The Sister and The Storm (SSBBW, SSBHM)

[vigilante]

Hi all,

My second story, hope you enjoy.

Fair warning - this story contains brother-sister elements throughout.

 

Chapter 1:  The Storm

‘Escape to Jamaica, the Heartbeat of the World...’.  Tom regarded the colourful billboard across the street with silent distain. 

A suspiciously attractive couple smile back at him through two sets of perfect white teeth.  Overflowing glasses of what appeared to be fruit punch chink together merrily in the foreground, whilst behind a tropical paradise of sun, sand, and sea faded into the horizon.  He’d not managed a foreign holiday in three long years. 

Money had been unpleasantly tight ever since his dad had left home.  The revelation of his father’s longstanding affair had rocked the previously strong family unit, and in a matter of days Tom had been unwillingly promoted from firstborn son to ‘man of the house’.  With that came a burden to support his stay-at-home mother, and now the majority of his meagre pay-packet was spent simply keeping the lights on in their grim South London council house.

His mum was a kind but simple woman.  A dazzling beauty in her day, she’d been swept off her feet by his wheeler-dealer dad and settled down by the tender age of 20.  Lacking any useful qualifications she’d focused instead on making a home for her family whilst her husband worked a local market stall. 

Tom came first, then his sister Penelope two years later.  Their childhood, at least what he could remember of it, had been perfectly happy.  Then his dad left and everything changed. 

His mother had turned to the fridge for comfort, and grown fat as she consoled herself with cake.  More often than not he would come home from a long and tiring shift at the local fast food establishment to find her plopped on the couch waiting expectantly for him to present her with the day’s leftover  food, which they ate together for dinner most nights.  Her good looks had quickly been swallowed up by the encroaching blubber.

His sister had taken a different approach, becoming ever more distant and sullen through her formative teenage years.  Now aged 18 she had all of mother’s former beauty but none of her kindness, and was generally a dark cloud over the household whenever she was home.

A crash of thunder rumbles high above. 

Tom looks up just in time for the first fat rain drop to land squarely between his eyes.  He blinks stupidly and curses under his breath, “brilliant, bloody brilliant...”.  If he hadn’t stopped to stare at that damn poster he’d be sheltering at the bus stop by now.

He sets off hurriedly, arriving two minutes later drenched through from head to toe.  His trainers squelch awkwardly underfoot as he finally steps out of the rain, which even now appeared to be turning to hail. 

The thin grey hoodie he’d donned that morning clung to his body, accentuating the generous curve of his potbelly.  The storm had come out of nowhere, and he certainly wasn’t dressed for the occasion.

Tom pants to catch his breath.  He knew he was out of shape, but even so was surprised at quite how much of a struggle that short jog had been.  Perhaps a few too many greasy leftovers taken home following his shifts at the local McDonalds?  He resolved to eat better in the future.  Tom hated being overweight, but lacked the willpower to do anything about it.  He’d resigned himself to always being a hopeless fatty,

Open on three sides and covered above by a thin plastic roof, the bus stop certainly wasn’t a perfect protection from the elements.  The howling winds stung as they whipped across his face. 

Tom shrugged off his backpack and settled himself on one of two small plastic seats against the shelter’s single wall.  ‘125 to Southfields - 7 minutes’ confirmed the digital display affixed to the roof.  A small mercy, he thought, at least he hadn’t missed his ride home.

‘Thud’, ‘thud’, ‘thud’.  The pounding on the roof intensifies, interspersed with deep rumbles of thunder.  Hail stones as large as marbles smash into the pavement all around.  What was going on with this weather?

A shadow looms to his left.  Squinting through the haze he sees a figure approaching.  A large black umbrella quivers in the wind, obscuring its holder from view.  As the new arrival reaches the threshold of the bus stop a particularly fierce gust rips the umbrella from their grasp and carries it off into the distance.

The umbrella’s former owner is a young woman, in her late 20s if Tom had to guess.  A cascade of wavy red hair frames a pretty face.  Or, he reconsiders, what would have probably been a pretty face were it not for the thick layer of chub surrounding it. 

This girl was chunky.  Very chunky.  A generous pair of tits rest atop a wobbly belly, poorly contained beneath a strained and sodden jumper.  A greedy gut bulges over the waistband of her jeans, into which are packed two thunderous legs.  Lumps and bumps of cellulite are visible through the tightly stretched fabric, like overstuffed sausages close to bursting their casing.

Tom had never been into fatties, and if he had to guess this newcomer was at least 150 pounds north of good-looking. 

She catches his eye and breathes a heavy sigh of relief.  “I thought for a minute I’d get blown away too!”.  It would take gale force winds to lift that fat arse off the ground, Tom thinks, but he keeps this to himself and murmurs in agreement. 

The beached whale waddles towards the spare seat beside him.  Tom’s eyes dart nervously to her bulbous thighs.  He wonders if the cheap plastic seat will support her considerable heft.  The bolts attaching it to the wall creak and groan as she gingerly sits down, but mercifully hold.  A fat cheek overflows from her seat and presses into his thigh, soft and warm.

They sit in silence for a minute or two, watching the storm steadily worsen from their modest shelter.  

Another rumble of thunder, this time from right beside him.  Turning, Tom catches the woman’s cheeks flush red with embarrassment.  Her belly gurgles again, loud and angry.  “Sorry”, she mumbled bashfully, “I’m so hungry.  Didn’t manage to grab lunch today.  I feel a little feint...”. 

Loathe as he was to enable her evidently poor diet in the same way that he did with his mother’s, the idea of this behemoth feinting and collapsing onto him wasn’t exactly appealing either.  He reached into his backpack and procured a brown McDonald’s bag containing that day’s leftovers. “Please”, he insisted, pressing it into her hands, “rather you than me.  I’m trying to watch my weight”.  He patted his belly, feeling it jiggle awkwardly for a moment afterwards. 

Relief washed over the woman’s cherubic face.  “Oh, you’re too kind!”, she called back over the ever worsening winds.  They exchanged names - hers was Jennifer.  She peered into the bag and licked her plump lips greedily.  Clearly her lardy arse approved of his unhealthy offering.  

Sausages fingers descend into the bag and reappear with a greasy burger in their grip.  As Jennifer’s mouth opened wide a thick double chin grows a temporary third companion.  Tom watched, transfixed, as she gobbled down the burger and then set to work on a dozen McNuggets. 

He thought he’d established the source of her obvious weight problem.  If only this piggy had been waiting at the bus stop to snuffle down all the fast food he’d previously brought home, Tom considered.  The extra padding insulating his middle would be around her own instead.  Would she even notice another 30 pounds spread over her vast wobbling body?  Somehow he doubted it.

‘Crash!’.  A hail stone the size of a grapefruit smashed to the ground directly ahead.  Tom wrenched his attention away from his grazing companion and watched aghast as the storm intensifies.  The skies darken suddenly, reducing visibility even further.  The dim glow emitted from the small digital display above quickly becoming their best and only light source.

‘Crack!’, the bus stop’s Plexiglas roof begins to splinter under the strain.  Tom stands, pressing his back into the shelter.  He felt the structure quivering ominously in the wind and wonders how long it will hold. 

A pudgy hand grasps his own.  Looking down he sees Jennifer’s frightened face staring back at him, wide-eyed and helpless.  The remaining nuggets have dropped to the floor, bouncing around as they are picked up by the wind.  He calls out to her, but can’t hear his own voice over the drumbeat of wind against his ears.

The last thing Tom remembered was a brilliant flash of lighting striking the ground just ahead of them.  The forked burst of energy blasted him off his feet, slamming back into the shelter with a sickening crunch as the world fades to darkness...

[vigilante]

Chapter 2:  The Sister

“Beep, beep, beep”.  Tom rolled over with a groan.  The morning after a late shift was always a struggle, and today, it appeared, was no exception.

He groped bleary eyed for his phone, accidentally knocking it onto the floor.  The alarm continued, loud and annoying, if slightly muffled by the mattress now separating them.

“Fine, fine, I’ll get up..”, he moaned to no one in particular. 

Tom swung his legs out of bed.  He glanced sleepily at the large free-standing mirror opposite and took himself in.

His bruises had all but disappeared four weeks on, but the memory of that strange incident at the bus stop remained fresh in his mind.  He’d been knocked out cold by the lightning strike, coming to only when a kind passer-by had noticed him sprawled on the pavement and rushed to his aid.  By that time his red-headed companion had already disappeared.  He’d forked-out a few quid for an Uber home to nurse his wounds.

Tom’s light blonde hair had been styled overnight by his pillow into an impressive Mohawk.  Beneath this tousled mop sat a pair of tired blue eyes, dazed and demanding another 15 minute snooze.  He studied his face critically, noting his increasingly rounded chin.  He couldn’t even hide it underneath a bushy beard, being incapable of growing any more than a few pathetic wisps of facial hair. 

The resolution to eat better at work had lasted all of two days, after which the 21 year old had slipped back into his regular routine.  Tom placed a hand on his bulging gut and sighed.  He’d really let himself go.

He groaned as he heaved himself off his bed. 

After recovering his phone and turning off the alarm Tom wrapped a towel around his middle and stumbled out into the upstairs hall, towards the shower.  The family bathroom was a short walk down the hall, on the left opposite his mother’s room.  Groggily he groped for the handle and stepped inside.

“Ummmm, have you ever, like, you know, heard of knocking?”, his sister’s moody voice snapped at him suddenly.  Heart pounding, Tom lifted his gaze.

He noticed her pyjamas first - an airy silk two-piece sprawled in a heap right next to his feet.  Just ahead of this a large bath towel was discarded across the cool stone tiles.  He gulped nervously.

His sister Penelope was facing away from him, applying her makeup in the steamy bathroom mirror, naked as the day she was born.  Two impossibly smooth legs snake up to a perfect set of hips, supported by a plump round bubble butt.  Penny measured an impressive 6 foot at full height, much taller than his modest 5’ 8”.  Long limbs draped over the sink, she bends lower, momentarily flashing her pussy between her legs.  Tom chokes on his words.  “I… uhhh… sorry”.

Penny groaned disapprovingly, put down her mascara brush, and turned to face him.  Tom’s eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to her generous bosom, a hefty pair of double-Ds that belied her otherwise toned frame.  Ever since his sister turned 18 he’d been hoping to catch a glimpse of her in the flesh.  Now the moment had come it was all he could do to stop his rock hard member from blowing there and then.

“Uhhh, up here…”, she sighed, as Tom ripped his gaze away from her milkers and up towards her beautiful angular face.  “God, you’re such a little perv”, she concluded.  Penny strode towards the door, tits bouncing violently with every heavy step.  Tom panicked, too focused on her swaying udders, and pressed himself against the door frame, trying to make room for her to pass.  Unfortunately his burgeoning gut was in the way, forcing her to squeeze past, their bodies pressed into one another.  He felt her warm soft tits squish into his own flabby chest, her hand brushed innocently against his crotch, “mmmmmmm, oh god…”, was all he could moan.

It took Penny a few seconds to force herself past.  She turned back, disgust etched into her high cheekbones.  “Pathetic”, she spat, grabbing a handful of Tom’s belly and giving it a harsh shake, “just like our sow of a mother”.  Tom groaned again certain he’d blow this time.  Power play and humiliation were his kink kryptonite - he loved the feeling of being completely at the mercy of another person.  Thankfully for his boxers Penny released her grip and sauntered away before he reached the point of no return.  He watched her round cheeks all the way down the hall until they disappeared into her room.

Tom stumbled breathlessly towards the shower.  He came after just five short pumps, emptying his load all over the basin.  Penny’s tits were still fresh in his mind, and he imagined her smothering him under their heavy load.

Once out and dried Tom made for the door.  He stopped short, eyes caught by the silver scales nestled in the corner of the room.  Morbidly curious he stepped on.  ‘212 pounds’, their reply. 

He shook his head mournfully.  That was 15 pounds more than he’d been just a few months ago.  This weight problem was really getting out of hand.

Once dressed Tom made for the fridge to grab some breakfast before setting into an afternoon of gaming and jerking - in no particular order.  He walked down the hall, reached for the banister, and made his way downstairs.  As he neared the ground floor he heard raised voices coming from the kitchen.

“…and you wonder why you can only fit into sweatpants nowadays?  There’s more calories in this shake than I’ll eat all day”.  That was Penny’s unmistakable bark, likely directed towards his poor mother.  Tom quickened his pace.

As he rounded the door to the kitchen he saw his sister standing imposingly over mother, who was slumped dejectedly in one of their dining room chairs. 

Mother’s descent into gluttony was on certainly on display this morning.  A pasty white gut bulged through the gap between her too small vest-top and too tight sweats, both of which hadn’t fit comfortably for about 30 pounds.  A thick roll of meaty flesh flopped onto her lap, spilling out across her tree-trunk legs.  There was no denying it now - mother was quickly approaching reality-TV levels of fatness, which may yet see her confined to her bed, trapped under an ever growing mountain of flab.

Penny’s lean frame towers above her, holding what must be the offending breakfast shake in her hand.  Mother squirms, the two chairs she’s sitting on - one for each vast ass-cheek - creak ominously.  “I’ve told you how to eat right and shift that whale-blubber but you just won’t listen.  Dad was right to leave your fat ass”, she spat cruelty placing the shake on the table in front of mother, “he deserves better than a sow like you for a wife.  Speaking of which, he’s taking me out shopping this afternoon.  He wants my advice on what lingerie to buy his new girlfriend, and I get a whole new wardrobe out of it!”.  She lent forwards and patted her mother’s belly patronisingly.  “Enjoy stuffing your face until I get home”.

With that Penny strutted out of the room, pausing only for a split-second to shoot Tom a scathing look as she left.  He shuddered, the memory of the morning’s events still raw and humiliating.   The sound of the front door slamming shut echoed through the house. 

Finally, some peace and quiet, Tom thought, but first to console his poor mother…

“She… she’s just…”, he stammered, unsure quite how the sentence was going to end.  Mother’s lips quiver as a single tear falls down her plump cheek.  She pops the lip off the milkshake and chugs down the viscous liquid in frenzied gulps.  A few seconds later all that remains is a thick dribble down her chin.  She bursts into tears.

“She’s right!”, mother wails, her chins wobbling with the beats of her chest as she cries, “I’m a hopeless pig!  I weighed myself this morning and I’m up to 380 pounds!”.  She attempts to stand, legs struggling to support the years of overeating.  Tom rushes to her aid, supporting a soft ham-like underarm as she struggles upright.  A significant effort given her size.

Without warning she wraps her arms around him and squeezes in a tight embrace.  His chubby body sinks deep into her morbidly obese one.  Warm blubber envelopes him on all sides, a fleshy bed soft enough to sleep on.  Wandering hands awkwardly gripping her exposed and overflowing hips for support.  ‘So fat…’, he thought, ‘I shouldn’t have enabled her… it’s my fault she’s almost immobile… it’s my fault… if only there was some way…’.

And then the strangest thing happened.  As Tom’s mind wandered to the possibility of slimming down his mother’s considerable bulk, his hands started to burn red hot.  He couldn’t explain how, but he felt his mother shrink ever so slightly beneath his palms, whilst simultaneously his own belly bulged uncomfortably against the waistband of his already overstretched shorts.  He could feel himself… absorbing her fat.

