Batman76 reacted to flyer33 in Donuts and Duchesses
Oh alright, you lot. Feeding time...
Chapter 10: Cakes and Crushes (part 1)
Yvette Carte-Blanche puffed, panted, and sweated her way up the second flight of stone steps to the day-room overlooking the Demoore townhouse's shady garden. It was a sweltering afternoon, even within the thick walls of Lady Staceline Demoore's grand residence on the Mercantian Hill, and Yvette was starting to get out of breath from the number of trips she had made from the hot basement kitchen. If the Aquitanian lady's maid was honest with herself, she would admit it was not only the weight of the pastry-laden trays that was making her sweat, but also her own rather spoiled aerobic fitness, burgeoning plumpness, rubbing thighs, blatantly fat bottom, overweight breasts, hefty tummy, and the slightly-painful knee that had been caused by a combination of those things.
Yvette caught her breath once she reached the second floor, temporarily resting her tray of fattening treats on an antique mahogany sideboard that had been built to last by a master carpenter. She fanned her face and adjusted her glossy black mane of hair in a silver wall mirror. Then she pushed open the door to the day room.
Yvette was eager not to spend too long catching her breath, as Lady Staceline had been unusually hungry this afternoon, and as her personal maid it was Yvette's role to make sure her mistress's appetite was fully sated at all times! It was a challenging job, because Lady Staceline Voluptua-Fuller Demoore was an eighteen-year-old Duchess. Like most young ladies of the Imperial aristocracy, generations of careful breeding had equipped Lady Staceline with a truly gargantuan stomach capacity, and an appetite that didn't quit (in addition to perfect skin and a bosom that would make a mythic heroine or goddess's jaw drop with envy). Unlike other young noble ladies, Lady Staceline had also inherited, from somewhere, a metabolism that burned calories like a forest fire ignited by heat lightning during a severe drought in coal-mining country. Consequently, the young heiress sported a pert bottom and a scandalously narrow waist... This, in the minds of Yvette and Lady Staceline's other loyal maids, was a terrible burden which they hoped to help their mistress overcome. True, many previous guardians, cooks, and an elite finishing school had all failed in the same aim; but Yvette was hopeful that the truly enormous appetite with which Lady Staceline had returned from her morning ride was evidence that the young Duchess was finally setting her iron willpower to the task of packing on the kind of well-rounded curves a woman of her station ought to sport. Therefore, after Lady Staceline had finished frenziedly gorging herself in her kitchen, and headed upstairs to sleep off her colossally calorific meal, Yvette had decided that it would be a great idea to bring several further trays of cakes, pastries, and other afternoon snacks up to her mistress. And, so far, the strong-willed young Duchess had glared at each one with single-minded willpower, before devouring the entire serving. Yvette was very impressed.
“'Allo, Lady Staceline! I 'ave brought you anozer leetle selection of snacks, as I sought you must still be 'ungry!” Yvette announced cheerfully to Lady Staceline, who was wearing just a short, thigh-length silk robe and standing next to a table laden with pleasingly-clean plates and bowls.
The hot, angry glare which Lady Staceline shot at Yvette in reply was, however, not really what Yvette had hoped for. Plus, she found it a tiny bit scary – Lady Staceline was young and affable, but she was tall, her bare arms were alarmingly firmly muscled, and she could switch on a look of intimidatingly icy resolve when she wanted to. As she was now doing.
“Yvette.” The young Duchess stated coolly.
“Yes, Lady Staceline?”
“Are you trying to stuff me until I'm sick?”
“Of course not, Lady Staceline! Ah am 'elping--” Yvette gasped.
“Then. What. Are. You. Holding. Yvette?” Staceline put a hand on her maid's shoulder. Despite being slick with sweat, Yvette suspected she wouldn't be able to slip out of the grip if she moved. So she stood rigid.
Yvette grinned helpfully at the tray, and sighed in relief as she slid it onto the table.
“Ah, zis, Lady Staceline? Ah. A few drop scones, and a leetle jug of a quart of milk, and a plate of your favourite apple pancakes, and...”
