The Door In Golden Mall
Spring's morning light hit the mall's west entrance as Melissa Calcule stepped from her Eclipse an hour before opening. After weeks of sifting through computer read-outs, of ferreting through fiscal discrepancies, she was finally out of the office and in the field! An opportunity to make a name for herself at CountiBanc: Missy was determined not to blow it.
It'd started when she'd caught a series of unexplained outlays in the Golden Mall Association's financial statements. Growing by months, the amount constituted a small fraction of the association's budget (Golden was in the midst of a renovation and sales boom that ran counter to the usual recessionary trends), but it was a significant enough set of numbers to show to her supervisor, a fanatic when it came to undocumented expenses. Predictably, he'd been quick to send her further into the association's financial records.
Two weeks later, she was heading out to the mall association offices for a meeting with the manager.
First thing she noticed when she entered the building was the unfamiliar silence. No music over the sound system. No beeping registers. No chattering shoppers. Second thing she noticed was the trio of fat ladies.
They were sitting on a set of benches in mall's new food court. Three super-sized women, the smallest bigger than a quartet of Melissas, all making their way through sacks of Hardee's biscuits with silent enthusiasm: she'd never seen anything like it. It was like something out of a David Lynch movie. Having spent the majority of her adult life working against a seemingly unsheddable layer of baby fat (her dimply countenance sabotaged her being taken seriously in the banking profession), Missy couldn't believe the way these three had let themselves go. How could anyone in this day and age accept being so obese?
For that matter, what were they doing in the court before opening?
She examined herself in the mirrored frame of a display case and saw: a chunky brunette in a blazer and severe gray skirt carrying an attaché. Too cuddly to be a bank examiner, but perhaps she could make that work for her.
A male voice brought her out of herself. "Miz Calcule?" it said. "Mister Frazier couldn't meet you this morning. He extends his apologies."
She turned towards the apologizing voice. Standing by the Popcorn Place was a young brown-haired man in a lightweight suit. Too close to her age to be anyone of real position in this place, Melissa assessed, but kind of cute. She wouldn't mind being shown around by this young pup. "And you are?" she said, extending a hand.
"Gene," he told her, smiling nervously. "Gene Raytion. Assistant manager of Golden Mall."
He led her through the food court, passing the gormandizing threesome. She must have been staring at them because the one in the middle, a blubbery redhead in a sweatsuit that seemed pasted to her six-hundred-plus pound body, winked at her. Missy blushed with embarrassment, turning her apple cheeks even riper. She shifted her attention back to Gene, who was nattering about the recent renovations that had been made.
"Food court's new," he said, "as is this wing." He pointed out each pristine storefront with pride, then steered her to the association office. It'd been some time since she'd done any serious malling, so the changes were interesting to her. Maybe she'd look the place over more closely when she got off work.
"Want some coffee?" the blond assistant manager asked, once they'd settled into the association's office. "We've got an exceptional selection from The Coffee Bean."
"Pick your favorite," Missy answered, as she shed her blazer and snapped open her satchel. "I'm easy."
She spent the next hour going over the office books with Gene. The young man was solicitous without being obvious about it, serving her coffee with a non-dairy creamer that tasted almost as rich as the real thing, bringing out a tray of pastries to go with her second cup. Though she typically avoided such fare, it looked unusually good, so Missy picked out a Danish. She didn't note the glint in Gene's eye as she bit into the delectable pastry, nor the smile that stretched across his face when she reached for a second without even looking at it. Her eyes on computer read-outs the entire time, Missy quickly polished off the tray.
"Ready for a break?" Gene finally asked. The young bank worker had been hitting the numbers for two-and-a-half hours, and the mall assistant had unobtrusively replaced her empty pastry tray five times. Missy looked up and smiled, then she stood and stretched. She looked about twenty pounds heavier, Gene note approvingly; her once loose blouse was starting to bind both her upper arms and boobs. Her soft belly had started to push out, tautening the front of her skirt.
