endorphins flowing through her after a great day of workout and play. She'd even done some studying! Well, she'd spent twenty minutes chatting to Amy about an essay on Benjamin Franklin, which Chloe was pretty certain was more than enough academic work for one week. And she'd snoozed over the Booke of Darke for over an hour after her yoga session. Today she'd let the book suggest whatever it liked for her to skim. It hadn't been very productive. The Booke of Darke, being a highly intelligent and animated spellbook, was perfectly capable of showing Chloe useful or exciting new secrets. However, it shared a feature in common with every other magical phenomenon that Chloe had ever encountered: namely, it spent most of its time preoccupied with the intent of encouraging Chloe to stuff her face with high calorie food and get fat. Today, the book had shown Chloe a page of spells that would increase her appetite and triple her already-fast rate of nutrition absorption from food. The blonde sorceress had responded that the Booke would clearly get on well with her Aunts Flossie and Bessie – but that, having packed on two jeans sizes since the summer, Chloe was already spoiling her boyfriend rotten with her extra curvaceousness, thanks very much. The Booke had appeared delighted by this news, if a moving book could indeed appear delighted.

Hey, Chloe! Cap!”

A fit young man was calling Chloe's name with a tone of high excitement. Chloe dragged her attention away from the buff, scantily clad young men on the weight machines opposite and towards the one who wanted to talk.

What is it, Ray?” Chloe asked.

Guess what, Cap?” Demanded Ray. Ray was a football player. 9/10 looks. A bit dim. Tottie rated him excellent in bed; Katie said above average. Given Tottie slept with about five times as many boys, including lots of non sportsmen, that tallied.

What do you want, Ray?”

I want you to guess!”

Um. Okay.” Chloe sighed. Honestly, some of Gainesburg's male sports scholars made her feel like a genius.

You're gonna love this!”

Um. Largeville College's team have come down with flu ahead of the game next week?”

Nope.”

Um.”

Do you want me to tell you?” Enthused Ray.

Sure!” Chloe replied.

Ilya's going for your college squat record! Right now! You gotta come watch!”

Chloe processed the news. This news was not, in fact, as earth-shattering as Ray's excitement had implied. Ilya Tylenis was a new football player. Ilya was from Kansas, and he was one of Gainesburg's sports recruits. He was not totally un-cute, but he was very blocky and appeared to be some kind of oversized cross between a farmer and piece of heavy farm machinery. In any other college in the USA, there would be no reason for the captain of a college's female swim team to be in any way irked that someone like Ilya was attempting to break the college's squat lift record. Gainesburg College was not quite like other colleges, though. Gainesburg College had Chloe Southern. And Chloe Southern was very content with her status as the outright college record holder for not only every swimming event, even counting male competitors, but also the outright squat record holder – it had become her favourite lift, ever since she'd started to bulk up her ass for her boyfriend's enjoyment, earlier in the year.

It had come as a surprise to Chloe, as much as to everyone else, that the same steel-cored musculature that made her an unbeatable swimmer also made her an outlandishly strong powerlifter. It was all the more surprising because a far-from-tiny fraction of Chloe's ass was now obviously bouncy fat. And beating the college's fairly average football boys had become one of her favourite boasts. It totally made up for bursting out of her old size 12 jeans, and then the 14s. Kind of.

Fuck! That's my record! We gotta go!”

Ray beamed with happiness that he had provided the delicious swimming captain, Chloe Southern, with tidings of such interest.

Very promptly, Chloe held out her hand for Ray to pull her up from her bench, and they raced to the lifting racks at the other end of the weight room, where Chloe softly shoved her way to the front of the crowd.

There was a lot of shouting. Things like, “Raargh!” Also, “Come on!” Chloe gazed on with a slack jaw as she saw the vast, bulging muscles of the six-foot shirtless monstrosity that was Ilya the Footballer. His biceps were vast. His legs were the size of trees, and so huge that he had to walk strangely to accommodate their bulk. His bulging torso looked like a barrel. Also, the veins on his neck bulged in a way that was absolutely not cute at all! He had to be the same height as Chloe – 6'2'' – but there the comparison ended. Chloe made a mental note that there was indeed such a thing as too swole for a boy to look cute without a shirt. And the limit was apparently somewhere around 320 lbs.

Chloe counted the amount of iron loaded onto the weight bar, which sagged and shook as Ilya the Beast heaved his heavily-taped shoulders to a low position and started grunting and shuddering from head to toe as he psyched himself up.

Eight hundred and fifty and –” Chloe reached.

Eight, eighty!” The voice of Ray exclaimed helpfully.

Inevitably, with a great deal of yelling and noise, and a very inelegant, ground-shaking stagger back from the weight rack, and with considerable trepidation from the two beefy footballers who would have to catch the bar if Ilya the Beast dropped its ever-shuddering mass, Chloe watched her record get beat.

880 pounds.

Fuck.”

Chloe reluctantly joined in the all-round congratulations and watched her name get scrubbed from the chalk board of honour on the weight room wall. She sighed theatrically. She had, in all honesty, still had a good day. But... Since the summer, Chloe's winning streak in the pool had grown so long she'd completely forgotten what it felt like to lose. Even in a stacked contest, or against boys. 

You gonna let that stand, Southern?” Asked one of Ray's companions, slapping Chloe on her lycra-clad back.

The only reasonable answer to give, even for possibly the world's strongest girl, was, “Yeah.” Technically, after all, Chloe's college record would have been a female world record by a colossal margin if it had been in any way official. In fact, she'd had to invent excuses like, “No, I want to be known as a swimmer! And I don't want my opponents in the pool to know how strong I am.” to explain why she wouldn't lift in a proper competition.

Nope.” Chloe answered firmly, her jaw set.

Several of her college football team overheard this, and Chloe's reply was very soon raised to the rank of an official challenge, and shouted across the gym repeatedly on her behalf until it was widely known. Ilya the Footballer grinned massively – his brain was clearly flooded with endorphins, and he took this challenge in a generous spirit. This was a pleasant surprise – Chloe had expected him to laugh. But apparently her reputation as a preternatural athlete was more widely established among the college's sports boys than she'd realised. That was nice.

You'll never beat me, Chloe!” Ilya Tylenis yelled across the room.