Staceline panted a little as she loomed over Yvette and examined the tray. On reflection, Yvette suspected that her mistress might be uncomfortably overstuffed. The only real evidence was that Staceline slurred her words when she wasn't speaking slowly, and that she had icing sugar smeared around the corner of her mouth, which, being a very tidy eater, was rare for her. If any other young woman had devoured everything on the well-stocked tables of Frau Apfel's kitchen, as Staceline had in about two hours after returning from her ride with an immense appetite, then there would be a dead giveaway... For example, any other young woman who hadn't passed out would be struggling to lift her gravid belly, which would look eight months pregnant. But the way Staceline's short robe of embroidered eastern silk draped from her epic bosom made it hard to tell... Then again, Yvette noticed the robe was tied very loosely, which was not the way her mistress normally dressed. And when she moved the robed definitely framed a belly that was swollen from her upper belly down to her crotch. Maybe seven months?
“Let me see, Yvette. Oh yes, this looks to me like there is also... An entire mouthwatering chocolate cheesecake; a plum pudding intended to serve eight, and I mean eight aristocratic fatties; a dozen pancakes, which should really be on two plates; twelve scones; more coffee; and a bowl of what I think is chopped bananas and apricots in a half-gallon of cream? Is that about right, Yvette?”
Staceline's breath was scented with oranges, probably from the large orange cake which Yvette was pleased to see had been completely devoured, as she breathed her question over Yvette while looming over the maid's shoulder. Yvette shivered.
“Exactly right, Lady Staceline!”
“Do you know what isn't in this mountain-range of artery-clogging, tummy-ache-magnifying calories, Yvette?”
“Erm, no, but Ah can fetch...”
“NO!” Yvette flinched as Staceline shouted. The net curtains swished as Staceline's yell temporarily overpowered the limited breeze from the garden.
“The one thing that isn't here – and actually the one thing I asked you to bring, Yvette, with very specific instructions not to bring me anything else, because I am Oh Gods so fucking stuffed – is a glass of iced water!”
“Oh. I thought you would prefer a jug of milk, but Ah can go get zee water, eef you like, Lady Sta--”
Yvette flinched again. She tried to step towards the door, but felt her shoulder was locked in Staceline's vice-like grip.
“Yes, Yvette. Oh.” Staceline said with finality. “Stay there.”
Yvette stood stock still, facing the table, while her mistress stalked behind her. A note of concern crossed the maid's mind. It was technically true that she'd fairly directly disobeyed her mistress's instructions about the most recent tray of food. And, technically, Yvette had also creatively added a lot of cakes and pastries to the other trays which Lady Staceline had explicitly yelled at her to stop bringing. On the grounds, Staceline had said, that she'd been splashed with some kind of dangerous appetite stimulant potion which had caused a riot in the city and caused Staceline to lose control and gorge herself until painfully stuffed as soon as she'd ridden back to her mansion. But Yvette had basically assumed – with Lady Staceline's best interests at heart – that this story was simply a demure way of Staceline saying “please bring me a lot more food, Yvette, as I am very hungry and could eat a horse.” She hadn't particularly believed the story about the appetite stimulant potion. It sounded like a silly cover-story that the young woman might have made – quite unnecessarily – to excuse the very healthy appetite she'd worked up on her morning ride.
The Duchess, however, didn't seem at all pleased by her maid's imaginative reinterpretation of her instructions, and it crossed Yvette's mind that other maids of high-ranking noblewomen routinely lost their sought-after positions for lesser annoyances.
“What am I going to do with you, Yvette?” Staceline inquired.
“Ahem--” Yvette suggested.
“Shut up, Yvette. I was thinking out loud.”
Yvette's spirits fell. Lady Staceline was actually a really good mistress... Yvette would be sad to lose her position as her personal maid, if, as she suspected, she was about to.
“I suppose I could be nice, Yvette? Should I be nice to you?”
“Yes please, Lady Staceline! Ah would be very grateful...”
