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Milf Avenue

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Chapter 7: Milf Avenue (part 1)

 

The title of Miss Mill Avenue was accompanied by an impractically large silver trophy, which Rebeca Moore carried to her home in triumph, a two-thousand dollar cheque, which Chloe Southern had folded into her white shorts and kept touching to make sure it was still there, and a colossal bouquet of flowers, which Chloe was seriously considering attempting to eat. There were some stalks of wheat in between the flowers, which looked like they might well be edible.

“I'm hungry!” The new Miss Mill Avenue opined miserably, as the pair walked the fifty yards to the Moore home in a golden sunset.

“That's because you've grown accustomed to eating far too much, Chloe!”

“That's easy for you to say. You ate my pizza!”

Sophie Smithe had thoughtfully saved a large thick-crust triple cheese pizza in a foil box, on the table in her dressing room, for Chloe to enjoy after the bikini contest. However, while Chloe was being showered with praise from the contest judges and accepting her prizes, Rebeca Moore had sneaked in and helped herself to the entire thing. She'd replaced it with a small bowl of leafy salad, a sliced tomato on a side-plate, and half a wedge of lemon.

“You'll thank me for that later, Chloe!” Trilled Rebeca. “When you realise how fluffy you are, and that you could stand to lose a few pounds! Besides, that home-grown tomato from Sophie's garden was utterly sublime!”

“It was a really good tomato.” Chloe admitted. “But c'mon! I haven't eaten since breakfast. I need solid food!”

“Lettuce is solid, Chloe! And you're overlooking those four glasses of water you drank during the afternoon.”

“Water isn't food!”

“But you asked for a chunk of lemon with each glass. And I saw you eat every single wedge! It was actually quite disgusting to watch a young woman exhibit such unrestrained lust for eating as you did whilst devouring those slices of lemon, peel and all!”

“You ate like five whole slices of cheesecake, and six plates of... things!” Chloe didn't know a word to refer exactly to the dishes of pasta salads, sushi and canapes that Rebeca had spent the afternoon eating, but she knew there had been a lot of them. 

“Yes, Chloe: because I have to warm up my tummy in preparation for tonight's banquet at Number 12.”

“Is that why you ate my pizza too?” For all of her imposing build, Chloe looked as if she was going to sob.

Mrs Rebeca Moore cleared her throat. She felt a bit sorry for Chloe, who was clearly a helpless glutton, but whom she considered to be a likeable girl despite her flaws.

“Well, not exactly. I was just very peckish because of that pumpkin appetite tonic, and all the other food had been finished except the salads.”

“Oh.”

The blonde sounded so dejected that Rebeca felt a trickle of guilt over taking her pizza. It had been delicious, though, so she didn't regret it too much. But perhaps she should make amends.

Rebeca patted the blonde on her well-muscled back. Well, perhaps she wasn't very fat – but that was no reason to let her gorge herself on a huge pizza. Still..

“There, there, Chloe. You can help yourself to anything from my refrigerator.” Rebeca offered generously as she ushered the blonde into her mansion.

Chloe gaped in amazement at the size and grandeur of her friend's kitchen.

“There should be a little trifle in the dessert refrigerator, as well as plenty of milk and yogurts, and some cake if you must have a piece. Alternatively, we have cold meats and pies as well as plenty of salads and cheese in the main one. Do help yourself, Chloe! After all, you do deserve a little treat for securing the Miss Mill Avenue trophy.”

Infelicitously, Mrs Moore's magnanimous offer to feed Chloe as much as she wanted transpired to be of zero value once Chloe eagerly started hunting for the promised food. The dessert refrigerator was bare, but for a pint of skimmed milk, as one might expect in the home of a size 6 bikini model with a husband who insisted she stick to a strict diet. And the double refrigerator, except for a couple of packs of green leaves, was in a similar state. Chloe did find a handwritten note inside though, and handed it to Rebeca before curling herself into a ball on the floor and sobbing hungrily.

“Darling!” Rebeca read out loud. “In order to help you get your figure back, I have instructed the maid to clear out all the junk food from the house! That doesn't seem to leave much in store, but I know you have plenty of reserves to tide you through until the next delivery! Kisses from Texas, RM.”

Chloe shivered. She felt cold, probably because she'd only eaten about 1200 calories for breakfast and nothing since.

“How dare he!” Rebeca fumed. “I'll bet he's fucking his skinny nurse again, and probably letting her stuff herself on five course meals at his business hotel, while I stay at home and starve!”

Chloe didn't feel like pointing out that it would take a long time for Rebeca to starve. Her husband seemed awful, and she felt sorry for her ex fitness instructor.

“Can I send out for pizza?” Chloe asked.

“Yes! Good idea, Chloe. And order one for me too! The mansion banquet isn't for another hour, and I'm starving!”

 

* *

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On 8/13/2020 at 7:28 AM, >_< 0_0 said:

Chloe’s probably going to have a duel with the local warlock. Hopefully the ladies don’t get stuck in the fattening crossfires of the spells

Yes: "Let's hope, eh?"

Right, well I hoped you've enjoyed Milf Avenue! Here is the conclusion, as least of the original story arc. I could possibly do some more, or an epilogue, but I'm travelling back home from holiday tomorrow so, alas, I can't do any more for writing for a bit. 
 

 

Chapter 7: Milf Avenue (part 2)

 

“Mmm.”

Chloe Southern finished licking chilli sauce from her fingers, cleared away the boxes of her XL veggie volcano and Rebeca's XL meat feast, washed her hands, and stretched out onto a sofa that was almost long enough for her. The calorie-hungry athlete was, as per usual, still hungry, but consoled herself that she now felt human again.

Chloe's hostess on Mill Avenue, Rebeca, had quickly stuffed her face with pizza, and then showered before changing into a peculiar choice of outfit for a banquet – she'd set out to her neighbour's mansion wearing a new, black swimsuit that clung to her bulging figure, and a beach wrap. Chloe had been too engrossed with savouring her pizza and skimmed milk to pay much attention, but now that the blonde had fed herself she turned her mind onto the oddity of the banquet at Number 12. She closed her eyes and talked herself through the facts.

“Our lovable blonde heroine lay back on her fattened-up hostess's luxurious new fainting couch, and set her keen mind to work on – Okay! She tried to order her confused thoughts.”

Chloe cleared her throat.

“That an illicit appetite-booster was responsible for her formerly-slender hostess's transformation into a fatty was hardly in doubt, for Chloe had personally observed Mrs Moore consuming the pumpkin tonic prior to her afternoon of gorging on the infinitude of decadent delicacies at Sophie's pool party, all of which were cruelly denied to everyone's favourite, cute bikini contest winner, even though she really was still quite respectably lean, especially compared with her curvaceous college team-mates. Indeed, it was only because Chloe Southern possessed exceptional self-control that she had not sobbed when she saw the mouthwatering melon slices and triangular salmon and watercress sandwiches which she had been forbidden to eat. Also, um...”

Chloe sighed.

“Drawing her thoughts away from the feast that might have been, Chloe collected the key facts before her: her friend Rebeca had been persuaded, by her new Mill Avenue neighbour, to consume an alchemical appetite stimulant, prior to attending a banquet at that very neighbour's mansion. It was, therefore, Chloe's duty as a heroic young sorceress, to infiltrate her way into this exclusive Beverly Hills feast, which was apparently being hosted by an extraordinarily cute young man, in order to make sure that her friend was alright, and was not being fattened up for some nefarious purpose. Of course, if Rebeca were being force fed vast quantities of food at the mansion banquet, for some reason, it would be Chloe's duty to preserve her friend from the worst consequences of such overconsumption – perhaps by eating most of the food herself, if it was really good food; or alternatively by blasting the villainous neighbour into ashes using the Azure Flame, or the Green Sun Nimbus Flare, or the Dread Curse of ---, or one of the other spells which Chloe had recently learned from her friendly inherited book of spells, but had never had occasion to use, even though she'd been looking for one.”

As Chloe lay back on the couch, the dusk-dimmed room was briefly illuminated by a crackling arc of green electricity that slipped between the blonde's restless fingertips. Then, from the same hand, a hard-to-perceive bronze sheen flowed rapidly over her entire body. And then the blonde drew a resolute breath and sat up from the couch – but first, she opened her eyes, and a lurid red light, as of smouldering coal or a red dwarf star, briefly heated the room a few dozen degrees until its hot light faded from her eyes.

“Right! Okay, Eris: if you think of fucking with Chloe Southern, I will make you regret it!”

But first, Chloe headed up to her room and squeezed herself with difficulty into her cute pink crop top and tight white shorts, after showering and washing and blow drying her hair and reapplying her pink lipstick and subtle eyeshadow. After all, this new neighbour was apparently super-cute, and she hadn't had sex for days, and she very much liked to make a good first impression.

 

* *

 

There were a hundred subtle ways to enter a partially-renovated old mansion, under cover of dusk and an overgrown garden. Then there was the Chloe Southern way.