His shout was, however, very good humoured. The vodkas someone had poured for him probably helped.

The boys in the weight room appeared to want a reply from Chloe.

Your technique's sloppy, Tylenis!” Chloe yelled back. “My lifting multiple's over three! And that's with huge boobs!” The blonde shook her epic rack from side to side for emphasis. “So I only need to bulk up like thirty more pounds, and you're going down!”

Chloe's challenge was received with widespread delight and whooping.

Set a date, Southern!”

Valentine's Day!” Chloe yelled back without really thinking about it. It would give her an excuse not to bother with the college's annual hottie auction, this year, which would be a relief after last year's weirdness. “I need a few months to eat a fuck ton of peanut butter. Then you're going down!”

More cheering followed.

Chloe briefly reflected on her impromptu challenge, before a sound like a whip crack echoed through the gym and caused an ominous silence. On the whole, Chloe's idea of adding thirty-plus pounds of bulk, just to grab back a stupid college powerlifting record she shouldn't by rights have had in the first place, might not have been the best idea ever. It probably wouldn't do anything for her swimming speed, for example. But, on the other hand, she figured what the hell. Then there was an interruption.

Crack!

It sounded like someone had cracked a bullwhip to frighten some cattle. The effect on the footballers in the gym was surprisingly similar to the effect on such hypothetical cattle. They shut up. They looked.

Someone had cracked a whip! That someone was a lean woman, wearing an expensively-tailored business suit, and a complex tied-up hairdo. She seemed angry. No-one recognised her, but she clearly intended to change that. And the best way so do so, apparently, was to show how much contempt she felt for the most admired woman in the room. Infelicitously for Chloe Southern, that meant Chloe Southern.

Chloe Southern!” The business woman's voice was as sharp as the whip she appeared to be using as some sort of prop.

Um. Hi!” Chloe yelled back.

Don't answer back!” Snapped the woman. “Come here immediately!

Um. Okay.” Answered the blonde swim-captain. Then, perhaps unwisely, Chloe trudged in the direction she was instructed. The rest of the room watched the spectacle in bemused quiet.

Pick up the pace, Southern!

Chloe looked confused, but complied. Soon, she stood on the wooden floor in front of the woman, who gave one ominous instruction before spinning on her heels and clacking out of the gym with the very distinct implication that Chloe Southern would be in big trouble if she didn't follow.

Chloe Southern! My name is Samantha Trimm. MBE!” Said the woman.

Hi! I'm Chloe!” Chloe replied.

I know that! Don't be facetious! I am the new Director of Fitness at Gainesburg College! And I am very angry at the lax fitness that you, Chloe Southern, have allowed to arise within the your ladies' swimming squad. And I am also very angry at the poor standards of behaviour and, frankly, plainly excess bodyfat, that you, Chloe Southern, are exemplifying to the other sports scholars of this great college with your poor deportment, even at this very moment! Now, follow me to my office at once!

 

* *

 

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I instantly hate this woman. Good work on her.

 

And it's not like Chloe will be tempted to use magic to increase her athleticism despite gaining, right...or some magic accident causing her improved strength to wear off while her appetite skyrockets...

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Chapter 1: Miss Trimm Takes on the Team (part 3)

 

An hour later. Katie Kane's living room.


 

The second-hottest blonde in Gainesburg College's swimming squad, Katie Kane, wrestled with her conflicting desires as she sat on one corner of her expensive couch. The rest of the brand-new couch, which had been a present from her parents to lift Katie's spirits while she watched TV, ate popcorn, and recovered from the broken leg she'd suffered in June, was occupied by the curled-up form of the hottest blonde on the team, and quite possibly in Florida: Katie's best friend in the world, Chloe Southern.

Glorp!

Katie's tummy rumbled. She tried to ignore it. And she hoped that Chloe, whose head was resting on Katie's chubby lap, didn't notice it. Katie was hungry! But she was also Chloe's best friend, and Chloe was sobbing, so this was no time for Katie to leave her and to head to the cafeteria for a nice square meal. Even though she was very hungry! Hmm. Perhaps Chloe wouldn't mind if she just grabbed a quick tray of food, and a carton or two of chocolate milk, and brought them back to her room? No! She had to look after Chloe, who was upset, and needed to have her honey blonde hair stroked so she would feel better!

Glorp! Rumble!

She was so mean!” Sobbed the over-six-foot honey blonde swim-captain who was physically stronger than Katie Kane had used to believe was possible.

About half an hour earlier, the towering blonde had stumbled through Katie's door and started crying, apparently because their college's newest and meanest employee, Ms Samantha Trimm, MBE, had been viciously mean to Chloe, about her fitness and the supposedly “bad” example she set, and a lot of other untrue things. Ms Trimm had then suspended Chloe's swim-team captaincy, and sent her out sobbing.

There, there, Chloebuns!” Glorp! Rumble! Grrrrrrr!

Katie stroked her friend's hair. It was so smooth and soft! Katie didn't know where her honey blonde friend found the time to keep her hair so well conditioned. Chlorinated water was notoriously harsh. And Chloe was in the pool all the time!

Aw!” Chloe sniffed.

Glorp! Rumble! Glorp! Rumble! GLOOORP!

Katie started to sob a little herself. “I'm so hungry!” She confided to Chloe.

Much to Katie's delight, Chloe curled up a little more, and shifted her head off Katie's lap and onto an expensive cushion. To be fair, the cushion was about equally soft, so it wasn't much of a change.

With Chloe moved aside, Katie unpopped the button on her size 12 jeans. Realistically, she should probably change into some size 14's before heading to the cafeteria! Recovering from the broken leg had involved Katie switching from a high-calorie training diet to a nutritious but lighter regime for her regular meals; but she hadn't cut down her trips to Gainesburg's excellent milk bar, Devilish Milkshakes, or her cheesecake intake, and she hadn't asked any of her boyfriends to stop taking her for five course meals. Therefore she'd gone from cutely curvaceous to downright chubby, and she was now almost as voluptuous as Tottie Thompson, her plus-model friend. Only with the help of her best friend, Chloe Southern, had Katie found the confidence to squeeze back into a swimsuit and resume training. Even then, Katie had only won any medals this Fall because Chloe insisted on putting her back in the college's relay teams, where Chloe's presence tended to ensure victory.

