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Chapter 5: The Hunger

Tessa had never been a big eater.

 

The secret to the maintenance of her dainty, famous physique was that the starlet didn’t maintain it. She did some exercise and avoided sweets but she’d been born naturally thin and abstentious towards food, she didn’t have cravings or hunger pangs at 1200 calories a day. Until the day a chubby girl had stared back at her from a studio mirror, Tessa had never even given gaining weight a thought.

 

Right now, it was consuming her.

 

“More, more for the *slurp*,” Tessa gasped as she licked egg residue and syrup and bacon grease off of her plate, ‘love of God, more!”

 

Hunger stabbed through the actress’ midrift, hot and insistent as a gunshot wound. One early role of Tessa’s had been playing a pregnant woman who went into labor at the climax of the film, she’d watched dozens of filmed labors to get the screams and expressions right. The agony shooting through her stomach eclipsed anything she’d seen in those tapes, a pain so pure she couldn’t even sit up straight. Her muscles spasmed in sequence, her gut grumbled like a predator defendings its young and the pain, oh God the pain….

 

“More of what, Miss Holmes?” Dr. Mortenson grinned at her, one muscular leg crossed over the other.

 

Food, please more food, I need it,” the actress whined, bending at the waist and rubbing her stomach.

 

Tessa had eaten multiple pounds of pancake, bacon, eggs and potatoes even before the calorie heavy and immensely voluminous hot chocolate. A light eater and small framed until the day before, the actress should have been immensely, if not dangerously full. Instead of finding a swollen orb in threat of rupture, Tessa’s small hands found a soft, malleable bulge of fat that grumbled for more food.

 

“Well Miss Holmes, this is a weight loss facility and you do not appear to be making much progress,” Mortenson smiled, teeth sparkling white behind her plump lips, “in fact, you appear to be pouring out of your clothes…”

 

Snug yoga pants were tight as sausage skins. Their pink fabric was stretched transparent over Tessa’s thickening legs, no more her famously shapely stems but soft and chunky. A wide band of lower belly fat was split in half by the stretching waistband, rolling over it and threatening to touch her thighs.

 

“But let’s give you a second helping,” Mortenson told her, “in liquid form…”

 

Tessa didn’t even struggle as the trainers pulled the mask over her face. Like an airplane emergency mask, it strapped tight behind her ears, but differed due to not covering her nose and having a small nippled hose. She wrapped her lips around it and inhaled, immediately rewarded with a thick, heavy sludge of white chocolate. The actress guzzled and guzzled, her immense pain fading by the sip as her stomach rose. From a chubby gut, Tessa’s waist inflated into a beach ball that forced down her pants and pressed against the edge of the table.

 

Breathing hard, the actress craned her neck, looking in horror at the sphere of her stomach. The slightest motion made it slosh and her belly button had popped outwards. Strange rumbling sounds came from the sphere and as the hose emptied, she saw the cresting bulge start to shrink inwards. As it shrank, warmth suffused the rest of her body, as if she’d been dumped into a bath just below scalding. Her painfully tight pants grew even tighter, rips sounding as her hips spread past the point of the spandex’ tolerance.The actress’ ass smacked into the back of her chair, pressing her tightly into the table. Her sports bra’s straps sank into softened shoulders and her thighs spread apart, seams going as the soft flesh pressed tight together. The bottom cuffs of the exercise pants grew painfully tight around thickening cankles, even Tessa’s running shoes growing snug as her feet spread.

 

“No, no no, this won’t do,” the doctor sighed, strutting over to the inflating actress, “we already have a pear. Tsk, this is the problem with skinny girls who never had a fat day in their life, you never know how they’re going to grow when they start to finally spread. Still it was predictable, you can’t have an ass that perfect and not have it ruined, can you? Its a karmic balance.”

 

Only in moderate agony, Tessa’s animal instincts tried to make her run. Her hands tugged at the strap, finding themselves clumsier and bulges of arm fat flapping under her triceps. Dr. Mortenson put her hand across the Brit’s shoulder, easily pushing her back to her seat with surprising strength.

 

“Please, please let me go…,” the actress begged her tormentor, knowing that her body was too weak, too soft to overcome the fiendish power Mortenson had.

 

“You know, your predecessor fought at every opportunity. She snapped out of it multiple times a day, fought the trainers through a heart attack. Even when she was too fat to walk she tried to fight,” Mortenson told her, “you are really a disappointment.”

 

Mortenson put a finger tip to Tessa’ plump belly. The actress’ jaw hung open, revealing all of her perfect teeth as her full lips stretched wide.

 

F’NYHLL BVCT NBUR,” the doctor rasped, a green fog bulging out of her mouth.

 

Tessa tried not to breath in, but the doctor jabbed a finger hard into her stomach. She gasped and breathed in on instinct, feeling her lungs tingle. Mortenson’ other hand traced a pattern on Tessa’s stomach, a triangle with three lines and four corners. It burned an after image into Tessa’s eyes, like looking into an eclipse and she screamed again as its impossibie combination of angles and shapes grabbed her by the brain stem. 

 

Cold seized her hips, ass and thighs, just as unimaginable heat began to form in her stomach and flanks. Tessa’s ruined pants suddenly loosened, not much, but enough that the ripped spandex flapped like sails in a breeze as her legs became merely thick and lardy. Its load of food and chocolate mixture instantly digested and distributed, Tessa’s stomach had shrunk down to just a hefty paunch. Now it bulged out until its turgid surface again touched the table, this time not stuffed but thick with redistributed lard.

 

“What-how, no how is this, stop it please!” the trapped actress gasped, voice nearly screaming and eyes wide in terror.

 

“I’ve had a lot of practice doing this and I’d say you’ve just crossed over a hundred and ninety pounds. You’ve got a real talent for gaining weight, most of the skinny minis like you do once they get pushed over the edge,” Mortenson smiled, “Let’s try and get you over two hundred today before your psychological session with me. After all, your mental health is just as important as your physical health…”

 

……

 

Time wasn’t making since to Tessa anymore.

 

The hour or the day or possibly the year for all she knew, had been nothing but being inflated with food and then having it turned to fat. Mortenson hadn’t needed to alter her distribution again, whatever insane impossibility she’d written onto Tessa’s gut having permanently changed her from a balanced apple pear into pure apple. Strapped onto the couch of the hypnosis rooms With trembling neck muscles, the actress looked down at the ruin of her body:

 

Soft, flabby legs without a hint of muscle tone from their jiggly thighs to chubby little cankles, dwarfed by the hipless bulge of her gut. Folded over itself into twain, its double rolls crashed over her upper thighs, angry with purple red stretchmarks. Her breasts were only a little changed from the last time, a cup size at most, but Tessa’s body had grown so much so quickly she barely recognized herself.

 

“Apologies, I was busy making sure Miss Fast was quite sexually inamured with weight gain,” Dr. Mortenson said as she walked back into the room, wearing just the black sweater from earlier, “you on the other hand...let’s have something a bit less happy…”

 

Tessa took a breath, her terror at the verge of making her mute, “Why are you doing this? I’ve offered you money, I’ve...why?”

 

Mortenson looked down her nose at the prone woman, face flat and neutral.

 

“You wouldn’t understand the real reason, not until its your time,” The doctor smiled at her, “but why you? Because you were a good enough fit: renowned for your beauty and famously recognizable but slightly out of the spotlight and at the point where one’s looks can suddenly...change. We always have people watching for prime samples and when our first choice failed, well, you were next on this list.”

 

The actress shook her head, second chin wobbling, “I...why are you...that doesn’t make sense. You’re doing this because I’m beautiful?”

 

“Close, because you’re beautiful your fattening is suitable. I could grab any woman or girl from any college on this continent and it wouldn’t be a thousandth of your effect. An A-list actress or a supermodel...why you’re worth your weight in gold to #!&(>,” Mortenson finished.

 

Tessa screamed at the nails on a chalk board sound, one of her ear drums popping and blood running down her cheek.

 

“Ah, see what I mean? You’re not ready,” the doctor said again, tracing another pattern over her prisoner’s ear.

 

Tessa’ hearing returned as soon as the glow faded, her heart pounding. The doctor looked down at her, sharp nails poking into the actress’ gut.

 

“But if you mean, why am I doing this?’ the doctor smiled once more, almost wistfully, “because once I was like you were, so beautiful I didn’t even consider I could change. And now...now it is my pleasure to hand out reminders to the young and the famous that all beauty is fleeting. So, do you have a preference on how you got fat?”

 

The stupefied actress blinked, the change in demeanor sickening and confusing.