It wasn't that Chloe had completely neglected the chapters of her spellbook devoted to stealth and security, in lieu of gorging her mind on brute force methods, strength spells, and ways to cause explosions. Although it was mostly true. Anyway, she had considered using the unlock spell to sneak into a crumbling back porch, having first checked for traps, but she didn't think that was really her. No. Chloe Southern was a friendly, South California girl, and she knew she had far more effective, and frankly better practised techniques at her disposal.

Knock, knock!

Chloe pushed her boobs out as far as possible, and inhaled a deep breath that caused the straining seams of her crop top to fray even more than they already had, as she saw the gargoyled door swing open after a little wait.

A super-cutie, at 6'3'' marginally taller than Chloe herself, with cropped blond hair and a ruffled linen shirt, had answered her! Felicitously, the young man seemed satisfyingly stunned by the sight of Chloe Southern standing in the pool of lamplight outside his front door, pushing her boobs forwards.

“Hi there! I'm Chloe! I'm so sorry to disturb you! But I was hoping I could borrow a cup of sugar!”

Chloe smiled earnestly, and proffered an empty white mug. She knew it was the kind of smile that could stop a nuclear war, if any could, and she was prepared for its predictable success. The cute boy stared at her with his jaw agape.

“I'm staying at my friend's place next door, you see, but she's gone out!” Chloe continued in a rush. “And I was so hoping to have a little cup of hot chocolate before my bedtime, or perhaps even a big cup, even though it is very fattening and bad for me! But my friend has run almost completely out of sugar, and I cannot drink the cocoa without more, because it is icky without something to sweeten it, and I have a sweet tooth!”

The blonde on the doorstep sniffed sadly for effect, and was very proud that her story, although contrived, was so 100% true that a completely realistic tear rolled down her cheek. Even she was upset by her own explanation!

The cute young man at the mansion door recovered his breath, and managed to squeeze a word edgeways into Chloe's calculated verbal onslaught.

“Chloe, did you said your name is? Hey, Chloe!” He managed.

“Hi!”

“Do come in, Chloe, please! My name is Eris.”

“Hello, Eris!” Chloe said with a bit of pretend shyness.

“And, Chloe, you are very welcome to some sugar from my kitchen! I have plenty! But, if your friend isn't making dinner for you, I'd be happy to offer you some food, as well as a hot chocolate later! I'm hosting a few friends for dinner tonight, but I've over-catered rather a lot, and any friend of my neighbour's is very welcome to help herself to anything I have on offer! Please, why don't you come in?”

Chloe smiled shyly.

“Well, that's extremely generous of you, Eris, but I don't know if I should impose...” Said the blonde.

“Nonsense, Chloe! My friends and I would be delighted if you would join us!”

“Oh, well... Okay! I am very hungry!” Answered Chloe. She then bounced happily on the balls of her feet, with a level of enthusiasm and jiggle that pushed her crop top a little nearer to destruction.

The cute boy, Eris, eagerly ushered Chloe through a dark and creaky hallway, to his vast and brightly-lit kitchen. The room was a combination of new appliances with traditional brickwork and antique cupboards, and it was continuous with the dining area at which a heavily laden pinewood table hosted three very well-fed ladies atop a circular blue carpet. Chloe smiled enthusiastically as she saw that the number of simmering pans, casseroles, and heated ovens in the kitchen were vastly excessive in size and number for the three women, plus Eris, who had places set at the new dining table.

At the dining table, however, at least one woman burped in Chloe's direction with very distinct displeasure!

“Chloe! What are you doing here? BUURRP! Oh! I'm so stuffed I'm going to explode, but this food is so – HICCUP – good!” Snapped Mrs Rebeca Moore, after swallowing a huge mouthful of turkey and stuffing, and just before taking an equally-vast forkful of mashed potato. The amount of food she'd clearly already devoured from her immense platter, combined with the number of dishes that had already been cleared away, and an unknown but probably large number of extra servings, presumably explained why Rebeca appeared to be a good eight months pregnant, and why her swimsuit strained around her gravid belly and hefty, swollen breasts.

“Oh, hi Rebeca!” Exclaimed Chloe. “Um. I just came to ask for a cup of sugar, but Eris has kindly offered me a little dinner as well, and I said yes please!”

Mrs Rebeca Moore squinted cynically at her blonde former student. Eris, on the other hand, enthusiastically exclaimed that he was delighted to add the lovely Chloe to his dinner party, and he set a place for her, which settled the matter. The other ladies, who looked as stuffed as Rebeca, seemed too dazed from their evening's calorie intake intake to pass comment.

“We are delighted to have you, Chloe! In fact, I don't think my neighbours could manage without you! I may have cooked a bit too much for them!” Explained the cute young mansion owner.

Chloe gratefully occupied her new spot at the table, and licked her lips hungrily.

Shortly, Chloe cheerfully accepted a few bread rolls and a bowl of organic butter, and checked around herself as she began to eat. Her friend, Rebeca Moore, was the only one of the three other women at the dining table who really seemed to have acknowledged Chloe's arrival. There others, Chloe soon ascertained, were Lara Lys (a 5'6'' socialite with black, elegantly tied hair, squeezed into a size 8 black cocktail dress that strained around her swollen, watermelon-sized belly), and Penelope Plum (a fat and very voluptuous former actress, squeezed into a very stretchy orange dress, with peroxide blonde hair to her shoulders who groaned and burped with a mix of pleasure and over-fullness as she gorged herself on heavy mashed vegetables and meat). But both Lara and Penelope were too busy glutting themselves on vast servings of roast turkey – and, Chloe realised, also a roast goose and about a quarter of cow worth of roast beef – to say hello.

“Hmm.” Chloe thought to herself. The half-empty decanter of fruit juice, which swirled with the same colour as Rebeca's pumpkin tonic, must explain why the women seemed to have been stuffing themselves uncontrollably for at least the last hour.

“Here, Chloe!” Said Eris, sliding a 24 inch long oval platter in front of Chloe, who responded with delight at the depth to which it was piled with slabs of turkey, goose, beef, stuffing, dumplings, mashed vegetables, sweet jelly, and pints of rich gravy.

“Mmmm!” Chloe moaned orgasmically at her first bite.

Mrs Rebeca Moore shot a reproving glance at Chloe, and briefly admonished her for sounding indecorous, before returning to her own trough-sized plate.

In a short time, Chloe was mopping up the last bits of her giant meal with a piece of granary bread when, to her delight, Eris slid a second platter in front of her, this one heaped even higher – and quite a match for the mountain of food that Rebeca had been struggling through for some time. Mrs Moore seemed to be spurred to greater gluttony by the sight of her blonde friend being offered almost as large a portion as she herself was working on, and she stuffed a big slab of roast goose into her mouth before washing it down with a swig of the peach juice spiced with pumpkin. Chloe stuck to water, although she noticed a glass of the orange appetite booster had been placed in front of her.

“This is so good, Eris!” Chloe enthused.

“Why, thank you!” The host replied.

Now that Chloe had fed herself with something approaching a proper meal, she started taking more interest in what occult goings-on there might be in the Mill Avenue mansion. There were, she perceived, a number of different things. Sufficiently many, in fact, that she finished the second mountain range of meats and carbs, and ecstatically accepted a third, before she finished reflecting upon them. Her third serving from Eris was even more generous, and more delicious, than the first two, and quite distracted the blonde from the task in hand. Indeed, it was only the way that Lara and Penelope slumped back in their chairs, groaning about their agonisingly overstuffed tummies before drifting into semi-consciousness, that drew Chloe's attention away from her fourth vast platter of food and back to where it should be. She concentrated for a moment, and tried to disentangle the various bits of magic she could sense in the area.

“Oh, my, I'm getting full!” Chloe remarked.

The blonde patted her bare tummy, which by now bulged over her shorts as if she were five month pregnant. Of course, Chloe couldn't see it, because her tits were much too big, but her midriff felt very swollen, and she suspected Rebeca would make a critical exclamation about looking fat if she stood up. Or, at least, Rebeca might well do so if if she weren't too busy stuffing her face. Rebeca, whose belly now looked ready to deliver twins, didn't seem to be suffering as much as Lara and Penelope, and she seemed to have moved onto a savoury cranberry pie which had appeared from somewhere, although the Puerto-Rican ex beauty queen was panting and sweating profusely as she continued to gorge herself fatter.

Fortunately, unlike her groaning companions, Chloe felt fine. Beck, her boyfriend, had fed her this much food on plenty of occasions, and although she guessed there probably was a good twenty pounds of rich, fatty meat and heavy mashed veggies in her tummy, she knew she could still manage a very big dessert. Perhaps even two or three. Or indeed, if Beck were encouraging her, she could probably cram down four or five...

“Try some of the fruit juice, Chloe!” Eris suggested. “It's very good for your digestion, and I'm sure it will help make room for some more!”