Katie changed into a stylish new pair of black size 14 jeans and a black tank top that was slimming, but not slimming enough to conceal her busty rack, accessorised with a silver belt. They were a much better fit, although they still didn't offer much spare room for dinner. Ah well. It wasn't as if Katie planned to stuff herself!

Glorp!

Chloe looked better as she looked up from Katie's couch. Katie hoped her friend had now recovered, thanks to a nice half-hour of being soothed on Katie's lap, from the vicious criticism of the college's horrid new Director of Fitness.

Your tummy sounds hungry, Katie! I should probably let you go to dinner!” Chloe said. Katie leant down and gave her a hug.

You should come too, Chloe! You'll waste away if you skip meals!”

Katie knew she wasn't exactly telling the truth: her statuesque friend Chloe had grown a lot bigger and more solid since the summer, due to a weight-training regime she'd begun in earnest five months ago. And also due to food. Lots of food. Katie, who prided herself on knowing everything about all her friends, knew that Chloe was bulking up because her boyfriend, Beck Bronte, adored big curves. Also, Chloe had discovered that (a) she liked being fed peanut butter in bed, and (b) she also liked that Beck fucked her harder and harder the more she bulked up. Katie had initially been concerned for her best friend, because Chloe had packed on muscle and general bulk very easily, and Katie was worried the extra mass might harm her friend's chances of qualifying for the national swimming squad – which Katie had felt was a nailed-on certainty. Chloe, however, had reassured Katie that she was very happy and would prefer to enjoy her life without the stress of competing above the Florida state champion level she'd already reached. Katie trusted her friend's judgement. After all, she knew Chloe had achieved minor internet fame and some decent-ish income from a series of internet TV videos she'd made, on “fitness challenges,” with the assistance of a tiny production company owned by their mutual friend, Joshua Whale Jr. So Chloe was perfectly capable of making good life choices on her own. And therefore Katie was very happy for Chloe to bulk up if she wanted to – hell, Chloe's bulky but 10/10 curves in a swimsuit even helped distract from Katie's chubbiness when they were together at competitions. But the result was that skipping one evening meal at the cafeteria was unlikely to leave Chloe's body in a state of starvation.

Aw, thanks, Katie.” Chloe sniffed. “But that's not what Samantha Trimm, MBE, said.”

Oh really? I don't care! Why should you care if Samantha Trimm, MBE, calls you a fat pig, and a greedy glutton, and an overfed bimbo, and a bad example, and a terrible captain, and out-of-shape, and a disgrace, and...”

Katie! Stop being so mean!” Chloe flinched.

Katie sighed.

Chloe, the point is: Screw Ms MBE Trimm! I don't give a shit what she says, and neither should you!” Katie said firmly. It was time to straighten out her friend's brain. And then it would be time to settle her tummy with a huge dinner.

I know, I know!” Chloe half-sobbed. “I know.”

What do you know, Chloe Southern?” Katie asked, in a suddenly-harder voice.

Katie Kane's family were in the New Jersey 'garbage disposal' business. She told most people they were in 'business,' because the mob connotations of 'garbage disposal' weren't something she cared to advertise. Not among Katie's upper-crust friends, anyway. But she'd told Chloe. Hence, Chloe wasn't totally caught unaware by Katie's ability to ask a question in a suddenly-menacing voice. And, Katie smiled happily, her friend had finally been soothed enough to answer.

Um. I know she can get screwed, Katie.” Chloe muttered.

Why?”

Because I told her I'm the Florida state swimming champion; and I've won every race in the last five months; and I was in charge of all our college sports teams this summer, and we practically won our football league because of me; and I'm super-cute; and I'm friendly! So...”

So...”

So?” Katie demanded.

So, if Ms Samantha Trimm, MBE, wants to be mean to me, she can get screwed!” Chloe answered, before spoiling her answer, and causing Katie Kane to roll her eyes, by finishing with a little sob. “So why was she so mean to me?”

Katie sighed, and unlocked a concealed drawer in her writing desk.

Because, Chloe, Ms Samantha Trimm, MBE, is a grade-A business bitch. I know people like her. She likes to be the biggest, baddest businesswoman in her territory, and she just got hired by our college. And, to prove she's bigger and badder than anyone else, she decided to beat on you, Chloe. Because – and don't tell my boyfriends I told you this – you are Gainesburg's hottest, most respected girl, Chloe. Our alpha-wolf, if you like. And therefore you have a huge target painted on you, as far as Ms Trimm is concerned, because if she can get you to be scared of her, then she gets to be Gainesburg's top bitch. Which, by the way, sounds horrible! Because I'm as chubby as hell right now, and I really don't want a big, mean new Fitness Director kicking me about. I prefer having you in charge of me, Chloe, because you let me go for milkshakes when I need them, because you're a real leader. And my bestest friend! Which means...”

Katie reached into the drawer.

Chloe had wiped away a few tears while Katie was talking, and so she could see clearly now. Here eyes widened in shock.

Katie, you can't!” Chloe gasped.

Chloe Southern couldn't recognise different kinds of handgun, but the one Katie Kane had drawn from her desk was huge. It was blocky, and made of shiny chrome. It was the Ilya Tylenis of handguns. It seemed to have Katie's girly signature inscribed along the vast, ten inch barrel.

Katie stuck her tongue out, and sighed exaggeratedly while aiming the pistol experimentally at her clock.

Well I'm not saying we should shoot her!” Katie said.

Oh.” Chloe looked confused.

Well, not with this, anyway. It's way too traceable! Plus, Dad gave it me for my seventeenth, and it's my favourite Desert Eagle. You'd use a Glock 17 if you had to--”

Chloe curled up tighter on Katie's sofa, and interrupted her peroxide blonde friend's menacing suggestion.

Katie!”

Katie sighed, smiled, and locked the Desert Eagle away. That done, the New Jersey blonde was gratified to see she'd shocked her Californian companion back to her senses, and that Chloe took a deep breath and looked alert.