Tom released his grip and jumped back from his mother, heart pounding so loudly in his chest that he was sure she could hear it.  She looked at him confused - she didn’t appear to have noticed what just happened.  Likely far too fat to miss a few buttery pounds.  “I…. errr…”, he stuttered, before making his excuses and hurrying upstairs into the family bathroom.  He locked the door behind him and made his way to the scales, heart pounding in his chest.  They creaked alarmingly as he stepped on and he peered around his belly to see the damage.  ‘223 pounds’. 

Tom staggered off the scales, clutching a nearby wall for support.  “That’s… not possible”, he mumbled, unable to come to terms with his sudden 11 pound weight gain compared with 15 minutes prior.  There is a loud ‘ping!’ as the top button flies of his shorts into the shower door.  A soft pale belly oozes out of his shorts, forcing down the zipper and settling on his crotch, visibly fatter.  He poked it nervously, feeling his finger sink deep into the weighty spare tyre. 

The rest of the day was a distracted blur.  Tom squeezed into the only pair of sweats that would fit, ran some errands for his mother, and tried to keep calm in the face of his newfound powers.  By the time night fell and the rest of the house was sound asleep, Tom crept half-naked from his room and down the upstairs landing, towards his sister’s room.  He’d spent the day considering his new ability, and wanted to test the limits of his abilities…

Penny was fast asleep, surrounded by Victoria’s Secret bags, snoring loudly - knocked out cold by a cocktail of wine and spirits from her boozy afternoon with dad.  Even in the darkness he could make out her naked body sprawled across her mattress, covers thrown off and legs askew.  Tom crept towards the foot of her bed.  He winced as a floorboard creaked loudly underfoot, but mercifully Penny didn’t stir.

Pinching her big toe, the easiest exposed piece of flesh he could safely make out, Tom collected his thoughts and focused intently on a single, solitary idea - transferring weight from himself to his sister.  It took a few moments, but sure enough his fingertips seared red hot and he felt his snug boxer shorts ease up quite considerably.  His sister, meanwhile, was developing the slightest of belly pooches as her gut expanded outwards.  By no means fat, but not quite the chiselled Amazonian goddess she had been a few moments before.

Tom’s boxers started to fill up again, this time with a throbbing erection.  He was getting off on this - a slippery slope, he thought to himself, before forcing a hand down their front and stroking silently until he blew his load all over the inside.  Sticky but satisfied, he crept back to his room, wondering how his sister would react come daybreak.

But the following morning a most curious thing happened.  The rarest of sights - all three members of the family huddled together without insults flying or raised voices.  They were silently transfixed on the television, or more specifically, the breaking news broadcast that had interrupted a particularly dull episode of ‘Homes Under The Hammer’. 

“…almost overnight here in the UK’s capital, and in response Boris Johnson has called a meeting of the government’s emergency response cabinet COBRA.  We’re expecting a statement from the prime-minister and the defence secretary at around 11am…”. 

The feed cuts from the polished BBC news reporter to a shaky mobile phone recording - ‘eyewitness footage’.  People are running, shouting, from some unseen threat in the distance.  The cameraman stops behind a car and focuses just long enough to capture a person flying into shot, elevated ten feet above the ground and glowing yellow.  More screaming and shouting, and what looks like smoke rising in the background.  Without warning a beam of light explodes from their hand and slices the car in the foreground clean in two.  The camera falls to the floor and the footage cuts out.

“Super-powered wreak havoc in London”, scrolls across the bottom of the screen.  Tom gulped nervously.

[vigilante]

Chapter 3:  The Arrangement

Twelve months after the news first broke, superpowers had become so commonplace in London as to seem almost banal. 

The link to that freak storm had been established early on.  Scientists reasoned that anyone caught in the vicinity of a lightening blast on that fateful day had awoken with powers somehow related to what they were doing at the time.  An athlete blessed with super speed, an on-duty paramedic that could heal wounds with her touch.  Powers great and small were cropping up in the most unexpected of places.  Some a blessing and others a curse.

Tom had kept his mouth well and truly shut about his own run in with the storm.  The government was already murmuring about emergency laws needed to keep the super-powered in check, and he certainly wasn’t about to get himself shipped off to some Guantanamo Bay style facility for the extraordinarily abled.

That said, he hadn’t stopped experimenting within the safety of his own home. 

Tom’s powers, he’d concluded, were overall pretty decent, with just one major design flaw.  He could transfer any amount of fat from another person to himself, or vice versa, in a matter of seconds, simply by touching their bare skin.  The person’s body would immediately adapt to the loss or addition of blubber, skin shrinking or stretching accordingly.  The first time he’d proved this he’d waited until mother was knocked out cold and then temporarily slimmed her all the way down to a snoring size 16 - her supple skin tight around her plump tits and ass, without even the slightest indication she’d been a wobbling behemoth moments before.  He’d also learned how to target the area of weight gain and loss, for either party, leaving his body sculpting powers greater than that of the most decorated plastic surgeon.

Unfortunately, he always had to act as the middle man in these fat transactions, and as he stared down at mother’s fit form it was over the crest of a vast belly attached to a wobbling 400 pound body.  He couldn’t even reach his cock to stroke himself.  A major drawback, but not an insurmountable one - he just always needed an onward vessel to complete the chain…

Tom’s piercing alarm woke him roughly from an otherwise peaceful and pleasant slumber.  It was Saturday, which meant he had an early shift at McDonald’s starting in around 30 minutes.  It had been a late night down the rabbit-hole of edging porn, which had culminated in a virtual mistress instructing Tom to blow his load into a handful of Kleenex, which after 4 hours of build-up hadn’t been a particularly tall order.

He swung his legs out of bed and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror.  He looked… good.  A full 50 pounds had slipped off his body over the last year or so, leaving him with a little bit of timber around his middle but otherwise fit and healthy.  He sprung out of bed, grabbed a towel, and headed towards the shower.

No sooner had he turned the corner out of his room than Tom bumped into his mother walking in the opposite direction.   She was carrying a lurid pink yoga mat under one arm.  “Oh, sorry darling”, she said sweetly, “in a world of my own!”.  The workout gear she was wearing was damp with sweat, and her flush cheeks and tousled hair suggested that she’d just finished another of her intense Zumba classes.

Mother had lost about 150 pounds in the last 12 months.  Only half of these could be attributed to his supernatural interventions.  Spurred on by the first few pounds shed, she’d taken up all sorts of intense physical exercise, as well as kicked her bad eating habits in favour of a healthy vegan lifestyle.  She was still a fair bit overweight, but Tom couldn’t have been more pleased - he hadn’t seen his mother this happy in years.

‘Thud, thud, thud’.  Tom turns to look at Penny’s bedroom door.  Something loud was echoing from the other side.  He tip-toed over with mother following behind and gently pushed open the door.

A most pleasant sight greeted them on the other side.  His sister was hunched over, fingers clasped around the belt loops on her Levi jeans, as she tried desperately to force them over her thunderous thighs. 

Penny had been the unknowing recipient of Tom’s powers for over a year now, and the effects on her figure had been significant to say the least.  He’d pumped 75 pounds or so of fat onto her once toned body, turning the Amazonian goddess into quite the heifer. 

The weight had primarily settled around her ass and hips, with two vast saddlebags weighing her down and forcing her walk into an awkward fat girl waddle at all times.  Her thick bubble butt outgrew it’s clothing with such regularity that more often than not she’d wander around the house in just her panties, the soft ‘slap, slap, slap’ of her mammoth ass cheeks an early warning indicator of her arrival.

At first she’d tried desperately to shift the pounds, but Tom could pile them on faster than she could burn them off, and before long she’d given into her new life as a fatty.  More than once he’d snuck down in the middle of the night to see his sister plopped in front of the fridge chowing down on a chocolate dessert.  The day’s leftovers from work were now solely Penny’s to devour, both he and mother having bowed out in favour of their new healthy living regimes.  Tom made sure to keep the fridge well stocked with the unhealthiest offerings his work could provide.

Safe to say, Penny was a little touchy about the subject.

She jumps up and down as she attempts to force the jeans over her enormous cottage-cheese thighs - clearly the source of the mysterious noises from moments before.  Her elephantine ass shakes and wobbles violently like jelly in an earthquake, barely contained in a pair of lace panties.  Unfortunately this appeared to be a fruitless effort.  His sister’s thighs bulge obscenely over the waistband as she admits defeat.

“Having trouble there sis?”, Tom asks, “want me to grab some butter to grease you up a bit?  Though you’d probably just eat it instead, right?”.  Penny spins around, almost knocking herself off-balance with the jeans still stuck two-thirds up her thighs.  A hanging belly jiggles into view, largely obscuring the front of her frilly panties.  Her t-shirt has been forced into a crop-top by the growing gut beneath.  She splutters incoherently, face a deep beetroot.

“Perhaps you can borrow a pair of my old jeans dear?”, his mother chips in with a grin, “they’re too small for me now but I think you might just squeeze into them”.  She’d rather taken to teasing her only daughter for her ever deepening weight problem.  Payback for the years of cutting comments no doubt.

Penny finally finds her voice.  “Out!  Out both of you!”.  They step out of the room in fits of giggles as Penny waddles awkwardly to the door and slams it shut.

“I couldn’t help myself”, mother sniggers, “though I suppose I shouldn’t joke.  At the rate she’s blowing up we’ll have a TLC film crew knocking on the door in a couple of years.  Half-tonne daughter!”.  With that mother strode away, still giggling to herself like a naughty schoolgirl.

- - - -

Tom arrived at work a couple of minutes late, the bus having been characteristically late.  He wished he had enough money for a half-decent car, but with his measly wage and bills to pay he wasn’t left with much at the end of the month.  He snuck into the back-room just in time for his manager to chew him out loudly in front of the rest of his greasy spotty-faced colleagues for his tardiness.  There were times when super strength or laser eyes felt like particularly desirable powers - now was one of them.

After a hasty change into his McDonald’s uniform he was behind the till taking orders.  Another dreary day of serving the great unwashed.  Entirely unremarkable.  That was until one particular customer waddled through the fast-food restaurant’s doors.

“… and why shouldn’t I have the new model for my birthday?  I told daddy I’ve outgrown the Mercedes and need something a little classier, you know?”.  Tom looked up curiously for the source of the shrill and entitled voice.  It wasn’t hard to find.

Lumbering towards him was a behemoth of a girl, well over 400 pounds if he had to guess, wearing a tight summer dress that did nothing to hide the blubbery whale beneath.  Her calves quiver and shake with every step, as two enormous trunks attempt to manoeuvre around one another with difficulty.  A bloated gut strains the buttons running up the front of the dress, which was clearly purchased quite a few BigMac’s ago, such that Tom can see her soft tanned flesh bursting through around her lower belly.  Her face is very pretty, and somewhere beneath the chubby cheeks and double chin there was more than likely a well-defined jawline hidden from the world by years of overindulging.  And she must have started young - she could only be 18 or so.

Tom had seen her type before - young, rich, spoilt, and grossly overweight.  Waited on hand and foot by doting parents, likely an only-child, and given every opportunity in life with no need for self-control.  They usually plumped up to round little things by the time they went to secondary school and then went one of two ways - vapid narcissism combined with an underlying eating disorder slims them down to the standard insipid posh bitch you’d see around High Street Kensington way, or they simply double down on their bad eating habits and balloon into enormous wobbling monstrosities.  This one had clearly plumped for the latter.

The girl approaches the counter.  A mobile phone is clutched in one of her puffy hands as she talks loudly into a pair of AirPods poking out from her flowing golden locks.  “I know right, it’s like, totally not on.  Anyway I’m uhhhh, I’m at the salad bar, I’ve got to go… Okay, love you too hun”.  ‘The salad bar?’, Tom thinks to himself, this fine establishment was many things, but a salad bar was most certainly not one of them.  Perhaps this one was a little insecure about her excess adipose?

Upon reaching the counter, the girl barks, a little breathlessly, “I’ll have a double quarter pounder with cheese, two large fries… a supersized chocolate milkshake… and an Oreo McFlurry.  And you know what?  Make it supersized”.  Quite the order.  But Tom supposed this girl could probably handle her snacks.  He processes the order and waits as his colleagues behind rush to prepare her gluttonous feast.

He breaks the silence.  “So… uhhhh, salad bar?”.  The girl’s horty facade falters for a moment.  She looks away shamefully, and then back with rosey cheeks.

“Oh… my friend, she’s, uhhhhh, she’s a yoga instructor and she’s always banging on about healthy eating and vegans.  I want to lose weight, and I will, it’s just… girl’s gotta eat”.  She shrugs her ham-like arms, two soft bingo wings flapping against her generous side boob.

This piques Tom’s interest.  He glances over his shoulder - her meal was almost ready.  Leaning in closer, he speaks in hushed tones.  “Look, if its quick weight loss you’re interested in I may be able to help you.  For a price”.  He’d thought about this before, of course, though had never had the stones to admit his powers to another person.  But flipping burgers wasn’t exactly paying the bills, and he didn’t want to work here forever, right?

The girl frowns at him.  There’s a greedy curiosity behind her eyes.  “How quick?”.

Tom smiles.  “I can’t speak here.  If you’re interested then eat your food and meet me out back in 10 minutes.  It’s a service area no one ever uses except me”.  She thinks for a moment before nodding curtly.  Her heavily laden tray arrives moments later.

Slipping out of the service exit a few minutes later Tom was brimming with nervous excitement.  Was he really about to go through with this?  The girl was already waiting, sipping on the last of her supersized milkshake - itself more calories than most people would eat in a single meal.  The buttons on her dress looked even more strained than they had a few minutes before.

“So…”, Tom begins, unsure quite where to start, “I can, errrr, well I can transfer weight.  Fat I mean.  From another person to myself, and the other way around.  You must weigh, what, 400 pounds?”. 

The girls frowns, cheeks rouge, “435”, she corrects him.  Quite the butter-ball.

“Oh, sorry… but you’re about my height, so a healthy weight would be around… 120?  Well, I’ll take 315 pounds off your hands for… £10,000?”.  He rushed the last bit, struggling to get out the significant sum he was quoting for this most unique of services.  He’d thought about it ever since she’d waddled away earlier on.  Clearly she was wealthy, daddy’s money was no object, so why not start the negotiations high?

She considers for a moment, eyes narrowing in thought.  “Prove it”.

Tom beckoned for her hand, grasped her pudgy fingers, and thought about fat flowing between them.  He certainly wasn’t about to take it all, but figured he’d stop the process when his elasticated work pants felt a little snug.  Almost immediately he felt his powers working, as sure enough his belly bulged against his waistband, as his body filled out once again with lard.  He let go just as the first seams started to break.

The girl had done well from the encounter.  Though still very clearly morbidly obese, her belly no longer poked through her the buttons on her dress, and based on a quick inspection of his body Tom would guess he’d taken about 50 pounds off of her.  She was almost speechless.  “I… how… but you…”, she splutters, lifting up his shirt to gently prod at his flabby gut - her flab until a few moments ago.  She finds her voice.  “Do it. Take it all. I’ll give you your £10,000.  Just do it”, she pants, the greedy glint back in her eyes.