 

“I don’t care about being fat, I just want to go home. Please, just let me go. I won’t tell anyone about this, I’ll retire I”ll hide, I’ll never tell anyone else!” she said.

 

Mortenson smiled again, “You know, I think that I overrated you. Most of your acting skill really was from your looks. Now that your face is plain and your body is fat, you’re quite mediocre. If I unleashed those bonds and gave you a gun, what would you do with it?”

 

Tessa seethed, clenching weakened muscles, “I...I’d shoot you you psychotic bitch...”

 

It struck the actress that she meant every word. She wasn’t a violent person, she wasn’t cruel or vengeful. But if she had one of the handguns Americans were so preoccupied with, she’d use it on Mortenson without mercy.

 

“Right in the head,” Tessa finished.

 

Mortenson grinned, “there’s that spirit. So, about the reason you became fat. When you wake up tomorrow over two hundred pounds, you’ll need to believe that you’ve been heavy a while. How about the party life style? You were quite the sexy little thing, think of every jello shot you’ve taken in clubs, magnify them quite a bit and then let them all stick…”

 

The doctor patted her gut, the rolls rippling.

 

“No, no, I...self hatred,” Tessa answered her, looking up at the doctor’s piercing eyes, “I hated my own success. I”m an anti poverty advocate but I’m rich, I’m feminist but trade off my looks and ate to soothe away the cognitive dissonance and when I started gaining, losing those looks my wealth had come from...it felt good…”

 

The doctor laughed, slapping her patient’s stomach, “Oh yes, yes...add in some salacious photos from paparazzi as you started growing, a pair of un zipped pants here, a belly roll over your shorts there, rumors you were at various fat farms, occasional flare ups of edited images in front of your eyes as we hypnotize you, quite perfect. Perhaps you could be a screen writer when this is over...although for you...for you it won’t be over.”

 

Tessa looked over the chuckling doctor. Noting that her sculpted legs were softened and that a generous belly was pressing at her sweater, her hips spreading out of it and her chin doubled.

 

“So, what made you fat?” the actress asked her tormentor.

 

Mortenson glared, looking down in fury at her, “I am...damn, not again…”

 

The doctor looked down at her plumpening form, closed her eyes and said another nonsense phrase. She shrank back down, instantly fit and svelte again.

 

“Eating too much of your own chocolate?” Tessa sneered.

 

“Pounds of it at every meal. Its why my skin looks like this while you’re getting laugh lines already,” the doctor glared, “but that wasn’t a good sign for you. Just a reminder that I need to hurry to have you catch up with your friends…”

 

Mortenson stalked out, perfect glutes swinging and closed the door. Low words began pouring out of the speakers and images flashing in rapid succession before Tessa’s eyes. Reality faded around her and the actress tried to hold onto her memory...

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8 hours ago, >_< 0_0 said:


Oh, I see! Tessa’s chosen an origin story that... um, I can’t spoil it. But I figured it out!

Go ahead, I want to hear the guess!

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3 hours ago, Batman76 said:

Go ahead, I want to hear the guess!

Mortenson's strength lies in mind-breaking gaslighting, so if Tessa chooses an "origin story" that relies on confidence and positivity, it saps Mortenson of the ability to manipulate her like she did the other girls. She might even leave the place of her own free will, though I don't know what Mortenson would do to stop her, cause I know she has to for some reason.

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27 minutes ago, >_< 0_0 said:

Mortenson's strength lies in mind-breaking gaslighting, so if Tessa chooses an "origin story" that relies on confidence and positivity, it saps Mortenson of the ability to manipulate her like she did the other girls. She might even leave the place of her own free will, though I don't know what Mortenson would do to stop her, cause I know she has to for some reason.

Part of that isn't wrong...

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Random thoughts/speculation if you don't mind:

Who really is Mortenson? A former actress? Maybe she is/was the original Hero Girl actress (Lillian Lincoln?) that disappeared, but actually got caught up in whatever Lovecraftian cult thing is going on at this castle/lodge? So maybe she made some bargain with whatever cosmic deity wants fattened actresses to basically do its bidding in keeping it well supplied with the fattened celebrities in exchange for her seemingly magical mind control/ weight shifting/ magic rune abilities/ eternal youth hiding her actual fattened form?

Obviously the dream sequence Tessa had makes it seem like Mortenson and her acolytes are sacrificing the fattened celebrities to the Lovecraftian Elder God? Maybe?  I dunno...

Is everything at the lodge just an illusion? Is Mortenson actually hugely obese and her little lapses are bits of her true form escaping out due to low Elder God power? What about the lodge itself? Or all of the seemingly super fit valkyrie like women working with Mortenson? All illusions?

Whats the studio's role in all this? Are they in cahoots with Mortenson's little cult? Surely this lodge would have a reputation for actually getting results w/ celebrities unless they'e got some mind control illusion stuff going on there too. Is it some vast conspiracy?

Maybe Tessa evades the complete mind control bits through some kind of Memento-esque means? ( Not literally tatooing herself to remember bits of truth due to short term memory loss, but maybe something like that?)

Or will Tessa ultimately discover the means of Mortenson's power and maybe negotiate some deal with the Lovecratfian entity herself, behind Mortenson's back and kind of do the ol' switcheroo of the fattened eventually fattening up the fattener? Maybe she gradually does it to point where its Mortenson the one getting gaslighted?

 

Digging the story, love the weird mystery aspect of it all in addition to the gaining stuff. Maybe its cause I was watching the Resident Evil 8 reveal stuff today but my mind wanted to picture Mortenson as that Tall Vampire Lady in the RE8 trailers. Kind of a well dressed hourglass figure and all, even if I think MOrtenson is described as quite short. Well, I guess she could use one of her spells/runes to change her own height/shape maybe, like she did Tessa's weight distribution. Heh

 

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23 hours ago, dog186 said:

Random thoughts/speculation if you don't mind:

Who really is Mortenson? A former actress? Maybe she is/was the original Hero Girl actress (Lillian Lincoln?) that disappeared, but actually got caught up in whatever Lovecraftian cult thing is going on at this castle/lodge? So maybe she made some bargain with whatever cosmic deity wants fattened actresses to basically do its bidding in keeping it well supplied with the fattened celebrities in exchange for her seemingly magical mind control/ weight shifting/ magic rune abilities/ eternal youth hiding her actual fattened form?

Obviously the dream sequence Tessa had makes it seem like Mortenson and her acolytes are sacrificing the fattened celebrities to the Lovecraftian Elder God? Maybe?  I dunno...

Is everything at the lodge just an illusion? Is Mortenson actually hugely obese and her little lapses are bits of her true form escaping out due to low Elder God power? What about the lodge itself? Or all of the seemingly super fit valkyrie like women working with Mortenson? All illusions?

Whats the studio's role in all this? Are they in cahoots with Mortenson's little cult? Surely this lodge would have a reputation for actually getting results w/ celebrities unless they'e got some mind control illusion stuff going on there too. Is it some vast conspiracy?

Maybe Tessa evades the complete mind control bits through some kind of Memento-esque means? ( Not literally tatooing herself to remember bits of truth due to short term memory loss, but maybe something like that?)

Or will Tessa ultimately discover the means of Mortenson's power and maybe negotiate some deal with the Lovecratfian entity herself, behind Mortenson's back and kind of do the ol' switcheroo of the fattened eventually fattening up the fattener? Maybe she gradually does it to point where its Mortenson the one getting gaslighted?

 

Digging the story, love the weird mystery aspect of it all in addition to the gaining stuff. Maybe its cause I was watching the Resident Evil 8 reveal stuff today but my mind wanted to picture Mortenson as that Tall Vampire Lady in the RE8 trailers. Kind of a well dressed hourglass figure and all, even if I think MOrtenson is described as quite short. Well, I guess she could use one of her spells/runes to change her own height/shape maybe, like she did Tessa's weight distribution. Heh

 

Absolutely lovely guesses, love responses like that!

 

And yeah, mortenson has that energy doesn't she...

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And after far too long a wait, hah, the first half of chapter five...

Chapter 6: The Way Out

 

The worst thing about all of it, Tessa found, the worst thing was that Mortenson had been entirely right about her.

 

A long dining hall fit for a hundred.

 

A sneering goddess and her dead eyed servants.

 

Over stuffed, suffering victims.

 

It was Tessa’s third day.

 

Soft legs stepped.

 

An iron platform groaned.

 

A bronze dial spun.

 

“Two hundred and nineteen pounds! Miss Holmes you are making excellent progress!,” Dr. Mortenson smiled, “Why in just a few weeks, you’ll be back down to your goal weight! You’re setting new camp records every day!”