No, Chloe, I'm not going to shoot her. My point is, you're my friend, and if Ms Samantha Trimm, MBE, thinks she can beat on you, then, look... It's like this. If she makes you this upset one more time, I will make my Dad send a guy all the way from New Jersey, who will... Rough her up so bad she won't do it again!” Katie finished darkly.

But!” Chloe tried to object.

No, I really will. However, I have a much better plan!” Katie continued.

You do?” Chloe asked, genuinely surprised.

Katie wasn't usually a girl for planning, except in the context of which new dresses she planned to buy, and how little exercise she could do and still be able to just barely squeeze her large boobs into them.

I do! And it's really good. You know I said Ms Samantha Trimm, MBE, wants to be the biggest, baddest businesswoman in Gainesburg?” Katie asked.

Yeah. Go on...”

Well, I think we should let her!”

Katie's triumphant smiled radiated satisfaction.

Um.”

Um, what?”

Um, I guess that's a plan.” Chloe admitted.

Oh, sorry, Chloe. I meant to say BIGGEST, baddest, businesswoman. With emphasis on the BIGGEST. And we can just let her.”

Okay, Katie. You're gonna have to explain that to me. Can you use short words, please?”

Katie beamed with happiness.

Sure! But, tell me this, Chloe: how many girls at Gainesburg have gained weight since our Freshman year?”

Um. All of us?” Chloe replied.

How much, on average? Um, ignoring Tina, who's still at fat camp. Heh!” Katie was happy to ignore the girl who'd broken her leg.

Um. I don't know. Quite a lot, I guess. Two dress sizes?”

Katie counted that admission on one finger.

Yep! Now, Chloe: you gained weight 'for your boyfriend,' right?”

Yeah! Partly. Beck likes me fluffy!”

Uh huh. And, Chloe: why have I gone up two jeans sizes?”

Um, because you broke your leg? And the milkshakes here are really good?”

Hmm, maybe. But did any of my boyfriends complain?”

Chloe concentrated. That question needed her to think about quite a few cute boys.

Um, I don't think so.”

Exactly! That's my point!”

Um. In short words, please, Katie.”

Katie huffed, and continued. “Gainesburg is super-fattening, Chloe! No woman who comes here can gain less than like thirty pounds! Partly it's the great food, and the milkshakes, and the bars... But the real secret is that dating a boy in Gainesburg is incredibly fattening! Because they're all into curves, Chloe!”

Chloe's jaw dropped open. She hadn't noticed that before, but what Katie said was distinctly true! Every boy she knew on the sports teams liked Chloe more now, with bulked-up glutes and legs developed by powerlifting and eating,  than before! She'd just thought that was because she was cute and friendly, but Katie had a point – an awful lot of boys in Gainesburg liked their girlfriends to be really big eaters, and dating a boy in Gainesburg was fattening!

Half of them overfeed us deliberately – like Beck; but also a lot of Tottie's boyfriends. And the other half – like mine right now – really like it when we get curvier, even if they don't spend their time shovelling us full of peanut butter.”

Ahem.” Chloe cleared her throat. “I'm in awe, Katie: that's true! I'd never noticed, but you're right!”

Katie Kane smiled dazzlingly. Then she concluded.

So that's my plan, Chloe!”

Um: you mean. We don't do anything. We just wait and assume Ms Samantha Trimm, MBE, will get really fat because Gainesburg is a really fattening place to live; and you think she'll get a boyfriend who'll take her out to eat too much. And then she'll have to get off my back and eat crow for calling me fat, and all the other mean things she said?”

Pretty much!” Katie replied happily. “Except I was thinking we could help the boyfriend angle along a little...”

Really?”

Yeah, really! I mean, I don't think our boys would be happy if the new Fitness Director makes all their girls skinny...”

I can see that!” Chloe agreed.

Katie finished counting her plan on her hand.

So, I'm just saying, it wouldn't be hard for us to find a cute boy to make sure Ms Trimm, MBE – um – gets to indulge herself in all the culinary pleasures that our beautiful little town has to offer! I mean, come on, she's at least late thirties. How many desserts do you think her metabolism can handle?”

Chloe had to sit quietly for a moment, contemplating her best friend's sneakiness.

That's really sneaky! But, she was really mean to me! Okay. I'm in! So, now we just need to find ourselves a cute football boy who's into both slightly older women and feeding. How hard can that be?”

Glorp! Rumble!

No, Chloe! We can do that later! I'm super-hungry now, and I could eat a horse! First, we need to go to the cafeteria and eat!”

Katie smiled happily when her best friend agreed to come with. She'd both cheered up her best friend, and gotten to go for a huge meal, and she called that two for two!

 

* *

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Right, so Samantha Trimm, MBE, turns out to be really mean. Hopefully everyone agrees that she deserves the come-uppance she gets in part 4!

 

Chapter 1: Miss Trimm Takes on the Team (part 4)

 

Samantha Trimm, MBE, fizzed with the adrenalin and pleasure of a well-administered roasting, as she paced excitedly about her new office. As a successful businesswoman, Samantha Trimm loved to win! And there was nothing quite like the triumphant surge of adrenalin released by winning against a truly powerful and confident opponent! And, today, Chloe Southern had been that opponent!

Indeed, Samantha felt certain that only her painstaking research, undertaken in the weeks before beginning her modestly-lucrative new job as Director of Fitness at the crappy little college in Gainesburg, had provided her with sufficiently vicious taunts to defeat the blonde superstar athlete. And how delicious the victory had been! The blonde had followed grudgingly and defiantly to the Fitness Director's office, but by the time Samantha had finished with her she'd practically been sobbing into the lycra of the sleeve behind which she was hiding her face! Of course, standard taunts like fat cow and bad example and terrible captain, although they set a nicely menacing tone, would not be potent enough on their own to reduce a girl who was, in fact, Florida State swimming champion and the most objectively successful sports captain in her college's mediocre history, to a sobbing wreck. Felicitously, Samantha Trimm had done her research! She had thrown in a cutting remark that Chloe's stepmom and dad were quite correct to save their money for her brothers' college tuition, and leave her to her scholarship alone, because she was clearly the least deserving sibling! That had got the blonde's notice, and set her nicely off-balance, from where Samantha had landed the follow-up sucker punch that her deceased real mom would be ashamed of Chloe's lack of commitment to swimming, which was amply proven by the way the blonde couldn't even be bothered to stay lean and fit, but had instead gorged herself into a curvy cow! That had done the trick!

