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On 2/12/2021 at 2:19 PM, Nate said:

Great story,  looking forward to more

 

Thank you!

 

Chapter 7: A Journey Within

 

Tessa was only partly relieved that no new memories of how she’d gotten so spectacularly fat were forming.

 

At over four hundred pounds, large parts of the once pencil thin brunette’s career would have been rewritten to accommodate so much girth. Certainly Tessa couldn’t have gained all of this blubber in a year, she’d have been far too fat to be cast in that horrid musical remake, where her character had had such a tiny waist. No, this blubber would have required years to grow, Tessa would have had to start getting chubby ten years earlier, her adult career miscarrying as she ballooned, perhaps even plumping up in the last of the series that had catapulted her to fame. Surely the memories of her youthful good looks failing early, of her star waning before it was born as she failed to live up to her promise would have been miserable…

 

But perhaps not so miserable as the actual memory.

 

“That couldn’t have been real, that couldn’t have been real, that couldn’t have been real,” hammered home again and again and again in Tessa’s mind.

 

While the images of devouring the trainer alive flashed alongside her. Of committing a horrible act of violence with her bare hands and mouth. Of feeling an enemy struggle against her, its motions weakening and dying as Tessa’s gluttonous drive overcame its resistance.

 

Guilt at the murder fluttered through Tessa’s pacifistic heart...alongside the horrible realization that whatever that trainer had been, they weren’t human. Holmes had killed some sort of monster, some living mass of chocolate that could mimic human form and sound close enough to fool the eye and ear. Something that surely couldn’t exist in a rational world, right alongside magical weight gain spells and chocolate slurries that made you gain forty pounds a day.

 

“What the hell is this place,” Tessa gasped, leaning against a statue and trying to catch her breath.

 

Judging by the overinflated silicone boobs and high waisted one piece of the statue, Tessa had only gotten back into the mid 90s after what felt like hours of effort. Moving around at speed while being an out of shape two hundred and fifty pounder had been difficult, moving around at all when she weighed over four hundred pounds felt tortuous. Tessa’s elephantine thighs never stopped touching, having to force past each other as wel as the sagging, drooping weight of the stretch marked apron gut that hung down almost to her knees. Catching her breath felt difficult, the actress was wheezing and gasping from an agony she’d never reached under any workout before. Her joints hurt from carting herself around and a stitch in her side burned like she’d been stabbed with a flaming sword, the easy exercise an agony. The pull of her swinging, naked breasts was hurting her back and sweat poured off of her rolls, evaporating and leaving her cold to the chill night.

 

Every sensation of her lazy, morbidly obese body told Tessa to lay down and give up. That she was too weak, too exhausted and too tired to deal with an insane cult that fattened up and sacrificed celebrities. That she’d already lost and it was better for her to lay down, eat her fill and die, like the pig to slaughter she was...

 

“If I can’t escape, then I have to fight. Mortenson took that choice away from me,” Tessa muttered, pushing herself off of the baywatch statue and waddling onwards, the clapping of her thighs thunderbolts in her ears.

 

It was still night by the time the obese Actress waddled out of the maze and leaned against the Lodge’s massive inner doors, the half mile at the most trek having taking her well over an hour. Tessa was a gasping, bent over wreck at that point, her knees killing her and her head swimming. Dr. Mortenson’s snide prediction about her developing diabetes kept ringing in her head, the actress wasn’t a health expert, she had no idea what diabetes did to you beyond needing to check your blood sugar and hoped that if she had it, she wouldn’t die from it immediately.

 

“Come on, keep going,” Tessa chided herself, moving step by agonizing into the building, barely able to open the heavy doors wide enough to fit her bulked out lard thanks to her sheer width and the weakness of her pillowy limbs, “that *gasp* overrated piece of cheese cake isn’t beating you yet…”

 

There were two things that the actress desperately wanted. One was to lay down, preferably in a pool of ice and let her overheated, engorged body rest. The other was, well if her lumburing appearance didn’t suggest it, the predatory gurgle of her stomach gave it away: to gorge herself sick until the hole inside herself filled up. Guzzling down a hundred and sixty pounds of chocolate hadn’t sated the actress’ hunger at all, instead the stretching her stomach had undergone had just made her more ravenous after rapidly digesting the living fudge.

 

“...even if it means stairs…,” Tessa whined to herself, gulping at the looming shape of the staircase in the darkness, more terrifying than any primordial monster when your knees and feet were already screaming.

 

Step by step, Tessa managed to haul herself upwards, literally pulling herself up with the handrail. Had her cheeks not already been red with exhaustion, she would have made them red with embarrassment at the every day motion being so frighteningly difficult. Every step made her knees groin and twinge, her feet complain and wince, her sensitive stomach to fall with a slap against her thighs. But every step brought her closer to her goal…

 

Mortenson’s office.

 

The near naked Tessa was weaving on her feet by the time she got into the room, honestly in danger of toppling to the ground. Her pulse had been noticeably faster since yesterday, when she’d crossed the line from a bit chubby to flat out fat, but since becoming immense this night, Tessa had been hearing her circulatory system thunder trying to keep up with the demands of her expanded self. Tessa had to lean against Mortenson’s door for long minutes, until her breath finally stopped coming in gasps and her heart rate slowed down to a dull roar, however her knees still throbbed and her body felt kitten weak.

 

What Tessa would do if she opened the door to find Mortenson was a mystery to her, but there was no use waiting outside. She slid open the door quiet as she could, finding only darkness inside. Tessa tried to slip in without fully opening the door, however her porcine gut prevented that, the door handle ramming straight into her inches of buttery adipose.

 

“Fuck,” the actress seethed, still unable to comprehend how damn fat she was.

 

Gently closing the door and rubbing her naked gut, Tessa found a light switch and started exploring Mortenson’s office. The computer was password locked, Tessa tried a few of the titles of the films the doctor had appeared in sixty years earlier, but kept getting rejected. She tried sitting down for further attempts but failed to take in account just how wide she’d gotten and how narrow the computer chair was. Beneath her broad, flabby ass, the computer chair shot out and Tessa flailed clumsily as she fell with a heavy thud. The impact caused a book, poorly shelved, to fall off and land on her heavy stomach, getting another wince out of er.

 

For a moment, Tessa lay flat, heart pounding in terror that she’d been discovered but gradually, she calmed as no one appeared. Swallowing her terror, Tessa tried sitting up. It was the first time she’d gotten to really look at herself in light and seeing the massive bulge of her own fat, a couch cushion sized balloon bigger than her old body used to be made her head spin. The acreage of pale lard was folded into a dozen rolls, so big it hung down onto the floor on each side and made it hard to breath.

“....Temporary, temporary,” Tessa told herself, trying to stay sane as she tried sitting up, going nowhere.

 

Panic at immobility spasmed along with the pain of her sore abs, but the Actress managed to convince herself that it was just due to positioning. With some effort, she rolled over, gut sprawling across the cold hardwood and slowly, slowly got into a half plank position, abdomen still touching the ground. Getting herself back up required pulling on the corner of the desk and left herself breathing hard again.

 

“I’m...this is dangerous,” Tessa grumbled at herself, looking at the book that had landed on her.

 

Unlike the rest of the books behind Mortenson’s desk, this one wasn’t a dry psychological manual. Instead the pages were brittle and the binding ancient, she opened it with care to see text written by hand before the invention of ball point pens. The handwriting was a stylized cursive that was hard to follow, but Tessa was able to get snatches about great discoveries and wondrous power as she thumbed through it.The journal entries gave way to diagrams with impossible angles burning their way into her brain, into resuscitations of nonsense words with no vowels that stamped their way into her memory.

 

“I need to take this back and…,” Tessa began, stopped by the door swinging open.

 

“Ah Miss Holmes, I can’t say I’m surprised,” Mortenson’s voice cooed, “either about all that extra fat you managed to pack on or it being you who somehow resisted the interrogation.”

 

The doctor was in a very short nightgown of bright pink silk. It clung so tight to her as to be barely decent, dipping low to show off her bountiful cleavage and rising high on her wide hips. To Tessa’s surprise, the golden age film starlet was carrying much more weight than she had carried at dinner: her hard, muscular calves had shrank as tone faded away, while shapely thighs bulged with cellulite spackled lard. Round hips had given way to matronly decadence, saggy cheeks hanging out of the night gown as Mortenson waddled in. Her belly jiggled with droopy flab and her zeppelin breasts looked deflated, hanging sadly in their cups. The woman who had been Lillian Lincoln had seen her perfect face alter, jowls coming in aggressively and big brown eyes shrinking as her cheeks puffed up. She didn’t look like one of the sexiest women who’d ever lived, instead she looked like an overweight house wife.