 

Tessa smiled back at the blonde doctor, feeling her puffy cheeks shift and the fat under her chin draw tighter at the motion. The smile was convincing, genuine and warm. Although she doubted it would grace a magazine cover ever again.

 

Not when she was twice her original weight.

 

“Thank you, I just wish I hadn’t let myself go so badly before coming here,” the actress admitted, “I knew I was getting heavier but I thought I had it under control…”

 

A tabloid headline, showing her on vacation with a sizeable beer gut hanging over a bikini. Laboring with a personal trainer as she tried to burn off party weight before a film. Showing up to a shoot with a few extra pounds and not for the first time.

 

“Ah, I’m sure you did. But control can be illusory, can’t it. Still, better late than never, I always say!” the physician replied, her plump lips curving over her perfect teeth, “Now come dear, your fellow campers need to be weighed next!”

 

The actress looked down, the soft, pale bulge of her stomach blocking all but the very edge of her sneaker toes. Tessa had never wanted kids, but she’d played a pregnant woman before and this gut was far bigger than the prosthetic baby belly she’d worn playing a teen mom. And it came with flabby, jiggly thighs and drooping breasts.

 

Nor could she just take this fat suit off.

 

“Of course, just taking a last look before it starts disappearing,” Tessa smiled, stepping off the scale so Rachel could get on.

 

Rachel didn’t move like a woman of about thirty. Her steps were heavy, weighed down by too much fat for a near six foot frame to handle. Thigh rolls hung over her knees, cankles hung over her gym socks and hips that would struggle to fit into a compact car seat hung out of her pink shorts. Cellulite coated ass fat studded with stretch marks wobbled out of the skin tight exercise gear. She had no chin whatsoever, her face chubby as a pig’s and her arms wobbled with bingo wings. A saggy gut hung over her pants, awkwardly small breasts jiggled in a sports bra...

 

“Yeah yeah, more like bragging you can see your feet,” her pop starlet friend said with a mock chuckle, “I used to be able to too! Believe it or not!”

 

The actress made herself chuckle back, “I remember…”

 

Rachel Fast, once famously twiggy actress, who’d stopped touring three years ago after an embarrassing weight gain. One that had accelerated over the years until she’d teetered in at a quarter ton. Before finally snapping out of it and coming to the Black Mountain Lodge, where she cut her weight down to…

 

“Three hundred and sixty...no seventy one pounds!” Mortenson smiled again as the dials stopped spinning.

 

Three hundred and seventy one pounds. Easily three times what Rachel had used to weigh. From famously svelte and leggy into an ass heavy chunk of blubber…

 

“Oh thank God, that’s over a hundred pounds!” Rachel laughed in real happiness, “Fuck, a lot of feeding sessions went into that ass fat...double fuck, that’s a skinny version of Tessa!”

 

Rachel’s step getting down from the scale was slow. She was clumsy, awkward in her movements. Tessa noted a wince in her friend’s face as she put all of her weight onto one leg, like her knee was in pain.

 

“And your gout symptoms are really fading, Miss Fast. If we keep you on this diet, in a week or so you’ll never know you had a flare up!” the doctor grinned, “Miss Downton…”

 

The super model had been sitting the entire time, bulk sprawled across a groaning wooden chair at the table. She was breathing heavily and red in the face, still panting from when she’d waddled into the room. With every breath, her ludicrously pendulous bosoms rose and fell, the left one several inches below its mismatched mate, both breasts clearly suffering from gigantomastia.

 

“One second,” the blonde gasped, closing her piggish eyes to muster her energy.

 

“Do you need help rising? I had believed you were past that…,” Mortenson asked, perfectly plucked eyebrow rising.

 

“I’m just, really tired today. I need just a second, maybe a drink,” Downton whined, voice deep.

 

“Would you like a walker again, Miss Downton?” Mortenson asked her, voice so friendly and inviting and yet...so cruel, “Perhaps I should check your blood sugar, you diabetic girls can get tired so easily…”

 

“No, no I don’t need a walker,” the model insisted, sausage fingers on her swollen knees.

 

She was in a black bikini fit for a circus fat woman. Tessa recognized it, recognized that Downton had worn one identical on a cover. Identical save for the thirty or so sizes separating them.

 

With tectonic force, Downton tried to get up. Something popped, a mystery whether it was a ** or the chair, and the model’s momentum stopped dead. She inhaled deeply and rocked slightly forwards, wobbling legs trying to push upwards while her heavy, sagging arms pressed forwards. Getting up owed more to Downton’s heavy gut and immense breasts than anything else, the immense ex-model rising at the same rate her gut drooped and her breasts sagged. 

 

“S-see, I’m *uhf* fine,” Downton insisted, wiping sweat off of her brow and slowly waddling towards the scale, her posture bowed forwards by the demanding pull of her chest, “I bet, bet I’m below four fifty today…”

 

Tessa remembered a magazine cover that Downton had been on. One that couldn’t have been more than a year ago, she remembered seeing it in a super market or a gas station before her diagnosis, when it had just been some bad headaches. Then, Downton had been athletically slim, her breasts large and heavy, but firm and ripe instead of the spoilt, passed their prime udders wobbling back and forth now. 

 

And she’d weighed maybe one hundred forty pounds.

 

“Four hundred and forty six, my my Miss Downton, you’ve quite the eye to your current size! You’re shrinking fast,” Doctor Mortenson smiled, “another year or so and who knows where you’ll be…”

 

“Maybe on a cover again,” Downton smiled, the motion making her jowls twitch.

 

Downton had had who knows how many covers. After all, she’d been the first plus size model in Sports Illustrated history to make the cover, although that was somewhat cheating given she’d had it before she’d started gaining weight. Only she hadn’t stopped gaining weight, what was laudable at a sixteen was decidedly too big ten sizes later and Downton had left a size twenty six behind long ago.

 

“Who knows? But I do know that now its time to eat, girls,” Mortenson grinned, “don’t you agree?”

 

Bellies growled in unison, gaunt grizzly bears awakening from hibernation to find a particularly obese troup of hikers carrying bags stuffed with pork rinds. The three patrons hurried as well as women in their condition could, Tesa feeling every ounce of adipose jiggling and wobbling. Her fat felt like it had a mind of its own, the gelatinous gut pushing down the spandex waist band of her shorts, surging towards the food she’d have to shovel into it. Moving a short distance, barely a hundred feet was well within the actress’ limits, but she found herself far more exerted than she would have been, even if she wasn’t panting like Rachel and downright gasping for air like Cat. 

 

Breakfast that morning was fried, as it always was.

 

This time it was fried custard. A gallon sized porcelain tub of frozen custard that had been flash fried and drowned in a quart of whipped cream and a quart of hot fudge. To drink was two liters of some horrifically yellow soft drink that fuzzed and fizzed like a grade school volcano project. If Downton didn’t have diabetes before drinking it, she would after, and the ice cream was going to give Tessa gout, let alone Rachel. Whatever Mortenson had said about this resort possibly being outside of the states, only an American could have created a breakfast like this.

 

“The berries look delicious,” Tessa smiled, salivating over the fatty, chocolately heart attack she was about to devour.

 

“Picked fresh this morning,” the doctor told them with a million dollar grin.

 

Breakfast that morning was healthy, as it always was.

 

Fresh blueberries. A glass of low sodium tomato juice with water to drink. A dry slice of turkey breast. Two small pieces of whole wheat toast with no butter. 

 

Two days ago, Tessa wouldn’t have been able to eat the former while pretending it was the later. She’d have hesitated at the start or gagged at the first taste perhaps, certainly the dainty actress would have been miserable at the end of it all and acted like she was shoveling in lard and washing it down with corn syrup. But after another session of therapy with Mortenson, after hearing she could see the belt busting, stomach turning slop and know it was a miniscule health meal. She could pace herself like this was a tiny snack meant to get her through hours of exercise and not a coma inducing barrage of calories that was going to be followed up with some infernal concoction that would make her yet fatter.

 

Two days ago, Tessa had been a gorgeous woman who happened to be in movies for a living.

Today, Tessa couldn’t pass for that woman anymore. Her elfin face had turned round, her graceful neck clumsily thick and her elegant legs flabby as her tiny waist had grown porcine. Tessa couldn’t even pass as Tessa Holmes’ fat cousin to be honest.

 

But today, after gaining perhaps a hundred or so pounds in maybe two days, Tessa was putting in an Oscar worthy performance.

 

She spooned deep fried ice cream into her mouth without pause like a fat girl.

 

She chugged hideously sugary soft drinks at breakfast like a fat girl.

 

Tessa was playing the part of a fat girl like she’d been born to it.