Hehehe!” Samantha chortled, as she paced her office.

Ms Trimm carefully adjusted the positioning of her successful diet book, The Trimm Plann, which was artfully displayed on her desk for all to see. Thanks to the power of paid advertising, and the gullibility of the middle American fatties who snapped up copies, it had been a successful seller. Of course, as a successful businesswoman, Samantha Trimm had brought out a series of sequels to milk the fatties for all they were worth: Staying in Trimm; New Secrets of the Trimm Plan; Time to Trimm. Then there was Trimming the Fat: A Successful Businesswoman's Secrets of Business Success. That was a management self-help book that, along with her exquisitely-fit and deliciously-lean physique which bespoke her expertise in fitness management, had landed Samantha Trimm her job at Gainesburg College. Not a job she'd really wanted – but, since most of her earnings from her earlier career in the financial world were currently taking a long journey through the world's tax havens until they became sufficiently unrecognisable to spend, one that paid the bills!

Samantha Trimm gave a happy sigh. The crappy college in Gainesburg was almost hilariously crap. Its finances were in disarray, due to the expensive new Aquatics Center. Most of the sports staff had been sacked to make up the losses – and the faculty had taken a pay cut! The teaching facilities were falling apart. Surprisingly, however, the college had floated to the top of most of its sports leagues this summer. The resulting revenues had apparently justified the hiring of a new Fitness Director, and Samantha Trimm, an ultra-fit MBE with a successful career in finance who was also a successful author of fitness books, had impressed the college authorities and got the job! And, although the office wasn't as big as she'd have liked, Samantha Trimm did really like one part of the job: namely, the opportunity to crush an opponent like Chloe Southern, and seize her spot as the most respected and admired woman in town.

There were a few other perks of Samantha Trimm's job too. Some of the buff young men the college had attracted with sports scholarships were very handsome. And, as Fitness Director, Ms Samantha Trimm was in the perfect position to put a little pressure on whichever of them she liked. So, if the fancy should take her to acquire, perhaps, a toyboy to take with her to her tropical island paradise, once her considerable finances were properly available to her, she'd be in just the right place to get one! Indeed, the college cafeteria was practically like a shopping mall for hotties!

Rumble!

Oof!” Ms Trimm patted her lithe tummy.

In her business career, staying perfectly lean and fit had been very important to Samantha Trimm. Her perfect figure had distracted countless men from noticing occasional accounting anomalies that she wanted them to miss. But maintaining a 24'' waist was a challenge, especially at the age of thirty-nine. It meant no treats! Or at least very few treats – Samantha had rewarded herself for crushing Chloe Southern, with a chocolate truffle from the luxury box in her office drawer. That had been too delicious a moment to leave uncelebrated.

Glorp!

Oh, all right!” Samantha muttered. She was in a splendid mood. “Time to get a nice lean dinner from the college cafeteria. Free food is one of the perks for the staff here, after all, as well as for the sports scholars. Let's hope it's not crap!”

First, Samantha Trimm headed to her college rooms to change out of her smart business attire and into a more alluring ensemble suitable for showing off her svelte figure and enticing a handsome cutie.

 

* *

 

Gainesburg College cafeteria, 7 pm.

 

Katie Kane leaned back in her chair and groaned. “Too much food!”

The peroxide blonde had loosened her silver belt and adjusted her black tank top to cover her unbuttoned jeans. This was essential, because she'd devoured a heaped plateful of egg fried rice and beef until only a few spots of grease remained, as well as filling up on a heavy bowl of spiced parsnip soup. She'd also taken a couple of bread rolls, and a side plate of broccoli, onion bhajis, fries and kidney beans, slathered in hot sauce. Then, because the dessert counter was there, and it was free, and despite being quite full already, she'd packed away three slices of chocolate tart with lashings of pouring cream. She reflected luxuriantly that her boyfriend would have his work cut out to fuck her back down to a size ten, if she kept eating like this.

Katie was happy to see Chloe had got her appetite back. She'd chosen pretty much the same warming, winter food that Katie had selected, with the slight difference that Chloe had taken her tray back to the servery to refill a plate with beans and rice, and collect a few more sides. Good for her! In due course, Chloe returned. As well as the food, she sported two huge banana milkshakes – the largest and thickest the cafeteria had to offer. True, the milkshakes here weren't a patch on Devilish Milkshakes, but they were free. And Chloe set one down in front of her friend. Katie groaned. She knew the big milkshakes were around 800 calories, and Katie felt slightly stuffed.

Oh, I can't!” Katie moaned. “I'll get fat!”

Think of it as a deserved reward for the genius who figured out all the boys here like us fat!” Chloe replied.

Katie couldn't argue with that logic, and slurped a bit of the banana milkshake.

A short while later, Chloe collected a second milkshake, while Katie sipped the start of her first one. Over dinner, she'd put a bit of thought, via text conversation, into finding a cute footballer to work on her plan of seducing and fattening up Ms Samantha Trimm, MBE. She hadn't been met with much enthusiasm. Katie had expected – and had been perfectly happy – that she would have to sleep with whichever cute boy agreed to assist with her plan. She hadn't expected to have to offer a threesome with Chloe in order to secure a suitable agent, but apparently that was the market price for any major-league cutie to agree to date the whip-wielding Ms Trimm. After a bit of negotiation, Katie had secured the services of the college's third-hottest footballer, after Chloe had said yes to the threesome – although Katie hadn't quite gotten around to telling her who it was with. Then, as Chloe sat down, Katie noticed a svelte woman clad in a purple, flowing ensemble stride into the cafeteria. It was Ms Trimm!

Chloe!” Katie nudged her friend's foot, while texting furiously. “It's her! You Okay?”

Chloe looked nervous. “Mmm, hmm.”

Ms Samantha Trimm strode around the cafeteria, inspecting the various sports fitties and regular students, before settling upon the table of Chloe Southern and Katie Kane as the one that was most intriguing to her. Katie patted her friend's leg reassuringly. As soon as she arrived, Samantha Trimm took on a sour expression and looked at Chloe as if at something unpleasant.