“Okay, Yvette. I'm going to be nice to you, because I believe that you think I'm too skinny, despite my being around 160 lbs ish; and need feeding up; and that any time I happen to lose control of my appetite, for any reason, is a good time for you to help me bulk up like any normal girl my age. Right?”
“Zat's exactly ri—”
“Shh!” Staceline gripped Yvette's shoulder again, and pushed the unresisting maid a step forwards.
“And so, Yvette, I'm not going to have you...” Staceline breathed into her maid's ear. “Spanked for disobedience.”
Yvette felt a surge of relief... She actually quite liked being spanked. And if that was all Lady Staceline was thinking of, then all was well with the world...
“But I do think I should give you some sort of punishment for the brutal overfeeding you've done to me this afternoon, Yvette, since it was very contrary to my desperately telling you to stop bringing me so much fucking food.”
“Ah, eff you say so—”
“I say so, Yvette. And, because you deliberately overfed me this afternoon, Yvette... I'm going to make your punishment fit the crime!” Staceline grinned menacingly. “Does that sound fair, Yvette?”
“Ah---” Yvette thought.
“I thought so. Tell me, Yvette, have you eaten lunch today?”
“Of course, Lady Staceline!”
“Good. What did you eat? I hope it was a lot?”
“Um. Six pork sausages, and creamed potato with pepper and carrots, and a big slice of chocolate tart with cream, Lady---”
“Oh no! Yvette?” Staceline relaxed her grip patted her maid on the shoulder.
“Eet was very good, L---”
“Yvette! Such a small meal! You must be starving!” Staceline cooed, voice overflowing with sympathy and concern.
“Ah, no, Lady Staceline! I am pretty full, and my skirt is feeling a leetle too tight this afterno--”
“Well you'd better fucking take it off then, Yvette!”
Yvette was nonplussed. Confusion crossed her face. She was a former courtesan, and she'd be delighted to have sex with her gorgeous (even if slightly skinny) mistress. But it hardly seemed like a punishment for disobedience.
“But why, Lady Staceline?”
Staceline grinned wolfishly.
“Because, Yvette, you see that tray you've just put down? The one that has so much pastry, cake, pudding, and cream on it that you could barely carry it and you hadto take a break carrying it up here...”
“Ah, yes, Lady---”
“Your punishment for disobeying me, Yvette, is that you're going to eat every fucking crumb! And if I haven't watched you lick every plate spotlessly clean in an hour, I may just take back my idea about being nice, and have your bottom spanked raw! In fact I'll do it myself!”
Yvette gasped. Yvette had carefully selected the foods on the tray. They were all incredibly dense and calorie-rich. They were supposed to be enough to stuff a young Duchess! Yvette's poor tummy would ache very badly if she tried to eat it all!
“But, Lady Staceline! Eet iz impossible! No woman can eat that much after a big lunch!”
“Hah! Gotcha, Yvette! You were going to make me eat it – and I would have, except I think my metabolism has finally burned off the worst of that damn appetite stimulant... So now I'm going to make you eat it instead.”
“But Lady Staceline!” Yvette wailed.
“Grab a spoon and start eating, Carte-Blanche! You have fifty-nine minutes left. Oh, and don't waste time unpopping your skirt button – I'll help you out of it later when you're half way done.”
“Oh!” Yvette moaned, and picked up a large dessert spoon from the saucer.
Pretty soon, Yvette began to wish she hadn't craftily scooped and piled three-quarters of a gallon of bananas and cream into the half gallon bowl.
Batman76 reacted to flyer33 in Milf Avenue
Chapter 1 (part 3)
“Urp! Oh, please! No more pie!”
The rail-thin socialite Lara Lys exchanged a glance with her overly-voluptuous blonde Mill Avenue friend, Sophie Smithe. And then promptly dug the serving spoon back into the monstrous bowl of apple pie and heavy cream she was holding, and crammed the resulting mound of calories in between the lips of the moaning Puerto Rican trophy wife who was sat between them on Sophie’s comfortable new sofa.