"I'm ready for lunch," Missy answered, her dimpled cheeks deepening as she spoke. "Wanna check out the new food court."
"Sure thing," Gene said, and he gestured her toward the door. As they made their way back to the court, Missy saw a door that Gene had somehow managed to skip the first time past. It looked too wide and ornate to be a mere utility entrance, so she asked Gene about it.
"Nuthin' much there," he told her. "Just some storage." But something in the way he answered told her otherwise.
Before she could pursue it further, though, they hit the food court. With the scents from six different restaurants hitting her nostrils, the only thing she could think about was how hungry she felt.
"Sit," Gene told her. "I'll get your lunch for you."
"I'm paying," she insisted, and Gene agreed readily. He returned with a two foot-longs, an order of fries and a large Pepsi. Missy paid for her meal and made short work of it. She'd never felt this hungry before, never enjoyed a meal so much. Though she didn't notice him leaving the table, as soon as she finished, she found seconds before her. "You bad boy," she said, chomping into her third foot-long, relish dropping off the bun.
"You still looked hungry," the assistant manager explained. "Hope I wasn't being presumptuous."
"You were, but I don't mind," Missy said with her mouth full. "I must have really worked up an appetite."
She must have. For as soon as she'd polished off her second helpings from the Vienna Palace, Missy was sticking her plastic fork into a plate full of lasagna from Sbarro's. She quickly forgot her stated intention to pay for her meal. They remained in the food court past the lunch hour and into the afternoon. Every time she felt full finishing off a plate, Gene put something new in front of her. The scent would revive her hunger.
She was too wrapped up in her dining to notice the effects her binge had on her body. Two hours in, and her blouse seriously gapped in front, button threads stretched to the limit at her cleavage. It pulled out of her skirt and started to ride over her growing paunch. The seams of her upper arms were perilously close to splitting. Her skirt's elastic waist band had already given up the ghost.
If Missy felt at all uncomfortable in her constricting clothes, she gave no sign. She continued to ravenously gorge herself, oblivious to the rest of the mall. It wasn't until Gene spilled that plate of taco salad in her lap that she remembered what she was supposed to be doing.
It happened just as her top was about to pack it in. She was busy concentrating on her fourth au jus sandwich from Steakin' Place when suddenly this deluge of chopped greens, beans, meat, salsa and sour cream was raining on her blouse and skirt. Missy leapt from her chair, and with the sudden movement, her blouse popped apart. It was a minor catastrophe compared to the mess that was all over her.
"Geez, I'm sorry!" Gene said. "I've ruined your outfit!"
That was true enough, but the fact of her messed-up outfit took a distant second to the realization that suddenly hit Missy: she'd just blown more than half the work day.
"Don't worry!" she told him. "I'll go home and change, then we can get back to work. Looks like I'm gonna be here into the evening!" She turned to head for the nearest exit but was stopped by Gene's hand on her shoulder.
"This is my fault," he said. "Let's go back to the office, and I'll get you something to replace this. It's the least I can do, and this way you can get back to the books right away."
She let him lead her back to the office, too upset by her own negligence to notice the way he'd grabbed a pinch of fabric to hold her skirt up. They passed two of the fat women that she'd noticed earlier, though she didn't see the way they both nodded approvingly at Gene.
"There's an executive washroom," he told her, "with a small shower. You can clean off, I'll go pick up something for you to wear, and we'll be back to work in no time!" Missy nodded, still mentally chastising herself. How could she let herself get distracted from her first big assignment?
When they returned to the office, they found someone waiting. Tall, nattily dressed, at least ten years Gene's senior, he exuded friendly competence. His name tag told her what she already guessed: this was Matt, Gene's boss.
"Sorry I couldn't meet you this morning, Miz Calcule," he said, walking towards her with hand outstretched. "I had to help my wife move. You know how it is. . ." But before he got any further, he paused and turned towards his underling. "What have you done to the young lady, Gene? She's a mess!"