“Tomorrow, here at 4 o’clock”, Tom replies resolutely, “I need to make some preparations first.  A change of clothes for my new size - you’ll need one too - and somewhere I can transfer the weight onto afterwards”.  He hadn’t yet worked out where the weight would actually go on its onward journey - he certainly wasn’t intending to keep it, and piling it all on Penny, though fun, might raise her suspicions a little too high.  “And I’ll need it in cash, okay?”.

The girl nods fervently.  “Yes, yes, fine, but I’m not doing it here in some squalid back alley.  Come to my house when you’re done here - 12 Elmbrook Grove, overlooking Richmond Park.  You can leave the onward transfer to me, I have an idea that should work for both of us.  The name’s Annabelle by the way.  Nice to meet you, errrrmm…”.

“Tom”, Tom volunteers in response, “okay, see you then”.  Emboldened by the adrenaline coursing through his veins he gently pats Annabelle on her belly as he passes.  She giggles playfully.

The next day couldn’t come soon enough.  Tom had snuck home, shouting excuses about feeling tired as he hurried upstairs to his room, away from prying eyes.  He’d stayed put that evening, eating a bag of greasy leftovers that he’d taken home from work as he played his PS5 into the early hours.  When in Rome, right? 

- - - -

Tom waited until he heard the front door slamming shut next morning, which signalled his mother and sister’s departure - they were going dress fitting for Cousin Kate’s wedding, something given Penny’s recent weight gain he’d very much liked to have been a fly on the wall for.  Any other day he might have snuck along too.

He hurried off to work.  He arrived just before his shift and was ready and waiting at the till before his manager could even think to start another shouting match.  The day passed unremarkably.  When the clock struck 4pm he hurried outside and grabbed a bus towards Richmond.

The long winding drive to Annabelle’s house was even more impressive than Tom had imagined.  Beyond an enormous pair of ornate cast-iron gates, which opened graciously after he provided his name to the security guard manning them, was a sweeping path lined by towering old oaks as tall as giants.  The house itself was similarly resplendent, with four floors and as many wings.  A Victorian Manor House befitting a Duke of the day.

Tom turned right before reaching the main house’s entrance, as he’d been directed by the security guard, and instead made his way through a wooded path to another smaller but equally impressive building nestled deeper in the estate.  The ageing wooden door to this building was hanging slightly ajar.  He pushed it open and walked into a stunning modern home.  A floating glass staircase spiralled up to the second storey straight ahead.  And was that an infinity pool he could see in the distance?

As he marvelled at a level of wealth and luxury he’d only dreamed of, Annabelle waddled downstairs with a Louis Vuitton shopping bag in hand.  She was wearing a pair of dangerously skin-tight jeans and low cut vest top, which showed off her generous hanging assets. Nestled between her upper arm fat and side boob was a brown paper package.  Tom’s heart skipped a beat.

“You came!”, she squeals excitedly, “here’s your fee”.  She hands over the bag.  Inside is a thick bundle of £50 notes.  Tom had never seen so much money in his entire life.  Annabelle takes his hand and walks him through the house towards a secluded room at the back.  “Now.  You’ve got your money.  Make me skinny”.

This was all very rushed.  Tom suspected that Annabelle was used to getting what she wanted.  Still, she’d kept up her end of the bargain.  “Okay, I just need to take these off”, he said gesturing to his work clothes, “they’ll only burst off anyway once I activate my power”.  He quickly slipped himself out of his clothes, and turned back to see that Annabelle had done this same!  Thankfully her hanging paunch covered her pussy from view, but he couldn’t miss her fat melons resting atop her wobbly belly, or the other 400 pounds of her jiggling excitedly in front of him.  “I… uhhh… you could probably have kept yours on for now.  They only have… oh well, I doesn’t really matter”, he stammered, taking her pudgy hand.

His palm burned hot and the weight began to transfer.  The enormous girl started to shrink before his eyes.  Her hips receded, arms tightened, face shrank.  Every part of her body was losing the thick cushion of jiggling fat she’d supported previously.  Tom meanwhile could feel himself blowing up.  He’d never taken on this much weight before and was nervous about how his body would take it.  Already his legs were forcing each other into a wider stance as the space in between filled up with blubber, and he could feel his entire body sagging under its new heft.

Sure enough, a striking jawline was making a tentative appearance on Annabelle’s face, as her mammoth tits receded like the sea at low tide into a set of delicious double-ds.  Her stomach was almost flat now.  Legs pockmarked by only a smattering of cellulite.  Tom had to finish the process at exactly the right time… now!

He released his hand and staggered backwards.  Annabelle was… stunning.  Toned, tanned, a few curves but not an ounce of excess pudge on her body.  Her long blonde hair tickles the top of a generous set of perky tits, which sit above a flat stomach and two toned pins.  Even her peachy ass had just the right amount of curve.  Tom immediately stood to attention.

Or at least, he imagine he did, as looking down he was greeted by a vast ocean of fat and not a cock or even his feet in sight.  Weighing in at somewhere around 500 pounds Tom was by far the largest he’d ever been.  The fat had distributed across his body evenly, leaving every part of him bloated and puffy.  He ran his hands down his chest, across a pair of tits that we’re far bigger than the beauty stood in front of him.  He tried to grope downstairs but could not reach his fat pad around his bulbous gut.

Annabelle’s shrill voice cut across his daydream.  “It worked!  It actually worked!”.  She was almost jumping for joy, hands running up and down her perfect body, inspecting every inch.  She cupped her tits, traced the curve of her ass, attempted in vein to pinch an inch of her washboard stomach.  “Thank you… thank you!”, she sang with glee, rushing in for a hug. 

Tom felt her body sink into his overflowing flesh.  Her hip pressed into his fat pad.  He shuddered with pleasure.  “Careful big boy”, she giggled, pinching his hip playfully, “I don’t want you getting too excited before we’ve finished proceedings.  I’m going to pop some clothes on before you blow your load”.

He nodded bashfully, watching transfixed as Annabelle snaked her hips into a low cut shirt.  When robed, Annabelle tapped on her phone, and moments later two people walked into the room.

The first was an old well-dressed gentlemen.  He carried a leather portfolio in one hand and a briefcase in the other.  His silver hair was as distinguished as his tailored suit.  A lawyer perhaps? 

The second looked almost as out of place as Tom felt.  A wide-eyed Asian girl of about 18, wearing a scruffy dress and a nervous look.  “I trust everything is in order Toby?”, Annabelle asked the elderly man.

“Yes miss, most certainly”, he replied in the most perfect queen’s English Tom had heard outside of royal interviews, “Miss Patel has reviewed and signed both the contract and non-disclosure agreement.  I can see that the process worked as you had hoped.  Shall we conclude?”.

“Quite”, Annabelle agrees smartly.  She turns to Tom, “Miss Patel is the cousin of one of my housekeepers.  I was made aware of a financial challenge she was facing and proposed a mutually beneficial arrangement.  Our family lawyer Toby has worked up a contract for an exchange of goods and services - discretely of course - and we’re all ready to proceed when you are”. 

Tom nodded, dumbstruck by the formality and efficiency of the process.  How the other half lived, he supposed.  Taking the nervous girl’s hand he focused his energy and, sure enough, soon felt the weight passing between them.  The girl’s dress ripped and tore as a tsunami of blubber poured onto her previously waif-like frame.  Jowls sagged, chins jiggled, and before Tom knew it he was as thin as he’d ever been - barely an ounce of fat left on his body.  The same could not be said for poor Miss Patel, who teetered unsteadily on two enormous sausage legs, above which sat a set of 80 inch hips and rolls upon rolls of thick belly blubber.  500 pounds of naked lard, she poked and prodded her new body with a stunned expression.

That was, until Annabelle’s lawyer opened up the briefcase and presented her with a vast pile of cash.  “£50,000 as agreed Miss Patel”.  Her eyes briefly grew as wide as her stomach as she looked over her small fortune.  Annabelle handed her a pile of some of her old, now far too large, clothes.  When eventually squeezed into them the girl took the briefcase, a copy of the signed contract, and lumbered towards the door with the support of the aged lawyer.

“£50,000!”, Tom whispered indignantly, “you only gave me ten!”.

“You only asked for ten”, Annabelle reminded him, “besides, you have to admit that the impact on poor Miss Patel is a little more… heavy, don’t you think?”.  Tom considered.  The young girl wheezed and panted as she waddled out of the room. 

“Fair enough”, he conceded bitterly.

“Besides, I think you undercharged me.  I think you could quite easily ten, fifteen, even twenty times as much for the right client.  And I certainly have the right connections into the high-society types that have that sort of cash and the fat to burn.  My mother for one could do with a bit of the Tom treatment”.  She runs a finger gently down his chest.  “I take after her in the weight department.  Or at least, I used to”, she winks.  “You could operate discretely from here - I have an outbuilding that would make the perfect little clinic - and I’ll secure a steady supply of ‘Miss Patel’s’ that are happy to take a heavy gut in exchange for heavy briefcase.  With the right price, and after my finder’s fees of course, you could have quite the money making operation.  So what do you say?”.

Ton considered.  It all sounded… too good to be true?  He barely knew this girl, and was loathe to expose his powers to a wider audience than necessary, but… he’d also spent a year failing to find any useful application for them other than tormenting his fat little sister, and with the prospect of a future career flipping burgers… “Deal”.  They shook hands triumphantly.

“Now”, Annabelle continued, “you’re welcome to head off if you have somewhere to be.  Or you could stay for a celebratory drink, dip and dinner?”.  She nods towards a bottle of champagne, the infinity pool, and Tom’s leftover McDonald’s bag in sequence. 

Tom blinked stupidly.  “Ummm, sure, but I didn’t bring any swimming gear…”.

Annabelle flashes back a cheeky grin, “I’ve just lost 350 pounds.  Neither do I…”.

- - - -

The infinity pool’s water was a particularly pleasant temperature on the otherwise cool afternoon.  Tom swam to its glass edge through softly rising steam and surveyed the estate beyond.  The property was about as large as you could get so close to the centre of London - outside of the royalty of the day of course.  Protected by a high brick wall and even taller birch trees, the garden was a quiet sanctuary in the beating heart of the great city.

A soft splash from behind him indicted Annabelle’s arrival.  He turned to see her blonde hair whip out of the water as she came up for breath.  The water drips down her hair onto her chest.  Soft but full breasts completed by a pair of puffy nipples.  It’s too much for Tom, who squirms as he begins to get hard.

She smiles and hands him a glass of champagne from the side of the pool.  The pair drink and chat until one bottle is empty and another is dangerously close.  It transpired that though entitled, posh, and most certainly spoilt, Tom actually had more in common with Annabelle than he’d expected.  They shared the same taste in music, were both blue blooded conservatives, and shared a thorough distaste for salads, among a great many other things.  Tom thought that there was perhaps a lesson here about books, judging, and covers, but decided that the best time for introspection was not at the bottom of a champagne flute.

As the sun dipped below the tallest of the trees in the distance she tapped a mysterious button by the side of the pool.  A few minutes later a smartly dressed maid opened the folding doors from the kitchen holding a large silver platter.  Tom winced and jumped atop one of the pool’s underwater bar stools, angling himself to hide his modesty.  Between the booze and good chat he’d almost forgotten that he was still stark bollock naked.

The maid places the tray down and retreats back inside.  “I reasoned that we’d want something hearty to eat after all the excitement today”, Annabelle smiled, lifting up the lid to reveal a selection of greasy goodies.  A double quarter-pounder with cheese, 12 nuggets, three large fries, two supersized milkshakes, cookies, and an apple pie.

“Sure, but, I guess I thought you’d be on a health kick now.  You know, in-keeping with your hot… I mean, your new body”, he slurred, red-faced and realising quite how quickly the drink had gone to his head. 

Annabelle giggled and moved closer, hoping onto Tom’s lap.  Though buoyed by the water he could feel her soft ass pressing onto his crotch.  He groaned, knowing she could feel his cock pressing into her thigh.  “Don’t be silly!  Quite the opposite.  Meeting you means that now I can eat whatever I want, whenever I want, and still have the perfect body at the end of the day.  I’ll keep feeding you business, and you can keep me in my size 6 jeans even though I’m supersizing every meal from dawn till dusk.  And maybe I’ll give you a little something in return…”.  She swung one leg over Tom and straddled him face to face.  His cock presses into her belly, hard as marble.

“B… but… why?”, he choked, hands unable to resist groping her hips and ass.

“Oh that should be obvious Tommy”, she sighs.  She bites her lower lip and delves her hands under the water.  One clasps his shaft, the other his head.  She circles a manicured nail around the tip, sending waves of pleasure through Tom’s body.  “No one has looked at my like you have today for… well, for my entire life.  I’ve always been the fat little rich girl that people made fun of behind my back.  Now thanks to you I’m better looking than all of them.  And I liked how it felt.  And I’m pretty sure you like how this feels, don’t you?”

She rubs her thumb under the base of his head.  Tom can’t bring himself to speak.  He simply groans in agreement. 

“Exactly, so why not have some casual fun with it?  I’m not looking for a boyfriend or anything - but you scratch my back, and I’ll scratch…”.  She pinches his cock and Tom audibly moans.  “Good boy.  Now, pick up and burger and feed me.  I’m feeling particularly peckish”, she commands, just as she slips his cock into her and begins grinding their bodies together…

[vigilante]

Chapter 4: The Red-Haired Girl

‘Knock, knock, knock’.  Tom swung the large brass handle against the battered old door and waited patiently for an answer.  He hadn’t been back to his mother’s house in a good few weeks, but was here today to play the dutiful son and help her pack the removal truck with her belongings.

Life had gone from strength to strength for mother in the last year or so.  She’d shed a further 120 pounds thanks to a combination of Tom’s sneaky interventions and her own self-determination, and had settled at a curvy size 14.  She didn’t seem to want to lose any more, and was happy in her own skin - which was perfectly taught thanks to his powers.  Tom thought she looked absolutely beautiful.

So, it seemed, did London’s eligible bachelors, as she’d been on a string of dates late last year and then fallen head over heels for a rich 40 year old financier, Sebastian.  She was moving into his Soho penthouse this afternoon, leaving Penny the sole remaining resident of their grim council house.  Tom had upgraded to a sprawling mansion at the start of the year, the profits from his clinic already reaching levels of wealth he could previously only dream of.  He’d spun a line to friends and family about forgotten crypto worth millions that had thankfully gone unchallenged.

Mother answers the door.  She’s wearing a flowery summer dress and a beaming smile.  They embrace on the doorstep.  Tom’s hands rest on her womanly hips.  Still chunky, but at least now not so fat that he can’t feel the bone beneath.

“Oh you’re looking so well darling”, she coos, stepping back to take in his full form, “you’ve been working out I see”.  Tom smiles bashfully - he had been hitting the gym recently, in an effort to build up a bit of bulk now that fat had all but disappeared from his body.  He was rather pleased with the results so far.  “Good, because I’ll need those muscles to load up the truck.  It’s just going to be the two of us as your sister isn’t in any fit state… well, you can see for yourself…”.  She steps aside and ushers Tom across the threshold of the dingy house, through the hall, and into the lounge. 

