New Size for the Season - by Nemovolo (~BHM (multiple), FFA, ~BBW, Romance, ~MWG)

[NemoVolo]

~BHM (multiple), ~FFA (multiple), ~BBW, Romance, Eating, Imagery, Stuffing, ~SWG, ~MWG - Another Season comes to Regency London, bringing with it many changes--both welcome and not--and many chances in the lives of the parties enjoying the scene.

[Author's Note:] This story takes place in the late 18th century and early 19th. The setting is fairly similar to that of Jane Austen's novels. The different "parts" come from the points of view of the various main characters.


New Size for the Season
by NemoVolo

Part 1 (Charlotte)

Charlotte was miserable

The Season had started again and her sisters were ecstatic to be back in London. She would have preferred to stay in their country estate. Her walks through the gardens often distracted her from the problems in her life.

As the middle child of five, four of which were girls, she was often overlooked. The only sibling she was close to was her older—and only—brother, who remained almost always away at school. Being in London with him was the only thing that kept her from running away back to Witlershire. At least there, her father’s hounds kept her company.

With the rest of her family, she was subjected to ridicule. Although the waspish waistline was long out of style and with it the dramatic crushing of whalebone corsets, the long, thin, gracefully feminine form was never unpopular. Charlotte had been blessed—or cursed, in her opinion—with more curves than she knew what to do with. She was not obese, like the Prince Regent, but she was decidedly plump. Her bountiful bosom was particularly problematic with the low-cut, steeping necklines and high waists. The clinging material made her rounded hips and soft belly impossible to hide. Her mother despaired of finding rich husbands for the other girls with Charlotte wandering around all fat.

Her sisters were listening with sadness, except for the eldest, Anne, who was infuriated.

“Mother! If she comes to the party tonight, I’ll never find a husband! The boys will be laughing at me and my friends will turn up their noses,” Anne protested, following their mother from room to room.

Charlotte sat meekly on the bed with her younger two sisters, watching. Jane, at thirteen, and Hannah, at eleven, were too young to be out and active in the Season. They would be left at home with their governess. Still, both enjoyed Anne’s distress on Charlotte’s behalf. Their distaste for her was purely absorbed from their mother.

“I’m sorry, dear, but it wouldn’t be proper to leave her at home! She must come, Anne.”

“I will stay away from the dancing,” Charlotte offered. “Everyone will be watching you anyway, sister. You look stunning in your gown.”

Anne looked over at her in extreme dislike. “Of course you’ll be staying away from the dancing,” she sneered with a look at the bump of Charlotte’s belly as it strained against her shift. “And no one will care to look at you over me. You resemble a giant lavender ball.

Blushing furiously, Charlotte looked down. Her light purple gown looked decent on her, or so she had hoped. Her older sister was probably right, though. She looked too fat in everything she wore. A little sigh escaped her and she kept her focus on the floor near her feet. Her mother would never protest if she claimed to feel sick. The only ones who might were her father, who knew how she was mocked by his wife, and her brother who would miss her at the ball.

That was enough to keep her mouth shut, at least.

“Mother!” Anne was back to trying to plead her way again. “At least tell me she’s going to have to wear a corset!”

Charlotte flinched visibly. Last Season, her mother had forced her into a ridiculous corset made for someone already smaller than herself. Quite a few times, she had felt as though she was going to faint. It had forced her to eat almost disgracefully small proportions at supper, but still she had been forced to suffer it if she wished to attend.

“Of course she will, dear. We cannot have her falling out of her dress,” Mother said soothingly to her eldest daughter, before shooting the next a dark look. “A whole stone! Really, Charlotte.”

Her face felt fit to burn off her head. Even the sneer from Anne did not hurt as much as her mother’s thoughtlessly cruel words. She barely held in a whimpery sob as her eyes filled with tears. Head down in shame, she got to her feet and followed one of maids into her own room.

Molly was a stout, elderly woman with wrinkles by her eyes from smiling often. At the moment, however, she was frowning a little. She gave Charlotte’s arm a soft pat, before moving away to fetch her corset.

“Don’t worry, dearest. We’ll have you strapped up and looking just as beautiful as your sister, if not more, shortly,” she said kindly.

Charlotte wanted nothing more than to laugh rudely in the woman’s face, but only allowed herself a sad smile. She wiped a few stray tears from her lashes with a tiny sniffle.

“Thank you, Molly,” she said; although genuinely grateful, she was far from convinced.

(Continued in post 3 of this thread)

[Tad]

Oh, a nice start! Looking forward to more :)

[NemoVolo]

Part II (Thomas)

Thomas Rycroft was extremely impatient on his good days. Fortunately, his money and status kept him from waiting too long. That was one of the many benefits of being the heir to the Rycroft fortune. He still was not exactly sure where their wealth had come from, but it was old enough to let him mingle with high society.

Plus his stories impressed the ladies.

Unfortunately, waiting for his family to arrive at a party was one of the few times his money could not help him. He bid his time chatting amongst friends he had not seen since the last Season. Still, he found himself standing away from the dance floor alone and very bored.

“Tom, I think you must be one of the few men I know who could be surrounded by this many pretty girls and still be wanting!”

Grinning, Thomas turned in the direction of the voice to find a very richly dressed young man of about five and twenty coming towards him, followed by a couple others. The one who had spoken was very handsome with a trim, fit figure and light green eyes. His hair was pulled back in a queue of such rich black it almost appeared blue.

“Vincent!” he said loudly, cheerfully. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have an estate to run, or something?”

Vincent Amberly was the newly made Duke of Whitehart, a fine, rich estate to the south of London. Its acreage was almost evenly split between forests and fields, providing excellent hunting. Where Thomas was rich, Vincent was very wealthy. His family’s money was old, much older than the Rycroft’s. Still, Thomas and Vincent had become friends in school because of the latter’s status of being the second and youngest son. Not more than two months before had his older brother lost his life in the war, soon followed by their father. This left Vincent the heir and he had left school to travel home to be with his grieving, widowed mother. Thomas had only received a handful of letters since.