"Had a slight accident," Gene mumbled. "My fault entirely."
"I don't doubt it all," the mall manager continued. "Gene's clumsiness is legendary. Get him around a pretty girl, and he's all thumbs. I assume you're planning on making it up to Miz Calcule."
"I am," Gene said, and if Missy had any doubts about the wisdom of letting this young man replace her clothing, they vanished in her sudden desire to defend him from his supervisor.
"I'll be out in five minutes," she said, brushing past the two men and heading for the washroom. "My clothes sizes are. . ." and she gave Gene a set of sizes that he promptly forgot. The way she was now, close to forty pounds weightier than she'd been before lunch, there was no way she could comfortably squeeze into her old sizes.
He quickly returned with a shirtdress and some lingerie from one of the plus size boutiques and handed it through the door. Missy grabbed the proffered clothing and quickly dressed. She was too busy yelling at herself to notice the woman she'd become: a mid-sized plumper who'd gone beyond baby fat.
The young bank examiner had gained most of her new weight in her breasts and belly. Her once modest mams could have made the cover of a men's mag; her belly kept up with them and had developed the start of a crease. Her face had rounded into its second chin.
She strolled out of the washroom in her loose-fitting dress and headed back to the books. Matt had disappeared once more, but Missy barely noticed. She had to return to work.
Gene handed her a cup of coffee with that wonderful cream soon as she settled her plump end onto her chair; she sipped at it and once more dove into the mall accounts. To her left, Gene unfolded a large tray and started piling Hardee's burgers on it. Without lifting her eyes off the desk, Missy reached over and grabbed her first double cheeseburger. When she finished it, she took a large vanilla milkshake; it tasted richer than the usual fast food shake.
The young assistant manager kept her tray refilled into the evening. When they'd first returned to the office, he'd put her weight near two-hundred pounds. By the end of the work day, she was knocking on two-seventy-five. The once-loose shirtdress clung to her newly fattened body, gaping tantalizingly between her torso buttons.
Missy had grown wide and round as a result of her dining, a sexy butterball with a dab of catsup on the first of her chins. Her belly had been the prime beneficiary of her afternoon's work; it blossomed before her, pushing her further and further from the desk. Her dress hiked up over her soft legs, which had thickened to accommodate her size but still retained their basic shapeliness. Her calves had started to texture; her visible lower thighs were dimpled and sagged at the back of her knees. Her upper arms looked like they were striving to match her thighs' circumference. She'd kicked her shoes off hours ago and would never get them on again.
It was mid-evening when Missy finally looked up from her work, a triumphant expression on her jowlly face. She'd finally figured out where the missing expenses were diverted: the mall association was paying out an outlandish sum to each of the restaurants in the complex! Heaving herself out of her chair, barely registering the empty tray that her heavy hips knocked over, Missy called to Gene. There was no answer.
He'd probably gone to get them dinner, she thought - which was fine since she felt famished. Waddling to the office doorway, fat bare feet flattening against the tile floor, the newly plumpened bank examiner looked out in the hall. She saw something that immediately aroused her curiosity.
The corpulent redhead who'd acknowledged her that morning in the food court was slowly ambling towards the ornate service door. Soon as she got to it, she turned towards the association office, waved at Missy and gestured her to follow. Then she stepped through the doorway and disappeared from sight, closing the door behind her.
Missy moved as fast as her fattened body would let her. Panting, she made her way to the mysterious entrance and tried the handle. It was unlocked. Before she could change her mind, she followed the redheaded woman's example. She found herself in a large service elevator with a second floor button. It had obviously been sent down for her, so she accepted the invitation.
The elevator lead to a softly lit hallway with a series of doors interspersed along both sides. First door on the left was the only one open, so Missy headed for it. There she discovered the fat redhead and someone else besides.