He notices the discarded pizza boxes first - six pilled unevenly by the door.  The floor is littered with empty crisp packets and chocolate bar wrappers, a graveyard of unhealthy snacks.  Empty plastic takeaway containers obscure most of the glass coffee table, safe for the spot closest to the couch where a space had been haphazardly cleared to make room for a wooden tray laden with the largest fried breakfast Tom had ever seen.

Sat directly in front of the mammoth meal is his sister, Penelope.  The 6 foot tall beauty had fallen spectacularly from grace over the last couple of years, and Tom was pleased to see that she was looking fatter than ever today.

A combination of mother’s blubber plus her own unstoppable gluttony had recently pushed poor Penny into the super morbidly obese category. 

Tom had targeted his transferred fat towards her bottom-half exclusively, which had given Penny an exaggerated pear shape with her weight centred on her ass and thighs.  Penny was plopped in the centre of the couch, surrounded by an ocean of elephantine ass on all sides.  Each of her legs looked like it weighed as much as a normal woman - great cellulite-ridden monstrosities that spilled across the couch.  Her belly was soft with subcutaneous fat, and hung between her legs.  She looked… enormous.  Tom was almost speechless at the sight.

She also, interestingly, wasn’t wearing any clothes.  Two fat sagging tits were on display for the room to see, and though her pussy was well and truly covered by her hanging paunch Tom could see she wasn’t wearing any underwear.  “Ummmm, hey sis”, he said unsurely.

Penny looked up, bored, and replied, “oh, hey bro”, before taking a swig from the large milkshake she was holding in a pudgy hand.

Mother took a seat on the couch next to Penny.  The springs strained under their combined weight.  “Your sister broke her last pair of leggings the other week when she was picking up the milk from the doorstep.  Poor Mr Jones across the road was granted a close up of her big old bottom jiggling back inside, wasn’t he poppet?”.  Mother patted her daughter on the thigh, sending ripples across its vast surface.  “Since then I’ve been so busy seeing Seb and getting ready for the move that I haven’t been able to get out to the store, so Penny’s just been plopped here all day eating whatever I order-in for her.  Though I knew I couldn’t leave before making one last cooked breakfast”. 

So mother was actively enabling Penny’s descent into immobility then, Tom considered - he knew Penny wasn’t getting off her fat ass to cook herself such an elaborate meal.  A case of weight related schadenfreude perhaps?

Mother continued, “she’s even taken a liking to my old morning milkshakes haven’t you poppet?  I guess I’m not the pig of the family any more, hmmm?”.  Mother jiggled Penny’s hip, emphasising how much flesh she could pinch between her fingers.

“I get it mum, I’m fat.  A big hopeless blimp and I shouldn’t have teased you about it back in the day.  Can we drop it now?”, Penny snaps grumpily, heaving her belly in her arms and letting it slap back between her legs for emphasis.  As she does so Tom catches a flash of her bulging pussy, lips fat and engorged like the rest of her

Mother giggles, “oh come on poppet I’m only teasing, you know how much I love you.  And there’s so much to love these days!  To be honest it’s just nice to see that you’re finally enjoying food as much as I used to.  You’ve got your mother’s appetite!  Now eat up, your breakfast is getting cold”. 

Penny finished the final gulp of her shake, belched loudly, and began devouring the unhealthy breakfast mountain.  A dribble of bacon grease drips down her chins and into her cleavage.  She doesn’t appear to care.

Tom steps out of the room as his sister begins to make frenzied snuffling sounds.  Mother closes the door behind them.  “She is such a greedy piggy isn’t she?”, mother whispers excitedly, “I can’t buy clothes fast enough to keep up with her weight.  She’s over 400 pounds now, and with such a big, fat, jiggly bottom!  She’s already broken three of our dining chairs - I have to put out two now, one for each cheek!”.  Tom couldn’t help but laugh at his mother’s exuberance.  She seemed more excited about this than the move.

“I’ve already setup a recurring Deliveroo credit for £200 a week so she can keep herself well fed, and I’ll be bringing over a supply of shakes every Saturday so that she doesn’t have to go hungry over breakfast”, she continued, “I can’t bear the thought of her going hungry”.

“Sure mother”, Tom rolled his eyes, “that’s why you’re doing all this.  It wouldn’t have anything to do with getting you just-desserts now would it?”.  Mother blushed sheepishly and batted his question away with her hand. 

Mother and son laughed all the way down the hall, towards the first of the moving boxes.

- - - -

Tom helped his mother load the last of her things into the moving truck and then waved goodbye as she departed for her new and very well-deserved life.  She’d done her best in difficult circumstances after dad left, and though dirt poor he’d never once questioned her commitment to her children. 

Speaking of which, Tom turned and waved a hearty goodbye to his younger sister, who had managed to extricate herself from the couch and lumber to the door.  Her hips spread the entire width of the doorway, touching the frames on either side.  She gave him the finger and waddled back inside her ramshackle flat.

The drive to Annabelle’s was pleasant enough.  He was waved past the security gate as usual, drove through the estate towards Annabelle’s house, and parked up beside the outbuilding that had become his secretive clinic.  There were already two cars parked-up nearby.  A bright orange Lamborghini sitting alongside a beat-up Ford Fiesta with a 90s plate.  Clearly his first clients of the day were ready and waiting for their appointment. 

The clinic had developed a strong and steady business over the last 12 months since Tom had first slimed down the plump princess herself, Annabelle.  She’d been true to her word, calling upon her enviable black-book to find high society’s most overindulgent gluttons and turning them into paying clients.  Similarly there was never a shortage of cash-strapped service workers desperate to exchange their physical beauty for a bundle of cash.  Tom sometimes felt bad about abusing the kind of people he’d used to call his peers, but the allure of big houses, fast cars, and material wealth was just too strong to resist.

He entered the clinic and saw Annabelle’s mother, Lilly.  She was picking up a pile of papers that had spilled onto the floor, bent low in her effort to collect them all.  Tom couldn’t help but admire the view. 

Lilly had been Tom’s second ever patient at the clinic, waddling in at an impressive 425 pounds, just a touch less than her daughter had been, but sauntering out a red-hot 120 pound milf.  Beneath the blubbery overfed exterior had been a slamming body and a face to match.  Since then she’d been helping our around the place - a lot of the clients were her friends and acquaintances after all - and Tom had grown to quite like having her around.  Today, in particular, he was enjoying ogling the soft ass cheeks poking out beneath her shirt as she stretched to collect her fallen cargo.

“Morning Lilly”, he coughed politely, “looking good as ever”.  She straightened up and turned to face him, a sly grin spread across her rosy cheeks. 

“I hope you weren’t checking me out young man.  You know very well that I’m a married woman”.  It was part of the game they played.  Innocent flirting.  A flash of skirt here and there.  Tom knew it made her feel pretty, and he certainly wasn’t going to turn down a bit of fun every once in a while.  “I sent your first clients through to your office.  Toby has already sorted all the paperwork.  They’re all yours now”.  She touched his chest innocently as she walked out the room.

Tom’s morning was a fairly standard affair.  Relatively speaking.

A famous actress that he half recognised from some god-awful American television show wanted to lose some baby weight for an upcoming role, one of Lilly’s country club friends wanted to shift the best part of 125 pounds before her daughter’s wedding - in three months’ time - and a UK politician that he was fairly certain was on the back-benches of the Conservatives wanted her regular 5 pound removal.  Some people, it seemed, couldn’t get away with losing half their body weight overnight without awkward questions, and about half his clientele were long term clients who would visit every week for months or even years for a gradual experience.  Tom didn’t mind - he charged more for that.

As the politician and the woman who had kindly agreed to take on her excess fat waddled out of his office (they were both about as large as each other now), Tom breathes a sigh of relief.  Using his powers so much in a short period was surprisingly draining, and he needed to recharge his batteries before going again tomorrow.

Just as he was walking towards the exit, Annabelle sauntered into the room.  He hadn’t seen her in a good month or so - she’d been off partying with her Old Etonian friends in Tuscany.  And quite the party it appeared to have been. 

For one reason or another it had been a while since her last visit as a client before she’d gone away, and a further month of drinking and eating to excess hadn’t done any wonders for the figure Tom had originally sculpted for her.

Annabelle’s entire body had puffed out like rising dough.  Arms thick and lacking their previous muscle definition, tits heavier and sagging, thick thighs touching together almost down to the knee, and a fat porky gut hanging over the waistband of her now far too tight shorts.  She’d gained an awful lot of weight in such a short space of time.

“I see you’ve been enjoying yourself”, he grins, nodding towards her bulging belly.

“Yep.  I ate and drank and fucked all day every day - and not necessarily always in that order.  Unfortunately the party lifestyle has a way of catching up with a girl”.  She pats her belly with a self-satisfied smile.  “Thankfully I’ve got you here to set me back on the straight and narrow.  So chop-chop, let’s get this over with”.

“But there’s nobody here to pass it onto”, Tom pointed out, “the last client left a few minutes ago and we’re done for the day.  Let’s do it first thing tomorrow instead and I’ll…”.  He didn’t get to finish the thought, as Annabelle took his hand and pressed it gently under her vest-top and against her soft breast.

“Come on now Tommy, I’m sure we can come to some kind of agreement”, she whispered in a sultry tune, as she released the button holding back the dam of doughy belly-butter and squeezed out of her clothes.  She stood, a plump naked beauty, before lifting a chunky leg and straddling him on his office chair.  Her fingers played tantalising at his belt buckle…

- - - -

Tom left the clinic about 20 minutes later, carrying an uncomfortable additional 76 pounds around his middle.  Annabelle, once again a bombshell beauty, had also left him slightly bowlegged - she’d learnt a few new tricks whilst she’d been away. 

Thankfully the drive home was relatively short - just a few minutes to his Kew townhouse - and as he pulled his Porsche into his private parking space he couldn’t help but wonder how different his life would be right now were it not for that freak storm.

Tom was almost at his front door when he felt someone tug roughly at his arm.  He spun around, heart beating in his chest.  He wasn’t sure what he expected to see, but it certainly wasn’t an enormous red-haired woman, about as wide as she was tall.  This mysterious beached whale was sweaty and panting, the walk up his entrance steps likely an Everest style effort, and had a face that he couldn’t help but feel he’d seen before.  Was she a client?  Had Annabelle sent over another of her plump friends?  Was she a celebrity?  Or…

“Jennifer?”, he asked slowly.  The same girl that had been at the bus stop with him that fateful day.  Who had snuffled down his leftovers and been blasted by the same lightening that gave him his powers.  To see her again after the best part of two years couldn’t be a coincidence.

She embraces him like one might a long lost relative - warm and tight.  “It’s so good to see you.  I need to talk to you.  I need your help.  It’s about… it’s about your powers”.  She whispers the last two words, but they still make their hair on the back of Tom’s neck prickle.  This was a conversation best continued behind closed doors. 

Tom helped Jennifer inside - a slow and arduous process given her size.  Once she was settled on his couch, a polite refreshment offered and gratefully accepted, he asked her to explain what she had meant.  The ensuring tale did not leave Tom feeling much better.

Jennifer explained that she too had developed powers shortly after the incident at the bus stop.  A raw, unstoppable, and never ending hunger which even a fully stuffed belly would only temporarily contain.  What’s more, her metabolism slowed and she was gaining weight at around five times the rate of a normal person.  As a result she had ballooned 200 pounds in just the first 6 months, and was dangerously close to becoming immobile.  Ever since she’d starved herself every day, suffering through the unbearable hunger, only to ultimately maintain her weight thanks to the meagre scraps that she did consume.  Her tone was an uncomfortable mixture of defeated and desperate.

Perhaps no surprise then that upon getting wind of a potential miracle cure for the curse of obesity being touted around the south London area, she asked around town until she eventually tracked down Tom.  This was a concern - if she could do it anyone could - but at least Jennifer was a known entity that could be contained.

“And so…”, she panted breathlessly as she neared the end of her long and tearful exposition, “I need you… please, to use your powers on me.  I’ll do anything.  Anything.  It’s… I can’t take it any more…”.  Jennifer’s belly grumbles loudly, as it had done the day of the storm.   Tom supposes that’s why she ended up with these powers in the first place.

He was sympathetic to her plight, and certainly wanted her to keep her mouth shut about everything she’d learned.  “Look, I’ll help you, of course I will, but I need to wait until my clinic is open tomorrow morning.  It’s where I work.  I’ll have to find someone to pass the weight onto, and then there’s the legal paperwork, I think it would be best if -“. 

Jennifer interrupted him mid-flow, panicked.  “No, please, tomorrow is too late!  I haven’t eaten properly in weeks.  I can’t… please I’ll do anything!”.  Tears now gushed down her cherubic cheeks as her belly grumbled loudly once again.  He’d been expecting a quiet night in to nurse his swollen gut.  This was all getting a bit too much.

“Look… fine, you can stay here tonight and… I’ll use my powers”.  Hugging and sniffled thank-yous ensued.  “How much do you weigh?”, he asked nervously, conscious he was already carrying extra timber around his middle courtesy of Annabelle.

“I’m… I’m not sure”, she admitted bashfully, “my scales didn’t go over 400, but that was a long time ago”.  Tom gulped nervously. 

With some difficulty he escorted her to one of the ground floor guest bedrooms.  Clothes slipped off so they might live another day.  He positioned himself on the large king bed, Jennifer standing off to one side, and took her hand.  “Look, I may not have much mobility after this, so I’ll need your help this evening.  I can sort someone to come to the house to take on the weight tomorrow morning”.  Grateful nods and another loud rumble from her belly.  No time like the present, Tom thought, as he started the process.

Immediately his body began to gather mass.  He felt his already bloated gut hang all the way between his legs and settle on the bed below.  He felt his tits swell and hang ponderously under their weight.  He felt his ass bubbling away, spreading across the soft Egyptian cotton bedsheets.  He felt as large as he’d ever been in the clinic.  Surely this was nearly over now?

But the weight kept coming.  Jennifer wasn’t even looking particularly thin yet - still a long way to go before she would be gracing the catwalks of London Fashion Week.  Just how big had she been?  Tom held his nerve, felt his body growing fatter and fatter until… he relinquished Jennifer’s hand. 

Drained, he took her in.  Her pants and undergarments had fallen in a heap around her ankles, revealing a set of Spanx shape wear that had admirably been trying to rein her blubber in.  He wondered why the company even bothered making it in her size.  The t-shirt she was wearing could have doubled as a tent for how much it dwarfed her petite figure.  She casts it off, revealing a smoking body underneath.  Tom had been right, she was a pretty girl without the extra blubber.  Very pretty in fact.  He would like to have examined it further - for academic purposes of course - however no sooner had she ran her fingers across her washboard abs than her stomach grumbled again.  Jennifer winced, turned on her heel, and ran out of the room, presumably towards his kitchen.

Trapped in a fatigued daze, Tom moved instinctively as if to follow her.  Or rather, he tried to.  He didn’t move an inch.  Mind fog clearing, he looked down at his body. 

He was enormous - larger than any patient he’d ever treated at the clinic.  Soft doughy flesh bulged from every part of his body, or at least all the parts he could actually make out.  Two huge melons rested on his chest, great fat orbs sagging under their own weight.  His belly was so large that he could only make out part of it before the rolls disappeared from view, obscuring his entire bottom half except for a pair of fattened feet poking out at the very end.  Hands nervously groped around his body - this was not good.