Chloe burped and sipped some water.

“No thank you, Eris! I don't like the spicyness in it. Um, I'm good with water! And my tummy still has room for more, anyway! Do you think I could have more of the stuffing with my next plateful? It's so deliciously rich!”

Eris' jaw hung open for a moment, before he assented. He rose awkwardly to get the final tray of stuffing from an oven, and Chloe was certain she'd given him a massive hard-on. The mansion owner was clearly quite a chubby chaser, but Chloe was confident that her own experiences with her boyfriend, for whom she'd deliberately gorged herself fluffy, had equipped her with ample expertise to handle him.

“I'm afraid this is the last of the stuffing.” Said Eris, as he provided Chloe with another vast plateful of roast dinner, topped with a couple of pounds of moist sausage and cranberry stuffing.

“Oh. I hope I haven't taken too much! I just can't help myself sometimes! I have such a big appetite! And I love to eat, especially food this amazing, even though I fear that it will make me a little bit fat! Do you think I look a little bit fat, Eris?” Chloe asked breathlessly, and patted her bulging midriff.

Eris assured Chloe that a girl so gorgeous as her was very welcome to sate her healthy appetite on the vast meal before her on the dining table, and to as much dessert from the triple-decker trolley at the side of the room as she could manage – given that her companions were so stuffed they could scarce draw breath!

“Oh, thank you! Are those chocolate donuts I see on the tray?”

Rebeca Moore stirred from her gorging in order to remonstrate that Eris ought to be praising her own gorgeousness above the blonde's, but then she soon returned to her pie. Chloe glanced at her former fitness instructor. She was pretty sure she had figured out all the ways that magic was being used in the mansion kitchen. And, in fact, the time seemed apt, just now that Rebeca had slumped into a doze after taking a massive bite from a chocolate-filled donut, to find out if she was right.

 

*

 

“So. Eris?”

Eris looked around from the dessert trolley, where he had been concealing the outrageous hard-on the gluttonous, super-busty blonde had given him, whilst simultaneously loading up a platter for her of fruit scones and pints of clotted cream... And plotting to zap her with a potent lust charm when she looked away from him to start eating them.

“Yes, Chloe?” He smiled. The evening was going very well for him – not only had the banquet doubtless added a good charge into Orb of Gluttony, so that only six or seven more such feedings would be needed until he had accumulated sufficient power to harness the mighty LA Source. Not only that, but he had met this Chloe, a Californian blonde so much hotter, bustier, and hungrier than Mrs Rebeca Moore that he had quite forgotten he'd ever thought his neighbour might make a satisfactory queen. But Chloe, on the other hand... Sure, she was as dumb as cheesecake, but oh, her sex appeal!

When he turned around, Chloe was wearing a much less dumb, and much more menacing expression than she had a moment earlier.

“Why have you been dosing my friends with an alchemical appetite booster, and making them gorge themselves sick in your kitchen?” Chloe demanded loudly.

Eris did a double take. What could the dumb blonde know about the pumpkin tonic? Ah – she had avoided drinking any. She must know it was a potent appetite booster that would make her lose control of herself!

“Damn.” Eris declared. “What do you know about...”

“More than you might think.”

Chloe smiled, and suddenly looked very friendly again.

“But, I didn't say I minded. I mean, you're obviously into the occult... Look around! This stuff's pretty interesting!”

Aha! So Chloe wasn't entirely dumb. But, probably she just had an eye for the occult, and an interest in the dark mysteries – which would probably make her easy to seduce, for a skilled master of the art such as Eris – and had noticed a couple of the symbols which Eris had carved into the brickwork for precautionary reasons.

“Well.” Eris began to gloat, while drawing the gold pendant from his shirt. “You and your friends have just performed a very helpful service for me. I have a magic circle under this carpet – I assure you, Chloe, and I see you know about magic circles! Mine converts all the gluttonous indulgence and lustful thoughts of people in this room into a kind of energy, which I store for my own purposes in my study, using a mystical artifact called the Orb of Gluttony! I constructed it using knowledge from my study of antiquarian books, which I took up a few years ago in order to prove a point to some very disobliging cheerleaders I used to know.”

Chloe scowled.

“Uh huh? TLDR, Eris: you're a nerd, and a hot cheerleader told you so, therefore you now use magic to make hotties fat, for power and kinks?” Chloe asked as coldly as she could manage.

Eris shrugged. Then gripped his pendant, aimed it at the blonde, and began to concentrate on his most potent spell of lustful compulsion!

“So, this Orb.” Chloe asked smugly, reaching for a solid dark chocolate donut from the tray by Rebeca. “What happens if a girl sitting in your kitchen eats something really fattening when it's already full?”

Chloe munched the donut.

Bang!

Shatter!

Splash!

“The Orb of Gluttony!” Cried Eris! “And my pendant!” He wailed, at the suddenly-molten auxiliary power store in his hand.

In a state of high alarm, the mansion owner hastened to the green velvet curtain of his study, and ripped it aside. Too late! Disaster! A great billowing cloud of green vapour was effervescing back into the ether – the vast store of Liquefied Gluttony, vanishing into thin air – leaving the dimly lit study bare of magical power, and the cracked glass remains of the overloaded and burst Orb of Gluttony ruined on the floor!

“Impossible!” Cried the Mill Avenue warlock in tones of high despair. “It was only half full this morning! And even Rebeca's most wanton gluttony can add little more than a pint to its level! To have charged it past bursting point, you, you, you...

“What?” Chloe smirked.

“You'd have to be a creature of utterly inhuman lust and gluttony!” Eris flailed to explain. “To have so filled the Orb of Gluttony, you would need to have taken indescribable delight in every single crumb of that grossly mountainous banquet you just gorged your way through!”

“Huh. I told you I was very hungry!” Chloe replied.

 

*

 

Mill Avenue's newest mansion owner trembled with his back to the brick wall. He's just had a whole year of scheming destroyed by the intimidatingly gorgeous blonde sorceress still sitting in his kitchen. And she'd seemingly done it as an afterthought.

“So let this be a lesson to you, Eris!” Chloe pronounced. “This meal was amazing – and, frankly, I'd have eaten the entire thing to help you charge up your orb thingy if only you'd just asked nicely and given an honest explanation! But, instead, you schemed and deceived my friends into eating too much and making themselves very fat, all for your own greedy pursuit of power, and also because you're a kinky chubby chaser. And now your orb is all busted, which you thoroughly deserve, and...”

Chloe's eyes blazed a crimson red for a moment, as she leaned back in her chair with her jaw clenched in concentration.

“That Ley line confluence you were trying to tap for your own selfish schemes...”

Eris quailed.

“... Is now friends with me.” Chloe concluded. The blonde captain of the Gainesburg College swim team flexed her fingers, and a little arc of red lightning ran along them. “And, just to be clear... That means you won't be getting any of it!”

Chloe stood up, and took on a friendlier mien. She burped, and patted her tummy.

“But thank you for the dinner, Eris. Now, if you help me walk my friends back to their homes, because I think they really need to go to bed now, I might let you cook me breakfast. Because, let's face it, like you said, I'm a creature of inhuman lust and gluttony, and I'll probably be peckish in the morning, and Rebeca doesn't have any food in the house whatsoever. I even ate her salad while I was waiting for my pizza, and that wasn't very filling at all!”

 

* * * 

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The only criticism I'd ever have for your stories is that they end when they could continue on into super size for a hundred more updates.

 

But you do have amazing finales and the best stuffing I've ever seen though, so I guess that that makes up for it...but I do hope to see Chloe spend at least some time as a big girl. Like the ley line filling her up with power that starts storing itself as fat...

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This was an eye-opener if a chapter. I like how whenever Chloe is near, the narrative style changes to the point that Chloe actually starts narrating to herself - because this has become her story. I rarely get so attached to characters like this, where I don’t wish for things to happen to them but instead get fully-engrossed into what they’re ACTUALLY going to do if their own free will. This was amazing.

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On 8/14/2020 at 10:34 PM, Batman76 said:

The only criticism I'd ever have for your stories is that they end when they could continue on into super size for a hundred more updates.

 

But you do have amazing finales and the best stuffing I've ever seen though, so I guess that that makes up for it...but I do hope to see Chloe spend at least some time as a big girl. Like the ley line filling her up with power that starts storing itself as fat...

Thanks! 

I couldn't make it fit my plotlines for Chloe to get really huge (except her epic boobs)... However, in this story, she's been deliberately fluffing up for her boyfriend, and I can imagine a story in her sophomore year where she decides to super bulk-up, on the excuse that her boyfriend really likes it (but in reality, partly because she had to gorge to keep her increasing powers under control), and she has bitchy competitors who think they can easily steal the state champion title back from her because she's so fat, but... Well, if people are happy to read more Chloe stories then I could do that. 