The room was larger than all four rooms in Missy's apartment combined, full of plants that received their sun through a skylight. Along one wall was an array of audio- visual equipment, currently playing something sixties and soulful; perpendicular to it was a voice-activated computer. On the monitor, Missy could see the text of something reminiscent of her old anthro textbook from college. On several hanging shelves were a variety of primitive female statues, also reminiscent of her anthropology class.
Missy took this all in instantly - before her eyes locked on the room's second occupant. Suddenly she knew where all the mall's fantastic food expenditures were going.
The woman was seated on a padded platform, wearing a sheer sleeveless nightgown that showed off every bulge and roll on her fantastic body. She was easily five times the size of the cumbrous redhead, with a front that swelled four feet ahead of her and rested against the floor, totally hiding her lower legs and feet. Her tits held their own atop this blubbery edifice, and if she hadn't been seated with her back half raised on a platform, they would've blocked her vision. Her bulging arms, which were squeezed between her swelling front and back sides, rested at a forty-five degree angle; her sagging forearms almost swallowed her palms.
The woman's facial features were distinct and feminine but nearly overwhelmed by the sea of fat on all sides. Her head looked like it was blending into her body, as her chins filled her non-existent neckline and protruded into her cleavage. The back of her head was overshadowed by a ridge of shoulder fat that started a backwards slope of rolls and folds spreading five feet behind her, flattening against the wall. Her lustrous brown hair spread several feet down her back like a veil.
She'd obviously been expecting Missy. Her broad face calmly waiting for her visitor to take her all in, she didn't say a word until Missy had gotten a good view. Then she spoke.
"You - must - be - the - new - celebrant," she slowly said, taking deep breaths between each word, chins quivering like they were about to surge up and cover her lips. "I'm - Lisa." She slowly lifted her right hand towards a wall control panel within easy reach. The CD jukebox began playing Otis Redding's "Ton of Joy."
"Matt's wife," the redhead explained, suddenly stepping into the view. "Last and greatest of Golden Mall's celebrants. I'm Erika." She pulled a Hershey's Big Block candy bar from her voluminous purse and offered it to Missy. Then she pulled out a companion bar and deftly stripped it. "You look like you're hungry," she noted between bites. "You have any dinner?"
"Not yet," Missy answered, and with that, Lisa let out a delighted laugh. Her mountainous body didn't stop jiggling for at least five minutes.
"You're - good," she gasped, and she hit the control panel once again. The big screen Panasonic lit up, and Missy saw herself on videotape cramming cheeseburgers into her eager mouth nonstop. While yesterday's Missy would have been appalled by the sight, all it did now was get her salivating.
She watched herself binge, and when she took her eyes off the screen, dinner had been set up: two long tables crammed with steaming buffet trays. Off to the side stood a trio of servers wearing uniforms that read "Country Buffet." Beside each table was a wide chair on rollers. Erika took the one nearest Lisa, and waved Missy into the remaining chair.
"Dinner's served," the redhead announced, and she brandished a large-sized fork. Missy found her own utensils and dove into the first tray she saw, a two-inch layer of au gratin potatoes. It tasted delectable.
She ate her meal one tray at a time. Where Erika picked and varied her dinner, Missy single-mindedly worked her way through everything that was in front of her. As they blissfully gorged themselves, Lisa explained the meaning of her celebrant status. It was slow going, but Missy was in no hurry, and she soon got used to the mountainous woman's ponderous manner of speaking.
"We celebrants," she said, punching off the tape of Missy, "are part of a tradition that predates Western Civilization. One that looks at fatness with awe instead of loathing. One that realizes the power to be found in womanly abundance." She continued (between deep breaths and long swallows from a tube that had to be feeding her something yummy) to explain the roots of Golden Mall's ceremony, one that she herself had been part of two years earlier. "We grow fat," she explained, "so that the mall may prosper. Our fulsomeness brings prosperity!"