“Mother told me to come join the festivities. Running the estate will let her say good-bye to Father’s memory, as well as distract her. It’s simply amazing what a new inheritance will do in the way of making new friends!” he answered, matching Thomas’ loud tone perfectly with a smirk.

Some of his party blushed and trickled away leaving behind a quiet, shy, portly young man of about four and twenty. Thomas smiled to himself as he noted that the chubby young man had put on even more weight since their last meeting at one of their favourite clubs.

“That’s much better,” Vincent said with a sigh. Reaching behind him, he pulled the overweight companion forward. “Pierce, stop hiding behind me.”

Thomas watched as Peirce stumbled forward and smiled disarmingly, hoping to convince the shy, awkward man to relax.

Pierce Blackmoor had never had an athletic build and had always leaned towards a softness from the fondness of good food and wine. After losing his fiancé in a scandal that left him in shame, he had turned to food even more as a source of comfort as well as pleasure. The results showed in the way his expanding belly was straining his waistcoat, the slight second chin that was not hidden at all on his clean-shaven face, and a lower body that was practically packed into pants much too small for him so that his legs resembled sausages.

Thomas knew Pierce was miserable about his weight, but also knew that until he found happiness away from eating that his young friend was doomed to become increasingly fat.

“How’re you doing, Pierce?” he asked softly.

Pierce smiled sadly and shrugged. “About as well as can be expected, I suppose. The papers have stopped running the story. Now it’s just in the tabloids.”

“Oh, hang the tabloids,” Vincent said dismissively. “No one respectable reads that rubbish anyway. Anyone worth anything does not blame you, anyway. You’ve got everyone’s sympathy.”

Although Pierce smiled gratefully at Vincent, Thomas knew he was not relieved or comforted the way Vincent intended. Peirce would need time to get over the betrayal on his own time with his friends supporting him.

“Everything will work out, Pierce. You’ll see,” Thomas insisted cheerfully.

Pierce just nodded and looked off at the rest of the party in thought. He was watching the girls look over Vincent and Thomas with giggles, but eyeing him in disgust. He was used to that now and just sighed.

Shifting uncomfortably in the somewhat awkward silence, Vincent looked at Thomas. “Why are you standing over here by your lonesome?”

He shrugged lazily. “I’m waiting for my family to show.”

Vincent’s eyebrow lifted. “Miss them that much, do you?”

Thomas chuckled and shrugged again. “My father and sister, I do. The second eldest, that is.”

Although closer in age to Anne, he had never really gotten along with her. Neither had he ever been close to his mother. Six when Charlotte was born, he had been amused to see her as a shy-two-year follow him around like a lost puppy when he was eight. She had always been rather chubby—their father liked spoiling her with treats—so he had watched as their mother and other sister started antagonizing her over her weight. Even Jane and Hannah joined in when they were too little to understand and he felt that hurt Charlotte more than anything.

Thomas felt guilty for not being around more to defend her and constantly wrote their father to remind him not to overlook his middle child. He just prayed his insipid mother had stopped forcing Charlotte into the corsets. Last Season she had been so starved for breath, he had to prop her up after one dance so she could try and breath. He knew Anne just blamed it on how out of shape she was.

He had to admit Anne was the more handsome of the two, albeit grudgingly, but he thought Charlotte pretty in her own way. Especially when she smiled and laughed, or otherwise was distracted from her physical flaws society ridiculed so much.

“Oh? Is this second eldest sister the pretty one?” Vincent asked with a smirk.

“Charlotte is pretty, but her merits are mostly in disposition,” Thomas answered smoothly. “Anne, the oldest after me, is always considered the most handsome. Pierce met her once.”

Peirce, who had started paying attention to their conversation again, looked at him thoughtfully.

“She is very handsome,” he admitted.

Vincent seemed pleased; Pierce was a good neutral party and would not be affected by fancy or brotherly affection. Looking back at Thomas, he raised an eyebrow.

“Will Anne be joining us?”

Thomas nodded warily. “Yes. She is not yet married.”

“Good! You must look forward to her arrival as well,” Vincent said with conviction.

“Not even half so much as I do Charlotte, Vincent. However, you may rest assured Anne will be seeking you out tonight,” he said lightly. “I, on the other hand, will enjoy Charlotte’s company on my own as she most definitely will not be dancing.”

Vincent looked startled. “Charlotte doesn’t dance?”

“No. She lets Anne have the attention at parties and either seeks myself out, or a tiny, empty corner in which to tuck herself away.”

Comprehension dawned on Vincent and he smiled. “Perhaps she may keep Pierce company then, while you entertain the ladies. All of us need brides soon.”

Pierce shook his head. “I would not come between Miss Charlotte and her time with Thomas. Besides, I have decided to remain a bachelor forever.”

Thomas and Vincent shared a look, before the latter thumped their overweight friend on the back with a laugh.

“You will change your mind soon enough, my friend. The ladies will line up to marry you.”

Although not as rich as the Rycrofts, the Blackmoors were still wealthy enough that women would be fools not to marry into the family. Poor Pierce would end up with a bride forced to marry him by a father who refused to listen to his own daughter’s complaints. Thomas had to look away so his friend would not glimpse his sympathetic face.

“Tell us about Charlotte, Tom,” Pierce said quietly, knowing talk of a young lady would distract his richest friend completely.

Turning back with a smile, Thomas was only too happy to talk about his favourite sister. “Charlotte is nineteen with long, dark brown hair she usually has pulled up as fashions want. Her eyes are the same blue shade as mine. She is not quite as tall as Pierce, about to my shoulder, and is…curvier than most females would prefer for the current way of dress.”