 

The actress’ spoon hit the empty porcelain tub before she realized she was done. Tessa looked down into the greasy  surface of the bowl, seeing the reflection of a fat faced, plain woman who seemed older than her years, not an A list actress known for youthful good looks. There was real disappointment on her features to be done. Her stomach was a little full, certainly swollen over her too tight shorts and with red marks showing on the side where the fabric had pinched, but she could certainly still eat.

 

“I swear these breakfasts get smaller ever day,” Tessa grumbled, finishing the last of her soda, her belly audibly sloshing as she put down the glass.

 

Behind her, the actress heard the rumble of wheels and the slosh of tanks. Whatever creamy concoction this place was feeding her was arriving.

 

“Before exercise, I wanted to ask,” Tessa began, only for Mortenson to smile.

 

The Doctor was in a beautiful red dress, its soft fabric glued to her muscularly curvaceou body, top cut low to show her high breasts. 

 

“Miss Holmes, delaying your work out won’t help you lose weight,” Mortenson insisted.

 

“No, no I just wanted to ask, who painted these beautiful pictures? They’re master pieces all of them but I don’t recognize the style,” the actress said, voice calm, like she wasn’t about to be force fed for hours.

 

Mortenson turned, staring at the picture of Freya and her valkyries feeding the valiant dead.

 

“These? They were all painted by our lodge’s founder, one Sarah Remington, in the late 19th century. An amazing woman, a President’s daughter and a tycoon’s wife. Had she been born a man or a century later she would have been President herself, instead she was a socialite and famous beauty,” the doctor opined sadly, “but sadly, all things fade. And she found herself both this lodge’s founder and its first member. Painting these images of the consequences of gluttony in mythology was one of her therapies.”

 

American presidents weren’t Tessa’s forte. For all the country talked about its independence it treated some of its past leaders like they were Gods all the earth should know the intricacies of. Damn but if she had her phone…

 

“She sounds amazing,” Tessa said, feeling the mask going over her face.

 

“Oh, she was, very amazing,” Mortenson smiled, “it is a shame you won’t enjoy meeting her.”

 

Tessa didn’t know how she knew not to react to the last statement. Just as she didn’t know how the disgusting, fattening feast could appear a tiny, healthy meal simultaneously. Perhaps lingering chemo drugs in her system were keeping whatever mind control serum she’d been dosed with from fully dominating her. Maybe the titanium plate in her skull had partially blocked out the spirit breaking, belittling hypnosis she’d suffered through hours of yesterday. It could be that the laser scalpel had slipped just a bit when the doctor’s had cut out part of her brain a year ago.

 

If the situation wasn’t so deathly serious, Tessa would even entertain the possibility that she really was a witch.

 

But the fattening concoction, that tasted of white chocolate and coconut cream and heavy whipping cream and God knows what else was already pouring into her mouth through the hose. And any thoughts of “why” had to give way to thoughts of how Tessa was going to try and escape this living nightmare tonight.

 

“We’ll need to start doing blood pressure readings on them, Downton’s getting to that delicate stage where the chocolate can only somewhat dull the symptoms,” Mortenson opined to a trainer, “and blood sugar every few hours too for Holmes. I want to know the minute she developes diabetes, I’m sure it’ll be tomorrow, probably around 11 am.”

 

Because of what Mortenson was saying. 

 

And because the taste on that fattening venom on Tessa’ tongue was so delicious, she sighed...

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15 hours ago, SilverPathfinder said:

Oh! Escape scenes are my favourites. I am immensely hyped for the next chapter ^^

Oh yes, it's going to be a treat seeing her try to get out with a freshly obese body...

10 hours ago, >_< 0_0 said:

Omg don’t tease that! Don’t hint that she could be a witch as well! Now I have to wait for answers!

Haha, I have to wait to though... Damn lack of time

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On 2/3/2021 at 6:25 PM, >_< 0_0 said:

Xbox One Witches GIF by Xbox
This is how I picture Mortenson now. Can’t unsee 😖

YES. lol, thats exactly how I'm picturing her now too of course, minus the whole being 9 feet 6 inches tall bit. Always time for Mortenson to shape shift her height up a bit, lol.

 

Other random thoughts:

Hmmm... does Mortenson not realize the mind control isn't working on Tessa? Has Tessa just gotten that good at acting it out, despite kind of seeing through the illusions with the food? Or does Mortenson maybe realize Tessa is still acting a bit and is just toying with her (seems like something she'd do)? Tessa seems kind of stuck realizing the bizarre reality of her situation but also physically helpless to do anything about it due to the addictive nature of whatever goop they're feeding them.

The bit about the lodge's founder has me thinking if that name just an expy for somebody else in history and I'm being dense about it? Is that "Sarah Remington" actually Mortenson? Or is she maybe the big boss / ascended Elder God/ Witch that Mortenson is working for?

Is Mortenson a witch? She seems to have some magical powers obviously between her shape shifting her own weight through spoken jibberish  phrases, being able to redistribute Tessa's weight with her weird impossible shapes trick and she (seemingly) breathed out some green fog when uttering said magic jibberish words. Witch, occult Elder God priestess, tomato, tomato I guess.

Wondering what plan Tessa has concocted to try and escape and how Mortenson will counter it. But also starting to think maybe either Cat and Rachel might reach whatever end state Mortenson needs them at first before Tessa can try to bail.

 

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23 hours ago, dog186 said:

YES. lol, thats exactly how I'm picturing her now too of course, minus the whole being 9 feet 6 inches tall bit. Always time for Mortenson to shape shift her height up a bit, lol.

 

Other random thoughts:

Hmmm... does Mortenson not realize the mind control isn't working on Tessa? Has Tessa just gotten that good at acting it out, despite kind of seeing through the illusions with the food? Or does Mortenson maybe realize Tessa is still acting a bit and is just toying with her (seems like something she'd do)? Tessa seems kind of stuck realizing the bizarre reality of her situation but also physically helpless to do anything about it due to the addictive nature of whatever goop they're feeding them.

The bit about the lodge's founder has me thinking if that name just an expy for somebody else in history and I'm being dense about it? Is that "Sarah Remington" actually Mortenson? Or is she maybe the big boss / ascended Elder God/ Witch that Mortenson is working for?

Is Mortenson a witch? She seems to have some magical powers obviously between her shape shifting her own weight through spoken jibberish  phrases, being able to redistribute Tessa's weight with her weird impossible shapes trick and she (seemingly) breathed out some green fog when uttering said magic jibberish words. Witch, occult Elder God priestess, tomato, tomato I guess.

Wondering what plan Tessa has concocted to try and escape and how Mortenson will counter it. But also starting to think maybe either Cat and Rachel might reach whatever end state Mortenson needs them at first before Tessa can try to bail.

 

Love all the guesses, some of them are going to be revealed soon...

Bad news has a way of arriving in waves, particularly when the first piece puts you into an absolutely shitty mood.

 

“While surely few are unfamiliar with Miss Holmes’ other performances, what unique promise she once showed is not apparent. While recreating the vocal requirements for recreating a classical animated musical in live action cannot be fully expected for a performer with only minor experience in music,” a particularly snide review said,”the constant auto tuning of her voice never failed to take away from the film. More surprising, the previously lauded Holmes turned in a performance that is both low energy and oddly bloated. She seemed particularly distracted, uncomfortable and even disinterested in her role during most scenes, including the ending dance number where she acted most unenergetic. Given the rumors of her immense pay day for the Disney spectacle, a reviewer must question is this the most she can offer?”

 

“Fucking reporters,” Tessa fumed, throwing the news paper acros the living room of her luxury apartment to thud between cast photos, “no wonder print media is dying…”

 

The actress’ missile knocked one of the photos from the wall. With a groan and a grunt she got up, feeling her shirt pull over her stomach. She tugged the tight cotton down over the bulge as she got to the photo, a post-wrap pick from one of her first adult roles. Posed between less successful co-stars, the then nineteen year old Tessa looked flawless, her near perfect legs displayed by tiny jean shorts and her washboard stomach on display in a crop top. One of her first beers was in one slender hand.

 

“Ugh, why did you have to drink that, fat ass?” the twenty seven year old Tessa grumbled to herself.

 

Right now, Tessa was wearing a skin tight pair of leggings that she’d squeezed into after a late breakfast just to get her mail. They stuck to her legs like sausage skins, highlighting the thickness of her thighs and bisected her not so little pooch. They didn’t rip only because the actress’ rather flat ass was already hanging out of them.

 

“And no wonder I looked uncomfortable, I was in two pairs of spanx to get back into that dress,” she grumbled, trying to get the leggings to stop squeezing.