That explained the mall's success in the midst of an economic recession, Missy thought, draining the gravy from a tray that had once been loaded with Swiss steak.
"I was fourth," Lisa continued, "in a line of celebrants made great through the mall's gifts. I married into the mall and brought two years of plenty and harmony." In the past, she explained, celebrants were brought into the mall on a five-year cycle. But the forces of economic chaos had forced them to rush the ceremony.
"This was me," she indicated, "when I first entered Golden Mall." The Panasonic flashed back on to show a tall and slender professional woman striding purposefully into the building; her face looked pinched and lined with stress. "Now let me show you my wedding one week later." She fast-forwarded through a montage of selected video images, and Missy watched Lisa swiftly balloon to the size of a seven-hundred pound bottom-heavy matron, moving down the mall aisles with visible strain yet with a smile of satisfaction on her quivering face. "That was more than two thousand pounds ago," she concluded, settling back to concentrate on her tube.
Nobody spoke again until Missy got to the end of her table. She slowly stood, simultaneously bloated and yet still hungry, almost twice the woman she'd been when she'd first sat down to dinner. She was close to Erika's weight, paltry in comparison to Lisa. Her dress had given up on her more than two hundred pounds ago. When it did, Missy'd simply shrugged off the shreds, accepted a robe from one of her servers, and continued gormandizing. Her belly hung past her fat-swaddled knees; her legs expanded in swelling segments; her upper arms dangled and brushed against her protuberant hips.
It took some effort to walk across the room, but she saw that Erika had only made a dent in her dinner, and she hated the thought of any food getting wasted. She sat down opposite the redhead, fork and spoon in hand.
"Go ahead," Lisa told her. "You're doing great!" Erika rolled her chair away, and while Missy worked on wiping the second batch of trays clean, Lisa finished off her story. Her phenomenal weight gain, she told Missy, was the result of a combination of ancient growth potions that had first been given to her surreptitiously by Matt, her husband-to-be. "After I got married, though," Lisa continued, "I began to think about continuing the potion on my own. It'd never been done before, but Matt was more than willing to help." The result, two years later, was the gargantuan female figure before them. "I seem to have stopped growing for now," she concluded, "though it's possible that this is just a temporary lull."
"Quite a story," Missy said, between swallows of Cherry Coke. "And I've been chosen the latest beneficiary of the mall's ancient magic." She paused to consider her prominent forefront. "Looks like I've been given a pretty potent dose of that potion," she said.
"Does that bother you, Missy?" a male voice asked from behind, and both Gene and Matt stepped into view. "Because if it does, we can stop the process any time. There's a formula to reverse it - though no one's asked to try it yet to our knowledge!"
Missy could understand that: the pleasures of unrestrained weight gain were like nothing she'd known. Her dreams of success at CountiBanc paled in comparison. She may have been brought into this unwittingly, but she wasn't turning back now. Tilting her nearly empty tray of spaghetti, she wiped the sauce clean with a dimpled fist full of rolls. "Gene," she said, "you've started this, and you're gonna have to stay with it! I've barely begun to eat!"
The young assistant manager grinned and kissed Missy on the shoulder. "Honey," he said. "I've been waiting for a woman like you for years. The mall brought you to me, and I'd be a fool to refuse her offering." Massaging her back as she continued to stuff herself, he outlined their future life together. By the end of the evening, she'd accepted his proposal.
And so Melissa Calcule willingly began the second phase of her induction into celebrant status. Next morning, she moved into the apartment next to Lisa's. All through the day and into the evening she was fed by Greg and an army of restaurant staff, as each of the mall ladies came to visit and talk with her. She communicated with Lisa by computer and discovered that there was a network of fat worshippers beyond Golden Mall, many of whom had been involved in different but equally effective weight gain experiments. She started corresponding with a weight-stranded former actress in California, an ex-model in New York City, a one-time talk show hostess in New Orleans, even a male feeder who'd been cast into super obesity by a spell-wielding girlfriend. . .