In his opinion, Thomas had done his sister justice. They would have to judge for themselves if he had judged rightly. He was not worried about Pierce, who was more than gentleman-like no matter what the occasion or who the company. No, it was Vincent he was most worried about. The young Duke had a bad habit of ridiculing others for laughs. It would break Charlotte’s heart and she deserved that not one bit.

Pierce cleared his throat. “Is that your father?”

Turning, he saw his parents just inside the room talking to the host and hostess. After the polite introductions, he watched Anne excuse herself. She broke away to search out her friends. Charlotte turned to watch her leave and, in the process, caught her brother’s eye.

Thomas smiled as her face lit up and she also excused herself to hurry over to him.

(Continued in post 7 of this thread)

[Durin]

Good Start!

I like the characters already. Looking for more.

:)

[ESPN Cutie]

Hey, this is really good so far!:bow:

Please don't make us wait half a year for the update!;) Thanks.:D

[fat hiker]

Great start, hope this 'develops' well....

[NemoVolo]

Part III (Charlotte)

The carriage ride over had been torture. Squeezed into the corset, Charlotte had struggled to breathe the entire way. Each bumped caused the whalebones to pinch her fat and push against her ribs. She had fought to hide her pain, but Anne still sneered and smirked at her.

All those thoughts vanished as she crossed the room to reach her brother. Thomas’ genuine, welcoming smile was all she needed to forget.

“Tom!” she said joyously, giggling as his arms wrapped around her in a hug.

“Hello, sister dearest,” he chuckled, hugging her close. Before letting go, he whispered. “I’m sorry about the corset.”

“It’s my fault,” she whispered back. “I gained another stone…”

He squeezed her again, just as someone cleared his throat pointedly. Charlotte felt her entire body tense up even more than the corset made her. Oh, God, had someone heard the comment about the corset? Or worse, the stone she had gained?!

Gently pushed away, she felt her face burning in shame. Even if she had been quiet, whoever was with Thomas was unlikely to miss her weight. Her dress was tight around her large bosom as designed, but still clung to her wide hips and round bottom to betray what the corset struggled to conceal. The only complimenting thing about her attire was the colour of the material; somewhere between lilac and lavender, it brought out the purple flecks in her deep blue eyes.

As Thomas stepped side to reveal her to whoever was there, Charlotte felt even more flushed. Two older men around her brother’s age stood there in their perfectly tailored clothes. Well, the first had them fitting right, that is. His suit displayed his fit body well, the colour of his vest complimenting well with his black hair. The second looked about ready to burst from his clothes the way she felt she would the corset. Her heart went out to him immediately.

“This is my sister, Charlotte,” Thomas said smoothly. “Charlotte, this is Vincent Amberly, Duke of Whitehart, and Pierce Blackmoor. They are friends from school.”

Oh Lord, a Duke? Trying not to panic, she smiled kindly at each and curtsied. Both men bowed in return before she could read the young Duke’s eyes. At least the other was not looking at her in disgust, but actually offered her a small smile.

“It’s nice to meet you both,” she said, eyes lowered in proper respect.

“Likewise,” both responded.

Vincent seemed to stretch a little. “Well, I had best start my rounds, else I fear I will not greet everyone before dinner. If you’ll excuse me,” he said, bowing. To Charlotte, he smiled. “It was very nice to meet you. I’ll let you and Tom get caught up and will see you at dinner.”

He strode off, disappearing into the gathering easily.

The other, Pierce, bowed as well. “I am parched and believe I saw refreshments being offered somewhere. If you’ll excuse me, as well.”

He bowed to both individually and slipped away. That left the two siblings alone.

Thomas looked at her in concern. “How are you, Charlie? Be honest with me. I know Mother and Anne are hard on you.”

With a sad smile, she sighed a little. “Nothing has changed. Gaining another stone forced Mama to make me a slightly bigger corset. Anne almost threw a fit this evening about my coming tonight, with Jane and Hanna laughing. Father has no idea, of course, since he spends most of his time in the study.

Thomas was frowning when she finished and leaned in to press a kiss to the top of her head.

“I’m sorry, Charlie,” he said softly. “If I knew how to make them stop, I would.”

“I know, but they won’t. Especially Anne, until she is married off. Mother despairs of ever finding suitors for Jane and Hannah with me in the way. I suppose I will stop attending these things once they are out.” Charlotte had long given up on ever marrying.

The knowledge was not unknown to Thomas, but it still saddened him when she hinted at it. He knew that anyone who got to know her would want to marry her. It was a matter of accepting her figure.

Speaking of which, Thomas suddenly frowned even more. “Can you breathe alright? I can find you a seat if you would like.”

Charlotte blushed and shook her head. “I’m alright, thank you. I just don’t know how I am to eat anything and there’s no way I can dance even once!”

“We’ll think of something, char. Perhaps if you sit by me, you can slip me your food,” he suggested. “As for dancing, you are ridiculously good at avoiding being asked.”

Unable to help it, she laughed bitterly. “No, I’m just ridiculously lucky enough to never be asked. No one has ever wanted to dance with me.”

He frowned softly, but did not rise to the bait. Trying to defend Charlotte from herself was useless. He had tried without success for years. Now, he knew better than to argue and instead led her away to discuss novels they had read since last seeing each other, along with sharing stories about their home life.

That would content Charlotte enough to retreat to a corner and allow Thomas to mingle. She knew her brother was getting pressured from their parents to find a wife. If their mother saw her capturing all his attention at these parties, she would be in even more trouble. Charlotte knew she would be blamed for Thomas’ unmarried status as well as Anne’s.

It would be a long night, but spending even part of it with Thomas made it worth it. He was her best—and only—friend.

(Continued in post 13 of this thread)

[ESPN Cutie]

Great update, can't wait for the next part.:D

[agouderia]

.... yes, more please!!!

[fat hiker]

Will Pierce come to rescue Charlotte? Will Anne - or Charlotte - get married? Is Thomas a closet FFA?