“Mmm! Mmmph.” Rebeca gulped, before gasping, “My guts hurt!”
Sophie, the blonde mom-of-four who had seen all manner of upset young women during her years in Beverly Hills, was having none of it.
“Nonsense, Rebeca! In all my years in Beverly Hills, I’ve never met a young woman of your age whose problems could not be solved by a sufficiently large serving of my apple and cinnamon pie. And I do declare you shan’t be the first!”
“Mmmn.” Rebeca protested, and refused to open wide for the next spoonful of her neighbour’s exquisite pie. The woman trying to spoonfeed it to her, the raven-haired 30-year old Lara Lys, socialite, occasional lady of the night, and current mistress of the avenue’s oldest and richest financier, harrumphed in frustration.
“Really, Rebeca.” Lara pouted. “It’s not like we haven’t all seen you eat three servings of Sophie’s pie before. Now eat up! It’ll make you feel better.”
Lara crammed another big spoonful of pie and cream into the Caribbean girl’s mouth, then loaded up the next scoop.
“Tummy hurts!” Rebeca moaned at length. “Too much food!”
Lara and Sophie exchanged another glance. Their friend did have honey and icing sugar smeared around her mouth. And Rebeca had eaten several servings of honey and lemon cake, as well as scones dripping with jam and clotted cream, and numerous little fruit-topped puff pastry delights along with full-cream coffee, and that was before Sophie had resorted to her magical apple pie in an attempt to bolster the young woman’s spirits. So perhaps she was feeling a little full. Certainly there was no way Lara could have packed away so many pastry-based calories without feeling very sick – not now that she had reached the age of thirty, anyway. And even when Lara had been Rebeca’s enviably youthful twenty-two, she wouldn’t have dared risk eating so many baked treats in one sitting, because that sort of fare would quickly have made her exceedingly fat! On the other hand, Rebeca was a towering 5’10’’ to Lara’s petite 5’5’, and Rebeca had never previously shown much sign of watching her weight at their brunches. And she’d definitely eaten more than two bowls of pie on several occasions.
“Don’t be such a drama queen, Rebeca!” Lara chided. “Everyone’s first time being cheated on is tough! Trust me, I know all about it!”
“Quite right!” Sophie continued, seeing Rebeca slump back into the couch at the mention of cheating, allowing Lara to pop another huge helping of pie between the dark-blonde’s lips. “The important thing is to eat plenty of stodge until you stop worrying about her! That’s the best advice, in my experience.”
“Urrrrr!” Rebeca groaned, as she struggled to swallow her latest mouthful. Lara backed off to give her friend time to swallow. “Can’t eat anymore! Tummy too full! If I eat another slice of pie, I’ll die! Uuuurp!”
“Now Rebeca.” Sophie expounded. “You have to eat up. It’ll make you feel better. I’ve seen you eat plenty more of my baking than this, and I want you to put that appetite to work again now, for your own good!”
Rebeca made a pained whimper and her hand rushed to her belly… Which, Sophie noticed for the first time, through the concealing folds of Rebeca’s light, full length summer dress, looked absolutely huge. Distended, in fact, like she was smuggling a football. It was more than should be accounted for by the moderately large number of Sophie’s excellent pastries that Rebeca had packed away. Was it possible that Rebeca was pregnant? That would account for the emotional mess she was in… But from the size of her belly she’d have to be five months along, and she’d only been married for three!
“Ate too much!” Rebeca cried out. “Binged at breakfast before I came here! Five eggs! Ten rashers of bacon. Five sausages and potato waffles! A huge pan of beans, six slices of fried bread and a whole quart of milk! Uurrp! And half a box of pop tarts. Oof! I feel so sick!”
Sophie took a third sideways glance at Lara, who had put down the potentially-lethal bowl of apple pie and cream, and was patting their young friend’s shoulder. That amount of food would explain the distended state of Rebeca’s potbelly, and the urgent gurgling sounds it was making, and, coincidentally, proved Sophie’s theory that a bust as ample as Rebeca’s could only be grown by a young woman with a very gluttonous appetite.