 

Her last film had been a real night mare shoot. Lots of CGI to pretend to react to. Lots of choreographed dance numbers and lots of singing which she’d practiced for for months. It had been stressful and Tessa had used the catering table to burn off that stress, toss in the five extra pounds she’d picked up on vacation in the Bahamas before shooting and her costumes had been tight. On wrapping she’d really gorged, pigging out and drinking to relieve the tiredness...and then there’d been reshoots. The studio had decided the director wasn’t good enough and demanded forty five minutes of an hour and a half film be reshot. Thankfully she hadn’t been cast as a disney princess with an exposed midriff and spanx and a corset had been enough to hide the paunch the twenty five pounds had given her. Still, doing the climatic action scene and the dancing scene in those fabric torture chambers had been miserable and the picture of her on the catering table labelled “Do not serve” had been unnecessary. 

 

“And it wasn’t my idea to be auto tuned, I practiced for weeks,” Tessa grumbled, plopping back onto the couch and looking at the next letter.

 

It was a check from the studio.

 

“Fuck, those bastards, what do they mean, weight gain clause fine? Five hundred thousand dollars?” the brunette fumed.

 

It wasn’t unexpected. Tessa wasn’t an effortless waif anymore, her tendency towards drinking had started piling pounds around her midsection once she turned twenty. Despite frequently using a personal trainer she’d been fighting a personal battle of the bulge ever since and losing, she’d started her 20s as a size two and had started her last film as a snug size eight. And this wasn’t the first film where she’d shown up a pant size bigger, she was getting a reputation as unreliable. Roles had been starting to get a bit harder to get as word got out she put on weight easily and this wasn’t going to help. 

 

“Those fucks, I should sue for only getting...fuck,” Tessa’s brown eyes bulged, reading over the rest of the lines.

 

The check was just for the merchandising rights from dolls and stickers and toys and lunch boxes in her image, just from the first weeks of the ad campaign.

 

“Five million dollars?” the actress gasped.

 

It was a fortune. Add that to the vast amounts from her childhood role sitting in her accounts, forget the money made in between, and she’d be set for life. Never having to work again, the type of pay day an actress dreamed of…

 

“Is that, that can’t be right,” she stammered, pulling open her phone.

 

An email from her agent was on it, headlined “Is this real? We need to talk?”. The attachment was of Tessa out and about not too much earlier, her stomach distinctly rounded and her sharp chin doubled. No amount of pride was enough to say it was a bad angle, and the head line “Tessa Holmes, Pregnant!?” stung.

 

She looked away from the phone, past the check on the coffee table and the bad review on the floor. Hanging on the door was the dress she’d ordered for the premier, a luxurious piece of sustainable fashion:a jet black bandage dress with an absolutely tiny waist line. One she’d have struggled to get into with spanx when filming had started, twenty pounds ago. Why she’d ordered something so snug was beyond her, there was no way it was going to fit. Tessa could see the headlines about bumps now, at best, otherwise they might just call her fat…

 

“I’ll show them fat,” she muttered, googling the nearest take out place.

 

……

 

The memory wasn’t real.

 

Tessa had to tell herself that as she struggled into a pair of sweat pants.

 

The memory wasn’t real, she hadn’t had a weight problem on set. She’d started getting head aches, bad ones, and it had turned out that she needed an operation as soon as filming wrapped. That was why she’d missed the premiere, not because she was fat but because she’d had brain cancer. Yes, the review of her auto tuned singing, done without her input, had stung, but she hadn’t decided to eat herself obese from it.

 

“Come on, get up,” she whispered to herself, trying to get the draw string tied up by feel, sucking in her stomach hard as she could just to see her fingers.

 

This fat was real but it wasn’t from a self hating eating binge. This...twice her old weight and more of dough was all from someone else, from this insane place. She’d never struggled with her weight until days ago, never had a problem with over eating and never hated herself and even if she had, getting a little chubby was so much better than getting sick that the hypnosis memory was laughable. That was why she’d suggested that option to Mortenson, hoping even then that she could cling to the contradiction of what had really happened.

 

Had it worked?

 

Well, the memory had. Tessa remembered the hypnosis implant but she remembered reality too. And Mortenson had yet to suspect her, something Tessa had feared all throughout a long day of over eating. The doctor had treated her like a pig, all day long, talking openly around her to the trainers about how hefty Tessa was getting and how quickly. That she was a prize gainer, primed to expand. That would have been motivation enough to escape, even if the actress hadn’t been able to compare her weight gain with Rachel and Cat’s to find that she was rapidly catching up to the for now heavier women.

 

“I am not, not that fat,” she whispered to herself, looking down at the hefty, globular gut that blocked her hands from view.

 

Sucking in her stomach hadn’t worked. Tessa was beyond the point she could have a flat stomach or even just a paunchy stomach by sucking in. Her gut was a full keg of saggy beer weight, humiliating to bear around. She couldn’t see her feet anymore beneath its bulk, having to guess which shoe to shove her feet into. The gut sprawled across her lap when sitting and sagged when standing, a crease half way formed across it at the navel.

 

“...I am that fat,” the actress said, walking towards the mirror to tie up her pants.

 

Not that she really needed too. Although her legs and butt weren’t gaining much in comparison they were still thick and lardy, legs looking clumsy compared to their old delicate nature while her hips were curiously shapeless despite having once been a bit pronounced. Tessa had always had a butt that picked up mass easily and her mother had been a hip heavy woman since turning forty, but whatever Mortenson had done had changed the way the short haired brunette carried weight.

 

No, the reason Tessa looked in the mirror was to see how bad her gain was.

 

And it was pretty bad.

 

Quite frankly, the actress didn’t recognize herself. She was big and beefy and flabby, her gut sagging forwards enough she didn’t even stand the same. The shape of her face had changed as a third chin had grown in, obliterating delicate features and her body looked like it belonged to a different person. A woman five or six years older given the sag of her heavier tits, near F cups that had lost any youthful perk.

 

Tessa was noticeably fatter than she’d been that morning, probably closer to three hundred pounds than two hundred now. The swelling from her afternoon gorging and feeding had gone down, through some sort of...she didn’t know, dark magic or insane technology it had turned instantly into fat rather than killing her.

 

“I’ve got to get out of here,” she whispered, “while I still can.”

 

She opened the wardrobe, finding it occupied by a black jacket she didn’t remember buying. Maybe this was why her memory of what she’d been wearing to the studio and then to here kept changing, perhaps they’d put something looser into her wardrobe at home so she wouldn’t notice the first pounds that drugged food had put on her. Or maybe she’d just forgotten and was going paranoid as well as insane. She slid the jacket on, flabby arms tight in the holes and gut too big to zip up the front.

 

But it was better than just the thin t-shirt she was wearing, which didn’t fit well either. She was up in the mountains and the air was cold at night, she assumed, so she grabbed the blanket off of her bed too and wrapped it over her shoulders. The clothes in her dresser were now up to a frightening size eighteen and tight as a chinese finger trap. Tessa was grateful that they’d gone up a size during the day, instead of at night, both because she could fit into them and because she wasn’t going to be noticed.

 

At least, Tessa hoped.

 

Padding to the door, leaving behind portraits of an obese Aphrodite being bullied by her hand maidens and a defeated Athena being force fed by a giantess, the actress put her ear to the heavy wood door. Holding her breath, she listened for any noises, such as a trainer breathing outside in the hall. Her plan had initially been to go out the window and climb down, but the windows were narrow and Tessa was now decidedly wide in every direction. When none came, she slowly, quietly opened the door...into her own belly.

 

You’re kidding me,” Tessa fumed internally, rubbing the red mark that had appeared where crystal door knob had smacked into tender gut, “I’m losing this when I get home, I don’t care if i need lipo!”

 

On paper, no one was more experienced at sneaking around old, probably haunted magical castles than Tessa Holmes. But the last time she’d done that was over ten years and now, a hundred and forty pounds ago. She wasn’t a rail thin teen who could run for ever, but a vastly overweight, horribly out of shape near thirty year old who wasn’t even sure if she could run.

 

And of course, her star making film series had all been pretend. No one had really been there to catch her if it wasn’t in the script and that castle’s rooms and hallways had only had three doors. The Black Mountain Lodge was hideously real and horribly dangerous, if Mortenson or a trainer caught her out after night...well who knows what they’d do. It was enough to make Tessa want to hide back in her room, but this was her best chance.

 

Every day she stayed here, Tessa was gaining at least forty pounds. She was four, or perhaps five days at most from weighing as much as Cat Downton did. The SI model wasn’t just big, she seemed deeply miserable and unhealthy, moving slowly, breathing heavily, sweating constantly. And the chest heavy blonde was famously athletic and six inches taller than Tessa, who wasn’t exactly strong going into this.