Tom tied again to extricate his ass from the bedsheets to no avail.  He was stuck there until Jennifer returned, thankfully with his phone so he could organise some assistance for the morning.  He wasn’t going anywhere until he’d fixed this mess…

Jennifer staggered in a few minutes later.  A piece of red velvet cake that Tom had been saving for a dinner party dessert that weekend in each hand.  Her face was smeared with icing, hair dishevelled, but as she chomped down greedily on a hearty handful Tom could see that her hunger had finally been satisfied.  “Uuuurrrrp!  Oh, pardon me!”, she bleaches through mouthfuls of cake, sending crumbs spilling across the cream carpeted floor, “I feel… urrrrp… incredible!”.

The bed springs pinged and groaned as she sat at the bottom of the bed.  “Oh wow, I’m uh… really sorry about all… that”, she gestured at Tom’s blubbery immobile body, “I guess I’d really let myself go!”.  She bites her bottom lip mischievously.  “You know I haven’t been this thin in… well ever.  Do you like how I look?”. 

“You look… you look beautiful”, he choked, plump cheeks burning red.  Another stunning naked woman was sitting at the end of his bed - he really was making a habit of this.

Jennifer crawled up the mattress towards Tom’s sausage-like legs.  He watched her plump tits sway under gravity’s pull.  “Well tonight you’ve made me the most satisfied woman in this green and pleasant land, and I feel like there’s a debt to be paid.  I know better than anyone the frustration of being too big to touch yourself, so…”.  Her hand pushes roughly into his flabby chest, forcing him onto his back in a horizontal position.  Lacking the necessary ab strength there was no way he was getting back up from this.

‘Pop’, the sound of something plastic being flicked open.  Jennifer appears by his head, a large bottle of lube in her hand.  “I found this in your bathroom cupboard you naughty boy.  I just feel awful for leaving you in this sorry state all night.  Would you like me to give you a little massage to relieve some of the tension?”.  He nods excitedly.  “Excellent, and tell me Tom, what do you like?”.

A cool liquid drips onto his chest.  Jennifer rubs her hands over his oiled moobs, kneading his fat gently between her fingers.  He can feel how fat and heavy his chest is, slipping and sliding in her grasp.  A pair of lips close around one of his plump nipples.  Tom shudders with delight.

“I like… being… powerless”, he pants, cock throbbing somewhere deep below, calling out to be touched. 

“Oh is that right?”, Jennifer giggles, “well you’re looking pretty powerless now big boy.  Unable to get up, unable to touch yourself, unable to stop me doing whatever… I… want…”.  She emphasised the final three words, her hands slapping his mammoth oily tits in time.  Gentle fingers tease at his puffy nipples before a pair of soft lips close around one, nibbling.  Tom groans, his hands groping at Jennifer’s body.  “Quite the pair you’ve got here”, she giggles, “making me feel self-conscious about my little bee-strings”.  She presses her modest chest into his, flesh on flesh. 

Pressure builds somewhere beneath Tom’s hanging belly rolls.  With considerable effort he raises his hands to her tits and begins to knead them greedily.  The effort of lifting his thigh-sized upper arms has him panting heavily - his body was not used to supporting such a vast bulk.

Jennifer pulls herself from his grasp and slides down his belly, settling on his lap.  She leans back, spreading her legs wide to reveal a visibly damp pussy.  “Come and get me big boy”, she teases.  Tom luges forwards, a moth drawn to a beautiful flame, but his hands grasp fruitlessly at the empty air as Jennifer is just out of reach.  “Urrrrgh”, he moans, desperate to touch her, caress her, but to no avail.

“Oh dear, oh dear, has someone got a little too big this time?  Has someone got so fat, so jiggly, so wobbly, that they can’t even take the woman presenting herself right in front of them?”.  Jennifer giggles with glee.  “You can’t even reach your own cock to pleasure yourself anymore.  Which means you’re at my mercy now…”.

Tom feels the cool lube ooze into his fat pad, oiling up the fat surrounding his buried cock.  “Oh fuck, oh fuck”, he moans, desperately hard as she kneads gently at his crotch.  Each hand motion rubs his fat against his member, sending pulses through this wobbling body.  “Faster”, he begs, but if anything Jennifer slows her pace, drawing out the pleasure, but also prolonging the sweet release he so desperately wanted.

Every time Tom nears climax Jennifer draws back, oiling his inner thighs and playfully kneading his soft doughy flesh as his cock throbs and pulses in vein.  “Please… please…”, he begs, “let me cum…”, but the recently skinny temptress remains apathetic to his plight. 

Lying back all Tom can see is his mountainous belly blocking Jennifer from view, but he can feel her working around his fat pad, teasing him like a predator playing with its next meal.  An oiled up finger poked through his blubber and touches this tip of his cock.  Tom almost came on the spot, writhing and wriggling as the finger circles slowly around his head before massaging the lube up and down his frenulum.  “Oh fuck… I’m gonna… ohhhh”, he groaned as a deluge of cum filled his fat pad and oozed out onto the bedsheets below.  His entire body quaked and rippled as heavy waves of orgasm overcame him.

Tom needed time to recover after all that excitement.  He sat plopped on the bed panting heavily, unable to move an inch, and watched as Jennifer ordered three takeaways from a variety of cuisines and devoured each in turn.  Her appetite was truly something to behold.

After slurping the last of the beef and black bean from its plastic container she finally collapses back into the bed next to him.  Her stomach was round and hard - a food baby if epic proportions.  “Ohhh…” she groaned, a hand slipping down to her pussy and rubbing it softly, “that feels soooo good”.  Jennifer reminded Tom of a drug addict having just received their next hit - glossy eyed, euphoric, and dead to the world.  She moans and squirms as she cradles her stomach in one hand and private parts in the other.

A minute or so later Tom feels a hand snaking up his mammoth hip.  “I need you in my life”, she purrs, clambering atop his gut, a hand exploring his mammoth titties, “you’re the only person in the world that can make me feel like this.  My power will keep forcing me back into that blubbery body, and yours can help me escape it.  I need it.  I need you.  And… I think I can help you expand your little business enterprise”.  Tom raised an eyebrow, curious.  “Well it sounds like you’ve only tapped one aspect of what your power can do - weight loss - but I know another community that would at very handsomely for your magic fingers”. 

Her face is level with his now.  Their lips meet in a long drawn out kiss.  “Over the last couple of years I’ve been making ends meet by making videos for online communities with… unique predilections.  There are people out there who want to gain weight, who want their partners to gain weight, who want to watch as someone they’ve never met gorges themselves into immobility.  Feeders they call themselves, and I think they would pay very, very handsomely to visit and establishment that catered to their depravities.  I can help you run it day-day, and you’d just need to show up with that power of yours.  So come on big boy, what do you say…?”.

[vigilante]

Chapter 5:  The BBW Bunny

Tom stirred from a deep and peaceful sleep, a nuzzling at his neck.  His eyes opened blearily to a familiar shock of flame red hair - Jennifer’s - as she rested her head in the crook of his shoulder.

Since moving into his expansive mansion two years prior Jennifer had more than made herself at home.  Her clothes now dominated his spacious walk-in wardrobe, her hair consistently clogged the Roomba bumping around his plush grey carpet, and no matter how well his housekeeper stocked the fridge it was always cleared out by the day’s end.  Their relationship was one of feverish passion, and the day often started as it meant to go on…

Panting, Tom rolled off his girlfriend.  Only 8:45am and he was already spent.  Today was going to be a struggle.

Jennifer’s gentle hand caresses his chest as she smiles up at him.  “Ready for round two…?”, she giggled mischievously, tracing a finger past his naval and underneath the soft Egyptian covers.

“I swear, one day you’ll be the death of me…”, Tom groans, swinging a leg out of bed and stumbling towards the en-suite.  His shower was cool but refreshing.  By the time he stepped back into the bedroom Jennifer had long since departed - a mess of duvet covers all that was left in her place.

Tossed casually over a armchair in the corner of the room is a pair of barely-there lace panties, likely discarded in the rush of flesh and passion when they had made their way to bed last night.  Tom recalled the Spanx shape wear Jennifer had sported the first time she’d visited his house.  The weight loss had changed her in more ways than one.  She was more outgoing, bolder, greedier.  Unburdened by the looming threat of immobility, the hunger that plagued her appetite bled through to the rest of her life.  Her power had transformed her.  She chased an unattainable satisfaction, a physical and metaphorical ‘fullness’- slowed by Tom’s power, but never sated.  It was the unspoken undercurrent of their relationship.

It hadn’t taken long for a curious side effect of his own powers to emerge.  Weight loss achieved through his touch was impactful, miraculous, but not permanent.  This was not in and of itself that surprising, however the speed at which the weight returned certainly was.  It hadn’t taken long for his early patients to waddle back into his clinic, desperate for his help to trim off their excess pounds once again.  Based on rough calculations it appeared that the weight pilled back on somewhere between three to four times as fast as normal.  Like their bodies were healing - making themselves whole.  For Tom it meant repeat business and a paycheque as fat as his patents.  He certainly wasn’t complaining.

As he tidied away a pile of dirty clothes a single golden hair nestled under the collar of his shirt gave Tom reason to pause.  He freed it carefully and held it up to the light.  Long and blonde, its former owner Annabelle none the wiser it had hitched a ride back to his mansion at some point - evidence of their ongoing affair. 

Tom had never professed to be a good man.  His life before the storm had been dull and poor and unremarkable.  He’d never had a girlfriend, never had sex, lusted after every pretty girl he met, including his own sweet sister - his short, plump, greasy self had been looked over by them all.  But now.  Now he had money, and with money came power, and with power came…. The temptation had been too great.

He’d been banging Annabelle on and off throughout his relationship with Jennifer, without, to the best of his knowledge, the latter’s suspicion.  His secret affair with the buxom blonde added a certain spice to his otherwise pedestrian job at the clinic. And after all, Tom reasoned, it wasn’t like Jennifer really had a choice.  She needed him more than he needed her. 

He left the bedroom behind and made his way through his mansion towards the kitchen.  The artwork decorating the hallways was worth more than his old monthly wage.  How times had changed…

His housemaid, Isabella, was a motherly old woman of Spanish descent.  She’d started working for Tom shortly after he’d moved in, living in an annex off the back of his house.  He valued her as much for her discretion as the quality of her work.  If she’d wanted to make a quick buck selling his story to one of the ‘supe-spotting’ magazines, which delighted in exposing the wired and wonderful powers of those caught in the storm, she’d have done so by now.  He made sure to compensate her well for her silence.

As he entered the kitchen Isabella was fussing over the stove.  A generous helping of sausages, eggs, and bacon spat and sizzled in a large frying pan.  “Second helping is ready Miss Jennifer”, she announced in a characteristically thick South American accent. 

“Mmmmmph, yeassh pleeassh”, Tom’s girlfriend mumbled through a mouthful of helping number one.

Jenifer was perched on a tall barstool at the kitchen’s island.  Tom approached her from behind, noting the generous sag of her thick ass cheeks, which had become too fat to be contained by the modest leather seat.  Dressed in only her underwear Tom could see her dimpled cellulite-covered ass jiggle with every fevered bite.  A ‘wide load’ of ever he’d seen one.

Tom’s touch had slimmed her down to a beautiful size 2 only a month ago, and judging by the painful pinching of her too small panties she was currently pushing a wobbling size 14.  Her weight gain was accelerating, rapidly.

Tom placed his hands underneath her flabby saddlebags and gave them a gentle pat.  Flesh oozed through his fingers, soft and fat.  “Careful darling, a moment of the lips…”.

She giggled playfully.  “You know that’s not true.  You’ll take it all off at the club today, right?”. 

He nodded in approval.  Jennifer smiled and returned to her meal with a renewed gusto, unburdened by her swelling body.

The feeder fetish club that she had suggested almost two years ago had opened last summer to a small but loyal clientele.  Though a money making opportunity first and foremost, the club did offer some useful subsidiary benefits, not least the ability to palm off his girlfriend’s unsightly lumps and bumps onto the desperate perverts who frequented it.  Tom enjoyed the occasional power play session when he was at his largest, however his taste in women certainly hadn’t changed.  The soft piglet whose flabby bottom was overflowing his hand certainly wasn’t what he had signed up for.  Better to trim her down at the earliest opportunity.

After gobbling down a third and final helping the pair dressed for the day and set off into central London. 

The BBW Bunny was conspicuous.  Lacking any signage, from the outside it was a traditional townhouse nestled in the heart of Soho.  Behind a nondescript red door and the burley security guard sat in the hallway the club’s interior was world away from the hustle and bustle of the busy streets outside.

Tom flashed his key card at the door and made his way into The BBW Bunny’s beating heart - the Feeding Room.

All around models thick and thin danced, drank, ate, and entertained a modest collection of patrons.  The lighting was soft, private, inviting small intimate conversations across the smattering of comfy sofas.  The furniture, as with everything in the building, had been specially designed with the larger body in mind.  A circular bar in the centre of the room pumps out a steady stream of food and drink - the latter ferried up a dumb-waiter from the kitchen downstairs.

Off the room are a variety of other, more specialised, spaces - a Jacuzzi room, S&M playpen, bedrooms and Tom’s own office.  Clients could pay a sizeable extra fee for use of his powers - a daily itinerary of private sessions that Jennifer, acting as his secretary, helped him to manage.

“Oh you are such a sweetheart”, a posh English rose by the name of Lucy cooed at a nervous looking young man.  She plucks a macaroon from a plate in front of her and nibbles it tantalisingly.  Her vast body takes up most of the sofa - excess flesh spills onto the man’s lap.  He strokes her thigh blubber nervously, a bulge in his pants.

His head waitress, Grace, strides past holding a tray of martini glasses aloft.  He sneaks a look at her rear.  Her tight ass wiggles underneath a dangerously short pencil skirt.  Tom glances at Jennifer’s wobbling backside and feels like cock shrivel in his pants.  He needed to offload that extra weight as soon as possible.

The BBW Bunny’s models were a range of 120 to 500 pounds.  On shift that could change dramatically - private clients could see Grace’s tight ass balloon up to elephantine proportions or take on Lucy’s immense weight for themselves.  The larger girls acted as a sort of walking fat store to redistribute as his private appointments required.  He always did his best to make sure they were back at their starting weight by the end if their shift though - weight changes experienced at The BBW Bunny were not usually supposed to be permanent. 

The girls knew what they were signing up for and were perfectly content with their changing bodies whilst on shift.  Including tips they were pulling in as much any investment banker or top lawyer in The City.  A small price to pay for a bit of light sex work and discretion.

Jennifer suddenly peels off and makes a B-line towards a chap sat alone next to a towering dessert trolley.  She slides into the booth and takes his hand.  “You wouldn’t be interested in buying some dessert for little old me would you?”, she asks sweetly, “I’m awfully hungry…”.  His eyes bulged with excitement, stammering eagerly as he served Jennifer up a hearty slice of cake.  The desserts were marked-up twenty times their normal price - one of the club’s many money makers. 

Tom left Jennifer to her fun and made his way towards his office.  The day passed quickly enough. 