 

Tessa sneered back at her, considerable anger bubbling in her considerable stomach.

 

“You did this to me, you did this to all of us,” the British woman snarled.

 

Mortenson or Lincoln, whatever her real name was laughed, a triple chin forming, “Please, you did it to yourself, just like I did it to myself. Fat is what we are on the inside and its inevitable that it comes through on the outside too. The Lodge just harnesses that for the greater good, not that you’d understand.”

 

“Is that what Remington told you n ‘63?” Tessa asked, trying to goad the blonde, “when you showed up here with a ruined figure and a dead career? Because it was probably true for you.”

 

A look of complete and total hatred shot across the near century old blonde’s face, “Shut your mouth of things you do not know of.”

 

“I guess I wouldn’t know about my career depending solely on being hot. I’d have been able to get rolls chubby, but you?” Tess pressed, seeing red anger spread across Mortenson’s tan features, “You were nothing but perky tits, a skinny waist and a fat ass attached to a porn actress’ abilities. How did it feel when you were too fat for anyone to care about you?”

 

“I said, shut the fuck up, you fat limey bitch!” Mortenson snapped, lunging forwards to slap Tessa, a whip crack in the room that made Tessa see stars and stumble backwards, her vast ass knocking more books from the shelf

 

“And I said,” Tessa gasped, spitting blood from a bitten lip, “I said...Fthnght!”

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Aha, books of ancient lore. I expect Tessa will have the advantage over Lincoln in using unpronounceable magic words (though I guess Lincoln has a lot more experience).

 

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Random thoughts from the past couple chapters now:

  • So the statues, were mostly the same actresses as the failed Hero Girl casting calls. Were they all sacrifices to this "Goddess" like the Evelyn Stone inscription implies? Is there some connection to them being sacrifices and the mysterious chocolate pudding? Is their sacrifice what's fueling the pudding supply and therefore the pudding people orderlies?

 

  •  Given all the other "is it real? Is it all in your head?" kind of goings on here, I guess this whole story could taken a real dark/morbid  turn if the pudding person Tessa gobbled down on ended up actually being a real person and she had kind of gaslighted herself to thinking all of this weight gain stuff was real when maybe it wasn't. Would take the story into "not my cup of tea" territory, but I'm half expecting some other kind of big twist in the mindfuckery kind of avenue, whatever that may be.

 

  •  The inscriptions on the statues- are they just like magically updating in real time what's going on and how much weight everyone has gained?

 

  • Back to the statue inscriptions, the one for Remington mentioned taking up a vigil and sigil until relieved. Obviously Mortenson took over that role, but Mortenson's inscription mentions her being Queen and High Priestess forever more. Any significance to that difference there? Or just a matter of the inscriptions not updating until Mortenson is defeated and replaced?

 

  •  Tessa conveniently finds Mortenson's (or maybe Remington's?) spell book or similarly ancient Elder God tome that probably has some significant powers within.

 

  •  Without knowing exactly what Mortenson and her cult's end game is, man, do they have shoddy security. And I still can't quite tell if Mortenson is playing 4D chess with Tessa and letting her get this far in terms of Tessa evading her mind control or if Mortenson is just way too overconfident and genuinely hasn't figured out that Tessa is kind of piecing everything together almost as rapidly as her weight is inflating.

 

  • Mortenson again with the case of rapid fattening. Wondering how/why that's happening...obviously the chocolate/pudding is key to Mortenson having control enough to turn all perfect hourglass once she starts chubbing out combined with her Elder Goddess jibberish spells. Does she have to make sacrifices on a set schedule in order to appease the Elder Goddess and keep her blimping out under control or on a longer timer? 

 

  • Along those lines, is Mortenson blowing up solely because of her having to balance chowing down on the chocolate to fuel her powers, which in turn makes her fat, but allows her to use her body contouring spells? Then trying to piece together the inscription on the statue for Mortenson- it said she gained 800 lbs and then lost 850lbs. I'm assuming that took her back to bombshell hourglass proportions. Then maybe if she doesn't sacrifice people she gets fat again and that's what we're seeing? I'm guessing there is some price/cost to being High Priestess/Queen...

 

  •  Tessa very quickly turning the tables on Mortenson and getting under her skin super easily. Now Mortenson is the one losing her cool as Tessa has hit a nerve on Mortenson's own origin story. Is this the start of Tessa maybe flipping the script on Mortenson in terms of being the one that eventually gaslights Mortenson?

 

  •  If the pudding/chocolate is maybe the key to some of this Elder Goddess body contouring power, is Tessa all of a sudden powered up just like Mortenson? And she just uttered some kind of Elder Goddess jibberish, combined with being powered by pudding people...is Tessa going to magically slim down like Mortenson? Or did she just invoke some other kind of magic? Maybe shifting the weight around on herself again or on Mortenson? The selfish part of me wants to see a super hot hyper hourglass Mortenson but I'll leave that to Batman76 :)

 

 

 

 

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Now for a catasstrophic backfire...

At that moment, Rachel Fast had been in the Black Mountain Lodge’s luxurious kitchen.

 

The pop starlet had been bent over, the cellulite covered bean bag chairs that were her immense ass cheeks hanging out of her fraying underwear. An industrial refrigerator was open in front of her, dully backlighting her heavily pear shaped figured. Beefy, saggy thighs were halfway merging with her ass and half way merging with her cankles, the mega-pear’s lower half taking on so much lard Rachel’s once iconic legs had become indistinct. 

 

“Mmmphhh, fuck so, mmmmmmphhhh,” the red head’s deep, husky voice gasped through a double handful of chocolate cheese cake, “so...fucking….good….”

 

Rachel’s bent over posture wasn’t easy for her to maintain. Weighing near four hundred pounds, the gluttonous feedee had ** problems aplenty that were making her knees creak and ankles complain, while her big toes had begun to throb with a case of gout from her over rich diet. But the pure, perfect flavor of the triple chocolate cake overcame the ** pain in a tide of gluttonous joy, motivating the pop starlet to keep eating even before the pleasant throb between her legs.

 

“Come on, mmmphhhh, goooo,” Rachel gasped, one hand abandoning the cake to plunge between her cottage cheese thighs, weak wrist straining to hold up the lower fold of her FUPA.

 

The stretching pain of her stomach, overloading at the multipound midnight snack and the mind searing pleasure of Rachel’s budding orgasm wrapped together, her gluttony and her lust turning into one.

 

Two months earlier, Rachel’s actual boyfriend had mentioned liking the bounce of the small booty the famously pencil thin starlet had grown after needing a dose of steroids for strained vocal chords. That little spark of memory had been enough for the Lodge to implant ever more detailed memories of feederism and sexual perversion, kindling that spark into a firestorm of disordered eating and sexual lust. Despite thinking that she was at a weight loss clinic and losing several pounds a day, Rachel still committed a nightly pilgrimage to the kitchen, where a carefully prepared fridge awaited her. 

 

“Yes, yes, come on,” Rachel gasped, her right hand’s plump thumb on her clit and two soft fingers sliding up her slit, while her left hand shoved another messy handful of cake into her lips, “ummffff…”

 

Thoughts that millions of dollars in ticket and record sales were on the line if she didn’t return to skinny did Penetrate Rachel’s red hair, but were dismissed. After all, she was losing weight here, according to the scale every day, and it wasn’t like she was on a dead line to slim down. Really, every handful of cake she shoved into her mouth was the fault of the lodge, right?

 

The sheer perversity of her actions, intentionally gorging at a weight loss clinic, only turned Rachel on more. The only thing she really lacked for was someone to feed her. Her mind turned to her friend Tessa, who’d always seemed so proper and uptight but was looking beyond cute with that ** belly. Maybe tomorrow night the two of them could sneak down and feed each other. Maybe a little more than that, hoping the trainers didn’t catch them...

 

“Ummmmfffff, place really needs...ugghhhh...better security….,” Rachel groaned, piggish green eyes crossing as she started coming strong, “Ahhhh!!!!! AHHHHHHH!!!!”