We're all staying tuned....

[Tad]

The rewards of success.....a demanding public!

(in other words, eager for the continuation!)

[Durin]

This is a great start. We are eagerly awaiting an addition to the story.

:bow:

[NemoVolo]

Chapter IV (Vincent)

After making the rounds, Vincent found the assembly increasingly boring. The only girl to not throw herself at him was Thomas’ sister, Charlotte. Well, Anne had not come near him either, but she was somewhere with friends. At least, that was what he assumed.

He could remember how beautiful she was when she entered. With her flaxen hair and light blue eyes, she hardly resembled her brother and sister. A glimpse at the parents revealed Anne took after her mother, the other two their father. Despite how her different looks put her apart from her siblings, Vincent kept finding his thought straying back to the shorter, plumper favourite of his friend. The colour of her dress really had called attention to her eyes.

Still, he knew that any special attention he paid her would only draw her more into society’s view. He knew Thomas would never forgive him for humiliating his beloved sisters. Both knew he had no intent on actually courting her at the moment, either. He was not looking for a wife at all, actually. At least not right now, so soon after receiving his dukedom. No, it would be best for all parties involved if Vincent was polite and friendly to Miss Charlotte but nothing more.

As he thought about her, his feet seemed to lead him to her. He suddenly saw her standing calmly against a wall seemingly quite content to sit out on the festivities. Her family was nowhere to be seen, obviously ignoring her. A quick scan of heads found Thomas also making his rounds of society; every once in a while, he’d look around for someone and only relax back into conversation when he spotted Charlotte.

It made Vincent smile.

Even though he knew better than to flirt with her, there was no reason for him to ignore her completely. After all, being snubbed by a young Duke would only make matters worse. Perhaps his friendly attentions would even help.

That helpful notion in his head, he allowed himself to wander over to her. The look of shy hesitance on her face as she saw him coming pulled at his heartstrings. The poor girl reacted to any attention as if expecting him to ridicule her weight. She even went so far as to glimpse around in case there was an escape.

With the easygoing, charming smile he knew wooed ladies all around, he offered her a bow. She curtsied in return, graceful despite her figure, and kept her gaze lower than his neck.

“Forgive me, but since Thomas introduced us, I have met so many girls here that I cannot recall which name is yours,” he said with a genuinely apologetic smile.

The one she gave in return wasn’t the least bit offended, almost relieved, as if she was used to being forgotten. Something about that made his heart tighten, but Vincent easily brushed it off as brotherly protectiveness.

“I’m Charlotte, sir,” she answered with a sweet smile that erased that tightness in his chest completely. Tom said you were Duke Amberly, right? The other man with you was Mr. Blackmoor.”

He smiled, wondering a moment if she was always good with names or if she had made sure to remember his because he was Tom’s friend.

“That is correct, but please…call me Vincent.”

Charlotte blushed and glanced down shyly. “Alright…Vincent, then. Can I help you? I don’t know where Tom has run off to.”

She looked around, obviously trying to spot her sibling. Perhaps Tom hadn’t been exaggerating; the poor creature was obviously not used to male attention. Vincent wondered how a mother as ambitious as Tom’s could allow that to happen.

“Ah, no, no, that’s quite alright. I’m sure I will see him at some point.” He hoped to ease her anxiety; perhaps a dance would do so? All young ladies loved dancing, he’d noticed. “No, I’m actually here to ask you something.”

The poor girl look absolutely startled. “Me? You want [I]my[/] opinion on something?”

He nodded gently. “Yes! Would you do me the great honour of dancing with me?”

Perhaps if he knew to look at the panic on her face, he might have inquired as to its cause. Instead, he remained where he was and watched the other dancers as he waited for her answer.

“Yes, al-alright…” She finally gave in with a little smile.

He beamed at her. “Excellent!”

She allowed him to lead her out onto the floor the next. He was more than just a little surprised to find how light on her feet she was. But then, he knew he shouldn’t have. Girls were taught how to dance almost as soon as they were able to walk. Why would a Rycroft girl be any different?

As they danced, Vincent was almost oblivious to her silence. It did get a little strange, but he certainly had more than enough to say. He found her a good listener, and a partner not afraid to let him lead. Besides, her warm, softer form was comfortable to hold close and he absently wished the dance was a little slower.

The dance wasn’t very long and by the end of it, poor Charlotte was red-faced and sweating. He did not think of anything that could explain the strange wheezing noise.

“I-I’m terribly sorry, but I must be going!” she gasped, hurrying away from him.

Vincent tried to follow, but lost her in the crowd. The giggle of another girl thoroughly distracted him.

(Continued in post 18 of this thread)

[ESPN Cutie]

Great job. Can't wait for the next parts.:)

[Fangs]

Amazing story!

Please write more.

[Starling]

Wow! I don't know how I missed this, but it is very, very good. Well written in addition to an entertaining story line. Also, it reminds me a bit of War and Peace - minus, you know, Napoleonic campaigning and all :).

[Tad]

Oh, you left us hanging.....please save us from the tension soon!

[NemoVolo]

Chapter V (Pierce)

Pierce had finally had enough of the company. After a good hour or so of nothing but looks of disgust or pity, he escaped outside. Although lonely, he knew not to bother Thomas or Vincent while they socialized. They still needed wives, whereas he was through with the whole ordeal.

He still was perplexed at how he had managed to be convinced and dragged along. Avon, his maid, had somehow tailored his clothing to fit as much as they could and then proceeded to list off all the reasons why he should attend. She was quite convincing, although he was not entirely sure if it was her actual argument, or the rather adorable Irish accent she chattered at him with. Her pale green eyes framed under her deep red hair always captured his attention.