Also, I'm sure there could be more Rebeca Moore chapters, since she's still an unrelenting glutton, and we could see just how fat she can get while remaining in complete denial of her bulk. 

12 hours ago, >_< 0_0 said:

This was an eye-opener if a chapter. I like how whenever Chloe is near, the narrative style changes to the point that Chloe actually starts narrating to herself - because this has become her story. I rarely get so attached to characters like this, where I don’t wish for things to happen to them but instead get fully-engrossed into what they’re ACTUALLY going to do if their own free will. This was amazing.

Oh thank you!

 

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On 8/14/2020 at 10:34 PM, Batman76 said:

The only criticism I'd ever have for your stories is that they end when they could continue on into super size for a hundred more updates.

 

But you do have amazing finales and the best stuffing I've ever seen though, so I guess that that makes up for it...but I do hope to see Chloe spend at least some time as a big girl. Like the ley line filling her up with power that starts storing itself as fat...

 

Well, why ever not? Let's see what I can do... Now, in chapter 8, we have a scene a few months later. It transpires that Chloe seems to have allowed Eris to remain in Mill Avenue, provided he promises to be on good behaviour. Rebeca and Eris have therefore been enjoying a steamy affair... As for Chloe, she may well be fluffing up due to her increased powers needing to go somewhere, with the excuse that "my boyfriend likes me fluffy" and/or "I'm on a bulk!"

 

Chapter 8: More Mrs Moore! (Part 1)

Three months later…

 

Mrs Rebeca Moore, the statuesque Puerto Rican fitness model turned bulging Beverly Hills trophy wife, luxuriated under her sexy neighbour’s monsoon shower and groaned with pleasure as she pushed out her enormous, caramel belly. Rebeca groaned with relief as she let the hot, powerful jets of water massage her food-stuffed abdomen.

“Urp! Oh! That’s better!

The monsoon shower was one of the many perks stemming from her now months-long affair with Mill Avenue’s newest and most eligible bachelor. Of course, the best perk was the unlimited steamy sex that she had available on tap – which Rebeca indulged in day and night during weeks, such as the current one, when her strict husband was himself away, having an affair with his nurse on a “business trip.” It was an enormous relief for Mrs Moore to finally have, in her mansion-owning neighbour Eris, a skilled, strong, and potent lover worthy of her ravishing body! And, to boot, Eris’s cooking was as spectacular as his lovemaking; and he was exceedingly rich; and lavished costly gifts on his rapidly-plumpening paramour; and regularly indulged Rebeca with meals at some of the best restaurants in LA; sometimes twice in a day; and, unlike Dr Moore, Eris never criticised Rebeca if she ordered a second, third, fourth, or even fifth big dessert at an upmarket eatery!

The autumnal day had been a true delight for Rebeca Moore! A hearty breakfast in Eris’ four poster bed (three belt-busting bowls of oatmeal and a huge fry-up) had turned into a morning of energetic sex, during which her lover had popped a whole box of chocolate truffles into Rebeca’s eager mouth, one after another. That had been followed by dressing in her new designer purple silk maternity dress, ready for a long lunch at Rebeca’s second favourite tasting restaurant, at which she’d enjoyed countless booze-free cocktails almost as much as the real thing. And five large desserts, of course! After all, as Rebeca liked to remind her husband whenever he remarked on the fullness of her now 50-inch hips or the fatness of her apparently 8-month pregnant belly, she was eating for two!

Eris had been a real treasure, as far as Rebeca Moore had been concerned! He was an expert herbalist, it turned out. Apparently it was an interest that he’d cultivated after his successful antiquarian book business had made him wealthy. Anyway, home-grown herbs had proved just the ticket to help Mrs Moore achieve the pregnancy she’d been looking forward to since her honeymoon! One dose of the right herbal tincture mixed into her husband’s wine, and blam – even Dr Moore’s normally-weak stamina had sufficed, and, a week later… “Good news, Darling!” Rebeca had trilled as she’d returned from the pharmacy with just one extra stop to pick up a trio of her favourite XL milkshakes!

Now, technically Rebeca was only two months pregnant and not, as an inexpert observer might guess from the way her bombastic curves and swollen breasts bulged and strained her luxurious new maternity dress as she gorged herself until she was so stuffed she had to be helped out of her chair, most of the way through her third trimester. But, Rebeca would reply to any such comment, “Whatever!”

Mr Moore had conceded to her friends that she’d put on a little bit of weight, especially on her always-hefty breasts and around her hips and bottom. This fact was hard for her to deny, as it had become a tight squeeze for her to navigate her way through the awkward glass door between Eris’s monsoon shower and his irregularly-shaped en-suite bathroom, because her wide hips meant she had to squish her protruding bottom against the tiled wall to get in and out. However, admitting to accumulating a few pounds on her hips did not meant that Rebeca acknowledged that her now-gravid belly had grown enormous, swollen, and fat since her days as a bikini contest champion – she had batted away that very suggestion, from Lara Lys, with the comment that she’d just eaten an enormous meal, and hence was stuffed with a lot of food bulk at the moment. And, Rebeca had confidently added, her waistline would quickly snap back to its naturally-slender 24 inches once she was no longer eating for two!

Rebeca finished showering. She ignored the way it took longer to wash off the last of the soap bubbles than she was used to, because there was twice as much of her as there had been before her wedding.

“Ooof!”

Rebeca Moore shoved her big, fat bottom against the lapis blue wall tiles and squeezed inelegantly sideways out of the shower cubicle, mildly irritated that the glass door pressed uncomfortably on her overfull tummy in the process. The fact that there was over three feet between the wall and the open door didn’t particularly register in the trophy-wife’s head.

After towelling dry, Rebeca slipped a sexy short black satin negligee over her head and spent a little time tugging the lace trimmed lingerie down to cover her swollen, pregnant tum. Then she brushed her glossy dark blonde hair. Another one of the perks of her pregnancy, Rebeca reflected, was how it had gifted her with such splendid hair and glowing skin, not to mention fuller curves and an engorged libido!

Thick thighs and broad bum jiggling, Rebeca sashayed enthusiastically into her lover’s master bedroom…

 

*

 

Eris reclined against the solid magohany headboard of his bed, and admired the twenty-two stone bulk of the voluptuously gluttonous beauty queen whom he’d made his paramour. Rebeca paraded herself and flaunted the immense curves of her hugely fat belly, swollen breasts, thick hips, bulging bum, and thunder thighs as if she were showing off her former fitness-model physique at a str*p [yet another word for the auto-correct list - edit] bar.

“Wow! You look gorgeous, darling! Even by your impossibly high standards!”

Rebeca positively glowed with delight as she basked in her sexy paramour’s admiration. Of course, it was undoubtedly true! She was, after all, a reigning beauty queen and (semi-retired) professional fitness model. So it was only natural that any lover, even one as rich and sexy as her neighbour, would be impressed.

Soon, Rebeca had straddled Eris on the soft bed, and was admiring his firm but lean muscles while he massaged her belly through her negligee.

“Oof! Urrrp! It’s about time!” Rebeca burped as Eris kneaded her overfed belly, helping her food to settle. “I’ve been needing this since before dessert! I can’t believe you cooked me such a huge, five-course Italian dinner tonight, after stuffing me with all that lunch!

Eris ignored Rebeca’s protest, on the grounds she didn’t sound at all sincere when she implied she’d been fed more than she wanted.

“Oh really, Darling? Well, perhaps if you were feeling too full for a big meal tonight, you shouldn’t have asked for a second huge serving plate of every single course!

Burp!

“Ugh!” Rebeca leaned back to relieve the pressure in her overfed guts. It was true – after sleeping off her 17 course tasting lunch, she had asked for seconds of every course tonight. The platter of mozzarella and tomato salad, the creamy lamb pasta, the desserts… The cheese boards…

“Darling! I’m eating for – Burp – two!” Rebeca panted.

“Then perhaps…” Eris reached for something, and Rebeca’s mouth watered as she tasted the rich chocolate truffle he popped into her mouth. “You’d like a second whole box of truffles, Honeybuns?”

“Oh!” Rebeca moaned with a mixture of gluttonous enthusiasm and discomfort from her overstuffed tummy. “I mustn’t! I’m absolutely stuffed! In fact, Darling, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were conspiring to spoil my figure! With all these rich dinners, and chocolates!”

“I think you deserve a little treat, Rebeca!” Eris countered, patting her belly button, which had popped outwards into an outie that now bulged through her taut black negligee.

Mrs Moore licked her plump lips.

“Mmm, I do deserve a treat, don’t I, Darling? After all, I did pack away three big bowls of healthy organic oatmeal this morning – even though I was feeling a little queasy! But only a little treat! Only one more box of truffles! After all, next year’s Miss Mill Avenue will be just a couple of months after the end of this pregnancy, and I plan to wear a very daring bikini to show off how I’m back tip top shape. I want Lara and all the others to be very jealous about how easily I’ve shed all the pregnancy pounds… So I mustn’t let you overfeed me or else, with just a few months to get back in shape, there’s a risk that when I slip into my skimpiest bikini I might look a teeny little bit fat!”