 

The pop starlet collapsed backwards onto a well placed bench as her legs gave out. Waves of pleasure shot through her body, weak, atrophied muscles twitching and wobbling the fat layers that had buried them. She screamed, loud enough to wake the dead and sharp enough to deafen anyone close by, decades of singing experience being brought to use again. The Lodge’s kitchen was sound proofed by means technological and geometrical and the hidden things that leeringly watched the singer couldn’t be harmed save by consumption, but Rachel still felt a ping of pride that she could scream that loud despite her miserable physical condition and lack of vocal training over the past months.

 

But as she came, visions of her friend Tessa’s smaller bulk pressing into hers shooting through her head, Rachel began to change. Runes and sigils her green eyes couldn’t see surrounded her, invisible tendrils and force and time stretched down from the ceiling and plunged into her supine, rippling bulk.

 

Twin seas of dimpled, stretch marked, milk pale fat pressed around her wrist, the singer’s once perfect legs turned into waddling piles of cottage cheese. With every gasp of her orgasm, the lardy covered limbs began to shrink. The fat roll over her knees began to pull up, the folds on the sides of her thighs smoothed, a distinction began to appear between calf and ankle. FUPA fat pressing into Rachel’s wrist began to fade, pulling back into her stomach while her love handles contracted back to give her a waist. The starlet’s beefy, hot dog rolled neck narrowed, her chins withdrawing upwards as her face shape went back to a heart instead of a pie, Rachel’s green eyes becoming larger and luminous. 

 

“Come on, fuck, fuck yes, god I wish she was eating me out,” Rachel moaned, no longer gasping and the constant pain of her joints fading away.

 

A thigh gap appeared between Rachel’s now quite shapely legs, but just the hint of one for her thighs were still thick. The sprawl of her ass was now a quite enviable booty, round and smooth and spankable, if a bit wide if a bit wide and a little soft. Her face had a slight double chin and softness over her cheeks. Instead of floppy C cups, she had quite round new Ds.

 

“Fuck me, I never had an orgasm that good skinny,” Rachel moaned to herself, wiping sweat off of her forehead with a slender hand.

 

The singer stood up, with the ease of a thirty year old woman who was quite healthy if a little softer than at twenty. Rachel’s frame was as it was when she’d first entered the lodge, a tall woman who’d gotten a little too curvacious for popular tastes but had decided on losing weight instead of shapewear. Enchantments embedded in her brain struggled for a moment but soon fabricated new memories of rapid weight loss down to almost her goal weight.

 

“You know...being this thin again is cause for celebration,” Rachel licked her lips, going back to the cake filled fridge…

 

…..

 

“....Fthnght!” Tessa screamed.

 

Saying the nonsense word felt like getting punched in the mouth. Tessa felt her lips chap, canker sores form on her gums and a tooth begin to throb. It wasn’t a word any human being should ever say or could ever say, but when the actress said it…

 

Power flickered somewhere, a storm answering her call.

 

Tessa’s brown eyes bulged to see strange shapes appear before her eyes. Triangles with four angles, squares without straight lines, circles without radii and two sided rectangles, all made of lightning and all dancing around her. She saw other sigils in the room, ones of illusion and power and energy. Over Mortenson’s blonde curls was something that without words said “Preservation” and across her hips was one that said “Breeder”. Tessa’ looked down at her own voluminous gut, a sigil’s non letters glowing softly to say “Sow”. Then the runes around her shot inwards, slapped into the actress’ body with the force of gunshots, making her flesh ripple and bounce.

 

“You had every spell within that tome, a hundred years worth of careful research by the mistresses of the arcane,” the plump Mortenson sneered at her, “and that spell, that spell is the one you chose to use?”

 

“I, had to try something,” Tessa gasped, ripples of what felt like an intense orgasm shooting through her body making her drop the spell book and feeling herself start to...stretch.

 

“For one thing, to cast without a channeling device requires you to clear the head with an orgasm, and be very well hydrated,” the blonde actress turned cultist giggled, the plump jiggles of her floppy breasts and puffy tummy following, “especially someone like you, Miss Type 2 Diabetes.”

 

Tessa was already far from the waifish woman she’d been. Her gut was an immense apron of fat down nearly to her knees, her arms were pillows of fat and her face was unrecognizably round. Her joints hurt, her wind was bad and she was feeling dehydrated and exhausted from a short walk.

 

She began to feel worse heartbeat by heartbeat. A great heat overwhelmed her face, her cheeks began puffing up further around her eyes and she felt her four chins merge into one horrible jowl bigger than her breasts had been, sagging down almost to her new set of floppers. Seams ripped in the pleather jacket, Tessa’s pillowy limbs swelling to uselessness as her forearm fat spilled over her wrists and her fingers grew hard to bend.

 

“But casting that spell?” Mortenson laughed, “That spell? Do you know how fucked and hated by the Gods you must be, to cast the spell that transfers all the fat of the biggest pear in a hundred miles onto you?” 

 

“I’m...no, God no what did I do…,” Tessa stammered, heart thundering as she saw her belly plunge downwards just a little bit more, the limp sack of fat stopping to suddenly puff forwards…

 

“Gave me an immense amount of trouble is what you did. Its going to take...days to get that pervert singer back into sacrificial condition,” Lincoln laughed, “but seeing you, the first actual witch blood to actually get their hands on the book fuck up, cast the wrong spell and gain another three hundred pounds in thirty seconds? Oh its fucking worth it!”

 

Tessa’s legs had been long and shapely for her height. They’d earned her adoration for her whole adult life, while her tits had always been small, her legs had been perfect and she’d always had quite the booty too given how thin she was. Her staggering weight gain had made them soft, shapeless and flabby but most of the bulk had gone to her gut and upper body...until now.

 

Shoes that were already tight split and ripped, her feet swelling up with fat just as they screamed with gout. Drooping cankle flab hit the carpet, her lower legs having run out of room. Knee joints complained of their burden, arthritis developing even as her thigh fat spilled over them. A roll formed on each side of her cellulite coated thighs, and then another and another, stacks of lard spilling in every direction. Tessa’s flabby ass began to inflate outwards, her left cheek getting stabbed by the desk corner and her right overflowing a bookshelf, knocking tomes to the ground. Her piggish eyes widened when the back of her ass cheeks pressed into the back shelves, meaning she was completely trapped.

 

“My my, look at yourself...well, if your neck could bend I suppose. This is a strangely accurate representation of your natural propensity, a nice mix of gut and ass,” Mortenson laughed, picking the book up from where Tessa had dropped it, “so enjoy what you would look at while weighing seven hundred pounds before I reset you to an apple.”

 

“Fuck *gasp* you,” Tessa managed, barely able to breath.

 

“I don’t fuck patients and I don’t fuck fatties,” the golden age sex symbol tittered, “but I will think of you, all red faced and swollen the next time I get reamed. Now relax, you’ve got serious blood pressure problems and cholesterol higher than the national debt...I can’t lose another gut gainer so quickly, can I?”

 

Tessa’s brain was reeling with the latest change. Her joints were screaming and it was hard to breath...but this was the only chance she had to ask about Evelyn Stone…

 

“Another? What *puff* happened to Stone?” the rotund, far fatter around than she was tall, actress wheezed.

 

“Why, she went home. I don’t lie, save for my age and weight and natural hair color,” Mortenson smiled, “what I told Downton the day you arrived is true. If someone asks to leave, they leave. She’s home now, with a husband brainwashed to be a chubby chaser and a daughter who thinks mommies always been a beached whale in a mobility scooter. She’s never going to act again, save for something about a circus fat lady perhaps and her mind is a mess from the memory wipe, but she’s got a long, happy life...well, maybe not long given her arterial plaque…”

 

“Then *puff*...then let me...home…,” Tessa wheezed, cold sweat covering her body.

 

Fear gripped her. She was fatter than she’d ever imagined and literally trapped by her own lard. Her legs were screaming and she couldn’t get enough air, her left arm feeling painfully numb.

 

“Oh, are you tired of our little game? I’m not, your the first real challenge in ...decades, since at least the seventies. I must admit I’ve gotten pretty damn rusty and lazy, I only have trainers watch doors the first night anymore and don’t even lock the doors. Too dependent on my charges being lazy idiots. I’ve even been letting myself get chunky at night for extra comfort,” Mortenson said, patting her flabby ass for emphasis, “I really should have realized you were a witch too. We’re prone to bad conditions, cancer for you, fertility issues for me.”