 

So, forced by fear and shivering with trepidation, the actress stepped into the hallway to find...nothing.

 

Black Mountain Lodge’s residential hallway was dark and quiet as the grave. No muscular trainer waited to grab her up and strap her into a feeding machine. Dr. Mortenson didn’t stand by with magic ready to blast her soul to hell and her body to immobility. No ghostie or ghoulie or long leggedy beasty waited to bite her and the most dangerous thing was Tessa’s sensitive gut bumping into some side table or decoration.

 

That didn’t stop the place from being incredibly creepy.

 

Tessa slowly walked through the hallway, heart hammering from fear. The only sound was the brush of her thighs and the breath she was trying to keep calm. She crept low as she could to the ground, back and knees already starting to complain at stalking about with an extra hundred and seventy pounds on her body. The hallway was long, studded with unused rooms, but it still felt like it took hours to get through in the dark.

 

A cold sweat was on her pale skin by the time she reached the massive main room of the Lodge, only the low glow of the fire place lighting the room. Tessa scanned for any sort of guard for a long minute, letting her breathing get under control and finding no obvious guard. Slowly, she tip toed down the stairs, finding no more danger than being an obese woman on a stair case. Reaching the bottom, finding her mouth sand dry, Tessa tip toed towards the vast double doors, big enough to resist a battering ram.

 

Hand trembling, a wordless prayer to a God she didn’t normally believe in dropping off of her lips, Tessa pushed on the door handle...which swung silently open.

 

“Is it, that easy?” she whispered to herself, carefully stepping outside.

 

It seemed it was that easy, Tessa standing alone before the vast mansion on a chilly, moon lit night. There’d been no alarms she could hear, no guards, not even a locked door. It seemed that just the mind control drugs were used to keep the guests in check. And for whatever reason, that hadn’t worked on Tessa like it had on the others...which brought a small stab of guilt to her chest. Rachel was a friend of hers and while Downton seemed as demanding as she’d once been gorgeous, she didn’t deserve to be fattened to that size.

 

“I’ll call the FBI as soon as I get to a phone,” Tessa said, setting off down the drive, “and get someone to believe I’m me.”

 

The actress had been half expecting to be caught by this point. As to actually escaping, her plan had been a night time walk as fast as she could manage down the miles long drive and then down the road until she found someone, anyone willing to pick up a blanket wrapped fat woman on the road at night. It was risky as hell for a hundred reasons, but she was already kidnapped wasn’t she? What were the odds of getting kidnapped twice, especially as she wasn’t cute as a button anymore?

 

For a few minutes, the only sound was her sneakers on the pavement, her fogging breath in the air and the swish-swish of her thighs.

 

Then the howling started.

 

A long, high pitched and mournful howl across the starry sky. Tessa immediately froze, mind going to the grizzly trophies in the main room of the lodge. Were there wolves in California? Was she even in California?

 

More howls started, sounding closer and closer. She tried to tell herself that they were miles off, until she saw down in the forest of chocolate trees, a set of glowing, animal eyes reflecting in the darkness. Tessa gulped, a shiver running down her spine. She’d had a dog as a kid, a white little terrier named Princess Fluffy but these eyes were at waist height.

 

And soon others joined them.

 

“Shit, shit shit,” she gasped, eyes going around the darkness for a way out.

 

The lodge was behind her, a green house to the left and the hedge maze to the right. Going back into the lodge seemed to defeat the point, but it was better than getting eaten by wolves. Maybe she could hide or something...shit they were getting closer...Tessa turned around, seeing another set of glowing canine eyes coming through the gap between the vast lodge and the green house.

 

“Into the maze it is,” she gasped, hurrying as fast as her obese body would let her. 

 

There was a gate on the hedge maze, one that thankfully wasn’t locked. She closed it behind herself, then realized that it was a pretty short and flimsy thing a wolf could probably go over in its sleep. She ran into the maze as another howl split the air, knowing how stupid it was to hide from the hunting animal that blood hound’s descended from. 

 

Running through the dark, Tessa wasn’t instantly out of breath, she got a few hundred turning yards into the maze before she had to stop, heart feeling like it would explode. Another howl sounded, farther away and was echoed by another that sounded farther too.

 

“Fuck, thank God…,” Tessa said to herself, wiping her brow, “Jesus, I don’t want to be eaten…where the fuck am I?”

 

The hedges loomed over her, dark and disturbing. It had been dark in the house but this seemed even darker. Tessa was a city girl, the full dark of a mountain night was disturbing beyond belief even if she wasn’t in some insane asylum fat farm. Swallowing, she turned around, walking straight into a tall, hard figure.

 

“Fuck!” she yelped, falling on her back and sure a trainer was on her.

 

But the shadowy figure didn’t move an inch, just standing there as Tessa looked from the gravelly path. As her heart beat slowly stopped, she realized it was a statue. Cursing her fear, the heavy set actress began the laborious task of standing up, hand pushing off the ground. By chance, she put her hand on the pocket of her jacket, finding something long and hard in it.

 

“What, what have I got in my pocket?” she asked herself, carefully pulling six inches of hard metal with a rubber grip on it.

 

It shook slightly as she held it and her thumb found a button that did nothing. Tessa realized it was a survival flash light, the kind you could shake up and down for a charge. Blessing her luck and wondering how it had gotten into her pocket, she shook it up and down for a long moment, the fat in her arm and face and gut jiggling uncomfortably. Muscle fatigue already shot through her arm and the actress was glad that a press of her thumb revealed a very bright beam.



 

“I didn’t have a flashlight in this jacket, hell I didn’t have a jacket,” the actress said, hand going to the other pockets.


 

In one of them was a pocket knife. Small and foldable, but an actual way to defend herself. In the other was a slim billfold, what a woman would wear while jogging. Tessa flipped it open, pointing the flash light at a British driver’s license. The photo on it was of an absolutely gorgeous woman in her late twenties, with a chiseled face and short brown hair.

 

“Evelyn Stone,” Tessa breathed.

 

Cat, in her rant, had said that Evelyn Stone had been here. And been over five hundred pounds, on a motor scooter that barely worked, and very much not the 115lb waif this driver’s license said. Had this been her jacket? Had she been in Tessa’s room before her?

 

“Another actress, my predecessor,” Tessa muttered, “that’s what Mortenson said...but she wasn’t…”

 

Evelyn Stone had been Tessa five years before Tessa, a rail thin British It girl. She’d made her debut in a trilogy of nonsensical Robin Hood movies as a very slender Maid Marian, then earned serious accolades in period pieces and indies. She was famously skinny and gorgeous, then had taken a break to have a kid and fallen off the radar…Tessa vaguely recalled paparazzi rumors of a massive, humiliating weight gain…

 

“No, no she...that’s not a real memory,” she muttered, “she...she’d signed up to play Hero Girl…”

 

A conversation, her agent saying the last actress had had to leave due to a family emergency…

 

“Did...did the studio send her here?” Tessa asked herself, shaking her head.

 

Confused, she looked at the statue with the flash light. Lit up, it was revealed as a bronze statue of a tall, imperious woman in a Edwardian era dress. The statue’s eyes were sharp and imposing, her waistline tiny and probably due to a corset. There was a plaque at her feet, Tessa knelt to read it.

 

“Sarah Remington, founder of this blessed holy sight in the name of ...of F’thsktth? What is that?,” Tessa read, “Seven hundred pounds gained from Equinox to Equinox, 1909. Seven hundred fifty pounds lost from dusk to dawn of All Hallows. Queen of the Wild Hunt, I take up your sigil and begin my vigil until relieved! Defeated and cast down, 1963."

 

It was gibberish. Gaining seven hundred pounds in six months? Losing even more in a single day?

 

It was insane.

 

But then again, Tessa had been a waif a week earlier.

 

Curiosity getting the better of her, the actress followed the curve of the maze. She found it was no maze at all, but in fact a labyrinth, circling in on itself. Every few feet was a statue, the garb slowly getting more modern. She didn’t recognize any of the names but the massive amount of weight gained and lost didn’t change. Although they lacked the oath that Remington had had.

 

What was this, the actress pondered as the statues went on, some sort of cult? 

 

“Who would do this too...no…,” Tessa gasped to herself.

 

She’d gotten deep into the maze. Deep enough her flabby legs hurt and her side burned from a stitch. The actress was breathing hard, needed a drink and was realizing that at this size, in this condition she sure as hell wasn’t making it down the ten mile drive way.

 

“This isn’t, its her,” the actress said, running the flash light up and down the statue.