 

*

 

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Right, happy holidays! It's been a trying month or so, and I've not been able to think of anything to write, even when I sat down with some time... Hopefully a few chapters before New Years though.

 

This upcoming chapter is more Milf Avenue, introducing some gluttonous new characters to Beverley Hills. Milf Avenue is a spin off of Best Served Wet, and involves Chloe Southern and her friends / enemies in California. I mention this so that any new reader is not surprised or confused (if they read the backstory) to learn that Chloe is a witch with semi-phenomenal cosmic powers. 

 

 

Chapter 9: California Feeding

 

A few days before Christmas. Beverley Hills glitters with grand decorations in the cool morning air...

 

In her sparkling new luxury mansion amid what could well be Beverley Hills' chicest neighbourhood, the newly-married Mrs Monica van Floofenheim surveyed her environs with extreme satisfaction. Mill Avenue! The very name of the leafy, manicured street with its giant-sized houses bespoke the residents' affluence, jet-setting luxury, and high social status. Of course, the mega-busty Monica van Floofenheim, nee Schmidt, had done little to earn these assets for herself – little, that was, apart from enduring the painful ordeals of four hefty breast-enlargement operations. Frankly, Monica considered all that time under the knife – and recovering from it, whilst refraining from having her bandaged and very sore boobs played with – to be more than sufficient work to merit her luxurious new lifestyle.

Her impressive poundage of sculpted silicone, together with her natural charm and willingness to do almost anything in bed, had won Monica Schmidt the hand in marriage of the wealthy real-estate mogul, Henrik van Floofenheim. Henrik had been a widower, and very much in the market for a scandalously-young beauty to adorn his arm at soirées and the country club, as well as to host parties. Conveniently, these were among the few activities for which Monica had ever shown much aptitude, and before long the raven-haired thirty-something socialite found herself squeezing her epic cleavage into a crushingly-tight size-six wedding dress with the assistance of body-con underwear and three weeks' crash dieting, and saying “I do!”

Actually, it later transpired that Mr Floofenheim had proposed to Monica not for the obvious reasons, but primarily because he felt his only daughter – the then seventeen-year-old Ms Lara van Floofenheim – deserved to have a good stepmother as a role model. And, apparently, Lara had confided in her father that she rather liked Monica. Hah! That had come as news to Monica herself. She'd always suspected the girl had seen Monica for gold-digger she was.

For her part, Monica hadn't liked Lara. Mainly because she'd been viscerally jealous of the young Ms Floofenheim's outrageous good fortune: not only had the teenager been born rich and then spoiled rotten, but Lara van Floofenheim had won the genetic lottery when it came to her half-Scandinavian, half-Greek good looks. On top of which, Lara had a perfect physique, and the ability to eat her way through mountains of heavy roast meats and gooey desserts without gaining an ounce – and, in fact, all whilst effortlessly maintaining her position as the second-best female athlete at a prestigious Los Angeles aquatics institute for sports stars of the future. For Monica, who had to endure a metabolism so unobliging that if she simply looked at a slice of chocolate cake the wrong way she could gain seven pounds, the spectacle of the teenager gorging herself daily without consequence had been exceedingly irksome.

Monica had found an outlet for her frustrations over the young Ms Floofenheim's superior body, however: namely, baking. Baking was one of Monica's favourite activities – second only to gorging herself on sugary cake, which she'd had to strictly avoid since turning thirty, lest she grow very fat due to her sluggish metabolism. Baking cake and waffles for Lara, however, didn't come with the problem of ruining Monica's figure. And, even better, it came with the happy thought that, eventually, one day, all those chocolate cakes, with lashings of cream, and waffles drowning in syrup and chocolate sauce, and milkshakes, would surely get the better of even Ms Lara van F's invincible metabolism! The thought had brought a sly smile to Monica's lips as she scooped cake batter into baking tins, even as her tummy rumbled hungrily within her costly bodycon underwear.

Eventually, it had been going to college that had finally given the perfect Ms Lara van Floofenheim her just desserts! Hahaha!

Attending an expensive college in New York had freed Lara from the gruelling two-hour swimming sessions that had been part of her routine, and from her friendly athletic rivalry with California's most talented young female swimmer. As a rich girl, Lara hadn't needed the swimming scholarship she'd been offered, and she'd been free to concentrate her efforts on more serious aspects of college life: dating, and partying, so far as Monica could tell. Lara hadn't, however, cut down her high-calorie diet in view of her reduced athletic needs. In fact, judging by the girl's credit card bills, Lara had replaced most of her early morning swimming sessions with a schedule of lazy lie-ins necessitated by having eaten so much at an expensive New York restaurant that she was too bloated to do anything but lay in bed digesting until midday.

The Freshman 15 had, of course, hit Lara van Floofenheim with a vengeance. But this only struck Monica as being a partial serving of karmic justice: while the 5'9'' beauty might now sport a muffin top, the way her curvier figure now strained her expensive clothes had done nothing to decrease her popularity with the male population. Quite the reverse, in fact. It was very annoying.

And, therefore, Monica van Floofenheim had a plan. She was determined not to be outshone, in the eyes of her chic new Mill Avenue neighbours, by her gorgeous stepdaughter, during her Christmas visit!

To this end, Monica had procured, courtesy of an intriguing and attractive neighbour named Eris, a little vial of an herbal extract. The orange-coloured liqueur was, apparently, a potent appetite stimulant. And it was absolutely guaranteed to make even the most metabolically gifted young woman gorge herself helplessly until she burst the seams of her outrageously expensive dresses!

“Hah!” The thirty-five year old Mrs Monica van Floofenheim cackled to herself as she surveyed her sparkling new kitchen. “Well, Lara, I think we can all guess who is going to be acclaimed as the most beautiful Floofenheim – at least, after you spend the next few days gorging yourself like a P-I-G, while I still maintain my trim size, ahem, eight, figure!”

Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud...

Monica sighed in exasperation. It was the sound of her stepdaughter, scuffing the exquisite French stair carpet as she charged down from her vast bedroom. No doubt in search of a vast breakfast! Well, that could be arranged...

“Hey Mom!” Enthused the T-shirt clad young woman, as she began rummaging through the refrigerators without looking around.

“Hello, Lara! How nice to see you up!” Monica replied with undetected sarcasm. “I hope you slept well? For all eleven hours.”

“Yeah, great thanks!” Lara replied as she hefted bottles of full-fat milk and chocolate-enriched milk untidily onto the big hardwood table.

“Do help yourself to anything you feel like...” Monica continued, wondering if Lara's eye-wateringly expensive college education had included a lesson on detecting irony. Apparently not.

“Uh huh.” Lara grunted, as she collected a selection of pop tarts and poured her first bowl of chocolate puffs. “Oh! Mom! By the way, I've invited Chloe for Christmas lunch! And, just, generally, said she can come over whenever. That's OK, right?”

Monica scowled. No: she didn't particularly want to have her nice lunch spoiled with any more hangers on she'd never met from the other side of the family. Not that Lara was the sort of girl to take account how annoying she was being.

“Who's Chloe, Dear?” Monica frowned.

Chloe!” Lara explained.

“Yes, Dear. I don't know who you mean.”

“Mmmph.” Lara swallowed a heavy load of pop tart. “Chloe Southern, Mom. You know, my best friend from the Belleforte Institute. Florida state champion... Ring any bells?”

Not really, was the honest answer. “Um, not really.”

Lara huffed in teenage annoyance, after demolishing another pop tart. “Well, I'm sure you've met her. Or, anyway, you'll like her. But, we have to make sure we have extra food in: her stepmom doesn't feed her enough. Urp.”

That said, Lara moved onto her chocolate cereal and milk, and gave no sign she was going to provide any more conversation until she was totally stuffed.

 

* *

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19 hours ago, Batman76 said:

Oh boy, appetite enhanced chloe, here we come!

Heh. I wonder if this chapter is too predictable... 

 

Chapter 9: California Feeding (part 2)

 

Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud.

After declaring herself utterly stuffed, and complimenting her stepmom’s pancake batter, the overfed Ms Lara van Floofenheim groaned and patted her distended belly for about five seconds, before realising she was running late, and charging up to her room at a sprint to change out of her baggy XL T-shirt and into something much more expensive.