Ah, Southern! I hadn't expected to see you in the dining hall! I had hoped that our little chat about your overeating habits, and how disappointing your gluttonous deportment would surely be to your most immediate family, might have persuaded you to skip a meal or two! Or at least swap down for a salad! But I'm sorry to see you seem to be stuffing your face as much as ever, or perhaps even more! Is that a second tray of food I see, beside that second glass of grossly-fattening milkshake?”

Katie Kane had been keeping a soothing hand on Chloe's leg, expecting her Californian friend would be the one to lose her cool. The New Jersey mobster's daughter hadn't expected it would be her that would snap! But, as she fathomed the spiteful context behind Samantha Trimm's comments, she wished she'd brought her fucking Desert Eagle!

Leave her alone, you bitch!” Katie yelled out loud, and stood up, fingers itching. 

Samantha Trimm sneered. Katie realised she had Chloe's foot nudging at her, and sat back down before she caused more of a scene than she already had.

Ah, Miss Kane, isn't it?” Demanded Samantha Trimm. “I fear that once I've dealt with Chloe, you may turn into my very next problem. A girl who lets herself get as out-of-shape and fat as you have done, on a simple six week recovery for a minor broken leg, is clearly the exact sort of girl this college has long needed a Fitness Director to take in hand!”

Fucking try it!” Katie snapped at the elegant and lean businesswoman.

Samantha's eye's narrowed. She was enjoying her bonus sneer at Chloe Southern. It was a shame the girl wasn't sobbing in her room, but at least she wasn't up to answering back, and was instead relying on her wing-girl. Katie Kane probably would be the next problem after Chloe was dealt with, but she wouldn't pose much trouble for a woman as successful as Ms Samantha Trimm, MBE! For now, Samantha was minded to ignore defiance from an obvious airhead like Katie.

In a way, Samantha decided it was fortunate the cafeteria was fairly empty, so that the scene around her wasn't attracting much notice from anyone beyond the curvaceous swimming duo. In was fortunate, because Samantha was suddenly much more interested in a very handsome and buff young man in a light shirt that showed off his well-developed chest muscles – he was clearly a footballer – whose path through the cafeteria brought him nearby. Delightfully, he was well-mannered and introduced himself to his new Fitness Director.

Hi there! Is it Ms Trimm? I'm Ray! I'm on the football team! I believe you're going to be overseeing us?”

Samantha Trimm licked her lips, and adjusted her stance to show off her figure to her best advantage. Then she turned to talk to Ray, blanking the defeated Chloe and Katie from her mind.

Call me Samantha!” Said Ms Trimm.

 

*

 

Meanwhile, on the cafeteria table, as Ms Trimm turned her back, Katie Kane busied herself mouthing furious expletives at Chloe, who didn't recognise all of the language but sympathised back by nudging Katie's leg. Katie made the universal hand gesture for, “I wish I'd brought my pistol.”

Chloe tried to ask, with improvised sign language and without pointing too obviously in Ray's direction, or drawing Ms Trimm's attention, “Is it Ray you said we'd sleep with?”

Yes.” Katie nodded.

He's an idiot!” Chloe mouthed.

I know! Sorry. Cute though!”

Yeah! Sure!”

At this point, Chloe smiled encouragingly in Ray's direction. This seemed to fluster him and disrupt his conversation with Samantha. Ms Trimm turned around at this point, and demanded to the blondes.

Aren't you leaving?”

Um. Sure. Imma just finish my milkshake.” Chloe said back.

On the whole, Katie thought it would have been better for Ray's seduction mission if Chloe had agreed to leave directly. She glared at Chloe, with this intent.

Oh, fine! I'm on a diet anyway.” Chloe gave in.

At this point, with Samantha Trimm's lips curled into a sneer as they went, Katie and Chloe departed.

Once safely out of the building and walking home through the dark, Katie checked behind her and started talking.

Yeah. I got Ray for the mission! Sorry!” Said Katie.

He's okay!” Chloe replied.

I know he's an idiot.”

Cute though!”

Hell, yeah.” Katie giggled. Then she added. “But, did you have to touch his butt when we passed him on our way out? Don't give Ms MBE a way to figure out my brilliant plan!”

That was just to wish him good luck!” Chloe assured her friend.

And you said something to him, too, Chloe! Sounded like: Mrahc fo eht Subucni. Or something. Like Swedish. I know Ray's Lithuanian. Do you speak Lithuanian?”

Um. No. I don't remember saying anything, Katie.” Chloe denied to her best friend, unconvincingly. “I might have coughed a bit.”

Uh huh?” Katie sounded deeply sceptical.

Yes!”

Bullshit. I'm going to find someone Lithuanian and ask what that means. And you can speak English, from now on.”

I do!”

Huh! I just hope you haven't fucked up my plan!”

I really, really haven't!” Chloe assured her.

 

*

 

Meanwhile, in Gainesburg College cafeteria.

 

Ray Pitt felt good. Very good. In fact, he felt super-horny. Like: locked in the shower room with the cheerleading squad horny. Or more: pressed against Chloe Southern when a sudden earthquake causes her to stumble while bicep curling dumbbells, and she falls on top of him, with her Amazonian, huge breasts straining her lycra top as she crushes them on his chest.

Mmm.” Ray said to Samantha.

The surprising thing was that Samantha wasn't his type. Oh, she was beautiful, in a slightly kinky twice-his-age and could-be a pretty, well-maintained aunt way. But she was way too lean for him. She had no curvage anyway. Unlike Chloe Southern.

Grrr.” Ray made a throaty sound as he thought of Chloe Southern.

Now, Ray Pitt would be the first to admit that his conversation, this evening, was not the most sparkling. Still, Samantha – or Director Trimm – seemed to like it a lot. And that was a good thing! After all, she might not be his type, but he was super-horny! And he would absolutely give her a good tumble if she kept touching him and sending signals directly into his pants.

So Ray, is your room nearby? Or would you like to see the suite in the Old House that I get from the college?”

Ray's throat gurgled again.

Yes.” Ray said.

Which?”

Um, actually. Shouldn't I buy you dinner first, Samantha?”