Tom’s first private client, a twenty-something with tousled blonde hair, had come to the blubber up his newlywed wife.  She was a petite beauty with an angular heart-shaped face and a pretty smile.  A quick introductory chat later and Tom had concluded that the pair were the young and adventurous type - keen to explore his fetish in a relatively safe space.  For the fee they were paying Tom was more than happy to oblige.

A passing visit from one of his resident ssbbws later and the petite young woman wasn’t so petite anymore.  Her puffy face now sagged under a set of weighty jowls - two chins obscuring what had previously been a slender neckline.  Three hundred and fifty additional pounds distributed evenly across her body had burst her out of her clothes and left the poor girl barely able to stand.  She teetered on two trunk legs, swaying ominously as she adjusted to her newly fattened form.

Her husband could barely contain himself.  Eager hands explored her body, caressing the curve of her bulbous belly, grabbing whole handfuls of ass fat with barely restrained glee. 

Tom ushered the pair towards one of the clubs many discreet bedrooms, supporting the woman under one arm as she waddled awkwardly, craterous thunder thighs struggling to pass one another.  The man’s erection bulged through his pants giving him a shameful gait as he hobbled along beside them.  Once safely plopped on the bed Tom made a quiet exit.  As he pulled the door closed he saw the woman lay back and spread her legs wide as her husband tore off his clothes.  That hog was probably in for quite the ride…

His next client was a familiar face. 

Emily graced the club every Friday afternoon, that week’s wages clutched in desperate hands.  The 30-something had a reality-tv worthy backstory that Tom had been regaled with by Jennifer one day over a post-work beer. 

Having married her childhood sweetheart at the tender age of seventeen Emily had soon realised her new husband suffered from powerful sexual deviances.  Her was a feeder, and a devout one at that, who slowly but surely wore down her willpower and began gathering mass on her previously slender body.  Emily wanted nothing more than to please him, forcing herself to find sexual pleasure in overeating, and over time even began to enjoy her growing body.  By her late 20s she was tipping the scales at 600 pounds, a great waddling whale of a woman, but she had become such a desperate feedee that she couldn’t stop herself from gorging even more. 

A heart scare, long hospital visit, and forced gastric bypass later she finally began to shed the pounds, much to the disappointment of her husband.  By the time her saggy ass could squeeze into a single airplane seat he’d filed for divorce and was already sleeping his way around the larger ladies in town.  He left Emily with 20 pounds of excess skin and a feedee fetish that she couldn’t sate.  Miserable, unfulfilled, and ever hungry, Emily suffered through the next couple of years before discovering the club through one of Jennifer’s feederism websites.  She had been one of their most loyal and frequent patrons ever since.

Today was a Friday like any other.  As her session drew to a close Emily was a wobbling 400 pound beauty.  Her skin had filled out like an inflated balloon, giving her saggy body back it’s plentiful curves.  Her rounded face looked healthier - contrary to what her doctors might say on the matter - and a happy glow spread across her cherubic cheeks.  Completely naked with a model sat on either side, they caressed her body with oiled up hands.  She had already orgasmed twice this session.

“Do… you… have to?”, Emily moaned as Crystal, the model sat to her right, slipped a hand between her cavernous thighs.  She shuddered with pleasure as her own hands ran up and down her oily body, pinching and groping at overflowing flesh.

“Unfortunately we have another appointment starting soon”, Tom said diplomatically, “but we will be here ready and waiting in a week’s time for your next visit”.  She pouted but nodded begrudgingly.  Tom took her and one of the model’s hands and transferred the weight back to its rightful owner.  The blubbery models left the room as Emily collected her things. 

With the fat drained from Emily’s body so too, it seemed, had her smile.  She was one of the few people that actually looked better as a bit of a bloater, he reflected.  He wondered whether she’d ever consider having the gastric bypass undone.

Tom didn’t finish the thought.  At that moment the door opened and Jennifer stepped into the room.  She was even larger than she’d been this morning, a full day of gorging adding at least another dress size to her gelatinous body.  Her work skirt had burst open at the front, a pasty gut spilling onto her upper thighs.

Jennifer waddled towards him, her exposed belly bouncing shamefully with every lumbered step.  Tom shuddered.

She reached his desk and bent low to whisper in his ear.  Her hanging gut pushed against his shoulder, enveloping it.  “Your 5pm has cancelled my love.  His little son isn’t well.  He doesn’t think he’ll be able to make it for another couple of weeks”. 

Tom cursed under his breath.  This particular client was his highest paying and most valuable customer. 

He was the owner of the fat fetish website that Jennifer had worked for before she’d reconnected with Tom and boasted the largest bbw modelling empire in all of Europe, with dozens of girls spanning 10 countries.  Jennifer had pointed him to the club shortly after it opened and he’d been paying top dollar for a unique and off-menu service ever since.  He would fly in his models to take on Jennifer’s excess weight permanently, fattening up for their desperate clients faster than any of the competitor websites could match.

If he was honest Tom was more disappointed at not being able offload his girlfriend’s excess poundage than the lost revenue. 

He watched absentmindedly as Emily, now garbed in a formfitting dress than clung to her body like her loose skin, walked towards the exit.  Her saggy arse was almost at the door when Tom called out to her.  “Wait.  I think I might have a proposal that you’d be interested in…”.

Three minutes later he watched Emily tread the same path towards his office’s exit, but this time her bottom was fat, jiggling, and bursting the seams of her now overstuffed dress.  She had gladly accepted his gift of Jennifer’s excess weight.  Tom was pretty sure she came as the final pounds bulged onto her body - cheeks hot and flush with the excitement of it all.  Sure it was morally irresponsible - palming off his girl’s weight onto a recovering binge eater - but if he was honest he didn’t really care.  

Emily’s quivering love handles squeezed through the door and out of sight. 

No sooner had the door closed than Jennifer’s leg swung across his lap.  110 pounds of woman straddling his crotch, pressing in.  Her now beautiful face had a mischievous grin spread across it.  She took him there and then amongst his papers.

- - - -

Tom wiled away the rest of the afternoon in his office before calling it a day at 6pm.  He picked up Jennifer on his way out and the pair headed to their regular Friday night haunt - a Michelin stared restaurant in the centre of town, a stone’s throw from the British Museum.  Six courses, two bottles of Brut, and a very pleasant date-night later they were strolling through Soho in search of a taxi home.

“… look I’m sorry but… you’re just nothing like the pictures in your profile”.  A man’s voice carries down the pavement.

“Well they’re pictures from a few years ago”, a woman replies bashfully.  Tom’s ears pricked up.  He’d recognise that voice anywhere…

His sister Penny was stood awkwardly outside ‘Aqua Bar’.  Her companion was a decent enough looking chap - tall, dark, handsome, fit - which was more than could be said for his dear sibling.

Tom hadn’t seen Penny in a good few months - she’d successfully avoided the last three family gatherings, and their relationship had never been particularly warm at the best of times so he wasn’t exactly popping around for a coffee and catch-up of a weekend.  The last time they’d parted ways she had been in touching distance of 400 pounds.  Today she looked closer to 500.

The pronounced pear shape that Tom had gifted her a couple of years ago had swelled to elephantine proportions.  She was at least four people wide, two great globular buttocks sagging under their own weight atop craterous cottage cheese thighs.  The tight button-down dress she had opted for this evening clung to every roll, including an impressive belly hang.  At 6 foot tall she was, in every sense of the word, enormous.

“Well you should really update them”, her handsome companion replied after an awkward pause, “you’ve, errr, changed a lot since they were taken”.  With that he turned and made his escape down the bustling London street.

Tom saw a golden opportunity to twist the knife and couldn’t resist.  He quietly sidled behind his sister and placed his hands atop her blubbery muffin-top.  His fingers sunk into exposed flab - no hint of her once prominent hip bones anymore - and he padded his hands together, creating ripples of fat across her body.  Penny was easily as large and gelatinous as has fattest model, likely larger.

“Hmmpff”, Penny grunted, awkwardly manoeuvring her massive body around to face him.  Her expression soured further as their eyes met.  “Oh, it’s you”.

“Hey sis”, he smiled back, as Jenifer caught up and nestled herself into his side.  The image of a beautiful woman draped over his arm and his whale of a sister looking on in disbelief - he was disappointed nobody was around to take a picture.  “You, errrr, well, have you done something different with your hair?”.

Penny’s eyes narrowed in anger.  “Very funny”, she spat back, not looking in the slightest bit amused, “still spying on me I see?  You know he used to watch me shower when we were younger.  Jerk off just outside the door.  Sad little perv”.

An impressive burn.  Tom felt Jennifer give him a sideways glance - ‘really’?’.  His face couldn’t help but turn pink with embarrassment.  I took him a moment to recompose.

“Well back then you were so something worth looking at sis”, he smiled, “130 pounds, double-d.  What was a horny young boy to do?  Thankfully though, you did me a great service in gorging yourself out of that body and into this one”.  Tom gestured vaguely at his sister’s enormous gut.  “How fat even are you now?  Featuring on the next season of ‘My 600lb Life’?”.

It was Penny’s turn to blush.  Her plump cheeks creeping pink as she averted Tom’s gaze.

Before she could respond a group of drunken lads stumbled past, loud and obnoxious.  One was wearing a bright pink tutu, the rest a set of matching t-shirts with creative nicknames emblazoned on the back.  “Fuck me, look at the size of this one!”, the one called ‘Shagger’, slurred to the street at large, “must be related to your mam Tommy!”.  The group erupted into raucous laughter as Tommy shouted back, “if me mam was as porky as that big fat pig we’d have sold her off to the butcher years ago!”.  More laughter, which seamlessly transitioned into a mostly out of tune rendition of Queen’s ‘Fat Bottomed Girls’.

The group’s singing grew fainter as they stumbled off into the distance, by which time Penny looked even more embarrassed.

Tom’s gaze shifted from her miserable cherubic face and noticed the belly fat straining at the buttons that ran down the front of her dress.  Flesh desperately trying to break free from an outfit that must have fit about 30 pounds ago.  He couldn’t help himself. 

Tom snatched at the fabric either side of buttons and pulled apart hard.  His sister’s gut did most of the work - clearly thrilled at the prospect of escaping its cotton prison - a tsunami of adipose bursting off each button in turn before slapping against her upper thighs.  Milky white gut, cellulite ridden and quivering in the streetlight, exposed for all the world to see.

Penny exhaled in disbelief as Tom dove in, his fingers curling around a hearty portion of belly blubber.  Penny’s skin was warm to the touch and as soft as silk.  Surprisingly, Tom felt himself getting aroused.  His cock hardened as his hands feverishly explored his sister’s paunch - dodging her pudgy hands as they tried in vain to swat him away.  It wasn’t that he was turned on by the fat itself… more the idea that his big, beautiful sister had been reduced to this waddling monstrosity by his handiwork.

In the excitement a hand slipped underneath the front of the now ruined dress and found itself clasped around Penny’s plump pussy.  Her fat pad was as thick as most women’s belly’s, and even softer than her hanging gut.  His fingers teased at the thick flesh.  To so viscerally feel the full extent of his sister’s gluttony was… heavenly.  Tom spluttered as he began pumping pre-cum into his boxer shorts.

Penny finally managed to wrench herself free.  She was shaking with rage - her exposed elephantine hips bouncing gregariously.  Angry stretch marks quivered like flags in the wind.

She shot a loathing, hateful look at her little brother and then waddled away furiously.  Tom watched her jiggling, fat ass all the way down the street before turning back to Jennifer.  She had stayed silent throughout this exchange, but regarded him now with a slightly disturbed look.  He was too exhilarated to care.

As they finally continued their walk Tom felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.  A sly glance confirmed that Annabelle wanted to see him.  Tonight.  He’d already had plenty of fun with Jennifer today - why not spice up the evening with a visit to his buxom blonde?

He made his excuses - an emergency patient at the clinic - and put Jennifer into a taxi with a kind word and kiss goodnight…

- - - - -

By the time he’d been waved through the entrance gates and pulled up at Annabelle’s vast grade 2 listed mansion it was just gone midnight.

“Annabelle?”, Tom called out as he pushed open her heavy wooden front door.  The impressive space, flanked by a mirrored set of marble staircases snaking up to the second story, was eerily quiet.  The only light in the dim space was the glow emanating from beneath a door on his right.  Tom strode over and pushed it open...

Annabelle and her mother Lilly were sat on the floor with their backs to Tom in front of a wide, open fridge.  The mysterious glow could be traced to the harsh white light illuminating from the American-sized appliance.

He hadn’t seen either of them in about twelve weeks.  They had been cruising around the Mediterranean on one of the family’s many yachts - no doubt waited on hand and foot by a retainer of cabin crew.  And it showed.  Tom’s mouth opened involuntarily, aghast at the size of the pair. 

He had noticed Annabelle was already straining the waistline of her size 16s when she’d departed.  The bodacious blonde had made a point of declining his offer for a pre-holiday slimming on the basis that ‘she and mummy were going to be spending the entire time at sea getting reacquainted with Italian cuisine’ and that any action on his part in advance of this would have been wasted effort.  Seeing her now he had to admit she’d been right.

Both mother and daughter were spilled out across the floor, naked as the day they were born.  Two puddles of bottom-heavy flesh, their asses were easily as wide as three women stood abreast.  Great wobbling oceans of fat that had engulfed the skinny women he’d come to see around his office.  Sagging bingo wings jiggled as they shovelled what looked to be rounded scoops of ice cream into their turned-away faces.  Heavy guts filled the space between their legs like the aftermath of a blubbery avalanche. 

They had gained far more weight than should be humanly possible in such a short space of time.  Tom’s brain almost couldn’t make sense of it.  If thing continued at this rate he’d have to become live-in help or they would be immobile by each day’s end.  He put the worrying thought out of mind for now.

“I see you’ve been eating well”, Tom said as he stepped into the room and towards the pair.  Two cherubic faces turned to greet him, mouths lathered in chocolate icing.

“Thomas… uurrrp!”, Annabelle belched as she turned her face to him with a wide grin, “we’ve been eating very well thanks to you - nothing like guilt free gluttony to truly relax on a holiday”.  She gulped down another mound of ice-cream.  “I think we outgrew all of the ‘fat clothes’ we’d brought by about… week six?”.

“Week five”, Lilly, her mother, corrects with a giggle.  The normally drop-dead milf strains her thick neck to look at Tom.  An engorged breast sways ponderously into view, slapping against the crest of her rounded gut.  “You’re not saying we look porky, are you Tom?”, she pouts back, a cheeky glint in her eye.  Tom noticed the empty bottles of Bollinger discarded amongst the ice-cream tubs.

“You look stunning as always Lilly”, he replied diplomatically, “a full-figured beauty if ever I saw one”.  The inebriated 40-something blushed and looked away bashfully, biting her top lip. 

Annabelle stood up gingerly, leaning on the open fridge door for support as she extricated her wide ass from the floor.  Panting, she waddled towards Tom, her thick fupa jiggling with each heavy step.

“We’re fat Thomas”, she said matter-of-factly, “greedy beached whales that have been devouring supersized meals and are in desperate need of your magic touch”.  She took his hand in hers and squeezed it tight.

“Not tonight Annabelle…”, he started to respond, but a plump finger pressed up against his lips.