Rebeca slumped back in the sofa, sweating profusely and seemingly grateful that Sophie’s “food remedy” for soothing her stressed nerves seemed to have stopped. Sophie busied herself tidying up plates, and signalled to Lara to escort their friend outside onto a sun-lounger as soon as possible – lest Rebeca’s overloaded belly rebel and make her sick all over Sophie’s costly couch.
A short while later, Rebeca drifted awake from a pleasant dream about an evening-long beach barbeque under the tropical night sky of Hawaii. She had vague memories of being helped outside by Lara, while her grossly overfull belly had gurgled and ached tremendously. But Rebeca felt better now: her guts still felt uncomfortably heavy and stretched, but they no longer hurt.
“Mmm.” Rebeca murmured.
“Oh, hey there, sleeping beauty. You Okay there?” Lara inquired from the adjacent sun-lounger.
“Mmmm.” Rebeca agreed. The afternoon air felt nice, and a tranquil breeze stirred the palm trees around Sophie’s pool.
“You want anything to drink? Water? I’m just going to the kitchen, if you’d like me to get you some?” Lara inquired, knowing the dark blonde must need a good serving of zero-calorie water to help her poor belly deal with the huge load of breakfast and pastries with which she’d overstuffed herself. But Lara also knew of her friend’s rather fattening tastes. “Or milk?”
Rebeca perked up at the mention of milk.
“Oh. Milk, please, Lara!”
“Okay, Rebeca. Would you like whole milk, or skimmed?”
“Whole milk, please.”
“And would you like one pint, or two?”
“Mmm. May I have…” Rebeca asked hopefully. “Four pints, please?”
Lara suppressed the urge to arch an eyebrow.
“Of course you may, Rebeca. But drink them slowly or you’ll make yourself sick.”
A very short while later, Lara reclined on her sun-lounger and sipped her glass of iced water while watching Rebeca surreptitiously through her mirrored sunglasses. The dark blonde had removed her sun dress while Lara was fetching her milk, and now the former fitness model was slathering sun lotion over her… surprisingly curvaceous body, was the politest way to put it.
Fuck! When had Rebeca grown so fat? Lara pondered.
Oh, the ex-fittie still had the long limbs and strong frame of a woman who worked out professionally. But her legs were curvier, and her arms fleshier, and that was barely the start! She still rocked a string bikini, enough to make Lara salivate and wish she had something more substantial than an ice cube to suck on, but Rebeca Moore’s once-taut abdomen and torso seemed to have suddenly grown curves for days… Well, the enormous breasts weren’t new, but the curvy hips were, and the full bottom was – not to mention the swollen food-bump of her belly.
Lara had watched Rebeca “slowly” drink her way through half a gallon of full-fat milk, which was now sloshing around a belly that could already have convinced anyone the new Mrs Moore was a solid four months pregnant. Lara had felt her tummy start to ache just from thinking about the calories the former fitness model must be packing into her already overfed belly. No wonder her husband had called Rebeca overweight! Overweight? As far as Lara could see, Rebeca must be getting pretty near to obese! The astonishing thing was that the model’s strong frame and well-developed muscles seemed to have totally concealed Rebeca’s gain, until Lara had just now seen her practically naked. Until today, Lara would have said that Rebeca was a trim fitness model who was retaining just a hint of honeymoon chub – not a full blown heifer! Lara guessed that Rebeca’s fit, strong body had been able to manage the consequences of three months of heavy overeating, until one day it just couldn’t and had to let her belly suddenly swell up three dress sizes!
Maybe Lara was being too critical? Perhaps Rebeca was just bloated. Well, obviously Rebeca must be bloated – after all the food she’d gorged on. And maybe, Lara considered, Rebeca’s engorged belly would deflate once she’d digested her excessive meals… If so, Lara supposed it would leave the ex-fittie still looking quite chubbily curvaceous, but not really fat. Still, the sight was a warning to Lara of just how quickly a beautiful woman could lose her figure if she gave into temptation and allowed herself to indulge in all the fattening treats that her Beverly Hills lifestyle could afford!