There were more like her out there than she ever would have imagined.
That night she slept by herself in a king-sized bed that she knew she wouldn't be using long. By the end of the second day, Missy had once more doubled her weight, putting her at a third Lisa's weight in much less the time. She was wearing Lisa's hand-me-downs, but she grew at a speed so unprecedented that she wasn't going to be able to pass any of them onto any future celebrants - she kept bursting through them. Missy attributed this to the shakes Gene kept offering her, which contained more potion per drink than a day's worth of java. She never had to go to the bathroom, a fact she also attributed to her magical growth.
It took the help of General Nutrition Center's burliest salesfolk to get her into bed after her third day. Her paunch hung beneath the lower hem of her sundress in two dangling bulges, restricting her leg movement. It was also getting harder for her fully move her arms; as her torso continued to widen, her upper arms had less free space. Her breasts had also kept up with her growth, and when she lay back in bed, they practically spread to her hands.
That night she dreamt she had to eat through a mountain range of food - like something from the Land of Dairy Queen. Behind this wall of calories (she knew with dream certainty) was a naked, fully aroused Gene, waiting for her to make her way to him. Missy took to the task eagerly. She would get to him if she had to devour the entire dreamscape!
When she woke, she was ready to go at that foodscape for real. Struggling out of bed, the mountainous former bank examiner was half led/half carried back into the front room. There, she saw her platform waiting for her, skylight sunbeams warming its comfortable surface, a semi-circle of well-packed tables ready to be pushed within reach.
Missy settled onto the amply cushioned furnishing readily, feeling her weight flow against the soft padding, feeling her belly sag over the edge and hang about six inches off the ground. When a mall worker offered to place a padded stand under Missy's apron, she refused the offer. She wanted to feel her cumbrous front grow large enough to press against the carpet, to know when she was reaching Lisa's size. She was, she figured, only halfway there.
She particularly loved it when Gene fed her. Leaning against her corpulent form, his slender frame sinking into her accumulating avoirdupois, he'd whisper endearments as he held a succession of scrumptious foodstuffs to her mouth. As they got nearer to week's end, Missy's nearly insatiable hunger melded to her building lust. The larger she grew, the more she wanted the young assistant manager.
By the end of the week, it was practically all she could think of. She'd rest all day on her platform, incapable of standing, dependent on Gene for her regular helpings from her drink and feeding tubes (the offerings were as irresistible as she thought they'd be), and she'd yearn to feel him penetrate her. "Sunday," he'd say whenever she spoke these yearnings aloud. "It has to be part of the ceremony."
Her fat swaddled arms were no longer able to reach her mouth, but she'd gotten adept at punching out commands on the control panel with one finger. Her fingers were splayed apart by the flab on her palms, forcing her to hunt and peck on the keyboard. She worked up a report for CountiBanc that would satisfy them and attached a letter of resignation to it, explaining that she was leaving to get married and that her husband was a "traditional kind of guy."
That Sunday, all three of the mall ladies appeared before her, holding a sheer white gown that nearly covered the entire floor as they held it out for her to see. Missy peered down between the gap of her massive mams and smiled around her feeding tube. "We're here to get you ready for your wedding," Erika told her. "You look wonderful!"
She did, too. She'd surpassed Lisa sometime Friday and was close to two tons. Her belly spread five feet ahead on the floor; her breasts were individually as big as the smallest mall woman. Her hips stretched to her palms, her arms resting on the shelf that each created. Her end spanned past the five foot wide platform and started to droop over the other side. She was glorious in her immensity.
The trio of mall women lifted her dress over her, and the world was all gauzy fabric. Her head nearly blended into the top of her body, so they had to finger the hem of the neckline into the fold created by her back and shoulder bulges. They lifted her arms to get them through her gown and straightened the bottom half until it reached the platform. Her lower paunch and legs remained uncovered.