“We’ll make it worth your while…”, she whispered mischievously, reaching her hand between Tom’s legs and rubbing at his cock.  “I’ve told mummy all about your little predilection for, *ahem*, power dynamics.  Once we’re thin we’ll have all the energy in the world to do whatever you want us too…”.

A grunt from up ahead as Lilly rolled onto her front and attempted to stand.  Her belly hung so low that it touched the floor even though she was on all fours.  Her hips were wider than her daughter’s - child-bearing and wobbling violently with every movement.  Lily struggled against gravity, and lost.  “Tom… I need… your help…”.  ‘Beached whale’ seemed like a particularly apt description given her current circumstances.

Tom walked further into the kitchen and took Lilly under her arm.  His hands sunk into doughy upper-arm and, with some difficulty, heaved the overstuffed milf into a standing position.

“Oooof, I think I may have overdone it on dessert”, she laughed, slapping her rounded belly.  “Now, shall we get down to business…”.  Mother and daughter each took a hand in their own, staring Tom down with devilish smiles.  He knew he should politely refuse and return home to his girlfriend…

Less than a minute later and Tom was immobilised on his back, pinned down by several hundreds of pounds of freshly accumulated blubber.  Directly above Lilly’s pussy was tantalising him as she gyrated her newly trimmed body against his chest, hands playing with his mountainous belly.  Somewhere out of sight Annabelle was teasing at his cock, working it into a frenzy that he hoped would be drawn out for as long as possible.

The sight of Lilly’s tight ass was too much - Tom couldn’t help himself.  With considerable effort he forced his arms into the air and clasped his hands around Lilly’s petite waist.  He pulled her down, engulfing his face in warm, wet pussy.  Annabelle, meanwhile, was already holding him on the edge of orgasm with a finger circling agonisingly around his tip.  He was completely at her mercy.

It was a long and pleasant night.

[vigilante]

Chapter 6:  The Power Broker

His mother’s wedding had been a joyous affair.

Six months after his run in with Penny on that Soho street, Tom had sat in the front row of a quaint chapel and watched with pride as his mother walked down the aisle towards her soon to be husband.  Her trim figure was a far cry from the morbidly obese behemoth she had been just a few years prior.  Her face said it all - she was finally, truly, happy.

That was more than could have been said for his dear sister, whose vast body had filled the three chairs to his right and generously spilled onto his own.  He recalled gently kneading her thunderous thighs during the ceremony as she tried, in vain, to stop him.

Just after the exchanging of the rings, an almighty crash of snapping wood and flesh smacking stone indicated that the chairs had finally given up the ghost.  It had taken the best part of five minutes for the groom and all three ushers to heave the beetroot-faced Penny off her elephantine backside and into a standing position, as the rest of the congregation watched on in morbid fascination.

Penny had spent the rest of the afternoon consoling herself with food, which Tom was more than happy to support with the next heaped plate of unhealthy treats.  By the day’s end Penny’s dress had gone the same way as the chair, torn asunder, exposing her gluttonous body beneath.  She waddled off to bed as Tom danced on into the night.

Tom was snapped out of his daydream by the echoes of his front door slamming from somewhere downstairs.

Jennifer must have returned from her shift at the club.  He glanced outside - dark already, he probably should have started dinner so it was ready when she got home.  Hangry Jennifer wasn’t exactly good company.  He stood from his portfolio desk and headed downstairs to the kitchen.

As he turned the corner into the room he was met by not one, but three, women.  Jennifer as expected, garbed in her sultry work attire and sporting a hefty gut brought on by a hard day’s work, but also two of the fattest women he’d ever seen.  He recognised their swollen faces - recent hires at his club, brought in to pleasure the most depraved of his patrons.

Tom opened his mouth but Jennifer cut him off.

“I’m sure you haven’t remembered, but today is the three year anniversary of when I turned up on your doorstep and you took me in”, she began, moving closer and running a hand down his chest.  “And what thank you present can you buy the man who has everything?  Well…”, she smiles, “we’ve never tried it with two people’s weight before”.

Tom’s heart beat faster in his chest.  He wondered if Jennifer could feel it through his shirt.  Maybe today wasn’t going to be such a pedestrian day after all?

Clothes off and weight transferred, Tom was the largest he had ever been.  Well over a tonne, he was plopped in the centre of the heavy duty medical bed he’d bought especially for amorous encounters such as these, it’s back raised into a partly seated position.  The upper weight limit was going to be put to the test today.

The freshly rake thin models had stepped outside shortly after the weight transfer had completed.  Whilst Tom marvelled at his size he was vaguely aware of a hushed conversation between the pair and Jennifer through the door, followed by what sounded an awful lot like his front door slamming in the distance.  The part of his brain not wired with anticipation at what was about to come next wondered why Jennifer had just allowed his two fat stores to go for a wander, but he didn’t have the energy to focus on it right now.

“Mmmmm, hello big boy”, a familiar voice purred from the end of his bed.  Tom snapped back to reality and strained his neck to peer down over the mountain of adipose that was now his body.  Jennifer had re-entered the room and stripped herself naked.  Her pale flesh no longer bloated by the hefty gut, she looked every part the millionaire’s trophy wife that he knew he deserved.

She smiled mischievously as she climbed up his body, taking great handfuls of fat to pull herself up and over his wobbling gut.  Tom could feel his heart straining under the effort of pumping blood to both his mammoth body and his cock.  If he weren’t so aroused his might be worried about his health.

Jennifer didn’t give him time to dwell on the idea though, as she’d reached his chest and was passionately suckling at his nipples, giggling like a naughty schoolgirl.  “How long do you think you can last fatty”, she teased, a hand reaching down underneath his belly and searching for his cock.

“As long as… mmmph… I can”, he panted back, concentrating on not blowing his beans there and then.  Jennifer grinned at the challenge and set to work.

Just five minutes later Tom could feel himself teetering on the edge, the pleasure somehow amplified by the extra mass clinging to his body.  He desperately held back the tide, but every pump of Jennifer’s hands at his fat pad chipped away at his resolve.  He was ready to relent, to empty his swollen balls…

Jennifer’s hands retracted.  His cock throbbed, begging for a few final pumps, as he heard the now familiar sound of his front door slamming from somewhere in the distance. 

“Tell them… we’re not ready… yet”, he spluttered, annoyed at the models’ return and potential disruption at this climactic point.  But before he could muster another word the door to the kitchen opened and two people entered.

His bleary eyes struggled to focus, and when they did it was not the models from earlier that greeted him. 

Penny was looking fatter than ever.  If her weight a few months ago had taken out the chair at mother’s wedding, her bulk today was liable to take the floorboards along with them.  Garbed in an impossibly large dress so big it could have doubled as a tent, she wheezed loudly with the effort of waddling into the room.  Beside her stood a man he’d never seen before.  Dark skinned and wearing a smart suit that gave an air of power and wealth much like his own tailored wardrobe.

“What?  How?”, he gasped, “you can’t be here, you should be here, you…”. 

Penny interrupted him.  “Well, well, well.  You’ve certainly let yourself go bro”, she sneered at him with barely contained glee, “guess you’ve been taking a leaf out of my book?”.  Penny slapped her gut, causing waves of fat to ripple across her body.  “Looks like your fat arse is quite the chair breaker too”, she laughed, nodding at the elephantine ass that spilled across the bed.

His arousal subsided as soon as it had arrived, and anger boiled up inside Tom.  “Jennifer come over here, give me your hand”, he snapped angrily, reaching five pork sausage fingers out towards his girlfriend.  He needed to get a load off so he could deal with this situation.  She didn’t move.

“I don’t think so”, Penny sneered again, “you see Jennifer and I have been getting acquainted recently.  And you know what?  I think we’re both about done with you and your ‘special power’”.  Tom’s eyes widened, heart racing.  “Yes, that’s right, I know all about your little clinic, and the club, and what you did to me”.  She placed particular emphasis on the final point, her brow furrowed in anger, eyes baring into his.  “Mother didn’t lose that weight - you took it.  And you gave it to me”.

“I… well… listen…”, he spluttered, trying to find an explanation sufficient to get himself out of his current predicament.  None came to mind. 

“No, you listen”, Penny snapped back harshly, “I knew something wasn’t right the moment I started gaining weight, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.  Then my loser brother is suddenly swanning around with a beauty on his arm and a Manor House to boot?  No chance.  I hired a private investigator.  Took a while, but eventually he discovered your clinic, your power, and a few other things you probably didn’t want anyone finding out about…”.  Penny trailed off and sidled a glance at Jennifer.

Jennifer’s face soured as she regarded Tom with cold eyes.  He was really panicking now.  “Look, darling, she means nothing to me, really.  Annabelle practically forced herself on me.  You have to believe me.  You have to…”.  Desperation bubbled up in his voice.

“So I reach out to Jennifer, we get to talking, sharing stories, you know?”, Penny continues, “and after seeing the photos my PI snapped of you blown up like a whale and being tended to by your business partner and her mother… well, let’s just say it didn’t take much more convincing to put today together.  Figuring out the best way to serve some much needed just desserts…”.  She turns her vast body towards the well-dressed man and nods once.

The dark-skinned stranger steps forwards and took Tom’s hand.  Tom tried to use his power, to transfer this stranger his immense excess weight, but nothing happened.  “That won’t work on me big man”, the stranger said kindly, “immune, you see?  Part of my gift.  Can’t be affected by other powers, or use them, but I can act as a bit of a… well, I guess you might call me a power broker”.  He smiled kindly again, before gripping Tom tighter and closing his eyes.  Tom could feel his ability simply draining away.

A moment later the man stepped back, nodding a polite thanks to the dumbstruck Tom.  He crossed the room and took Jennifer’s hand this time, repeating the process.

Jennifer let out a long guttural moan as the stranger took back his hand.  “I… I…” she stuttered in disbelief, tears welling up in her eyes.  “The hunger, it’s… it’s gone”.  She looked as if an enormous weight had suddenly been lifted off her shoulders.  Tom looked as if he was about to throw-up.

Penny grinned and nodded at the stranger.  He took her hand - the third in as many minutes - and held it for a moment, eyes closed in deep concentration.  “It is done”, he announced in a matter-of-fact tone, “and the hunger?”. 

“Hold onto that for now”, Penny replied, “you two can go - I’ll join you outside in a little while.  My brother and I have some catching up to do…”.  There was an ominous undertone that made the hair on the back of Tom’s neck stand to attention.

With that the smartly dressed stranger and Tom’s former girlfriend stepped out of the room, closing the door behind them.  Jennifer gave him a mournful look as she left - the end of their relationship.  Tom wanted to call out to her, to beg for forgiveness, for help.  All he managed was a pathetic whimper.

“So…”, begins Penny as she waddles ponderously towards Tom’s bed, “shall we get this over with?”.

“No, Penny, wait”, Tom spluttered, but his waddling sister had already reached his bedside and placed a pudgy hand against one of his overflowing hips.  Her hand was at once cool to the touch, and then burned red hot without warning.  He winced and strained at his non-existent ab muscles to try and turn away, but couldn’t do anything to extricate his flabby ass cheeks from the sheet below.

Tom’s eyes went wide with fear as he realised what was about to happen.

He began to grow.  A familiar bubbling beneath his already stretched skin and then the unmistakable feeling of his body expanding across the medical bed.  Resting against the angled back of the bed he could see his legs splaying outwards slowly, forced wider by encroaching inner thigh blubber.  Calves thicker than most men’s torsos that jiggled as they went.

His ass and hips were an ocean of fat, pouring out onto the king sized bed and filling up the entire width.  Tom’s plump hands could just about reach his flank.  He prodded fearfully at his hips and felt his finger sink inches into his flesh without any hint of bone underneath.

A vast orb-like belly rounded out his fat ass, giving him the appearance of an overfilled water balloon resting on a surface.  His weight was crushing, making it harder to breath with every passing second.  He could feel his gut hanging down between his legs, swallow up his cock, and spread further along the top of his thighs.  Two meaty man-tits obscured most of his view, veiny and stretch-marked with the sudden impossible growth, thick nipples hard in the cool air-conditioned air.

He had to be over one and a half tonnes at this point.  He whimpered pathetically.

The springs and gimbals of the bed squeaked and groaned under his immense weight, but mercifully held as the final pound slipped onto his body and Penny’s hand pulled away.  Tom choked out a groan.  It sounded oddly muffled.  The sheer weight of his cheeks and fat pressing in on his vocal cords changing the timber of his voice.

His gaze shifted to his sister.  It was like looking back in time.

The tent sized dress in a heap at her feet, her body had returned to its former glory.  Long slender legs, a toned middle, a pretty and well-defined jawline, a perfect pair of tits.  She was every part the smoking hot sister he had lusted over all those years ago.

Penny ran her hands up and down her body, exploring.  It was a natural instinct given the circumstances.  He’d seen it a hundred times before in his clinic.  Tom could see the raw, unadulterated pleasure etched across face as she ran her hands over her waist - now tight and taught like the rest of her body. 

She let out a long, deep sigh, like the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders.  In many ways it had.  “You know I used to dream of this day”, she said, “or, maybe not exactly this day”, putting emphasis on the penultimate word and nodding at his gargantuan body, “but I would fantasise about getting my old body back.  What I would do if I was given a chance at being thin and beautiful again.  Run off to the nearest beach maybe?  Call an old flame?”.

Tom drank in her body.  She was beauty personified.  “And you know what?”, Tom’s sister shrugged, her perky tits rising and falling with the motion, “now I’m here, with you, I’m not so sure…”.  She tiled her head slightly, taking him in.  “What I should do is go out that door and never see you again.  I know that.  But what I want to do… what I want to do is leave you with one last memory of me.  Something to think about during those long, long days you’ll spend trapped in this bed, unable to even reach your…”.  Penny trailed off, turned, and headed for the door.

As she reached the kitchen’s threshold she turned back to him.  “Bathroom?”.  He nodded her in the right direction, lost for words.

She returned a minute or so later with a towel in one hand and a bottle in the other.  “Didn’t take me long to find your old stash”, she laughed, waving the jumbo bottle of lube at him.  Penny upturned the bottle and poured the viscous liquid over her chest, letting it drip over her breasts and cascade down her body.  The entire bottle, at least a six month supply, covered her in a greasy sheen.

Tom’s cock was already rock hard and pulsating somewhere deep within his folds. 

Penny centred herself at the end of his medical bed and crawled on.  The joints and gimbals groaned under the increased weight, likely more that its designers had in mind, but mercifully held.

Tom lost sight of her as she dipped beneath the crest of his titanic belly.   He felt her soon enough. 

An oily hand lifted his lower belly and went delving amongst his folds.  His fat amplified the pleasure, each press of her hands setting off a wave of blubber that beat against his buried dick.  Tom chocked a moan and balled his fists in pleasure. 

“Where is your little guy?”, Penny asked playfully, “I can’t find him anywhere”.  Her oily hands groped and pawed at his engorged fat pad.  Up to her elbow now, he could feel her getting closer.

When his sister’s fingers finally brushed against the tip of his cock Tom let out a pig-like sequel of delight.  The feeling was euphoric.  “There he is!”, Penny laughed, “you’re certainly not going to be doing this yourself anytime soon bro”.  She was right.  Tom’s days of beating himself off were well and truly behind him.