 

This statue of a woman was absolutely gorgeous and impossibly shapely, wearing a skin tight dress and high heels to hide her short stature. Round, womanly hips worthy of a rap video. Pert, DD tear drops worthy of a playboy centerfold. An absolutely tiny waistline that made Tessa at her leanest seem a bit thick.

 

And although she wore no glasses, had her hair down and a smile on her face, it was Dr. Mortenson as sure as Tessa was British.

 

“Lillian Lincoln,” Tessa hissed, “I...I knew she looked familiar damn it!”

 

One of the most famous actresses and sex symbols who’d ever lived. Tessa had seen a few of her old movies in acting classes, finding the brainless sex bunny portrayal boring and worthless...even as the sapphic part of her found the copious TnA disturbingly attractive. But Lillian Lincoln was dead, dead for sixty years in a car crash…

 

“Lillian Lincoln, gained eight hundred pounds from September to October, 1963. Lost eight hundred fifty pounds and claimed the jewel on All Hallows Eve,” Tessa breathed to herself, “Queen of this land and High Priestess, forever more…”

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This is legit just a great little story- the weight gain stuff obviously takes first billing and keeps the whole plot going, but the tension build up in the last chapter was great. Just the spooky atmosphere and the anticipation that something bad was going to happen as Tessa was sneaking out was great. Like, you know this is a weird messed up place and given how Mortenson and crew have dealt with the guests so far, one would think they'd not look kindly on potential escapees, so as soon as Tessa got out of the building I was just expecting something terrible to happen... and it didn't (well, except the dogs/wolves chasing her?)

 

Random thoughts:

The whole fake implanted memory bleeding together with the real memory reminding me a bit of something like Flashpoint Paradox where you've got the memories of one timeline slowly replacing the old one.

Well, I guess if Mortenson is a witch of some kind, do we now have werewolves? Why not! lol

Obviously the studio is playing some kind of big role in all this, sending these actresses here...

Hmmm.. so we've got more info on the founder/original witch/priestess/ Queen of the Wild Hunt (!) Remington. And then we had a string of other statues in that labyrinth going forward in time- more actresses or famous women Remington took in and fattened? But their weight was always the same as that gained by Remington...

Then we've got Mortenson's real identity- Lincoln- who seemingly usurped Remington and apparently didn't die in the supposed car crash in 63. How did Mortenson usurp Remington? Just by gaining more weight than her - 800 vs 750? Was that enough to gain her the favor of F’thsktth or whatever Elder God they're dealing with? Did her car crash in 63 similarly result in some form of brain injury like Tessa which made her also immune to maybe Remington's mind control ?

How does Tessa use this info to her advantage? Does she need to gain 850 pounds to take the power away from Mortenson? But then would she be some thrall to the Elder God thing? How is she going to get out of this maze with those wolves hunting her down? What is Mortenson and company actually doing with all of the fat actresses? What is her end goal? If out gaining her own weight gain means potentially taking over as Queen/ High Priestess, why would Mortenson be doing this to others if it put her at risk? To appease the Elder God and keep her youthful good looks/shape shifting powers?

 

Oh and if its not already in the cards as a subsequent flashback chapter, I want a Mortenson or Remington prequel story :)

 

 

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This is a great cosmic horror story, with fat actresses woven in! It seems the Lodge was established to guard some cosmic horror, perhaps related to all the fattening chocolate sauce that Lincoln / Mortensen has been gorging on and feeding to the captive actresses daily. Of course, Lillian Lincoln seems to have been enjoying the side-benefits of her situation, and has recently been picking on Brit actresses to fatten up especially - perhaps the power has corrupted her! 

Anyway, going by the Mountains of Madness references, perhaps there will be some chthonic cavern, filled with a bubbling lake of mystical chocolate. Looking forward to the denouement!

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On 2/6/2021 at 1:28 AM, >_< 0_0 said:

I spent the whole time reading this with my toes curling because I was absolutely certain Tessa was going to get jumped 😨

Oh, keep going...

 

13 hours ago, dog186 said:

This is legit just a great little story- the weight gain stuff obviously takes first billing and keeps the whole plot going, but the tension build up in the last chapter was great. Just the spooky atmosphere and the anticipation that something bad was going to happen as Tessa was sneaking out was great. Like, you know this is a weird messed up place and given how Mortenson and crew have dealt with the guests so far, one would think they'd not look kindly on potential escapees, so as soon as Tessa got out of the building I was just expecting something terrible to happen... and it didn't (well, except the dogs/wolves chasing her?)

 

Random thoughts:

The whole fake implanted memory bleeding together with the real memory reminding me a bit of something like Flashpoint Paradox where you've got the memories of one timeline slowly replacing the old one.

Well, I guess if Mortenson is a witch of some kind, do we now have werewolves? Why not! lol

Obviously the studio is playing some kind of big role in all this, sending these actresses here...

Hmmm.. so we've got more info on the founder/original witch/priestess/ Queen of the Wild Hunt (!) Remington. And then we had a string of other statues in that labyrinth going forward in time- more actresses or famous women Remington took in and fattened? But their weight was always the same as that gained by Remington...

Then we've got Mortenson's real identity- Lincoln- who seemingly usurped Remington and apparently didn't die in the supposed car crash in 63. How did Mortenson usurp Remington? Just by gaining more weight than her - 800 vs 750? Was that enough to gain her the favor of F’thsktth or whatever Elder God they're dealing with? Did her car crash in 63 similarly result in some form of brain injury like Tessa which made her also immune to maybe Remington's mind control ?

How does Tessa use this info to her advantage? Does she need to gain 850 pounds to take the power away from Mortenson? But then would she be some thrall to the Elder God thing? How is she going to get out of this maze with those wolves hunting her down? What is Mortenson and company actually doing with all of the fat actresses? What is her end goal? If out gaining her own weight gain means potentially taking over as Queen/ High Priestess, why would Mortenson be doing this to others if it put her at risk? To appease the Elder God and keep her youthful good looks/shape shifting powers?

 

Oh and if its not already in the cards as a subsequent flashback chapter, I want a Mortenson or Remington prequel story :)

 

 

Very very good guesses.

As to what is and isn't magically possible, well its hard to say...but keep an eye on the statues. As to how Mortenson beat Remington, well that'll coem up.

Prequel stories?...perhaps not. But definetly a chapter on how Lincoln went back to being Mortenson (as a clue to anyone who was sharp eyed, Mortenson was Marilyn Monroe's real last name).

 

2 hours ago, flyer33 said:

This is a great cosmic horror story, with fat actresses woven in! It seems the Lodge was established to guard some cosmic horror, perhaps related to all the fattening chocolate sauce that Lincoln / Mortensen has been gorging on and feeding to the captive actresses daily. Of course, Lillian Lincoln seems to have been enjoying the side-benefits of her situation, and has recently been picking on Brit actresses to fatten up especially - perhaps the power has corrupted her! 

Anyway, going by the Mountains of Madness references, perhaps there will be some chthonic cavern, filled with a bubbling lake of mystical chocolate. Looking forward to the denouement!

The Lodge was certainly founded to guard something, but whether its been doing its mission well, well that's hard to say...

 

Got lucky and had some time to write today...

 

 

“What...what the fuck?” Tessa asked herself, words echoing with frightening noise in the darkness.

 

Mortenson was a near hundred year old, supposedly long dead actress?

 

“That doesn’t make any fucking sense, she’s, she can’t be older than thirty five…,” the actress told herself, trying to deny that Mortenson’s face was the same as the statue’s, “but she…this is her and she ...she did something to Downton and to me and she…”

 

The mind is a fragile thing. 

 

When faced with the impossible, the human psyche has three choices. To accept that its knowledge was limited and that it has learned. To fight against what it has learned. Or to flee at top speed.

 

“Okay...she...she there’s something wrong here but I, I’m still going to find a way out. If she beat someone to take control of this place, then so can I,” Tessa gulped, heart rate slowing as a high pitched howl ripped through the air.

 

At the entrance to the maze, with a dozen other howls following it.

 

“Shit,” the actress gasped, freezing for just a moment before she hear the nearing pants of canine breath.

 

With no hope to fight and no place to hide, Tessa did something her obese body wasn’t suited to: she ran.

 

Once the woman had been lightning quick on her feet, but that was before. Now the obese woman’s sprint wasn’t much better than her old jog. Thighs clapping, gut bouncing, sweat pouring off of her body, Tessa fled into the labyrinth at a pitifully full speed. After a hundred feet, her breath was coming in gasps and it wasn’t long before her heart was pounding, every bite of cholesterol laden junk food she’d gulped down over the last few days flashing into her mind. A new fear, beyond being eaten alive came to the actress’ mind, was she going to have a heart attack?