Lara patted her flat tummy. No – it was a good thing she’d never let herself go like that! Of course, as an independently wealthy socialite, Lara didn’t depend like Rebeca on a rich husband… Lara was the well-funded mistress of a wealthy older man, but she didn’t really need to be. And she didn’t really need to hire herself out as an exclusive escort either – but she did it for the excitement. In fact, that was precisely why her tummy was so flat at the moment. Lara normally would have packed away several of Sophie’s excellent pastries, and then burned them off in the gym later. However, Lara was planning ahead. She had an assignation this afternoon with Mill Avenue’s newest resident – a fact she was keeping professionally private. Lara wouldn’t normally be tempted to fuck a client who lived so near to her own residence, but she’d made an exception for Eris. This was because, apart from being fabulously wealthy, and willing to offer Lara a twenty thousand dollar Tiffany’s voucher for an afternoon in her company, Eris had the body of a Greek demigod. He was tall, muscular, and clearly well endowed. Lara suspected the extra pelvic stretching exercises she’d scheduled in advance of their assignation might barely be enough. Fucking him promised to be a delight. The only slight issue was that as soon as Eris had learned of Lara's occasional work as a courtesan, he had expressed an interest in contracting her to eat an entire cheesecake prior to an afternoon of fucking. Normally, Lara would have declined, but this time she’d been persuaded. Hence why she patted her trim tummy with satisfaction whilst watching Rebeca slather sun lotion over her own less disciplined body.
Yes, this afternoon threatened to be a rather fattening one for Lara. But nothing she couldn’t work off with discipline and a couple of days in the gym. Rebeca, on the other hand, had clearly grown too used to stuffing her belly with a small mountain range of food to have any chance of slipping into a slinky little black evening dress ever again!
A satisfied grin spread over Lara’s face. Her position as Mill Avenue's most beautiful woman was undoubtedly secure for another year.
Lara was disturbed from her reverie by her name being called.
“What is it, Rebeca?”
“I asked if you’d like anything from the kitchen.” Rebeca said. “I’m just going to get myself one more glass of milk, and check if Sophie still has the rest of that apple pie. I’ve got a bit of a second wind after that nap, and I’m just a little bit peckish. You?”
“Oh, no thank you, Rebeca.” Lara smirked. “But you go ahead!”
Batman76 got a reaction from xandercroft in DC Universe Overweight
Thanks, I've always liked the idea of a super Lois, her wg arc mixing with literal empowerment is also cat nip to me and a change from a lot of my stories where wg is tied to power loss.
And yeah, Kryptonians are cannonically unrecognizable between identities, due to changing posture and speech, save for a handful of people like Cass Cain or people who really know them.
Curvage always blanks baby, some filter thing.
Oh yeah, as Lois rises, Karen falls. Weaker, older, more tired, flatter...in two places. And Atlee is going to watch while munching popcorn.
Lois is one of my DC favs...and canon wise is incredibly thirsty.
Batman76 reacted to flyer33 in Milf Avenue
Chloe is indeed from southern California, and we shall see... (I mean, I don't think it would be a unreasonable assumption on my part to suppose that all gluttonous, tall, athletic hotties from southern California know each other.) Also, I can neither confirm nor deny that she's been encouraging her boyfriend to overfeed her.
Batman76 got a reaction from flyer33 in Milf Avenue
This is glorious, the fit beauty already eating herself obese at the slightest excuse and claiming she'll work it off. Hopefully she'll get advised to get knocked up as a way to hold on to her hubby and really balloon. Any chance of a cameo from a no longer so athletic Chloe?
Batman76 reacted to >_< 0_0 in The Milfening of Claire
I majored in history and politics, actually. Just like video games, they get laughed at for not giving you marketable skills, but end up teaching you skills no one expected. In my case, I had tough teachers that assigned essays all the time (about sixty pages of assigned writing a semester - I counted 😮). The skill comes up as “marketable” every once in awhile