 

Following the rambling sentences was getting hard. Tessa closed her eyes and heard a deep thud, opening them to find herself on the floor.

 

“I did realize the irony of being a sex symbol who couldn’t carry a pregnancy full term,” Mortenson said dryly, “just as you must recognize being known as a brainy brunette who’s brain tried to kill her. I think its nature trying to get rid of our sorcerous ilk.”

 

“P-please, I can’t *gasp* breathe,” Tessa managed.

 

“Oh sweety, that’s the coronary. But its really a good thing. Because do you remember what I said? I can only keep you here if you’re having a health emergency that makes you a danger to yourself or others,” the chubby doctor laughed, tapping the glimmering black diamonds of her necklace between her saggy breasts, “and given how full your arteries are and your obvious propensity for over eating….I’m afraid I’ll be extending your stay…”

 

The doctor slid off of the desk, pressing her soft flesh into the living mattress that Tessa had become. She put her head to the actress’ saggy breast, giggling as she listened to the thunder of her heart. Tessa would have tried to push her off, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t breath and things were getting so dark…

 

Vwsdcnzmkp,” Mortenson whispered, the words a whip crack.

 

Immediately the chest pains stopped and feeling returned to Tessa’s arm. She took as deep a breath as she could, which wasn’t much with the fat coating her chest, but the cold air was the best sensation she’d ever had.

 

“Now now, can’t have you dying, can we? What would the papers say, “Tessa Holmes, sex symbol dies of heart attack as a big fucking pig?” Think of the reviews!” Mortenson laughed, “but then, if you died, there wouldn’t be a world to print tabloids, would there be? Almost a pity, they were always on me about the shape of my ass or if I’d lost another baby. If it wasn’t for everything else, I’d let the world die.”

 

“W-what?” Tessa managed, blinking, barely comprehending again.

 

“Oh just rambling, you’re the first real person I’ve gotten to talk earnestly too in years, save for when I go visit dear bitch Reminginton,” Mortenson sighed, “so relax, you’re going to be completely safe for the next few days as I pamper and feed you and stop your heart from failing. I won’t brainwash you, I’ll explain everything...and then I’m going to feed you to a God.”

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First part of the last chapter!

 

Chapter 8: The Calling

 

“Now don’t move a muscle…,” Dr. Mortenson grinned, her beautiful face shining with malevolence as she tapped one black painted nail between Tessa’s piggy eyes.

 

“Get the fuck away from me!” Tessa screamed.

 

Her eyes slid open, seeing nothing but gray light. She tried to move but her limbs were trapped, pinned and swaddled by her own bulk. The actress couldn’t catch her breath and found herself covered in sweat, but of course she could, for wasn’t she an immobile pile of flab? Her heart rate spiked in terror and she tried to scream in vain hope someone would hear her…

 

“Ms. Holmes, are you alright?” a voice said from all around her, thundering like a god.

 

“Don’t touch me, don’t make me...,” Tessa gasped, craning her neck up to see…

 

A gaunt body in a hospital gown. Her bony frame was sickeningly thin, as only the body of someone badly sick could be. Tessa blinked, realizing her stick thin limbs were held by velcro straps to a gurney.

 

“I...I’m...where,” Tessa murmured, her heart rate falling as the dream fell away, “I’m at the hospital…and I…”

 

“Its alright Miss Holmes, we managed to get some readings before you moved,” the voice said again, “we should have woken you, bad dreams are common in CT machines. We’re going to take you out now, alright?”

 

There was a groan of machinery and Tessa’s gurney was pulled out of a circular machine and into an exam room. She blinked her eyes, feeling immensely cold and tired, her body drained of all vitality. Her oncologist waited for her, a small smile on her pretty face and a clip board in her plump hands.

 

“Am I...is the tumor gone?” Tessa asked, raising a thin hand to her head to find only stubble and sutures on the back of her skull.

 

“Its completely gone Tessa, today is your first day verified cancer free,” Doctor Mortenson smiled at her, “do you need a moment? You look like you saw a ghost.”

 

The actress blinked at the doctor, seeing a woman in her early forties. Her blonde hair had a tint to it that spoke of dyed roots and a body that while perhaps once gorgeous had gone to seed. She dressed in a fashionable skirt and blouse but her legs were clumsily thick all the way down to her black heels and her skirt needed an upsize given how it stretched to encompass her couch cushion butt cheeks and the unflattering fupa her belt bisected. Mortenson dressed well still but it was clear she’d long out grown any youthful slimness, her weight pushing into an obese 300 lbs.

 

“I’m just a bit disoriented. It doesn’t feel real honestly for the cancer to be gone,” Tessa admitted, “and for the chemo to be done…”

 

“Yes, well we’ll need to see you again soon for a check up but it appears the surgery got all of it,” Mortenson told her, “let’s get you dressed…”

 

A faint rumble sounded from Tessa’s sunken, caved in stomach.

 

“And probably some food too, an increased appetite when you’re coming out of chemo isn’t uncommon,” the doctor said with a smile.

 

Memories of whatever insane fantasy her brain had concocted were fading, Tessa already reverting to a woman who’d not only ever had a problem with her weight but one who was now painfully thin.

 

“Lets hope, I can’t remember when I ate last,” the actress agreed.

 

When Mortenson left the room, Tessa dressed. The sweat pants and hoody she wore draped off of her fleshless frame, her slender curves obliterated by months of low appetite and illness. Her gauntness sickened her, made her feel frail and even more exhausted. She was glad she’d taken an uber to the hospital, she didn’t trust herself to drive feeling this weak. Pulling a stocking cap over her bald head and sliding on identity hiding sunglasses, she left the room to find her heavy set doctor waiting with more paper work.

 

“Your blood work is looking good, not a trace of it but your blood sugar is low. Make sure you’re eating enough,” Mortenson told her, handing over packets of medical gibberish.

 

“It won’t take long for that, trust me,” Tessa smiled, feeling her flesh drawn tight against her face and the paper stack feel so heavy in her hands.

 

“There’s some contact info for a nutritionist anyway. Some weight gain is good after chemo but we want you to have it be controlled,” the doctor said, leading her to an elevator, “after all, we wouldn’t want you to trade one problem for another.”

 

Tessa leaned against the elevator’s wall, trying to catch her breath. Her image in the polished steel was bizarre and distorted, a smear much wider than she was tall. She looked down at the paper work swimming in her vision, the medical terms and charts smearing together into gibberish before her eyes. 

 

“B’vnddk f’taghhnn nyla’ramak,” Tessa mumbled, trying to make the words make sense.

 

“Dont’ strain yourself sweety, a woman in your condition doesn’t need any extra exertions,” Mortenson smiled, pulling a candy bar from her pocket, “here, eat this…”

 

Tessa ripped the unmarked foil away without a care, dropping the sheath of papers to the floor. She started chewing, shoving the chocolate into her mouth and taking disgustingly huge bites. Yet when she pulled her mouth away to swallow the thick break of chocolate was unmarked.

“Let’s get you to the truck, destiny awaits!” Mortenson smiled, placing a slender hand on Tessa’s shoulder as the door opened to the lobby.

 

The doctor steered the gorging actress past the huge open fire place and bear skin rugs of the hospital lobby. Tessa couldn’t stop eating, not even when her thighs began to touch and her stomach started bulging from her sweat shirt. There was a rip and coldness across her cheeks, a clapping sound when she stepped and pain starting in her ankles. It made her look up at a rack of magazines showing dumpy, flabby woman in unflattering poses…

 

“Rachel Fast’ fired from record label over shocking weight gain!” one headline blared next to the photo of a pear shaped red head who’s pale, pock marked ass was hanging from a thong as she struggled onto a yacht.

 

“Cat Downton’ baby body disaster! Billion dollar boobs destroyed!!!” another claimed next to an obscenely fat woman pushing a stroller, distended and mismatched breasts hanging out of a thin shirt.

 

“How, Rachel isn’t that big…,” Tessa wheezed, her shallow breaths pushing flabby breasts against her ripping shirt.

 

“Of course not dear, she’s much much fatter,” Dr. Mortenson chided her, pulling one of Tessa’s pillowy shoulders backwards.

