The Scandals of Lady Penelope Eatwell

[flyer33]

Chapter 1: Crazy Uncle Bitcoin’s Eccentric Last Will and Testament

 

One truth universally acknowledged is that a young man of the English upper class, who is in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.

Less known, but equally true, is that a young bachelor of an English upper class family that is in precarious financial straits, but whose eccentric uncle’s last will and testament is discovered to leave a massive Bitcoin fortune to the young man – on the condition that he is married and has an heir by a fixed date, the date having been specified ages ago and never updated, such that it is now only a few weeks hence (!) – must be in want of a wife who is (1) already heavily pregnant, and (2) amenable to a scandalously rapid marriage contract!

It was this second truth which pertained to an easy-going and attractive young man by the name of Maxwell Moore, currently watching the leafy summer countryside of Buckinghamshire through the open window of his father’s cranky old Rolls Royce. Who, courtesy of his stepmother’s desperately-quick machinations, had in only the space of two weeks found himself engaged to an extremely infamous – and extremely pregnant – woman of the Buckinghamshire upper crust. Lady Penelope Eatwell!

In the adjacent back seat to Maxwell, his stepsister Louisa managed to smirk while simultaneously blowing pink bubble gum.

Pop!

Louisa slurped the gum between her glossy pink lips, and took the opportunity to jab her brother in the ribs and tease him, keeping her voice down so their mother couldn’t hear from the front passenger seat where she was sipping a flute of Champagne. “Nine months pregnant! And do you know how many times she’s spawned already? I bet your wife’s fucking huge, Max! We’re talking: as much stretch-marked belly acreage as our small paddock... Maybe the big one!”

“Louisa!” Snapped Lady Kathryn Moore from her comfortable but threadbare front seat. “I’ve told you before not to blow those disgusting gum bubbles in the car! It’s frightfully common.”

Louisa gave her brother a delighted, open-mouthed smirk before answering back.

“It’s my nicotine gum, Mom! I’m trying to quit cigarettes again! Give me a break!”

Max Moore sniggered at the stream of grumbling this prompted from his stepmom. He doubted there was such a thing as nicotine replacement bubble gum, but admired his blonde sister’s quickness of wits in dreaming up the excuse. Lady Kathryn hated the chain-smoking habit Louisa had picked up before dropping out of medical school, even more than she deplored her common habit of enjoying bubble gum. Alas, even the smallest restriction of her nicotine intake caused Louisa to bloat hilariously – the first time she’d tried to quit she’d popped a button on her jeans while finishing a third helping of Sunday lunch alongside her then boyfriend; the second time she’d ballooned and split the back of her dress while slurping her fourth Champagne at Ascot. All of which had entertained Max no end. And then there had been the third time, when Louisa had left a bathroom door open and he’d caught her trying to shove her swollen midriff and breasts into a bodyshaper. That time had given him a hard-on he’d only managed to hide because his stepsister had hurled something at him and slammed the door.

“You looking forward to meeting your massive, pregnant fiancée for the first time, Max?” Louisa gleefully inquired. “Heh! I bet you ten Bitcoins she’s so absolutely huge you can’t even find a position to consummate the marriage before she pops! I’ve seen photographs of her in Rich Magazine! And she must be twenty-five stone – and that was before her stableboy knocked her up again, or whatever. And she’s due like the day after the ceremony, even though Mom scheduled the earliest day legally possible, so good fucking luck fucking her, Bro!”

Max pretended to give a thoughtful look. “But you don’t have any Bitcoins, Sis. What are you going to pay up with? I’m guessing, a side benefit of my wife-to-be having gone through five husbands – five, isn’t it?”

“Yep.” Louisa laughed so uncontrollably a tear ran down her cheek. “Max, just think. Five husbands. Two dead, and I’m not saying she squashed them, but... Oh, and, let me count...” Louisa duly put on a show of counting until she ran out of manicured fingers. “Nine legitimate pregnancies, if you count all the ones while she was married. Um, ten, if you count the definitely illegitimate one. Plus, because her fourth husband’s family bankrupted her in their annulment, four surrogate pregnancies she carried in return for cash from her rich friends... That makes, what. Fourteen children! That we know of? Plus one more in about, oh, say four days’ time!”