She had worked for him since before his mother passed on, originally one of her favourites and that fact kept Pierce from dismissing her. It seemed his mother had also enjoyed the fresh accent, even though most of the higher class found it barbaric and unrefined. Still, no one really even knew that Pierce kept a maid instead of a manservant, although maybe now they would not really blame him. After all, had not his fiancé ran off with her own brother’s man? It was ridiculous and had struck him such a blow that now the only men he allowed in his home were his loyal butler, the gardener, and the stablemaster, and the latter two worked out in the country on the estate and not in town where he spent most of his time.

Avon had been incredibly supportive throughout the whole scandal and Pierce was incredibly indebted to her, although he knew she would never want to know such. Her strong pride was also something he admired about her and sometimes he found her entering his thoughts when he was nowhere near her. Especially now, as he continued to gain weight and she never so much as said a word. That might be suspected to do with her respect and fear of him as her employer by anyone who did not know her as well as he, but she was always so blunt and honest. A lesser man would have fired her many times over.

He appreciated that she never seemed to look at him in any veiled attempts to hide her disgust. Sometimes, he flattered himself that he could see a bit of arousal in her gaze. That was just misplaced hope, though.

The only other girl not to judge him had been Charlotte, but now he couldn’t find her. Thomas hadn’t lied; she was quite pretty. It was true, Miss Anne was the more handsome, but Pierce found it a cruel, stiff sort of beauty. He could envision the younger in charge of a lovely household with a group of children she doted on. Whereas Anne’s house would certainly be run strictly and severely.

As Pierce wandered out onto the balcony, he briefly considered if Thomas would take offense to his marrying Charlotte. Certainly not, but that was ridiculous. He was more than prepared to go to his grave alone; perhaps one of his cousins’ sons could inherit his fortune.

Turning the corner, he froze in horror.

Unconscious on the floor, swaddled in her skirts, was Charlotte!

He hurriedly found one of the servants to fetch Thomas, before rushing over to her side.

“Miss Charlotte?” He loathed to touch her, afraid to somehow transfer his horrible luck. “Miss Charlotte, are you alright?”

She didn’t appear to be breathing! Thomas would never forgive him if she died while he watched so helplessly. He was horrified to see that her lips were starting to tinge a purple that would, undoubtedly become blue or grey unless someone got her breathing again soon! Why had no one seen her lying out here until now?

“Good God!” Thomas’ voice made him jump.

He looked up. “She’s not breathing!”

“Go find Vincent. We’ll need his coach to get out of here without a fuss.”

Pierce nodded and hurried off, only too glad to be of service.

Chapter VI (Thomas)

Thomas watched his portly friend hurry off. Once sure no one was going to stumble upon them, he pulled the small folding-knife from his boot. Hurrying to take Pierce’s abandoned post at her side, he knelt down and noted the colour of her lips with a sinking stomach.

“I will murder Mother,” he growled, hurriedly cutting the ties on the front of his sister’s gown.

He pulled it open and sliced through the corset between the nearest whalebone stays. Nothing happened. Ever so gently, he pricked her shoulder, making her flinch and suck in a gasp. Thank you, Lord, he thought, sagging a little in relief.

“Tom, whatever is—oh my!”

He glanced up to see Vincent staring down at his sister in shock. Then, to his utter surprise and amusement, Vincent blushed and averted his gaze.

“Tom, for mercy's sake, man, she’s completely indecent!”

“I know, I will explain later, may we use your coach? She can’t go home like this, our mother…well, her humiliation will be great if anyone were to find out,” he said carefully, not quite wanting to his friend to know about the family problems.

Vincent nodded. “Yes, yes of course! Pierce, could you?”

Thomas had not even noticed his other friend reappear. Pierce nodded, blushing as well as he glanced down at the breathing form of Charlotte. Thomas had to stifle the urge to roll his eyes; she was wearing a shift and chemise, not to mention the gown only revealed the part of the corset he had destroyed! She was hardly nude.

To their credit, neither man looked disgusted as he knew Anne or his mother would expect. The material draping over her stomach rose and fell; the very gentle mound the only betrayer of her weight.

“I’ll tell your driver to pull around back,” Pierce muttered, hurrying away again.

Thomas turned back to Charlotte and tried to put the lacings back together so they would have at least the appearance of being tied. Only then did he gently move her to lift her up. To his shame, it was a struggle. He stubbornly blamed having quit sports.

“Please, allow me,” Vincent said gently, moving to slide his arms under the unconscious girl so that he could transfer the weight.

Thomas hesitated, but gently shifted her over. Vincent only readjusted her to make her more comfortable and strode off to where the coach was being brought. Thomas hurried after, shocked by how easy Vincent was about this and how gentle. Surely…? But no. He needed to focus on her health and modesty.

(Continued in post 24 of this thread)

[NemoVolo]

Y'all get 2 tonight because they're fairly short and play off each other so closely.

Characters so far:
Charlotte: BBW
Thomas: brother of Charlotte
Vincent: friend of Thomas; duke
Pierce: BHM (or burgeoning one :D); friend of Thomas

and now...

Avon: maidservant of Pierce; FFA

[Tad]

:) :) :) and some characters to make the message long enough to post.

[Durin]

I like this cast of Characters. I keep hoping that Charlotte ends up with Pierce though.

:)

[Fangs]

I like this cast of Characters. I keep hoping that Charlotte ends up with Pierce though.

:)



This is getting interesting indeed!

I wonder who she will end up with!

[MickeyFFA]

Such a good story so far! Can't wait for the next part.

[NemoVolo]

Part VII (Vincent)

Vincent paced idly, waiting for Thomas and his own, private physician to finish examining Charlotte. He understood how it was indecent for him to be there whilst she was being examined, but still, he was worried. It was a wonder no one died all those years of fashion when women were forced to wear those stupid corsets.

If he was ever left alone with that stupid woman, he wasn’t sure he could hold his tongue. To almost kill your own daughter? And for what? Just to make her look a little more presentable? To get a higher bid from a prospective husband? She was a human being, not a horse!