In reality, Ray was looking for an excuse to fill Samantha up a bit before taking her – as she very obviously wanted – to bed. Felicitously, even though his question felt ultra corny, Samantha seemed to be so into him that she licked her lips and very quickly assented.

Why don't you choose something for me, from the servery, Ray?” Samantha asked, before patting her flat tummy. “But nothing fattening and no carbs! I have a 24 inch waistline to maintain!”

Okay, Samantha!” Ray agreed, licking his lips.

When Ray returned with a couple of bun-free cheeseburgers on a plate for Samantha, with broccoli and beans, he was surprised to find her sat on the chair Katie Kane had vacated – and sipping the curvaceous blonde's milkshake!

Wow! I thought you said nothing fattening, Samantha?” Ray asked.

Samantha gazed greedily at Ray. She licked her lips suggestively.

Oh, it's just a little protein shake, Ray! And I think I deserve a little fuel if I'm going to be tackling a big footballer like you later!”

Oh!” Said Ray. It didn't seem like a very charming thing to say, but Samantha responded with a lustful smile as if he'd come out with advanced poetry.

Ray didn't mention that the milkshakes were very much not made with protein, and mainly consisted of milk, banana, some cream, and a lot of added sugar. It was probably just as well he didn't, because Samantha soon finished slurping Katie's milkshake and followed it with the one Chloe Southern had left at her place and then asked him to bring her a third from the bar, all while she tucked away her bunless cheeseburgers and vegetables.

Urp!” Samantha patted her tummy. It looked pretty swollen. Of course, with such a small waist, a hefty meal was likely to do that to her!

Ray had finished his own snack. “I hope that was okay, Samantha!”

Oh!” Samantha groaned orgasmically. “Delightful, Ray! Why don't you get me a little more! You've given me quite the appetite!

Oh, Okay!” Ray replied.

Hmm, very curious!” Ray mused to himself as he piled up a second plate for Samantha with carbs and glodge. “I actually believed her when she said she didn't eat much. I mean, she's so thin! Still, if she likes to eat, maybe we can see about getting her some curves...”

By the time Ray returned, with two plates laden with rice, chilli, and Chinese beef, plus a couple of slices of chocolate tart, Samantha Trimm was rubbing her tummy hungrily.

About time, Ray! I'm hungry!” Exclaimed the older businesswoman.

Samantha ate.

Ray was painfully horny. He felt rock hard, and it would be embarrassing to stand up, unless he walked behind Ms Trimm to hide his hard on. “Ouch.” He moaned. Normally, he'd be pretty happy about a date that turned him on this much. Of course, he could only imagine a date with Chloe Southern would make his pants feel like they were stuffed with an agonisingly-hard steel bar. Of course, it was nice to be so horny! But he did want to have sex soon!

Samantha gorged herself. She felt stuffed! She'd eaten too much! She was horny! The sight of the delicious, buff footballer had driven her wild! She was putty in his hands. Even his merest suggestion of a meal had stirred a ravenous hunger in Samantha's belly! She gorged, and gorged, until her second tray of food was done, down to the last crumb of tart, after every grain of rice was packed into her distended belly. She'd eaten so much she looked pregnant! If she ate another thing, her dress would surely rip! But she knew she couldn't turn down the offer, it Ray made it!

Urp! Oh! Too full!” Samantha groaned. She patted her belly.

Ray wanted sex. He was painfully horny.

Would you like to show me your room, Samantha?” Ray asked.

Yes!” Samantha exclaimed, feeling a wave of lust wash over her.

Great! I'll just grab you another milkshake and some cheesecake to bring with us, shall I Sam?” Asked Ray, stumbling awkwardly towards the servery.

Samantha felt stuffed to bursting point. More food wasn't what she needed! What she needed was sex – and lots of it, to burn some calories before she put on any weight from the huge binge! It was as many calories as The Trimm Plan allowed in three days!

Samantha stood up. She felt fat. And her purple ensemble had pulled too tight around the tummy.

Rip!

Samantha felt the cool November air on her tum. Fuck: her outfit had bust a seam!

URP! Lovely, Ray. Be quick!”

As soon as possible, and in a state of great horniness, Samantha and Ray stumbled to her room, for a hard fuck followed by session of cheesecake and milkshake feeding for the new Director of Fitness.

 

* *

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22 hours ago, Batman76 said:

Aw shit, don't start crap with a girl that has magic powers.

And as she's removed from swim captain does that mean Chloe still has gym access? Be a shame if she got really fluffy...

Well, I think the most fluffening thing for Chloe at the moment is that she's decided to bulk up at least thirty pounds by weight training - plus however much fluff she adds at the same time due to her associated bulking-up diet! 

 

Chapter 2: Fattening Footballers (part 1)

 

Two weeks later...

 

Ms Samantha Trimm lay back on the comfortable bed in her college suite, and moaned sleepily. She was living the dream! Using her position of power to secure a handsome young footballer boy toy had definitely been a wonderful idea! At the age of 39, she was having the best sex of her life! Multiple times a night! And it was free, courtesy of the strongest and most impressively well-endowed young man she'd ever bedded, who was half her age, yet nonetheless astonishingly skilled in giving pleasure! Probably due to all the experience he'd gained with Gainesburg College's sex-hungry sluts, such as Katie Kane and Tiffany Thompson! Samantha grudgingly admitted those two slutty and borderline-obese female swimmers, and their ilk, were good for something. That something, delightfully, was: training up an experienced fuck buddy for Samantha's enjoyment.