Mrs van Floofenheim rolled her eyes in frustration, while surveying the disorder of her kitchen table. Six thick slices of French toast had been reduced to crumbs, which had been unevenly spread over the table and hardwood floor. A heap of poptart wrappers surrounded an empty box of ravaged chocolate puffs, which the young woman had drenched in half a gallon of full fat milk, before leaving the other half gallon on the table next to four empty glasses of chocolate milk and a carton of cranberry juice. A greasy plate of fried breakfast had been licked clean, but not before Lara had stained the tablecloth by dropping a fried tomato. A small pan of fried potatoes sat empty on an otherwise clean space – because a half loaf of thickly buttered bread hadn’t been enough to satisfy Lara’s starch cravings. A slightly burnt quarter waffle languished in a pool of syrup that had once contained three others. Ugh! It was a wonder the young woman could stand, let alone charge upstairs at speed! Even more annoying, for all that Lara was now a fluffily curvaceous young woman, all that food would probably only add a couple of ounces to her frame. Which was about as much weight as Monica might gain if she gave in to temptation and ate a slice of buttered bread with her morning fruit smoothie.

“Ugh! That girl!” Monica moaned. “And she hasn’t even put away the butter!”

The sight of the butter dish – which now contained just one tiny scoop of locally-made, fresh, organic, salted butter – prompted Monica’s tummy to rumble. Ugh! There was nothing for it! If Monica didn’t treat herself to a little bread and butter, she’d be in a bad mood all day!

Monica van Floofenheim grumbled about her stepdaughter’s gluttonous appetite, as she lifted the bread bin lid and selected a freshly-delivered, seven-seed bun – a quite sizable bread roll – picked up the discarded butter knife, and licked her lips.

 

*

 

Meanwhile, in her en-suite dressing room, Ms Lara van Floofenheim was experiencing one of the minor problems that occasionally intruded into her perfect life. To wit: she was too fat for all her clothes.

“Size eight? Dammit! Ten. Nah... Another eight? Fuck: Chloe’s gonna think I’m fat!” Lara threw designer outfits onto a rail beside her nest of mirrors. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Lara’s Manhattan wardrobe held a season’s worth of fashionable size 12s. And enough shapewear to wedge herself into a size 10, in case of boutiques that didn’t go up to a 12. But Lara hadn’t been smart enough to bring any outfits home to LA, where the clothes in her wardrobe had all been bought when she was a lean, seventeen year old swimmer with a schedule of daily intense exercise.

“Fuck.” Lara dashed off a text to her friend, Chloe, explaining she would be late. “Chloe! Late! Emergency clothes shopping! Freshman 15 hit me hard again this semester!”

Chloe’s reply arrived promptly. “No worries! I’m super-curvy R.N. I’m bulking... And my boyfriend likes me fluffy :) 

Lara finished squeezing into a stretchy black Lycra track suit.

“You, curvy? How curvy we talking??? Gaining under 15 since high school doesn’t count.”

“Um. More than 15, Lara... I’m going for my college’s powerlifting record, and... *Most* of it’s muscle... I think ;)”

“!!! And your boyfriend likes this?”

“Oh yeah. Hand feeds me peanut butter.”

“Lucky cow! Jealous ;)

“Moo :) 

Lara laughed out loud as her perfect life reasserted itself. The prospect of meeting up with her friend Chloe, for the first time in over a year, had been marred by the risk of Lara being the fat sophomore friend to the ultrafit Florida state swimming champion. But if Chloe was curvy too... That would be fine! Of course, there was the question of how Chloe could be fluffy and state champion in a big state, but, then again, this was Chloe Southern, who had been a league above Lara in athletic talent, so Lara would just have to wait see about the explanation. Powerlifting?

Just in case Chloe wasn’t as curvy as advertised, Lara altered her schedule and started her day by driving to a boutique where she upgraded her outfit to a brand new black tracksuit in a size 12. Then she headed to the Christmas market to meet Chloe.

 

*

 

A sunny azure sky belied the chilly day at the Christmas market on the edge of Beverley Hills. A row of spacious chain restaurants made a roaring trade from the shoppers who had headed indoors for lunch after a cold morning hunt for schmaltzy festive gifts. Among them were a pair of super-hotties: one tall and supernaturally busty athlete whose loose black T-shirt displayed shoulders and arms fit for an NFL quarterback, and straight blonde hair; the other a shorter but still statuesque ex-athlete with eye-catching curves and darkish hair in ringlets to her chest. The blonde super-hottie looked sheepishly at the remains of the vast quantity of food on their table, and glanced guiltily at the cute but overworked server – a handsome and tall young black man of perhaps eighteen.

“Um.” Chloe began.

“Go for it, Chloe!” Lara encouraged her friend. Also, she continued to gaze at Chloe’s vast boobs.

Lara van Floofenheim had been through the conversation with Chloe Southern that involved “Yes, they’re real... Yes, sure you can touch them to prove it... Um, I grew them in my freshman year, thanks to some unexpected but very welcome growth spurts... Well, actually, they float really well, so in fact they’re kinda helpful in the water if you know what you’re doing, which I do, because, um, I do train two hours a day in the pool and I do care about swimming techniques... About a 38K, I think, maybe 40 because I have big lungs, but it depends how much I’m supposed to breathe out... The college gets all our competition swimsuits custom made anyway, so they don’t really cost any more that when I was an E... I love them... They’re really in proportion, because I’m 6’3’’ and I have big shoulders... My boyfriend loves them very much... No, Lara, yours are just as super-cute too...”

Chloe Southern was apparently wrestling with her conscience. Much to Lara’s amusement, the blonde was trying to balance the fact she was still, somehow, hungry, or at least not completely stuffed, with her desire not to annoy their server. Apparently she’d overlooked the point where their server very much enjoyed taking orders from two of the hottest young women who’d ever walked into the restaurant.

“I don’t wanna take up more of his time... He’s so busy! And... He’s gonna think we’re pigs... And...”

“Chloe.” Lara interrupted.

“What?” Chloe asked.

“Just give him your phone number if you’re embarrassed. He’s cute enough. And, when he calls you, you’ll know he doesn’t think you’re a pig.”

Chloe’s mind was blown. Lara’s thinking was flawless, convincing, and devastatingly clever! “That’s... Amazing, Lara! Did they teach you to think like that in college in Manhattan?”

“Nope. I haven’t learned anything in college!” Lara replied proudly. “Fifty-eight thousand dollars fees a year, completely unnecessary! I was already that smart!”

Chloe gave a confused look.

“Order your damn nachos, Chloe!”  Lara instructed.

Chloe sniffed, and took to counting the empty burrito wrappers she’d stored under an empty lemonade glass... “Eight burritos...” She counted. The rest took some time. “Cheeseburgers...”

“Bacon quintuple cheeseburgers, Chloe! We aren’t lightweights...”

“Two bacon quintuple cheeseburgers with extra cheese...”

“Each.” Lara added, helpfully.

“Yes, each.” Chloe cast her gaze over the other plates, bowls, and glasses. “And some milkshakes...”

“I think four XL milkshakes.”

“Um, each.” Chloe added softly. “And a whole XL roast chicken with XL side orders of rice, fries, slaw, mashed potato, and spicy rice, and extra spicy rice...”

“Mmm! The spicy rice was so good... We should order more!”

“Uh huh. And a Caesar salad...” Chloe continued.

“For you, lightweight!” Added Lara.

“Yeah, right. And an 18 oz rump steak for you...”

You had an eight ounce fillet steak, as well as your salad!”

“Mmm. I know. With side orders of creamed potato, and sweet potato, and buttered beans... Anything else?”

“No, I think that’s probably all the mains, Chloe!”

“Uh. And a profiterole pyramid.”

“Each.”

“Yeah, each. Ooof. And a whole baked vanilla cheesecake, with chocolate fudge topping, and a quadruple icecream sundae with flakes and chocolate sprinkles, and a cream  liqueur coffee... And...”

“And?” Lara interrupted. “That’s all our desserts, I think?”

“I mean and... How the fuck am I not so stuffed I need to pass out?” Chloe queried. “I mean, I’m used to eating quite a lot, but...”

“URRRP! I don’t know what you mean, Chloe." Said Lara. "We’re healthy, growing young women... And you’re on a bulk! You said as much!”

Chloe’s eyebrows creased. Something felt wrong...

“Um. True, but still... This feels wrong, Lara. I mean, I ate a huge breakfast. Because I’m on a bulk...”

“Huh! I ate a big breakfast too, Chloe!” Lara replied. “But just because my stepmom’s a great cook! I mean, if I didn’t know better, I’d say she was trying to make me fat! But, in fact, I think she’s just compensating for the step thing.”

Chloe sniffed. She was a bit stuffed. She hadn’t skimped on breakfast. After all, she was on a bulk, for powerlifting reasons. But still, even she didn’t normally eat this much for lunch... Something was up. However... The server was cute, and she wasn’t too embarrassed to tell him she was still a bit hungry. It took her all of about two seconds to catch his eye and call him over – one of the perks of being a super-hot blonde.

“Um, hi again!” Chloe said, shyly. “I hope you don’t think I’m a pig, but could my friend and I get some nachos?”

The server, named Eric, was in the middle of saying it was his pleasure  to take Chloe and Lara’s orders, when Lara interrupted.

“And another XL icecream sundae, please, Eric. Each!”