It’s my fault, he suddenly realized. If I hadn’t made her dance, she would have sat and waited it out. It’s my fault she almost died.

No longer able to stand, he sunk onto the small couch. He had almost killed his very good friend’s beloved sister.

“Oh, Vincent, I figured you had gone back to the party.” Thomas stepped into the room, looking exhausted. “You could have, you know. But thank you, for letting her rest here.”

Vincent stood with an uneasy smile. “It’s the least I could do, really. I fear if I hadn’t made her dance, we wouldn’t be here.”

“She danced? With you?” Thomas sounded both incredulous and enraged.

“How was I to know she was wearing that bloody contraption?” Vincent asked, crossing his arms defensively. “Anyway, what did the doctor say?”

“She has a few bruised ribs and somehow managed to sprain her ankle when she collapsed,” Thomas sighed. “I’m not supposed to move her, but I can tomorrow.”

“Nonsense, Tom, as long as she doesn’t mind being a little bored. If she isn’t to be moved, she won’t be. This is plenty big. You can stay here as well, Tom, of course.”

“That would be fantastic, Vincent, but I must return home. My father, at least, will worry about Charlotte. It will be nice to keep her away from Mother.”

“She may stay here as long as she needs to.” Vincent was not quite sure where this need to help was coming from. He’d had to stop himself from offering that the poor girl could stay forever. He certainly could not send her to ace the ridicule of her mother and sisters. “Must you leave immediately? We left before supper was served, I’m afraid. Are you hungry?”

Thomas shook his head and sank onto the couch. “No, I’m sure they haven’t even noted our absence yet.”

“I see…so other than the parties thrown by friends and family, what will you spend your time doing this Season?” Vincent asked, changing the subject away from how dreary the sister’s life was.

Vincent was glad his mother left it up to him to choose a bride. Ever since his father and brother died, she wanted him to be as happy as possible. He knew she wanted grandchildren, so he was still actively looking for a wife, but his whole heart was not into it. After the Scandal with Pierce, he did not trust women, either; though, he had to admit any woman who eloped on him with a commoner would be stupid. He was much better off than Pierce and whoever gave it up was too stupid for his liking.

Now with the new title, however, he was facing an entirely new hurdle.

“What will you be filling your nights with? What is there for a young, unmarried duke to do?” Thomas asked with a teasing, albeit curious smile.

He gave a longsuffering sigh. “Unfortunately, I will be dining with regularity with our dear Prince Regent at his club.”

Thomas’ brow arched. “Why is that so unfortunate? Men would die to have that privilege.”

“Perhaps you didn’t notice, but my older brother was putting on a substantial amount of weight when he attended the dinners in our father’s stead. The trouble with dining with Prinny is we have to eat as long as he eats…and given his constitution, you know that’s a lot of food to tuck away,” he explained.

Thomas’ nose wrinkled a bit. “So, in essence, he fattens up those in his company to match him.”

“Something to that effect, yes,” Vincent agreed with a bitter smile. “And a few even surpass him.”

A small chuckle escaped his friend. “I see. Well, better you than me, mate. My dear mother would die of shock if she had two children as plump as the Christmas goose. You, at least, are rich enough to still attract a wife even I you’re too fat to chase after her.”

“You’re too kind,” he drawled, a smidge miffed at his friend’s obvious amusement at his future misfortunes.

He let it pass, mostly because Thomas was right. His money could still attract a wife even if his body didn’t. It was only vanity and pride that was making him upset.

“Are you leaving a note for your sister? It’s about time to return to the party if you won’t join me for supper.” He wasn’t really trying to dismiss him, but he was famished after all the dancing and stress of the night.

Thomas sighed and got to his feet. “I suppose you’re right. Father needs to know that Charlotte’s well taken care of. I really cannot thank you enough, Vincent, and yes, there’s a note on the bedside table.”

“Nonsense.” Vincent’s smile was easy and he, too, stood from the seat he had retaken. “It’s the least I can do. And besides, she’ll recover faster in a friendly environment where your mother and other sisters cannot harass her.”

All he got in response was a small nod and a sigh.

Vincent followed his friend to the door, as it was the polite thing to do. He genuinely felt for Thomas, too, for having a hellish mother. Once they said their good-byes, Vincent shed his coat as he watched the butler close the door.

“Adam, tell the cook I’ll be taking dinner in the study. And I have a guest, too, who isn’t allowed to be moved, so her meals must be in her room,” he said as he headed for the stairs.

At the top, he peeked into the room where Charlotte was resting. She looked tiny and elegant in the huge bed. It startled him at how strongly he felt that she belonged, not just in rich furnishings, but also in his home.

Hunger is making me a bit loony, he thought. Shaking his head, he quietly closed the door and continued down the corridor. He had some business to attend to now that his party was over.

(continued in post 26. located on page two of this thread)

[xxeell]

Great Addition! Can't wait for a pierce chapter.

[NemoVolo]

[Author's Note:] People keep asking for more Pierce, which I find amusing since he was never intended to be an important character. Here's a bit to cheer you all up, I hope, and tide you over.

Part VIII (Avon)

Avon glanced around, waiting for the master of the house to return from the party. He had fought against going, but she managed to convince him with the help from a very rich, very stubborn, friend. Poor Mr. Blackmoor, having just lost his fiancé in a scandal, wanted nothing to do with society. Avon could understand; common people loved to gossip, so she couldn’t imagine how bad the upper class ladies did so. He must suffer terribly!

Ever since the Incident, she had striven to make him as happy as possible. Whatever he asked for, she got plenty of. For the most part, it seemed that was mostly food. If he was his happiest eating, she made sure he had plenty to eat all the time. And the side effects on his waistline weren’t completely unnoticed. She secretly found his bulk attractive, but that was pointless. Except for fantasizing, there was nothing down that road.