 

Tessa landed in a gurney, eyes snapping open.

 

Mortenson, no, Lincoln walked in front of her humming softly. The doctor was naked and gloriously fit, her curvaceous hips and tiny waist a jiggling, flexing monument to her own voluptuous woman hood. That golden age of film body was back to its full power, her legs muscular and her belly bearing a hard six pack between glorious breasts. She spun and danced, showing that swirling black and red paint that was marked into impossible sigils: squares without angles, circles that didn’t meet, four cornered ovals. 

 

“No, no I let me go! Let me go!” an unfamiliar voice screamed, deep and raspy.

 

Tessa found herself out of breath just from speaking. She raised her arm, finding it bound tightly to her side. Whatever restraint held it was slowly giving way, the limb dragging its way across her chest. Muscles screamed at the effort and then her eyes widened in terror to see a strange, palid bulk pulling its way across a bulbuous, folded land scape.

 

For the bulbous lump was her own arm. Tessa’s slender limb was swollen thick as her old waist, so thick with fat to be vestigial. Layers of lard kept her elbow immobilized, while fingers thicker than summer sausages could do not but twitch.

 

And the bizarre lumps of bulges and folds it rested on wasn’t some geologic feature, but Tessa’s own body. Her breasts were the size of rotten water melons, sagging and deflated after their ruination. They were dwarfed by her belly, a water bed blob of soft folds and collapsing bulges that arced away out of sight. Only by twitching her toes could the immobilized A-list even confirm they existed, covered up by a blanket of her own gut fat.

 

“What, what did you do?” Tessa demanded, realizing that an oxygen tube was leading up to her nose.

 

Four trainers were pushing her wheeled, bariatric bed. Tall and slender women, muscled like valkyries and impossibly beautiful. And not women at all Tessa knew, not even alive, nothing more than sentient sludge.

 

“Do? I just fed you up a bit more,” Mortenson smiled, spinning over.

 

The doctor’s elfin face had more than a tinge of madness to it. Her blue eyes shown in the moon light and her muscles gave her a predatory look. Tessa shivered to think that she was totally helpless before this mad woman, unable to move.

 

“While you were in a nice little coma to keep you from stroking out,” the beautiful, long dead film starlet laughed, “girls your size get agitated and I had to get the other two all bulked up and ready. You made that pretty difficult on me, balancing old Remington’s mathematic equations to blow that dreadful singer back up to the weight she should be fast enough she wouldn’t die while making sure you and the titty model didn’t get too big!”

 

For a moment Tessa could only wheeze, sucking in oxygen to stare at this mad woman.

 

“You said, you said you’d tell me everything…,” Tessa groaned.

 

“And I am! Right now, tonight is the night, the night that the Stars are right!” Mortenson laughed, spinning high as more trainers opened the doors, letting in a blast of cool air that made her small nipples rise,”the night the tower must be visited and She Who Hungers satiated with tender sacrifices!”

 

“Satiated?” Tessa rasped, “Sacrifices?”

 

“Yes, she who made the world and will end it must be kept sleeping and yet kept alive. She must make the great crops of chocolate grow and the seasons turn and my beauty and powers kept at their peak,” Mortenson laughed, “she must be fed the fairest and most beautiful of women, those who gave up their fleet limbs and healthy glow to lives of gluttony and sloth!”

 

Small collections of fat grew across the Doctor’s body: her abdominals vanished beneath a starter belly and her thigh gap closed up, the perfection of her face flickering away as she popped a double chin.

 

“But we must be quick! Its almost too late!” Mortenson said with glee, a faint laugh line around her mouth, “She hungers for the best, the fairest and most loved turned fattest and heaviest…”

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Just some big kudos to Batman76 for this story but all of his other ones too, whether they be the assorted DC ones or the Mass Effect stuff on writing.com or the great Witcher stories (world needs more of those). You just do a great job of not only making the WG bits of the stories pay off how you want them to with great descriptions and so on but you do a nice job with having the actual narrative aspects build up to the WG stuff.  Just great balance between that. In a lot of WG fiction its either just right to the point with the WG (which can be totally fine if done well. I mean, thats what people are reading this stuff for) or with other stories there can be too much prose that drags on and on but subsequently not enough payoff with the WG elements ( So you're left reading dozens and dozens of pages of a story that ends up with only some mild WG payoff bits)

So nice work with being a super reliable go to author of this stuff- the WG bits are almost always satisfactory ( maybe minus boob deflating, but that's just not my cup of tea) and the actual narrative elements are weaved together  in such a way that they enhance the anticipation of the WG elements and the two aspects of the fiction balance out and complement each other super well.

 

Some random thoughts from the past couple entries:

  •  All of the runes on Mortenson and Tessa. Likely spells cast on each of them and their respective effect? Preservation on Mortenson's hair makes sense, keeping her old color and so on. "Breeder" on Mortenson's hips though? She states she has fertility issues but is the "Breeder" rune/spell something to override that?
  • Tessa is some kind of actual witch? Any significance to this? Have there been other witches that have been made sacrifices by Mortenson? Does it make Tessa more likely to take Mortenson's place in whatever final confrontation happens?
  • Mortenson's black diamond necklace keeps coming up- is it some kind of Chekov's gun, some kind of glamour for Mortenson's beauty or am I reading too much into things?
  • Mortenson  mentioning how Tessa is the first person she's been able to speak freely to in years besides when she visits Remington... wait, is Remington still alive? Did Remington get turned into the Elder God ? Or maybe ascended to some other ranking above where Mortenson is? I was thinking Remington being defeated probably meant she got turned into a sacrifice like anyone else, but maybe its something else?
  •  Kind of funny how Mortenson says she won't brainwash Tessa and she'll tell everything... then seemingly proceeds to brainwash Tessa  or at least cloud her mind as she keeps her alive and fattens her up more while Tessa is having the hospital illusions play out.
  •  For a hot second I was actually wondering if maybe the hospital vision was actually reality for Tessa and all of this had been a dream. Still waiting for some kind of Eternal Darkness style 4th wall breaking twist.
  • All of these spells/Elder God phrases... are they just total jibberish or is there some kind of Zatanna-esque backwards words thing going on?
  •  All right, finally getting to this Old One /Elder God, She Who Hungers. So, if these sacrifices aren't made, the world ends?

 

Looking forward to what happens next!

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On 3/12/2021 at 7:56 AM, ThingyThing1200 said:

This is just some great writing, flat-out. I'm more invested now in how this'll end then the WG elements! Excited and more than a little terrified of the zaftig Old Ones....

Thanks! Working up to some terrifying conclusions I hope.

 

12 hours ago, dog186 said:

Just some big kudos to Batman76 for this story but all of his other ones too, whether they be the assorted DC ones or the Mass Effect stuff on writing.com or the great Witcher stories (world needs more of those). You just do a great job of not only making the WG bits of the stories pay off how you want them to with great descriptions and so on but you do a nice job with having the actual narrative aspects build up to the WG stuff.  Just great balance between that. In a lot of WG fiction its either just right to the point with the WG (which can be totally fine if done well. I mean, thats what people are reading this stuff for) or with other stories there can be too much prose that drags on and on but subsequently not enough payoff with the WG elements ( So you're left reading dozens and dozens of pages of a story that ends up with only some mild WG payoff bits)

So nice work with being a super reliable go to author of this stuff- the WG bits are almost always satisfactory ( maybe minus boob deflating, but that's just not my cup of tea) and the actual narrative elements are weaved together  in such a way that they enhance the anticipation of the WG elements and the two aspects of the fiction balance out and complement each other super well.