She circled her finger around the tip, just like Jennifer used to do.  Tom shuddered, sending ripples of fat down his body.  Penny pushed back his foreskin and rubbed gently at the underside of his head.  With each rub of his sister’s oily fingers Tom spluttered out a moan, and when she pinched his shaft and began slowly, rhythmically, pumping, Tom thought he might pass out from the pleasure.

“You like that, hmmm?”, Penny asked, knowing his answer before the words left her lips, “are you about to blow?”.  She sped up her fingers as she said it, willing his cock to release its load.  Tom chocked out a “yes”, clenching what few muscles he had left beneath his fatty prison.  Just a few more seconds…

Penny retracted her hand, retrieving it from his fat pad’s deep folds.  Tom teetered just on the edge of orgasm once again, on the precipice, unable to tip himself over.  The increased weight of his balls might have just been in his head but he could swear they were heavier with unfulfilled anticipation.  He tried in vain to reach his crotch to finish himself off.  His hand even couldn’t reach past his upper belly.

“Please…”, he whimpered, but his sister didn’t appear to be listening.  He felt her place her hands atop his belly - slick palms sank deep into his gut as she pulled herself on top of him.  Tom felt her warm thighs and pussy slap against his flesh, the heat of her body pressing against his own as she came into view, straddling his blubber.

She heaved herself up to his chest using handholds of fat, aided by the slippery lube covering her naked body.  Towering over his head, she came to a stop sat upon his wobbly moobs. 

“Figured that given this is probably the last time you’re ever going to see any action I might as well make it memorable”, she said with a cheeky glint in her eye, “I remember how much you used to stare at my tits back in the day.  You were practically salivating whenever I wore a low-cut top.  Sneaking peeks at me in the bathroom”. 

Tom’s eyes moved to his sister’s breasts instinctively.  Her plump double-ds were as perfect as he’d remembered.  He could feel his cock throbbing painfully.

“Don’t blow too soon”, she continued, leaning forwards placing an arm either side of Tom’s head, tits hanging a foot or so above. 

A finger brushed against his neck and burned hot.

If a third party had been in the room they likely wouldn’t have noticed the 10 or so pounds that suddenly disappeared from Tom, such was the enormity of his body.  The change to his sister’s slender form, however, was unmistakable.

Tom watched, mouth agape, as Penny’s tits began to engorge.  Her already generous bosom bulged and sagged, drooping closer to his face with each passing second.  Two soft watermelons with plump nipples, still covered in lube.  Tom could barely contain himself.

She lowered herself, engulfing Tom’s face in soft titty flesh. He moaned as the weight of her chest pressed into his face.  He shook his head side to side and let her hanging water-balloons smack into his cheeks with wet slaps.  It was everything he’d ever wanted.

“You like that big boy?”, Penny’s voice called out from somewhere up above after a minute or so of breathless fun, “well then you’ll really enjoy this…”.  A familiar sensation on his neck was followed by an even greater weight pressing down on his face.  His sister’s tits engulfed his head, spreading around his face on all sides.  It was all Tom could do to stop himself from cuming there and then.

Mustering every ounce of strength in his body he raised his ham-like forearms and cupped her vast tits.  He felt her soft blubber between his fingers, and began bouncing them, letting waves of fat ripple across their surface and by extension his face.  Tom’s muffled moans barely escaped his fleshy prison.

Penny giggled.  “Feel good do they bro?”, she asked, reaching forwards and shaking her huge hanging melons for his pleasure.

It was all too much.  Before he had time to properly register the idea Tom shifted his hands away from his sister’s impossibly large breasts and slapped them against her bare ass cheeks instead.  He caressed her toned behind before slipping a finger between her legs.  Her pussy was warm and wet.

“Oh… oooohhh”, she moaned, shifting her legs to better expose her crotch to his wandering hands, and widening her legs across his chest to fully present herself to him.  Tom was happy to accept the invitation.

As he began to work at her pussy Penny rocked back and forth, rubbing herself against his hand.  This had the pleasant consequence of further jiggling her engorged melons, which slapped against Tom’s cherubic cheeks.

His mouth found a plump nipple and latched on, nibbling.  Tom could feel the rush building in his crotch now.  “Hmmmppf”, he moaned, suckling at his sister’s tits as he rubbed her clitoris furiously.  She was groaning too now, bouncing herself on top of his fingers, causing waves of blubber to ripple across his vast body.

Tom released the nipple from his lips and choked out a muffled pig-like squeal.  They came together, a deluge of cum exploding somewhere within his fat pad as his sister’s pussy drenched his quivering hand.  Penny collapsed forwards, the full weight of her water-balloons enveloping Tom’s face.

He gasped for air as he came down from an orgasmic high.  For a brief moment the reality of his situation had been lost in the intense pleasure, but a post-nut clarity soon washed over him.  His heart pounded hard in his flabby chest.

“How was that fat boy?”, his sister asked, heaving her tits up whilst still straddling his chest.  Her gargantuan milkers hovering just above his face, “everything you dreamed it would be?”.  Her face was flushed rouge and her breathing heavy.  She slid down his body, aided by the lube, and stepped off, her engorged udders making the dismount less graceful than it would have otherwise been. 

Penny took her melons in her arms and felt their weight.  “Oooof, this would certainly give the boys something to look at.  But… I think they suit you better”.  She touched Tom’s flank and he felt a familiar warmth from her fingertips.  Whilst Penny’s tits shrank back to their normal, more modest, cup-size his weighty moobs ballooned, rounding and spreading further across the crest of his belly. 

“Nice pair”, she giggled when the fat transaction was complete.  She gave the fat tits a gentle wobble.  “Don’t think you’re going to be getting the girls was these puppies hanging off your chest.  They’d be too jealous, you know?”, she laughed, before reaching for her old fat girl clothes and drying herself off.  Tom whimpered as he watched her bend over to dry her feet, pussy flashing into view.

Penny removed a small summery dress from her handbag and slipped into it.  She then rummaged for her phone and made a call.  “Yes, ambulance please”.  She turned and smiled at Tom ruefully.  “Oh, thank god, it’s my brother he’s… well he’s eaten himself into some trouble.  He’s got too fat for me to look after anymore… yes… yes… oh I’d say about one and a half tonnes… yes you’ll need the fire brigade… oh, they’ll most certainly need a crane to assist… yes the address is…”.

Tom listened on in silent horror.

When she hung up the connection Penny walked over to Tom and leaned in to give him a peck on his weighty cheek.  “Goodbye big brother”, she smiled, giving his vast man-tit a jiggle for emphasis, “maybe I’ll come and check in on your weight loss every now and then.  Make sure you aren’t slimming down too much, you know?  Can’t have you up and out of this bed now can I?  No, I think a little extra padding every now and then will keep you right where I want you”.  She jiggled his titanic belly playfully, gave him a wink that made his heart plummet, and turned towards the exit.  Tom couldn’t help but follow her tight ass out the door, tears in his eyes. 

The emergency services arrived shortly after, crane and all.

[vigilante]

Epilogue:  The Mistress

Annabelle was not happy.

Angry footsteps echoed around her impressive marble entrance room as she strode towards the door.  She’d been rudely awoken from a food-induced coma by a nervous housemaid, who had informed her that Tom hadn’t shown up for that morning’s shift at the clinic. 

And to add insult to injury, the clients that he’d so rudely stood-up were none other than the daughters of the CEO of the firm her father has recently started working at.  Morbidly obese triplets that were so spoilt they made Annabelle look like mother Theresa.

Typical.  What had she done to deserve this fresh hell on a Tuesday morning?

Tom’s mobile went straight to voicemail.  “Probably too busy fucking that red-haired glutton in their filthy whore-house…” she muttered to herself spitefully.  She should have put her foot down about that greedy pig’s ridiculous fetish club when it first began.  It was her, Annabelle, whose money and influence had lifted Tom out of the gutter.  When she finally got her hands on him she’d be sure to remind him of that.

As she hurriedly rounded the corner to the clinic she was pleasantly surprised to see three identically trim women walking towards a set of colourful Lamborghinis parked out front.  So Tom had decided to turn up after all. 

The piercing voices of the triplets carried across the lot.  “… I know right?  I still can’t believe it!” … “We look fiiiiine ladies - daddy isn’t going to recognise us when we get home” … “I can’t believe they did all three of us at the same time!” … “and Dr Tom?  I guess it must be her last name…”.  The conversation was soon drowned out over the roar of engines. 

Annabelle pushed open the clinic door hortily.  She felt her gut jiggle as she did so - she was in need of another slimming, only 6 days after her last.  It was the least Tom could do after the stress of the morning. 

Crossing the reception, which was curiously unstaffed, she headed towards Tom’s office. 

As she pushed open the door an unwelcome shock of flame-red hair greeted her.  Before she could muster a response Annabelle felt a sharp prick in her neck.  She recoiled, staggering backwards, spotting the now empty syringe in Jennifer’s hand. 

“Nighty night…”, Jennifer smiled as Annabelle’s world faded to black…

- - - - - - - -

“…she’s coming to…”

“Eurghhh…”, Annabelle groaned groggily as she woke from a deep and peaceful slumber.  It took a few seconds for her bleary eyes to adjust to the brightness.  She was staring up at the plain utilitarian ceiling of Tom’s office.

She made as to rub her brow, but could not.  Her arm tugged against an unseen resistance, and looking to her side she could see a set of medical restraints pinning her limbs to the four corners of the clinics medical bed on which she lay.

“What…?”, she groaned, but before she could finish the half-formed thought two women stepped into view.

Annabelle recognised the thinner of the pair.  Jennifer, Tom’s other business partner and the woman who had just jabbed a syringe into her neck, peered down at her with a wide grin that Annabelle didn’t appreciate one bit.  The other woman stood breathlessly at her side, easily one of the fattest people to ever grace the clinic - which was certainly saying something.  There was something about the woman’s bloated face that was oddly familiar…

“You have no idea who you’re messing with, I’m the daughter of-”, she began, her strength and anger quickly returning to their pre-anaesthesia levels, but Jennifer cut her off.

“I know exactly who you are Annabelle”, she spat, emphasising her name as if it was poison on her tongue, “you’re the kind of spoilt little rich girl that thinks it’s okay to play around behind someone’s back because their mummy never told them ‘no’ when they were growing up.  To fuck my boyfriend and make me look like a fool”.  She paused for an angry breath before continuing.  “Well, Penny and I have a little surprise for you…”.

“Penny?”, Annabelle croaked, neutrons firing just quickly enough to connect the dots, “you’re… you’re Tom’s sister?”.

“The very same”, the enormous woman answered, “and you’re probably wondering what’s going on here.  Well, let me fill you in”.  She waddled a step closer, the light on the ceiling shaking slightly with each heavy step.  “My pervy porky brother used his power to slim down mother and make me balloon into a reality-TV fatso, making himself filthy rich in the process.  I mean the fact that he, of all people, managed to bag a couple of hotties obviously meant that some sort of dark art had to have been involved.  Anyway, in the end I wised up, paid someone to investigate, and, well, long story short, let’s just say my brother’s power is in better hands now”.

Penny waved her pudgy hands at Annabelle, whose face went grey with sudden realisation and fear.

“And Jennifer’s”, she continued, “well her power is in better hands too.  My mother has such terrible hunger pangs she’s doubled over in pain unless she’s shovelling something greasy into her mouth.  At this rate the poor thing is going to gain back she lost, and then some.  She’s back living with me now, and I’m making sure that she stays very… well… fed”.  She emphasised the final three words, tracing a finger around Annabelle’s stomach with a rueful grin.

“Speaking of which…”, she continued, and before Annabelle could protest Penny’s hands her clasped around her arm and began burning red hot. 

Annabelle whimpered, but it fell on deaf ears.  She felt her body swell, expand, straining at the seams of her clothes before bursting free of them and the medical beds restraints altogether.  She could feel herself regressing to the weight she had been before she met Tom.  A great wheezing whale, and then beyond it, as she took on all of Penny’s pounds and grew fatter than she’d ever been.

The woman who let go of her arm a few seconds later was unrecognisable.  Toned, tall, and strikingly beautiful, Penny was a true Amazonian beauty.  Which was more than could be said for poor Annabelle.

Annabelle strained her neck over multiple chins to see the damage to her own body.  It was worse than she’d feared.  Her body spread wide across the double bed, rolls upon rolls, every inch of her buried deep under a heavy layer of blubber.  Fatter than she’d ever been before meeting Tom.  She tried to swing her legs off the bed but they didn’t move an inch.  Immobile then, pinned to the bed by the overindulgence of the porky pampered triplets.

“That’s more like it“, Penny smiled, patting her taught abs and Annabelle’s bloated gut in turn.  “I think the extra weight suits you”.  She winked at Annabelle, who had the good grace to blush with embarrassment.  She moved an arm to cover what she could of her bare sagging breasts, conscious that her fat pussy was also on show, but unfortunately well out of reach given her new size.

“Please”, she whined desperately, “I’ll do anything.  Anything.  Just take the weight back.  I have money - is it money you’re after?  Just name your price and my daddy will-”.

Jennifer snorted, cutting her off.  “I don’t think so Miss Piggy.  You’re finally back in the body you deserve.  A greedy, gluttonous, spoilt pig, who got so enormously porky that she isn’t ever going to be able to fuck her favourite vibrator again, let alone anyone’s boyfriend”.  She jiggled Annabelle’s cellulite ridden hips.  “Couldn’t pay me all the money in the world to take back these just-desserts”.

Annabelle looked desperately from one woman to the other, but it was clear in their rueful expressions she wasn’t going to change their minds.  Jennifer’s hand reached for the medical tray beside her.

“Toodles!”, she smiled, as the second syringe of the day plunged into Annabelle’s thick neck.  She tried to protest but the words came undone in her throat as the world went dark once again…

- - - - - - - -

“Annabelle…?  Annabelle!”, a familiar voice shook her from her slumber.

She opened her eyes groggily as the panicked face of her mother loomed over her head.  The world was still spinning.

“Oh Annabelle!  What’s happened?  Why are you…?  Let me get Tom”, her mother cried frantically, looking around as if expecting to see him there.

“Stop… mother…”, Annabelle slurred groggily.  She tried to sit up but her weak abs weren’t up to the task.  “He’s gone.  It’s all gone”.  Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked down at her morbidly obese body.  She took a great armful of belly blubber and shook it miserably, emphasising the point.

The colour had all but drained from Lilly’s face as she surveyed her fattened daughter in silent horror.  Annabelle wondered if she was more concerned about her daughter’s wellbeing or the prospect of her own impending weight gain with no hope of ever slimming down again.  Lilly was already looking on the chunky side since their last session with Tom.  Probably a little of both.

After a few seconds she managed to stammer, “w… what do you want me to do?”.

As if on cue Annabelle’s stomach growled angrily.  Hunger pangs worse than she’d ever experienced racked her bloated body.  She’d have doubled-up in pain were it not for the 200 pounds of belly butter in the way.

“McDonald’s”, she sobbed, “now!”.

Lilly hesitated clearly unsure whether this was what her daughter really needed, but her continued moaning was enough to convince her otherwise.  She turned about heel and headed for the door.

Annabelle’s stomach rumbled loudly again like an oncoming storm.  Through floods of tears she called out over her mountainous belly to her mother’s wobbling backside.  “And make it supersized!”.

 

The End