Unless he gets so fat that no woman wants him, she thought, startling herself. Then he would be all mine.

The figure of the aging butler rushed by, alerting her to the young master’s return. Smiling eagerly, she hurried down the hall, knowing she would have to help him. After dinner parties, he always needed help peeling himself from his own clothing. Avon made a mental note to make an appointment with the tailor. Her own sewing skills could only let out his trousers, shirts, and vests so much. He was just getting too rotund.

Avon watched as her gentleman waddled into the entryway. From her place respectfully back so that James, the butler, could take his coat and hat, she could see that his pants were cutting deeply into his swollen belly. It was even bigger than it had been when she sent him off; it looked as if he’d tried—and succeeded—in swallowing a large melon.

Once James stepped aside, Avon descended on her boss like a mother hen.

“Sir, welcome home!” she greeted cheerfully. “Ye look mighty tired, sir, let’s get ye ta bed!”

Mr. Blackmoor nodded wearily. “Sounds like a plan, Avon. And call me Pierce, please? ‘Sir’ makes me feel old.”

“Yes, sir—I mean, Pierce.” It made her blush faintly to call him by his first name.

It was so unnatural to her, but she couldn’t deny enjoying the familiarity. She just had to make sure it couldn’t go to her head. Not that it was likely to; a poor Irish girl knew her place.

Not thinking much past it, Avon helped him remove his vest as it was getting too tight across the shoulders for him to remove himself. While she folded it up neatly to put with the other dirty laundry, he continued on toward the stairs, unfastening buttons as he went. Avon let him get most of the way up the stairs—no reason to embarrass him with how out of breath he was no matter how slow he went—before starting up after him.

“Did ye ‘ave a good time?” she asked. It was obvious he had certainly enjoyed the meal that was served.

He nodded, falling behind her as he struggled to catch his breath after the stairs. “Yes, except for Thomas’ sister collapsing.”

Avon glanced at him, startled. She remembered young Master Rycroft from the times he came to call on Mr. Blackmoor. He was quite handsome, too, if a little thin. She had not even thought he had a sister.

“What happened?” she asked, hurrying over to turn down the covers on the large, four-poster bed.

It was still early spring, so the bedding hadn’t been exchanged for the cooler linen of summer. Mornings and nights were quite chilly.

“Apparently her harpy of a mother forces the poor girl to wear corsets to hide that she’s a smidge plump.” Mr. Blackmoor sounded angry, but Avon couldn’t tell if it was at the mother, the girl, or the idea of being plump.

She glanced at his bulging, round belly and blushed faintly. He was too busy getting out of his dress clothes, so that he could put on his nightshirt for bed. She busied herself getting the room ready to keep her modesty. He disappeared behind his screen anyway, but she already got teased for being a maid to a gentleman with no manservant.

The nightshirt was incredibly unflattering on Mr. Blackmoor’s physique. Loose and flowing, it hung on him and emphasized his stomach, giving the appearance of a woman already far into her pregnancy. She wanted to touch it and see if it was as soft as it looked. It’s probably hard with food right now, she thought with a grin.

“I hope she’ll be a’right,” she murmured about the girl he’d mentioned.

He nodded with a sigh, sitting heavily on the bed. A hand subconsciously massaged his middle, hoping to relieve the tension from all the rich food he had consumed. Avon blushed again and tried not to stare.

“I’m sure she will be,” he said reassuringly. ”Thomas and Vincent whisked her away to Vincent’s London estate. I’m sure they’ll take marvelous care of her. She will be in pampered heaven.”

Avon watched him with amusement. He was beginning to mumble and ramble, a clear sign she should dismiss herself and let him sleep. The sudden fantasy of crawling into the bed with him was almost overwhelming. Squashing it, she lit the lamp next to the bed and fluffed up the pillows.

“I’m sure the duke will take care of her,” she agreed.

She slipped from the room as he was slowly lowering himself onto his side, too stuffed to lay another way. Avon wanted him to get so fat he overflowed his clothes. The idea of him growing so fat his wide hips couldn’t fit through the carriage door made her bite her lip to smother a moan.

Hurrying through the rest of her chores, she slipped out through the kitchen. Almost all the shops were closed, of course, but she still hoped she had enough money on her person. There was one place she knew would be open, even if she had to cover her pride and travel down Whitechapel to get there.

The Crimson Butterfly was home to the highest class of prostitutes available in East End. It was also the basis for Madame Benoit, a reputable, if a bit shady, midwife who prided herself on knowing as much about all things medicinal as an apothecary. Avon knew that Madame’s real name was Mary Flemming, and that her husband really was an apothecary, so she got her services for a discount price as long as her mouth stayed shut.

The whores—who fancied themselves courtesans—winked and waved to her as she slipped through the first floor on her way to the basement. She ignored them, the fantasy about her employer still much too fresh.

Madame Benoit, a woman who might have been quite pretty had she bathed more and had an easier life, looked up at her from her table. A small flash of irritation crossed her face, before disappearing so quickly it might have been imagined. She might hate the blackmail, but Avon was still a paying customer.

“’Ow are you, darleeng?” she asked in a nasally French accent. “Eet ‘as been too long!”

Avon rolled her eyes. “Shove it, Mary. Ye don’ need tha’ wit’ me.”

Mary rolled her eyes and huffed. “Yes, well, I can hope you’ll forget, can’t I?”

Avon shrugged, moving to sit on the stool across from the older woman. Mary sighed and set aside the romance novel she was reading.

“I don’t suppose you’re here to buy some abortive, are you?”

“No!” Avon flushed. “I still ‘ave my virtue, thank ye.”

This time Mary smirked. “How long? You’ve been after that master of yours for years. He’ll get a real lady for a wife, you’ll see.”

Avon’s green eyes hardened as she glared at her. “Ye don’ know tha’ for certain. Anyway, I’m here for ‘im. Ever since the tramp up and left, he’s ‘ad problems wit’ his diet. Do ye have anythin’ for tha’?”