 

Some random thoughts from the past couple entries:

  •  All of the runes on Mortenson and Tessa. Likely spells cast on each of them and their respective effect? Preservation on Mortenson's hair makes sense, keeping her old color and so on. "Breeder" on Mortenson's hips though? She states she has fertility issues but is the "Breeder" rune/spell something to override that?
  • Tessa is some kind of actual witch? Any significance to this? Have there been other witches that have been made sacrifices by Mortenson? Does it make Tessa more likely to take Mortenson's place in whatever final confrontation happens?
  • Mortenson's black diamond necklace keeps coming up- is it some kind of Chekov's gun, some kind of glamour for Mortenson's beauty or am I reading too much into things?
  • Mortenson  mentioning how Tessa is the first person she's been able to speak freely to in years besides when she visits Remington... wait, is Remington still alive? Did Remington get turned into the Elder God ? Or maybe ascended to some other ranking above where Mortenson is? I was thinking Remington being defeated probably meant she got turned into a sacrifice like anyone else, but maybe its something else?
  •  Kind of funny how Mortenson says she won't brainwash Tessa and she'll tell everything... then seemingly proceeds to brainwash Tessa  or at least cloud her mind as she keeps her alive and fattens her up more while Tessa is having the hospital illusions play out.
  •  For a hot second I was actually wondering if maybe the hospital vision was actually reality for Tessa and all of this had been a dream. Still waiting for some kind of Eternal Darkness style 4th wall breaking twist.
  • All of these spells/Elder God phrases... are they just total jibberish or is there some kind of Zatanna-esque backwards words thing going on?
  •  All right, finally getting to this Old One /Elder God, She Who Hungers. So, if these sacrifices aren't made, the world ends?

 

Looking forward to what happens next!

Thanks for all the questions, appreciated you liking the hospital scene. It was inspired by a similar scene in 1408.

I'm going to reveal a lot of these questions in the upcoming chapter! But the necklace is a casting aid/symbol of office.

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On 3/18/2021 at 3:13 PM, >_< 0_0 said:

This is so masterful and well-written. Suspenseful and gripping as much as any Black Mirror episode. It’s worth looking into getting it published.

Wow, that's really high praise, I appreciate that!

Getting closer to the end, another chapter and an epilogue...

Tessa had been here before. 

 

More than a year ago she’d been paralyzed by an injection into her spine and laid out on a gurney. She’d been unable to move anything beneath her jaw and could feel little but a gauzy dullness as she smelled antiseptic and listened. Listened to the tooth shattering whine of a diamond tip saw no bigger than her little finger nail cut a hole just as small into the back of her head. She hadn’t really felt it but the doctors had had her speak, talking about movies she’d been in and books she’d read, endlessly just to see if she started to speak gibberish. They’d had her talk to make sure they weren’t cutting the wrong piece of her mind when they’d used a robot controlled scalpel to remove a peace of Tessa Holmes that had gone mad, reproducing itself uncontrollably and threatening to kill her. 

 

Now she was here again and it was somehow far, far worse.

 

“The Greeks called her Demeter and the Norse called her Freya but they were all just pale echoes of pieces of Her. Maid eternal, warrior queen, the eternal beauty and she who thirsts!” Mortenson or Lincoln or whoever she was but certainly her mad captor screamed to the sky.

 

The moon was bright, bright enough to let Tessa see the intricate symbols rubbed onto the long dead actress’ nubile flesh with chocolate. Bright enough to let Tessa see that Lincoln’s thigh gap was filling in as her leg muscles softened, that the round slopes of her butt had a spackle or two of cellulite and her abdominals had turned into the smallest, decadent bulge. She pranced towards the immobile actress’ liter with just as much spring in her step but now in the body of a woman in her late 20s, youth starting to show signs of wear from the softening of her body and the start of lines at her face.

 

“But they were wrong, far wrong. She was older than men, older than imaginings. A thing before mankind and after us, from behind the stars that has slept here through long eternities, life itself spilling off of her exhalations in the time before there were seas,” the lunatic blonde claimed, “the first hairy ape things that found her fruit began to walk upright, the first cultures raised their temples to her! Every spring to honor her they sacrificed!”

 

This was insane, Tessa thought.

 

And insane or not, Tessa knew she was going to die.

 

When she’d been diagnosed, she’d been given 85% odds. She was young, healthy, had caught the cancer early, could afford the best care and self isolate to not get sick while on chemo. Now? Now Tessa was in such pitiful condition she needed an oxygen tube just to breathe. Her entire body had grown out of control, pinning herself to herself. She could barely clench her fingers, her arm swollen to such pillowy proportions it probably weighed more than the willowy, dainty Tessa Holmes had a month ago. She wasn’t just chubby or heavy or even just morbidly obese, the near four hundred pound, unrecognizable blob Cat Downton had been was tiny compared to her. Tessa had reached a weight she couldn’t fathom, a weight human beings should not be. Mammals of this size only existed in the sea and when on land were killed by their own bulk. Her arteries felt full of mayonnaise and her back hurt laying down, she couldn’t live like this long. The only option was to keep Lincoln talking and fucking hope there was someway to out wit her...

 

“You’re sacrificing me. You fattened us up to be fed to this…,’ Tessa trailed off, just speaking almost beyond her, sweat pouring over her hemisphere of rolls to evaporate into the cold night from the effort.

 

“To Her. To the all mother, to she who thirsts!” the cultist laughed as they reached the maze.

 

Lincoln-Mortenson spun on her toes, doing a prima ballerina shame. She was plump then, not just losing her youthful athleticness but having moved past it by several years. Her soft, flabby belly had a mother’s stretchmarks but it was in the girth of her hips the weight stored itself. A two hundred pound woman who’s short frame had blown outwards into a waddling bell shape.

 

“Some tribes were cowards who merely gave of their beer and barley or a fatted calf, but they had no blessings. Our distant mother wishes a sacrifice who gorged upon her bounty until ruination, until they grew weak and humiliated, the fairest turned into a humiliated blob unable to rise. Many tribes could not bear it, but those who held true, those who took their fairest maidens and offered up to Her, she blessed! She made the tribal champions make love to her, gifting them daughters who bore her witch blood on down through the centuries. This is us, Tessa, the ones with the touched blood, rare as summer snow and dwindling, dwindling for our wombs are barren as our mother’s is always full!” Lincoln screamed, voice straining, “But it is a worthy burden, isn’t it? If we of her blood give her sacrifices, we are youthful and beautiful forever more! Our distant grandmothers were mighty women, Queens and Priestesses. Helen and Penelope, Nefertiti and Mary, Cleopatra and Boudica…”

 

Lincoln hissed, her double chin popping into view as the insane procession began to turn into the maze, stopping by the tall bronze statue of stately Sarah Remington from a century before, eyes afire with hatred. Tessa had a moment to consider if she was lying about herself and Tessa being descended from some ancient witch goddess but at the moment the world was too insane, too ludicrous to doubt anything.

 

You’re a witch, Tessa, sparked in her brain and if she’d had the air, the Brit would have cackled. Magical power was apparently her birthright yet some odd chance had made her sacrifice instead of magician. If she’d had more time with the book perhaps she’d have a chance but that was past her and the only spell she had was one that made her even fatter. Instead she looked at the statue and pushed, trying to get more information.

 

“Remington,” Tessa gasped, “Remington was a witch…”

 

“Remington. So proud, so thinking herself so wise. So convinced of her....mediocrity,” Lincoln seethed, thighs thickening by the moment.

 

“She tried to sacrifice you,” the immobile actress gasped as the trainer things hauled her liter forwards.

 

“No. No, the half hearted fool, she tried to sacrifice my fat!” Lincoln howled, waddling, her saddle bags spreading and ass drooping lower and lower, “She found the last living priestesses of the old days, their power spent after soft hearted humanity refused to give up yet more daughters. They dwindled and shriveled, their perfection fading away without the proffered souls as if they were just mortals. Remington found them on her honey moon, a spoiled brat too smart for her own good. She took their knowledge and rebuilt Her grand cult, using the worship to fuel her vast wealth and build the cult, spreading its feelers and tentacles throughout high society. The cult kept its eyes out for the fairest and brightest young women in society. No longer just chieftain’s daughters and brave huntresses, but actresses, singers, debutantes... and once they have them..”

 

Lincoln’s skin was silver in the moon light. She was obese at that point, her basketball buns bouncing and her tree trunk thighs slapping together with each step. Yet she still moved quickly as the fit twenty year old she’d seemed to be earlier, her waddles unnervingly quick. 

 

Tessa drew in as great a breath as she could, her grain sack breasts made it so hard to breathe, “Makes them fat?”

 

Lincoln laughed, a hard cruel sound that was like a vulture over a corpse and nothing like the twinkling bell giggling she’d given on the screen half a century before. Even were she not near three hundred unflattering pounds Tessa wouldn’t have thought this was the silver screen starlet known as a brainless sexbomb.