Max shrugged. “So you’re saying my wife-to-be definitely knows how to fuck, Louisa. Side benefit, huh?”

“Ew!” Louisa pouted. “I don’t want to think about it! I’ll make you a deal. You get married. Then we get Crazy Uncle Bitcoin’s money...”

“I get.” Max informed the air. Louisa continued.

“... We get Good Old Uncle Bitcoin’s fortune. Because you, Max, are obligated to look after your family. Which means, you have to give the money to Mom and Dad... But, I’m thinking, Max: you just give some of the money to Mom and Dad. And then, you give lots of money to me, and in return I set you up with some of my slutty friends. And my friends are really slutty, and hot. Literally, Tottie has had hundreds of male-model quality boyfriends, and I don’t think she can actually physically close her legs anymore. Oh, but no. She’s in America a lot of the time, plus she’s kinda fat now – plus-size modelling contract. Um... Oh! Flossie’s also hot, and skinny, and she doesn’t own any underwear with a crotch! And, as a bonus, she’s only twenty-two, which is only three years older than you. Whereas, Max, your wife-to-be is literally old enough to be your mother! Ew! I feel a bit sick from thinking about that! Sex with someone over thirty should definitely be illegal!”

Louisa blew a bubble.

“Louisa!” Snapped Lady Kathryn, refilling her Champagne flute from a bottle in the wine-holder of her passenger seat. “Don’t blow bubbles! And don’t talk about money. It’s coarse!”

Louisa called back, above the road noise coming through the Roller’s open windows. “No sweat, Mom! I was just saying how clever you were! Scrambling so quick to make sure Max could inherit Crazy Uncle Bitcoin’s fortune for us, even though the will was published so late that he nearly wasn’t eligible!”

A satisfied smiled spread over Lady Kathryn’s full lips. She had been very clever. And quick! And it was one in the eye for Sir Cadly Bounder, the manager of the trust fund from which the extended Moore-Bounder-Thompson family drew their stipends. If Lady Kathryn hadn’t found out about the contents of Uncle Bitcoin’s will, just in the nick of time, she wouldn’t have been able to arrange her stepson’s emergency-marriage to a woman able to provide an heir within the then ludicrously-close six week deadline. But she’d managed it! Albeit, Lady Kathryn wasn’t too happy to marry her son to a woman so perennially scandalous as Lady Penelope Eatwell. But there was absolutely no other choice – Kathryn has scoured the entire upper class of Britain, and parts of Europe, for a fiancée who (a) was legally able, and could be persuaded to wed her stepson Max within the next six weeks, who also (b) was heavily pregnant and due to give birth within the same timeframe. Lady Penelope had been literally the woman who fit the bill!

It was infelicitous that the Lady Penelope had spent the last twenty years getting through five marriages and bloating the gossip magazines with countless salacious affairs – often whilst visibly pregnant – and transforming from a ripely voluptuous young beauty to a fat mother of nine or more, and then getting fatter, fatter, and fatter with every marriage, pregnancy, and affair. Of which there had been a lot. It wouldn’t be great for the Moore family name! But that didn’t matter when set against the one thousand Bitcoin, and more assets besides, which Max would inherit provided he was married, with an heir courtesy of Lady Penelope’s latest extra-marital pregnancy!

Uncle Bitcoin’s fortune – and Lady Kathryn even intended to leave Max with most of it – would come just in time to shore up the Moore family finances. There was a good deal of deferred maintenance on their Hampshire stately home; and the chuntering Rolls Royce was overdue for a replacement. Worst of all, there were dark rumours circulating among the gossipers of the extended Moore-Bounder-Thompson family, that the large family trust fund was not, in fact, large and robust, but precariously close to bankruptcy! Allegedly, the trust management – by Sir Cadly Bounder and his allies – had been very poor of recent years, largely due to Sir Cadly’s fondness for reckless investments, sub-par racehorses, and high-stakes gambling. Not to mention the outrageous supplementary payouts which had been demanded, and more-than spent, by his wife Lady Carline Bounder and her own family allies. Fortunately, Crazy Uncle Bitcoin had never liked the Bounders, and had left his entire fortune to Max. But the inheritance was subject to a quixotic clause, stipulating Max must be married with heir et cetera, by a deadline which (the will having not been updated in a while) was, shall we say, challenging to meet. 