“Of course, Ms!” Eric replied.

“No.” Chloe groaned. “That’s really gonna be enough for us, this time! Sorry to bother you again, Eric!”

The server assured Chloe she was really no bother... After all, everyone seemed to be super-hungry today, he said. Lara took the opportunity to make Chloe write her phone number on a napkin for him, which Chloe reluctantly did... And then the two super-hotties waited for even more food to arrive for them. They guessed they were just lucky that, as elite athletes (former, in one case), they could handle all the calories they suddenly felt like devouring for lunch...

 

*

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Something’s definitely afoot 🤔

BTW, do u ever picture how much food u make ur characters eat in ur head? Like, if Chloe is eating all those desserts, how big will her stomach be? This is like the donut math 🍩 

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4 hours ago, >_< 0_0 said:

Something’s definitely afoot 🤔

Something definitely is. What could be causing two hungry young women to be even hungrier than normal? And could it be affecting the whole of Beverly Hills? 

4 hours ago, >_< 0_0 said:

BTW, do u ever picture how much food u make ur characters eat in ur head? Like, if Chloe is eating all those desserts, how big will her stomach be? This is like the donut math 🍩

"Make" them eat? They're hogs, and they eat of their own free will - mostly. 

Um, yes and no. I have a visual idea of what Chloe and co look like - e.g. Chloe is a mixture a few female olympic swimmers, Sophie Hall, and Powergirl.... but when she gets a whole menu of food, I eyeball how stuffed she is on a case by case basis. Chloe's 6'3'' and a muscular beefcake, and she has a long body for swimming, so she can eat a lot without looking as stuffed as other characters. 

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Chapter 9: California Feeding (part 3)

 

Chloe’s claim, that one more tray of nachos would absolutely be enough to satiate her and Lara’s appetites, proved to be wildly inaccurate. So inaccurate, in fact, that it would still have underestimated the young women’s appetites had she continued, “... Oh, and maybe a couple of sharer platters of cheesy spaghetti, and some breadsticks, and also an XL pizza – um, Veggie Volcano, please – and garlic bread, and three more XL sides of spicy rice, and, um, maybe a bottomless soda, and three... no eleven glasses of milk. Please?” That would have been an underestimate, because it would have missed, “Oh, and a small hot chocolate to go, with cream and marshmallows, please. And a chocolate muffin!”

Chloe slumped back on her chair. She then tossed a still-wrapped chocolate muffin, with one bite missing from the top, onto the restaurant table. The blonde emitted a low groan.

“Uhn. I’m so fucking stuffed, Lara! Urp.”

Chloe panted for breath, her heft of her swollen belly visible from crotch to tit now that her formerly oversized black T-shirt was distorted by her bulging midriff. Across the table, Lara van Floofenheim licked her lips triumphantly, as she delicately folded her muffin wrapper and placed it on an empty pasta platter.

“Oh! So the great, invincible Ms Chloe Southern finally meets her match, huh?”

Chloe continued groaning.

“I’m beat! You win, Lara! Just let me sleep!”

Lara leaned forwards.

“Sleep, Chloe? Hmm. I could take you home to sleep. Or...”

Lara kicked Chloe’s foot playfully. Easy to do, because the Greek heiress had long legs, and Chloe was ridiculously taller than the person the restaurant booth was designed for.

“Or what?”

“Or, Chloe. Um... Why don’t we... Go back to my place, and I give you a belly rub? Um, if you like, and you think your boyfriend won’t mind?”

Chloe laughed.

“Lol. My boyfriend would want me to film it. Maybe throw in some kissing...”

Lara licked her lips...

“Well, we could do that, Chloe. If you like...”

Chloe finished panting and looked up. Heavy meals always made her feel horny... And Beck would like an oily girl-on-girl belly massage video. And Lara was hot...

“Mmm hmm. I’d like...” Chloe agreed, much to Lara’s delight.

“Great! Let me get the check. And then, we will go to my place... Oh: could you help me up, Chloe? I’m not so muscly as I used to be, and I’m fucking stuffed, and I could use a hand getting out of this tight, tight chair...”

 

*

 

Meanwhile, in affluent Mill Avenue, Sophie Smithe was experiencing an unusual horror...

 

“Burp!”

Bovine sounds emanated from the exceedingly fat Mrs Rebeca Moore, whose 400 pound bulk, clad in a far too small sky blue silk minidress, occupied half of one of Sophie Smithe’s new cluster of sofas.

Mrs Moore wasn’t the only Mill Avenue neighbour who’d piled on the weight in recent months. There was the peroxide Mrs Penelope Plum, a retired porn actress, who had developed a hefty bulge over her lap that she could probably now see past the swell of her overly-enhanced cleavage. Speaking of enhanced cleavage, there was also their new neighbour, Mrs Monica van Floofenheim. Monica’s bowling ball silicone breasts were frankly enormous, even next to Penelope’s – in fact they were of distasteful size, in Sophie’s opinion, not that Mrs Sophie Smithe was one to judge! The rest of Mrs van Floofenheim wasn’t fat – but it was plain to see the smooth contours under her chic black cocktail dress were only achieved by the expedient of her being Spanxed to the max. Although Monica wasn’t fat, her cinched-in tummy rumbled for all to hear whenever Sophie brought out a new tray of pastry delights – at which point Monica would invariably ask for “just one little one” in deference to her “slow metabolism.” Sophie did not fail to notice that Monica’s idea of a “little pastry” was rather heftier than most, and probably went some way to explain her metabolism’s alleged slowness.

The other half dozen Mill Avenue trophy wives and mistresses in Sophie’s lunch parlour were looking porky this Christmas, too, in Sophie Smithe’s non-judgemental view. In fact, only Lara Lys gave any evidence of recently sticking to a diet, and that was because the chic socialite had really ballooned over the summer and been forced to lose weight to retain her career as a courtesan and mistress.

Anyway, the number of well-fed women who were indulging themselves on Sophie’s pastries presented a novel problem for Mill Avenue’s premiere hostess. For once, Sophie Smithe had failed to over-cater! A real horror for the legendary Sophie!

“Are there any more of these citron tarts?” Inquired Mrs Rebeca Moore, as she gobbled down the last couple on her side plate.

Lara Lys arched an eyebrow in reply.

“I think that’s the last of them, Rebeca. Although that’s probably just as well for your figure!”

“I’m eating for two!” Rebeca retorted with practiced speed. "And this citron is very healthy! Full of vitamins."

“Mmm.” Lara didn’t disagree. The citrons were delicious. But they also tasted sugary and fattening, and Lara, at least, was trying to get her waist back to its concave self after her disastrously fattening summer affair with their new neighbour.

“Would you like one of these...” Sophie offered a different plate to Rebeca. It held a selection of chocolates – store-bought, not home-made, but from a reassuringly exclusive Hollywood chocolatier. “... Karamel Kurves?”

Rebeca greedily scooped a load of the odd-shaped chocs onto her plate, and apart from Lara Lys the other ladies joined in. “My, my, the ladies are hungry today!” Sophie thought. First they chomp through eight different kinds of home-made pastry, with seconds, and now they want more! And I didn't fail to add extra for Rebeca!

For her part, Mrs Monica van Floofenheim accepted, at first, “just one little Karamel Kurve.” That changed as soon as she bit into the delectable chocolate. Then she accepted a handful – soon to join the “just one” of the eight different sweet, fattening pastries already churning in the new neighbour’s tummy.

“Hmmph!” Sophie commented. “Quite a success, these store-bought choc!”

“They are utterly delicious, Sophie! But somehow it’s hard to describe the flavour, apart from saying they’re very rich! Not that they’re as good as your home-made pastries, of course!”

The other ladies all joined in the praise for Sophie’s baking. But not so vehemently that they didn’t want to know whence the new chocolates – sourced from a box bearing a very strange symbol as its logo – had come.

“Oh, it’s a chocolatier at the new development down the hill.” Sophie related to her interested audience. “You can’t miss it – it’s got a great big gold-plated sculpture of that peculiar logo in the plaza at the front. Um, Sarnath Chocolates is the name of the store, I believe. They’ve got some delicious treats, so do check it out when you have the time... If you think your waistlines can handle it, ladies!”

All the Mill Avenue ladies agreed that they were watching their waistlines. But that, for such sublime confection as the Sarnath Chocolates, they would be willing to diet and exercise that much harder in order to earn themselves one or two, as a little treat!

 

*

 

Meanwhile at stately Number 12 Mill Avenue, the neighbourhood’s wealthy antiquarian bookseller, and dabbler in the occult, was putting the last few spots of glue onto a broken fragment of a big glass sphere in his study. The clear glass sphere had clearly been shattered to bits in some sort of incident, but, with the aid of a large ** of glass glue and some temporary duct tape, it seemed to have been carefully restored.

“At last!” Chortled Eris, the bookseller. “The Orb of Gluttony is restored! Soon, I will once again be able to invoke magical charms of modest-to-low power level... Huh...”