When the evening came, she was dressed and made up for the ceremony, a garland of flowers on her full dark hair. "I - wish," Missy gasped, speaking in the same slow panting fashion as Lisa, "I - could - see - Lisa." And have Lisa see me, she proudly thought to herself.
"Easy enough," Matt said, stepping into the room, and he walked over to Missy's console. "Allow me," he said, and he pressed several keys. The wall between apartments started rising, and behind it was Lisa, her platform repositioned so she could be part of the ceremony.
"Our - fifth - and - greatest - celebrant," she said, nodding within her wall of opulent fleshiness. Lisa looked bigger than she remembered but was still a half ton shy of Missy's weight. Matt moved to her side, affectionately patting her well-padded hand. Behind them stood all the restaurant workers that had fed her ever swelling appetite.
Just then, Gene stepped into view. "You ready?" he asked. "Do you give yourself to the mall? To our worship of you?"
"Yes," she panted. "If - it - means - I - get - you!" Deep behind her belly apron, her crotch was moistening and demanding to be penetrated.
Gene fell upon her, shedding his tuxedo jacket and loosening his trousers. He sank against her paunch, which wobbled excitedly beneath him, and he reached up to both her nipples. Her aureolae were visible between the translucent fabric, and they both were the size of basketballs. Her nipples grew as long as fingers beneath his ministrations.
The front of her gown kept riding higher, and she felt him grow stiff against her naked flesh. The tip of his erection pressed into her navel, and as he climbed against her, it began to penetrate her. For an instant, she thought he was planning on shooting inside it - and the thought was not displeasing to her - but he dislodged his organ and climbed his way up to her face. Her mammoth paunch was bucking like a floatation mattress as Gene reached to plant his lips on hers, his slender frame nestling in her cleavage. His body felt light atop her tonnage; with every move he sent shockwaves to her womanhood.
When she thought she could take no more, Gene slid to the floor. He kissed her right breast then dropped out of sight. Missy heard the sound of a panel opening and moments later, the platform started rising. It rose several inches, not enough to lift her paunch off the floor but to give Gene breathing room. Suddenly she felt her lover fingering her behind her belly apron and realized that the platform had opened, giving him access to her crotch. He plunged his arm between her flattened thigh fat and slowly made his way to her pubis. Soon as he hit her clitoris, she came.
She was still quavering in the midst of orgasmic explosions when he reappeared by her side. Missy felt him insert himself in a belly fold, and it was like labial penetration all over again. With a loud cry, he came inside the deep space; down within her fat-smothered center, she came, too. Her flesh felt alive. A fresh burst of eruptions started coursing through her huge self, and she happily rode them. She had grown, Missy realized, a number of stimulating spots all over her body.
Her breasts waved in front of her, blocking her view of the rest of the room. She had to wait until her body stopped quivering to get a glimpse of Gene again. "We're married now," she heard him say. "Like Matt and Lisa and the other celebrants before you."
Missy nodded and smiled. As her breasts started settling down, she was able to see what was going on in front of her. The entire room of mall folk was engaged in sexual congress. Matt had climbed Lisa and was at that moment placing his engorged member into her eager mouth. The sight made Missy long for her feeding tube.
Fortunately, Gene was able to anticipate her. Bringing it within reach of her eager lips, he held the tube before her and licked it. "You - bad - boy," she said, echoing her words from that first day in the food court. Her whole body started quivering with anticipation.
"You still looked hungry," the young assistant manager said. "I hope I wasn't being presumptuous."
"You - were," she answered, "but - that's - what - I - like - about - you!" She eagerly started working on her third ton, an immovable mound of consuming womanhood working on growing even larger. Perhaps, like Lisa, she would reach a point where she ceased to gain, but she was sure she had many pounds to go before she reached it. No matter what, she would continue to eat. For the mall. For her husband.
And for herself.
Copyright 1994 - Oakhaus Designs