There was just one issue: while Samantha Trimm was enjoying four-or-more enormous orgasms a night, made possible by dating a young and athletic footballer, her latest visit to the weighing scales had revealed that her specific choice of footballer had come with a drawback. A big drawback! Samantha Trimm had put on weight! Not only that: due to two weeks of allowing her irresistible footballer toyboy, Ray Pitt, to stuff her every evening with enormous meals on the pre-sex “date” he insisted upon, Samantha Trimm had gained so much weight that it had become noticeable! Of course, the way Samantha's stomach had bulged through her stylish silk saris after Ray coaxed her into eating two heaped plates of dinner – or three plates, in recent days, plus multiple desserts – had been obvious from day one. Samantha had noticed seams popping almost nightly, and had certainly not failed to notice that she was swollen. But the far worse development, that Samantha had only just realised, was that she was actually getting fat! All the passionate sex she'd been enjoying had not sufficed to cancel out the calories absorbed during two solid weeks of drifting asleep with a distended tummy stuffed full of fattening fare! Her lower belly had grown into a soft, bulging lap! She'd had to squeeze into shapewear this morning! After all, she couldn't perform her duties as the college's Fitness Director – such as chastising the overweight female swimming team, and forcing them to be weighed and photographed to serve as precautionary examples in the next edition of her Trimm Plan diet book – if she herself had visible failed to stay lean, firm, and tight! Luckily, her “Trimmwear” branded spanx, which she usually only wore for advertising photoshoots, and had certainly never needed for real, had done a fine job of squeezing Samantha into her size-six skinny jeans and restoring the steely firmness of her lithe abdomen.

Open wide, Sammie!”

Samantha groaned at her toyboy's voice. She was stuffed! After four big orgasms, she just wanted a belly rub and to sleep! But, before she could say so, she felt a big spoon of something thick, crusty, and sweet, forced between her lips! No! Clotted cream! Again!

Mmph! No, Ray! I'm stuffed! And you're making me fat with these stupid feeding sessions! I can't eat another thing! My poor tummy is as tight as a drum! Again!”

Under the bedclothes, in Samantha's dark, well-heated college suite, she felt the cute, beefcake footballer slip her too-tight little black silk negligee upwards. He patted her soft lower belly.

Uuuhn!” Samantha groaned.

I don't know, Sammie. You don't feel so tight to me...” Ray coaxed her, and Samantha let another big spoonful of clotted cream between her lips. Then another. Then she protested...

That's because that's my fat, you dolt! It's the plush, soft, cushion of lower belly fat that you've added to my lap, with all those big dinners you keep stuffing down me! Here!”

Samantha yanked Ray's hand upwards, and rested it on her – swollen, gurgling, severely overfed – middle belly. Then she pulled it further up, to her melon-sized, gravid, drum-tight stomach and upper belly, which stained her negligee to bursting point. She was so bloated!

I'm too full! In fact, you're going to help me into my spanx and jeans tomorrow morning!”

Ray patted Samantha's stuffed tummy a little. Too hard!

Urp! Hiccup!”

Samantha felt her temper rising when the toyboy failed to apologise for prodding her tummy to the point of causing burps and hiccups. Ray didn't seem to notice, though. He was too engrossed in giving her still-deliciously-pert-at-39 bosom a good licking.

Oh, am I?” Ray asked. “Going to help you squeeze your nice, plush, new curves into some tight spanx tomorrow, Sammie?”

Hiccup!

Yes! You fucking are, Mister!”

Ray seemed to think about it, while getting back to licking Samantha's boobies. She felt herself growing horny, again, at his masterful, irresistible touch! Dammit! She knew there would be a price involved in begging him for another fuck... Sure enough, there was! The clotted cream tub came back, and she knew she'd have to finish the whole damn lot as the price for getting him to fuck her like a jack-hammer for a fifth time that night!

Urp! Too full! Getting too fat!

Samantha's words did the trick! Her toyboy was massively well-hung, and the sight of her eating just a few more spoons of clotted cream was all he could take! Her gluttony aroused him terribly, and he was now so painfully hard as to have no choice but to throw the fattening (and nearly-empty) pint tub of clotted cream aside, and get on with fucking Samantha until they both reached relief: Samantha, because she drifted asleep straight after their powerful mutual orgasm, and Ray, because it relieved his agonisingly-engorged hard-on!

As Samantha Trimm drifted asleep, it was felicitous indeed for Ray Pitt that she'd orgasmed so hard she didn't hear him cry out a name as he, simultaneously, climaxed with the force of Yellowstone Park's Steamboat Geyser!

Chloe!”

 

* *

 

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Would love to see Chloe and the rest of the team humiliate Samantha by getting so out of shape they can hardly swim! When Chloe goes to turn it on during a race, she's all just blubber and bulk...wheezing for breath, even as Samantha is poolside with all the media bragging about how she's trained the team... Or something like that... You write great stuff. Please keep it up!

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46 minutes ago, greg said:

Would love to see Chloe and the rest of the team humiliate Samantha by getting so out of shape they can hardly swim! When Chloe goes to turn it on during a race, she's all just blubber and bulk...wheezing for breath, even as Samantha is poolside with all the media bragging about how she's trained the team... Or something like that... You write great stuff. Please keep it up!

Oh fuck but that idea is damn perfect. Seriously, Samantha getting fat just humiliates her but her regime turning the award winning, record setting swim captain into a human manatee? Hell, with her suing Samantha for fraud saying she followed her advice perfectly? Dear God I hope it happens this way, especially as Chloe could use magic to burn off most of it if she wanted to go back to being fit.

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9 hours ago, greg said:

Would love to see Chloe and the rest of the team humiliate Samantha by getting so out of shape they can hardly swim! When Chloe goes to turn it on during a race, she's all just blubber and bulk...wheezing for breath, even as Samantha is poolside with all the media bragging about how she's trained the team... Or something like that... You write great stuff. Please keep it up!

Thanks, glad you like the continuing story at Gainesburg College! This is an idea that would be a bit more involved than Chloe and Katie's current plan of: get a cute boy to fatten up Samantha until her spanx burst. Katie and Tottie are getting fat anyway, along with most of the female swimming squad - but Chloe's new look is "musclebound Amazonian hottie with extra cheesecake." I can see how she might get so obsessed with beating all of Ilya's powerlifting records that her extra muscles are too heavy for racing. Or maybe she gets a plus-modelling contract but she's so muscular she has to gorge on a lot of cheesecake to soften out her curves and look fleshy for the camera.

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That's a great idea! She gets so obsessed with her modeling contract that she's away from the pool for weeks, maybe months at a time. Meanwhile, Samantha is too orgasm-obsessed to notice... Maybe there's a surprise... the college announces an exhibition, something the girls weren't planning for, and when Chloe enters the water, her body is so huge that she can hardly remember how to swim... Maybe girls from the local high school swim team are taking part in the exhibition .... I don't know... your ideas are better than mine...

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