“Yes! Good old Uncle Bitcoin!” Said Lady Kathryn. “I always liked the old goat, even when certain others disdained him for running off to live in a hut in the Caribbean!”

“Sounds Okay.” Max muttered.

“At least he chose a tax haven!” Louisa chirped. “It means more for us! Hehe, just as soon as Max consummates the marriage...”

A slightly green look passed over Louisa’s face. She burped. “Oof. I should not have eaten three eggs for breakfast before thinking about that! Sucks to be you, Bro!”

In short order, the chauffeur drew the Rolls Royce up on the gravel pathway around a pretty fountain, in front of the door of Eatwell Manor. The Manor was really more of a large house or cottage: ten bedrooms, within a handsome two-storey sandstone block with five windows width, sturdy slate roof, and good grounds. Still, there was (Lady Kathryn knew, having researched the place which Lady Penelope Eatwell had inherited from her second husband) a fully modern house of another seven bedrooms at the back. Just as well, given the vast size of Lady Penelope’s brood! Though rarely more than one or two of them were present, the rest being at various boarding schools, colleges, or staying with the more respectable side of their various families. 

 

*

 

The Moores were greeted by a liveried doorman with a plate of sandwiches and fruit juice. Lady Kathryn declined, fingering the tightness of her azure silk trousers as she did so. Louisa deposited her bubble gum on the tray and hungrily took both, despite the tightness of her black jeans and white top. Both ladies were ushered into a lavish foyer with a double staircase, and then onward to a living room where Lady Penelope awaited to conclude some details of her prenuptial agreement – Max, who was not needed for this, was given a quick tour of his home-to-be.

A quick tour involved just one thing, so far as Max was concerned: staring open-jawed at a massive full-length portrait of Lady Penelope Eatwell, drawn larger-than-life so her image towered over 6’ tall plus heels, in the first room beyond the foyer. The painting was skilled – and fifteen years old, having been made on the occasion of her second marriage, to the departed Lord Eatwell of the very house. Lady Penelope’s portrait was... Voluptuous. Ripe. A luxurious floor-length dress of blue silk clung to round, hips, already thickened three times by pregnancy, and the neckline exposed a massive swell of bosom. Jet black hair hung in glossy waves, and her face (although implausibly slender for a woman of clearly seventeen stone or more) was very striking indeed.

There wasn’t enough time for Max to finish feasting his mind on the voluptuous beauty of the woman he was soon to wed! The painting might be fifteen years old, but she was hot. The thought of feeding her a slice of wedding cake was one that Max tried to save for later – a hard-on now would be embarrassing. Of course, the painting was probably idealised by a skilled artist. There’s no way a woman could be that tall and voluptuous.

Only a few minutes passed before Louisa arrived with an “ahem. Ready for you, now, Max. Come through!”

Max eyed his sister. Under her breath, so as a passing servant might not hear, she whispered in his ear.

“Max. Your... I don’t want to worry you, but I take back that bet I made you. You’re definitely consummating the marriage, no problem, once you get one look at her tits! They’re massive!” Louisa’s voice squeaked. “But, just one thing, Bro.”

“What’s that, Sis?”

“Can you make sure you’ve mentioned me in your will, please? I just, um... I think one night with her and she might squash you flat! She’s, um – that portrait of her, the one you were drooling at?”

“Yeah, Louisa?”

“She’s that big. Well, that tall! It’s not scaled up! Except, she’s basically twice the weight now. Um... Ew, but also, quite horny for the boobs, and pretty smoking still!”

Unsure what to expect, from his sister’s dazed expression, Max took a breath and headed next door to meet his wife-to-be, the older, infamous, but apparently still alluring Lady Penelope Eatwell herself...

 

*

 

[boss frond]

Love it

[InTheBlack]

This is a great start. Louisa's a fun character, I hope she sticks around.

[bigboy1992]

This feels like the start to a great story.

[pregbelltrim]

Off to a great start, please don't leave us hanging!