 

“Makes them gain weight? No, the cult watched and waited. Remington was mad, a heretic, a heathen! She attempted to use our distant ancestress, the progenitratress of all too...too...lose weight!” the blonde American screamed, voice shrill to ear piercing with the fury, “she lose the fat of her pregnancy and then every year she gathered those debutantes and stage starlets who’d grown too fat for their corsets. Remington fattened them with the sacred chocolate, bulked them to the proper size and let them live!”

 

“She did...what?” Tessa managed, “that’s...that’s not very bad.”

 

“They’re sacrifices! Sacrifices must be given to the goddess body and soul, not allowed to run free,” Lincoln screamed as they passed Tessa’s own statue, “She who Thirsts demands three souls each season: a breeder to honor her fertility, a milker to honor her production and above all else a gainer to honor the consumption of her bounty. They must be gifted body and soul and it was a dreadful sin of Remington’s to let so many live, merely taking up their sacrifice into herself instead of handing over their souls!”

 

It was amazingly light here at the end of the maze and not just from the moon. When Tessa had last stood here, a svelte four hundred and fifty pounds, the maze had ended in a grass bullseye. Now that yard was occupied by a vast tower of oily black stone, packed closer together than a knife blade could pass. It shot hundreds of feet into the air and a soft, silvery light glowed from its gaping door. Voices could be heard, not insane gibberish but instead the voices of some long dead actor.

 

Tessa thought, eyes flickering the delicate bronze of herself, in this strange light she could see that she’d gained nearly eight hundred pounds. This wasn’t going to be her final monument. She was going to be more than that, she wasn’t going to die here, no matter how her heart thundered from terror and her own bulk. She wouldn’t give this psychopath the pleasure, not this vain cruel lunatic who’d turned her into this blob of a woman.

 

“She didn’t even try to kill you,” Tessa seethed, “she made you thin again and you killed her!”

 

“Of course I over threw her. I was thirty four and fading fast, although not as fast as you I”ll admit but the laugh lines were settling and my thighs were spreading. Paramount’s studio head had moved onto younger pussy and thin or not, once you’re at a fat farm once word gets around that you’re unreliable,” Lincoln huffed, a five hundred pound blob of a woman, her hips too big to fit within a car, “Remington, that ignorant slut, was so insufferable. Standing there looking lean and twenty at a hundred, thinking she was doing me a favor for returning me to watch the downfall of my career when I could be perfect forever, in films again forever. And not just as bimbo love interests but as an actual lead, a role I could stretch my talents!”

 

Tessa could only blink, unable to believe this more than talk of ancient goddess and witches and watching a woman gain five hundred pounds in minutes.

 

“You killed her so you could keep acting?” Tessa gasped.

 

Lincoln glared at her, eyes made piggish by her cheeks “Spoken like someone who’s had money since she was a kid, who didn’t grow up poor as shit in small town Ohio, who got admired for being smart and preppy and cute. Who was just a little more than a flat waist and a plump ass, although not much more. Of course I did, just like you’d kill someone to be thin and twenty again.”

 

If Tessa could have shaken her head she would, but the rolls of her neck and jowls prevented even that.

 

"I wouldn't kill someone to be twenty and tiny again, but I'd kill you to stop this," she promised.

 

“Liar, but the thing is, I didn’t kill Remington,” Lincoln teased, "although she wishes I had."

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But seriously, I think just about anyone would “enjoy” this horror story. It’s the horror of it that sells, cause while the FA’s are into the fattening scenes, they’re not in an overtly sexualized context, so an average bro wouldn’t think “this is some weird kinky shit” and instead think “omg this is not a good place! Get out, Tessa! Get out!”

Publish 👌😏 if JK Rowling can randomly write a whole inflation chapter of Aunt Marge (who is only there for that one chapter to be inflated), then you can try taking this to some publishers. Just don’t pay to get it published - that’s a scam 🤨

Seriously, Aunt Marge tho... what was up with that? Even from a logical viewpoint, it doesn’t make sense. Harry didn’t even use a wand. He just stared at her...

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Listening to the Wicker Man soundtrack while reading this doesn't help make this less blood curdling....

Amazing as usual. Both erotic and horrific at once. I'm on the edge of my seat to see how this ends.

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Okay, this is the conclusion, with an epilogue to go. Its pretty short and is...okay its got weight swapping by a magnitude of tons but its probably more horrific than erotic.

 

On groaning, squealing wheels, Tessa was pushed into the tower’s bottom story. 

 

Some of the shapeless rolls that had begun life as love handles scraped the door frame, for although wide the once spritely actress was girthier than even the normal inhabitants of this place of lard. Once she was in the cold, dark stone room (surely wider on the inside than the outside) Lincoln piroutted past her, dancing and spinning like a prima ballerina who happened to weigh over a quarter ton.

 

“See, she’s completely fine, I even kept her entertained!” Lincoln laughed maniacally.

 

A surprisingly modern projector beamed images onto a far wall, a black and white movie starring a young and stunning Lillian Lincoln. The curvaceous starlet on film was in a tight dress, the camera focused on the bouncing rippling perfection of her glorious ass in an endless loop. Tessa realized belatedly that there was a seated figure with her back to her, chained to the chair by heavy links of rusted iron. The real life Lincoln’s piggish hands seized the top of the chair and spun it over with surprising strength, displaying its occupant.

 

Tessa screamed, a hoarse shrill that soon turned into panicked coughing for her abused body couldn’t stand such mild exertion.

 

What sat chained in the chair was a shriveled mummy. Its skin was the color of a walnut, limbs and torso caved in and sunken, withered to resemble jerky. The face was a terror, lips, nose and ears gone but worst of all were the eyes. Living blue eyes that were held open with clips, their watery blue spheres leaking tears.

 

“She’s not as lovely as she used to be, but don’t hate her just because she’s gone to seed,” Lincoln giggled, a new chin popping into being from her jowls as she kept growing.

 

The ancient actress spun gracefully to the pillar the projector was on, knocking it over with a thick hand. Her fingers began to glow as she touched the top of the pillar, while her still inflating ass cheeks began to sag and flap towards the floor. Somewhere gears began to turn and the entire floor began to fall, an elevator.

 

“Where are we going?’ Tessa panted, the strange chocolate creatures that were her trainers spinning her around.

 

Over the slope of her bed sized stomach, Tessa could see Kat and Rachel on their own platforms held up by the chocolate nightmares. Kat’s breasts were each the size of a grown man, their dinner plate nipples rissing so high on her bulging gut to block off view of her face. Rachel’s couch sized ass cheeks pushed her higher by contrast, the pears’ blobby lower half attached to a merely severely morbidly obese top. The singer’s blue eyes were glazed over, either she was drugged or her sanity had truly snapped.

 

“I told you not five minutes ago, can’t you remember? We’re going to see the goddess you fucking twit!” Lincoln giggled as the stone walls of the shaft shot past and her ass cheeks smacked onto the floor, the actress leaning back on them to rest, fat pushing her higher and higher as the cellulite sprawled across the floor, “the mother of all! She who Hungers! To her will go the pitiful fat of the lesser sacrifices, those who failed to embrace her bounty! And to the one who excelled, who grew fatter and larger than any...hahaaahahaha, she will receive another serving of magic and youth!”

 

Tessa was near as fat as any woman who’d ever lived then, but Lillian Lincoln, hour glass star of the silver screen, was far fatter still. LIncoln swelled with sixty years of round the clock gluttony, the long hidden fat returning to find its place by the ton. The magic pulsing through her kept her alive but even her unnatural strength and grace ran out, pinning the blonde to the stone disc.

 

Acres of ass lard were spilling over the stone, the adipose lake stopping just before the bed holding tessa. Her ass cheeks and hips were wider than a truck each, folded over in piles of dimpled, stretch marked fat, legs swallowed up in the sprawl. Her gut was near as Tessa’s car and her breasts each the size of an entire cheer leader, her features swallowed in facial lard, brow fat covering her eyes and nose until only her gaping, laughing maw remained.

 

Had she the breath to spare, Tessa would have screamed herself but she didn’t, her heart thundering in panic that only rose as the elevator shaft ended and the platform kept falling. Suspended on nothing, they hung in the middle of an infinite blackness, a void that continued forever in all directions...until it did not.