 

Tessa had no stamina to speak of and her speed slowed down, she was down to a jog by the time she got to statues of actresses from the seventies. She was stumbling, little more than walking pace as she gasped past Princess Leia and staggering as she waddled past 80s bikini sensation Lindsay Lawford. Gasping, black spots in her eyes, Tessa stumbled through flavor of the month 90s It girls and early 2000s pop stars. Her legs were screaming in pain and her lungs were on fire, she felt ready to vomit as she stumbled past a disney starlet who’d drank herself obese.

 

The wolves were getting closer, the howls turning into growls. 

 

Cursing her heavy bulk, lazy legs an terrible condition, Tessa risked a glance back. The wolves were close, her flash light gleaming in their eyes and foam on their lips. Gasping, she tried to run faster but tripped over her own feet. Tessa hit the gravel with a thud, sliding along, coming to rest beneath a statue of a tall, willowy woman with a sharp jawline.

“Evelyn Stone. Gained Six Hundred Pounds and Failed to Escape. Fed to the Goddess in October 2019,” spun above Tessa’s eyes.

 

Gasping, Holmes tried pushing herself up, but her arms were marshmallow and her thighs butter. The process that had turned her whip thin to obese had made her muscles pitifully weak, the panting, sweating woman felt as if she was on chemo again. She tried to scream but couldn’t even draw breath, the only thing she could hear was the thunder of her heart in her ears. Her dropped flash light showed half a dozen immense gray wolves, their immense fangs bared and gleaming.

 

Tessa’s hands fumbled in her pocket for the knife, tiny and useless even if she wasn’t huge. 

 

The largest wolf stepped forwards, ears back and fangs showed...only to let out a high, pitious whine. Wolf tails slid between legs, heads lowered, ears fell. In a heart beat, Tessa’s hunters went from ecstatic to terrified.

 

Something dark moved in front of the flash light.

 

It had no shape but plenty of volume and mass. To Tessa it looked like an oil spill, a mobile oil spill that shot out from the hedges and at the wolves faster than she could blink. A cowed wolf tried to turn, only to be caught up in the tide which crunched down on it its bones crackling in a hideous snap so sickening that it made Tessa close her eyes. For nearly a moment she kept her eyes closed, the sounds of the pack being massacred echoing in her ears.

 

“You are not supposed to leave your room,” a voice sneered down on her.

 

Tessa’s eyes opened, seeing a trainer standing over her. Sarah, the woman assigned to her, stood with wrath in her eyes. The lean amazon looked ready to kill the actress, fist clinched.

 

“W-wolves!” Tessa managed.

 

“There’s no wolves in California,” the actress trainer told her, “now get your fat ass up, I need to bring you to Dr. Mortenson.”

 

The trainer pointed behind her, “See? There’s nothing there, you were probably having a low blood sugar hallucination.”

 

The ground behind the trainer was a canine charnel house. Three adult wolves had been crushed to death, looking like tubes of tooth paste that someone had stomped on. Tessa nodded, feeling her hot sweat go cold.

 

“I...you’re right. I got so hungry, I tried finding the kitchens but I got lost…,” the actress stammered, “could...could you help me up? I feel like I’m going to faint…”

 

“Ugh, sure,” the trainer said, offering a hand.

 

She pulled Tessa up easily, despite the actress surely weighing at least 250lbs. Sarah was much taller than Tessa and muscled like one of the valkyries in the picture in the dining room. Tall and lean, she would have kicked Tessa’s ass at the fittest point in Tessa’s life.

 

Tessa stabbed her right in the neck, jamming the opened pocket knife to its hilt into where the trainer’s jugular should have been. The actress stared at her victim, the first person she’d ever hit in anger in her entire life. Blood spurted out across her hand…

 

Brown blood…

 

“You can walk in or be carried in,” the trainer sneered at her, pulling the knife easily out of her own neck, strings of not blood, no something dark brown that smelled so familiar to Tessa’s nose her mouth watered, “I see you want to be carried.”

 

The trainer’s arms flowed, losing their shape and becoming a prison over Tessa’s upper body. She looked up at the trainers’ cold dead eyes, seeing the tall woman’s body run and melt, wrapping around her own. In this form, the trainer was stronger than ever, an irresistible tide that Tessa’s weak limbs couldn’t hope to break. Hot, sand viscous, the trainer’s lean face fading until it was just her cold dead eyes above a blob of…

 

“Chocolate,” Tessa gasped...and bit.

 

Maybe, Tessa reflected, she was going insane. 

 

Or maybe, she was just giving into the instincts this Lodge had made her develop. After all, as Mortenson had insisted to her, Tessa was a fat girl. She had an unhealthy relationship with food, eating to reward and to punish herself. After bad reviews and a faltering career, Tessa had eaten herself to near three hundred pounds after all just to make herself suffer, hadn’t she?

 

So chowing down onto the melted tide of chocolate that had been the trainer proved incredibly easy.

 

Tessa ate with a speed that defied her own belief. In moments her shoulders and breasts were free, the living chocolate fighting and bucking against her bite. But once Tessa had swallowed the first bite of her foe, the impressive strength could do nothing. It twitched and spun, trying to squeeze and crush her, but with every bite it grew weaker and weaker until Tessa was shoveling the chocolate in with her hands.

 

The actress felt her belly expand outwards as the chocolate attacker was consumed, heard a rip as her leggings failed against her thickening body and could see her arms and hands growing visibly fatter with every handful of monster they shoveled into her mouth. Her vision started to fade, cheeks puffing up as her face rounded further. Another split sounded as her tits broke her sports bra, hanging out in the dark. There was a wet slap and a sensation of cold her belly as her gut started touching the ground.

 

And then, Tessa’s hands touched only the paved path.

 

She breathed for long, tense minutes on her hands and knees, feeling the cold wrap around her bare skin. Breathing was suddenly harder than it had been, Tessa feeling like she had to push against a weight on her chest. Looking down, she realized that what she was pushing against was her chest, now capped with a rather pendulous set of floppers that hung almost to the ground. Her gut on the other hand, now it did touch the ground, with plenty of room to pool too.

 

“Wha-what did I do to myself? Did I…*urp* did I eat all of her…,” Tessa asked herself, voice sounding deep and unfamiliar to her ears.

 

The trainers were tall. Nearly six feet and quite muscular, but with full breasts and ample hips too. Although who knew what their actual density was if they were chocolate monsters, but Tessa doubted they weighed less than a hundred and fifty pounds…

 

“Oh God, I did eat all of her,” the actress gasped, slowly trying to push herself up.

 

Gravity had found a new pull for Tessa, every part of her body from her cheeks to her cankles wanting nothing but to flatten themselves on the ground. Getting up took time and made deeply buried muscles in her back and knees groan and her joints pop. She was breathing hard by the time she stood, although Tessa realized that at this size, near four hundred pounds she had to guess, that breathing wasn’t going to be easy in any circumstances.

 

All of Tessa’ clothes but Stone’s over sized jacket and her shoes had ripped. The tough leather wasn’t far from it, her wobbling bingo wings packed tight within its sleeves, and her shoes felt painfully tight, a sign her feet had gotten fatter too. She couldn’t lower her arms fully, her flab was competing for space and forcing her to hold her bloated arms out. Her steps were much shorter, thickened thighs having to not only brush past each other but push her sagging, apron gut ahead of them each step. Clumsily, feeling like she was operating a laggy video game character, Tessa fumbled for the flash light, fat pressing on her legs, knees complaining immediately and extra chins rippling as she tried to look past her own bulk. She was barely able to straighten herself afterwards and panting in exhaustion.

 

“This...this is bad,” the gasping actress managed.

 

In a bare hour, Tessa’s situation had gotten remarkably worse. Getting to the end of the drive at her old size was dicey, now that she was perhaps the fattest woman here, it was as impossible as getting to the moon by flapping her arms. And going back and hiding wasn’t possible either, she’d gained more than a thin version of herself in moments, her skin was probably covered in stretch marks thanks to that and Mortenson would immediately know…

 

“I’m going to have to fight her...tonight,” Tessa gasped, knowing that it was do or die.

 

Still, she took a moment to walk a bit deeper into the labyrinth, knees complaining all the way. She passed Cat Downton, tall and lean and busty in a tiny bronze bikini, and passed Rachel Slow, a leggy and svelte Barbie on her pedestal in a stage outfit that was basically just a corset. Then she got to a very slender, dainty young woman with a sculpted face and a sharp jawline.

 

“Tessa Holmes, Gained Three Hundred Thirty pounds in October of 2019,” the plaque read.

 

“I’m...I’m going to need to get a lot fatter…,” Tessa gasped to herself.

 

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