The warlock muttered. He could have added, “Provided I stick within the terms of my agreement with the super-scary sorceress supreme, Ms Chloe Southern, who forced me to promise not to fatten up women without their permission... Although, fortunately, my paramour, Rebeca Moore, is such a glutton that she has delightedly agreed to take part in the Fat Magic rituals required to fuel the orb!”

However, Eris’s monologue was cut short by the daily delivery of junk mail. He proceeded to collect it from the door mat, and take it straight to the bin. And he would have binned it directly, except one thing caught his eye. An odd symbol, on a flyer for an expensive new chocolate shop.

“Sarnath Chocolates... Hmm. Sarnath. Rings a bell...” Eris said to himself.

From a bookshelf in the open-plan kitchen, Eris drew down a leather-bound tome with faded gilt work and yellowed vellum pages. After a while of careful page turning, he found the very matching symbol he was looking for. Illuminated in black and red vintage ink, rather than the cheap Powerpoint graphic of the flyer, the shape was unmistakable.

“Oh crap.” Eris handled the flyer gingerly.

“The Doom that Came to Sarnath.”

Sarnath was, in occult circles, an infamous lost city. The very same rune now used as the logo of Beverly Hills’ chic new chocolatier was associated with the downfall of the fabled ruin.

“The Sign of Fattara!”

 

*

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6 hours ago, Batman76 said:

Oh boy this is going places... Sexy... Fattening places...

I hope so... Now, this story has a time-limited frame, in that it (probably) takes place in a week or so over the Christmas vacation. So, I'm wondering if I can get away with some storytelling fiat, and say that Chloe's connection to the mystical nexus of magical power beneath LA might cause her to gain more beef than an ordinary young woman might plausibly add in a week?? I'm leaning towards yes, if it doesn't overtax the audience's belief. I mean, "magic" seems pretty convincing to me...

I see you've got five blobs in your bio thingy - congratulations, well deserved!

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Right, hope you're enjoying this chapter. I'm travelling tomorrow, so probably no update until a bit later. 

 

Chapter 9: California Feeding (part 4)

 

Chloe Southern emitted contented groans, and briefly struggled to open her eyes before giving up in exhaustion. The Florida state swimming champion was too tired to move. Felicitously, she was stretched out on the world’s most comfortable bed – Lara’s bed, which was so vast that Chloe couldn’t reach the edges at full stretch. The blonde briefly felt bad that she was probably spoiling the silk sheets – Chloe was utterly slathered in aromatic massage oil, and sweat. Plus, she’d come so hard, so many times, that Lara had needed to give her two towels. Which probably meant a lot of laundry for Lara... But it was Lara’s fault for refusing to stop after treating Chloe to a long tummy rub and a hard, oily massage, and carrying on with steamy kissing... And then subjecting the blonde to a merciless onslaught with a vibrator so powerful Chloe hadn’t imagined such a thing could exist. Unable to resist due to her extreme horniness and lifelong gluttony for sex, the blonde had been powerless to do anything but lay back in an oily, sweaty mess, and try to live through an endless era of earth-shaking orgasms during which she practically screamed down the mansion walls.

Eventually, Lara had relented. Chloe guessed that was a perk of still being a professional athlete – the out-of-shape Lara had grown tired before she finished fucking Chloe unconscious.

Chloe groaned, and wondered what time it was. Winter, probably? She rolled out of bed. It took some time to reach an edge, and then she fell off at an unexpected diagonal angle, her normally-honed reflexes way too tired to save her from the embarrassment of falling flat on the floor as her friend and tormentor, Ms Lara von Fluffystein, as Chloe had decided to call her, emerged from the steaming bathroom wrapped in a floofy towel and smelling of expensive fragrance. Lara prodded Chloe’s prone form with a plump toe. Chloe regarded the toe as it probed her oily boobs and made her nipples harden.

“You’re sticky.” Lara complained. “Go shower. Then we go again. But only a little bit, and be gentle this time! I’m so fat and unfit you’ve ruined me, Chloe, and I don’t think I can take the strap-on even one more time! It was fantastic... But I feel like I’ve had twins!”

Chloe tried to clear her mind and failed. “I don’t remember a strap-on?”

Lara nudged Chloe until the blonde started standing up. “Oh, you were probably screaming at the time, Chloecakes. But don’t worry: I think the walls kept most of it in.”

“Uhn. Okay. What am I doing, again?”

“Shower. Sex... Snack!”

Lara concluded her list with a rumbling sound.

“You can’t be hungry?” Chloe gasped.

Lara untied the towel from her waist, and displayed her plump tummy. Her plush lower belly and hips were clearly growing too round to fit into a size 12 without a muffin top or shapewear. For obvious reasons. Her upper and mid belly were clearly still swollen with lunch – but the contents shifted visibly as they rumbled loudly.

“Actually, I am a little peckish, Chloe! And I want us to have donuts before dinner. To tide us over. I always find sex makes me so hungry!”

Chloe licked her lips. “Really? Me too! Plus, also, food makes me horny... So it’s probably a good thing my boyfriend likes me fluffy – plus likes fucking me, I guess.”

“Mmm. Eating makes me horny too, Chloe.” Lara purred. “Which means, I think we’re going to have a rather fattening but very pleasurable Christmas between us! Oh, by the way do you think your boyfriend will like the video we made for him?”

Chloe drew in some breath through her teeth. She’d forgotten about that. “Um. I think it might be a bit X-rated for Beck. Um, I don’t think he knows I can come that hard, and, um...”

Lara smiled philosophically. “Okay. I guess we’ll have to make another for him later. I’ll keep you under better control. Something vanilla...”

Mention of vanilla made Lara’s tummy rumble again, and she slapped Chloe’s ass to move the blonde towards the shower. Lara looked forward to a very nice Christmas... Plus donuts. Lots of donuts. She resolved to send Chloe to buy more as soon as possible.

 

* *

 

Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud. CRASH! “Oops.”

Chloe Southern looked around to see what she’d damaged or destroyed while charging down the stairs of the von Fluffystein mansion. Apparently, she was unaccustomed to the width of her powerlifting ass, and had knocked over some sort of huge box that had been placed near the bannister. Further investigation revealed the box contained about 150 kgs of flatpacked hardwood furniture, so how she could have knocked it across the hallway with a little brush from her ass was a mystery to Chloe. Probably it had been very carelessly stacked. Felicitously, an experimental touch to her ass revealed no bruising, and it seemed unlikely that the robust hardwood would be damaged, so Chloe quickly propped it back where she’d first found it.

Just in the nick of time!

The front door opened, admitting a middle-aged woman with massive silicone tits like bowling balls, and a potbelly underneath them, wedged into a red dress.

“Oh, Hi Mrs von Fluffystein --- Oops, von Fluffyheim, um...”

“VAN FLOOF-EN-heim!” Exclaimed the dark-haired woman irascibly. She was bearing a stack of chocolate boxes – the upper one was open and half empty, and the large, round, dark chocolates on display looked irresistible. But Chloe did not rate her chances of getting one very highly.

“I’m Chloe. Chloe Southern. Lara’s... Um, friend.”

“I see.” Replied Mrs VAN FLOOFENHEIM. Then she munched a chocolate. Chloe couldn’t resist asking for one, although she knew it was a little presumptuous to do so.

“Those look delicious, Mrs Van Floofenheim! Do they taste as good as they look?” The blonde inquired with all the subtlety at her disposal.

“GET YOUR OWN!” Shouted Lara’s Stepmom, causing Chloe to recoil. She didn’t think she’d asked anything that bad. “They’re ALL MINE!”

“Okay...” Chloe skirted around the opposite side of the hallway, as Monica van Floofenheim glared at the passing blonde while walking backwards towards the grand kitchen. “Sorry, Mrs Fluffy. Um, Floofenheim.”

Chloe backed through the front door. Monica glared at the departing blonde while popping the tasty looking chocolates into her mouth.

“Hmm.” Chloe thought to herself. “Our lovable blonde heroine guessed that Mrs von Fluffystein had eaten so many chocolates that she’d had to take off her Spanx at some point earlier in the afternoon – explaining the tummy bulge spoiling the drape of her chic red dress. Anyway, this wasn’t important, because the only thing that mattered was spending the two hundred dollar bills which Lara had given to her fuckbuddy, in order to buy them a lot of expensive Hollywood boutique donuts...”

Outside, Mill Avenue was growing dark as the winter evening set in. It was cold. Chloe didn’t like the cold. And she wore only a loose black T-shirt and thin, frayed white jeans. Fortunately she’d eaten about a millions calories more than she needed, and she had a metabolism like a bonfire, so as she headed, on foot, down the roads to an exclusive Hollywood shopping district, she didn’t really feel the chill. Which meant she had the spare attention to notice some weird things about the city around her this Christmas...

 

* *

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