 

The cruel eyed painting of fair Freya in the main dining room did not do its inspiration justice, for Freya had muscle and sinew. Nor did any soft limbed sculpture the Greeks had ever done of Hera. The petty human faces the ancients had put onto She Who Hungered were just attempts to calm themselves, to reassure themselves that there was something understandable listening to them, Tessa knew.

 

A bright and educated woman, the actress knew that what she saw couldn’t exist. Nothing so large, continental or perhaps even planetary in size could actually be real. Gut rolls higher than mountain ranges and wider than nations had to be imagined, lard crevices deeper than the oceanic abyss had to be fantasies and tits larger than oceans had to be fake. Nothing alive could be so shapelessly huge, so monumentally round and completely devoid of features, just endless fat piled upon endless fat and yet alive!

 

Yet it wasn’t fake and any hope of ...anything was leaving Tessa’s mind as she saw. 

 

She Who Hungered was before her, gluttony given form.

 

“Great Goddess! Magna Mater! I exult to bring you gifts! Three weak ones for you to devour!” the shapeless pile that was Lincoln cackled, “Y’hvun! Uch’at Uch’at! Yaraghouv ryhll ivwq qi’navunar!”

 

Nothing stirred at the Priestess’ words, perhaps this monstrosity was too large to move even for omnipotence, but the platform began to slow and Tessa felt a burning heat around her, a pink mist pulling from her pale skin and spinning towards the living planetoid of She Who Hungered. In the heat, the chocolate servants shimmered, lost their human guises and melted, becoming fudge lake. She looked down, seeing that her limbs were at last shrinking, the helpless blob she’d become fading back. The hundreds of pounds she’d gained by misspoken spell went first, leaving her merely obese, able to actually move. 

 

Scrambling, the actress fell off the bed and almost off the platform. Hanging on with pudgy fingers, she looked down to see that they hovered over some sea sized flab fold of the Goddess and that a squamous mass sprawled on it. Not a freckle or mole but...what had been women, a pile of the shriveled, living corpse things that Lincoln had turned her predecessor Remington into, their eyes staring up at her with terror, pleading her to help. Bobbing up and down in a literal river of sweat, there were nearly two hundred of them, three or four actresses or models or singers a year lured to this hell, fattened up and thrown into endless agony.

 

Something snapped inside Tessa’s brain, a rubber band pulled to the extreme and past that, the knowledge of mudanity destroyed as the true reality was made manifest.

 

“ha...hahaahahhahaHAHAHAHA!,” the British woman cackled, hazel eyes glowing with madness, “they do all lose weight! They do and they never gain it back! Thank God I came to the right place!”

 

Laughing maniacally, she pushed herself up easily, being only the two hundred or so pounds she’d been before eating that chocolate monstrosity in the garden. She walked bare towards the pile that was Remington, stopping only to grab handfuls of the chocolate goop and smear crude runes across her body. Past Kat Downton she went, the top model looking just a bit plump and past Rachel Fast she walked, the singer just a bit thick in the thighs. 

 

“Mortenson, Mortenson, I must thank you Doctor,” Tessa giggled as she started climbing up the sweaty hillock that had been the cultist, “I’m losing weight by the moment!”

 

Using her natural grace and the athleticism that came from years of yoga and exercise, the slender actress pulled herself up the blobs of belly blubber, resting across Lincoln’s tits at her A-list red carpet weight. Fat she didn’t have to lose continued burning off as Tessa’s slim fingers pushed up the fold of brow fat covering the blonde’s blue eyes.

 

“What, what get down!” Lincoln gasped to see Tessa’s gaunt face, the bone’s of the British woman’s face clear to see, “You’re ruining my ritual!”

 

Tessa Holmes laughed, a laugh that began in her collapsed belly and went up her protruding rib cage to exit her skeletal face.

 

“Your ritual!? You forget yourself! No, it’s her ritual and you aren’t fat enough for her tastes!” Tessa laughed in the helpless, prone Mortenson’s face, dried lips splitting as she did, “Fthnght!”

 

It was the same spell Tessa had learned by fate and accident, an enchantment that made all the fat from the nearest pear shaped woman disappear and reappear onto its speaker. Lincoln’s blue eyes widened in panic as Tessa leaned forwards, lips wrapping around her tormentor’s in a hideous kiss. In a few heart beats the gaunt Brit was again the picture of slender health, then a curvy young woman and then noticeably chubby. Second by second Tessa gained, soon fat as she’d been on entering the Black lodge, then fat as she’d been after eating the actress, then back up to an immobilized blob. She fell forwards onto the shrinking Lillian Lincoln, her fingers hooked onto the decreasing shoulders of her victimizer turned victim. 

 

Tessa felt the balance shift, felt her self growing bigger than Lincoln. She felt every inch of her whale like expanse, the hip heaviness of her genetics given room to gallop as it immobilized her. Laughing into the screaming Lincoln’s mouth at the thought, she was soon pressing down onto a merely immobile Lincoln and then saw nothing as her fat brow covered her eyes.

 

Panicking, Lillian Lincoln managed to break free of Tessa’s grip as her arms became vestigial, pinnined by her own side fat and shoulder bulk. Chunky as she’d been at 34, the bottom heavy blonde slipped and slid down the layers of lard that had been hers a moment earlier. She tried to scream the counter spell, but the tumbling fall onto Tessa’s sweaty fat pond of a body wasn’t over. Lillian went tumbling over the side of the platform, slamming into the rippling swamp of lard that was She Who Hungered’s body.

 

“Goddess, help me, please!” Lincoln screamed, her slightly chubby limbs writhing to stay afloat and sheathed in a pink haze as she kept shrinking and shriveling, “I served you, I served you so much!”

 

Prayers unanswered, Lillian Lincoln began sinking into the shallow sea of sweat. For a moment, her body was perfectly curvaceous before it withered and shriveled.

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Pour one out for Mortensen/Lincoln, we hardly knew ye.

Was oddly rooting for Mortensen in all of this? Maybe that's just me rooting for the charismatic villains in fiction more often than not cause they rarely "win." Was hoping for some twist like that maybe here ( still an epilogue, eh?)

In any event, I find it kind of amusing that on a site devoted to curvy/fat ladies, the most horrific part of this isn't necessarily these ladies blimping out to impossible sizes, rather the horrific parts are them withering away into desiccated, mummified, skeletal corpses with still living eyes.  Legit scary imagery there with Remington and all the sacrifices writhing around in the body of She Who Hungers- I'm just picturing it as some hellish Bosch painting or something.

Question now is what becomes of Tessa? Is she totally crazy now like Lincoln/Mortensen? Will she try to adapt the place like Remington seemingly was doing before Mortensen/Lincoln took over? Will she try to help out all those prior sacrifices? Are Kat and Rachel still doomed? Is it going to be Mortensen/Lincoln tied to a chair watching Tessa's movies for eternity now?

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21 hours ago, dog186 said:

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Pour one out for Mortensen/Lincoln, we hardly knew ye.

Was oddly rooting for Mortensen in all of this? Maybe that's just me rooting for the charismatic villains in fiction more often than not cause they rarely "win." Was hoping for some twist like that maybe here ( still an epilogue, eh?)

In any event, I find it kind of amusing that on a site devoted to curvy/fat ladies, the most horrific part of this isn't necessarily these ladies blimping out to impossible sizes, rather the horrific parts are them withering away into desiccated, mummified, skeletal corpses with still living eyes.  Legit scary imagery there with Remington and all the sacrifices writhing around in the body of She Who Hungers- I'm just picturing it as some hellish Bosch painting or something.

Question now is what becomes of Tessa? Is she totally crazy now like Lincoln/Mortensen? Will she try to adapt the place like Remington seemingly was doing before Mortensen/Lincoln took over? Will she try to help out all those prior sacrifices? Are Kat and Rachel still doomed? Is it going to be Mortensen/Lincoln tied to a chair watching Tessa's movies for eternity now?

I'm going to have an epilogue up in may. 

 

Hoping it's satisfactory.

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So Tessa has triumphed at last, using a technique that Mortenson really should’ve seen coming. After all, it only takes one spell to throw everything off. Maybe she was betting Tessa couldn’t pronounce that incantation a second time? No doubt starring in eight movies and shouting Latin spells gave Tessa some practice haha.

By the way, I think this story inspired someone on DA. Am I the only one who sees photoshops of a certain actress on my homepage? There’s a new one every day 😬

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