She knew that Mr. Blackmoor never traveled anywhere near the circles Mary frequented, so she would have no idea about his weight. She also knew Mary loved showing off her knowledge.

Scoffing softly, the woman stood. “Of course I do. Some women need a li’l help with that when they lose a child.”

Excitement coursed through her and she squirmed a little in place, glad Mary’s back was turned. The next part had only occurred to her as recently as her opening the door to the brothel.

“He’s lost an unhealthy amount of weight, too, ye see. Us servants are worryin’ ‘bout him now, but we don’ want ta distress him. Is there anythin’ ta add ta his food tha’d help ‘im put some back on?”

“Of course,” Mary repeated, fiddling with her stores of herbs. She got out a mortar and pestle. “Most of these remedies I give to women, but they’ll work on a man sure enough.”

Avon smiled and busied herself with adjusting her skirts while Mary ground the herbs into fine powders. When she was finished, she gave two small paper pouches to the waiting red-haired girl.

“Mix these in with his meals, us a couple pinches at first while he’s not eating much, but wean him off as his health improves. Do not let him have too much liquor with his meal. It numbs the senses so he might not realize he’s full; he could hurt himself internally, at worst, and at best only make himself sick,” Mary cautioned. “If for some reason he needs more, don’t hesitate to come back.”

Avon nodded, tucking the packets into a little pocket in her money purse. “He likes a bit of wine wit’ dinner, tha’s not too much is it?”

Mary laughed. “Goodness, no. I forget the upper-class gents don’t drink as heavy. I meant hard liquor, dear, like whiskey or rum.”

“Oh, well, he never has tha’ as far as I know.” Avon relaxed, before eyeing the midwife. “Why do ye work here when ye speak proper-like? Ye could be an upper-class midwife, not down here in th’ slums.”

“The women here need me just as much, maybe more. How many unwanted children do you think I prevent from becoming orphans? No, I’m better off here.”

“Why th’ disguise, then?”

“They wouldn’t trust someone better off than they are, and refuse pity.”

It made sense and Avon respected her for it. She knew a lot of ladies would never want to hire her, with her uncultured language. At the Blackmoor residence, she tried hard to speak more properly. Here, however, it was easier to speak rough.

She ended up having enough money after all, so she quickly paid. “Thank ye, Madame Benoit.”

The trip back to the Blackmoor House seemed longer, but she blamed it on her exhaustion. The cook wouldn’t notice her adding the powders; she often helped when Mr. Blackmoor had a lie-in, and he was undoubtedly going to the next day. She would be allowed an extra hour of sleep, too, and she looked forward to it.

Her dreams that night were filled with a massively gluttonous Mr. Blackmoor.


Continued in post #33

[NemoVolo]

From here on, the actual gaining starts. It might be a little dark and twisted for some of you, so I'll try to put warnings in the author's note at the beginning of parts that might need extra labels.

I wish I could go back and fix typos and details, but I don't seem to have that power after a couple of days :rolleyes: so y'all are stuck with them. If you'd like to read them with the changes, you should check out my deviantart. It's mostly coding fixes and changes of names to fit better into historical accuracy.

Um...I don't know if anyone is reading this anymore, since no one has said anything after Avon's.

[Observer]

FYI, you are correct that there is a timer on how long you can make changes to posts before the post is frozen - it should be around 20 minutes

However, we have a workaround for this. If you will send revised chapters to me at observer_writer@yahoo.com I can and will splice them in as instructed. We do it all the time for our authors.

[NemoVolo]

FYI, you are correct that there is a timer on how long you can make changes to posts before the post is frozen - it should be around 20 minutes

However, we have a workaround for this. If you will send revised chapters to me at observer_writer@yahoo.com I can and will splice them in as instructed. We do it all the time for our authors.

That's so weird! On other forums we could go however long we wanted, but oh well. I'll keep that in mind, thanks.

[JimBob]

Most excellent, it's nice that you added that bit at the end about the Midwife - it's good when a story isn't completely fixated on the gaining part and has something else to say.

[chubsixtysix]

This is fantastic! You are doing a terrific job with the historical aspects and I can't wait to see what Mary will cook up with the mid-wife's herbs. I'm looking forward to more.
And, hey, if you ever despair that no one is reading, check out the counter on the far right on the recent additions page and you will see that the silent majority is reading like mad.
:wubu:

[xxeell]

Wow! Can't wait for the next addition!

[NemoVolo]

Part IX (Charlotte)

A month passed after Charlotte awoke to find herself in an unfamiliar setting. The letter Thomas left her was a great relief, even though the events that transpired to place her there were humiliating. Lord Amberly, who insisted once again on being called Vincent, visited with frequency. He brought her books from his library, played cards with her, and chatted. Also, the maids supplied a never-ending array of sweets. Her meals, which Vincent sometimes joined, were rich and satisfying.

In all, she felt as though she was on holiday in her very own paradise. Even letters from her mother and Anne, berating her for being so clumsy and selfish, and warning her not to get spoiled by the food couldn’t dampen her spirits. The only thing she dreaded was the eventual return to her family. A diet would be enforced the moment she was within the house, she knew. Already, she felt the effects of being bedridden and fed so wonderfully on her body. Not to mention, she could see her belly pushing higher in the blankets even while she was flat on her back.

Upon the doctor’s advice, she began short, easy journeys downstairs to the sitting room. Here she could observe the goings on of the household and could regain her strength slowly. Thomas often snuck away from family outings to come keep her company, especially in the evening when Vincent was away at the favorite club with the Prince Regent himself.

The first time she saw him come home, she had actually fallen asleep on the sofa entirely by accident. As she slowly made her way to her room, she caught a glimpse of Daniel, Vincent’s manservant, helping him undress. Yet instead of hurrying away in embarrassment, Charlotte had paused to peek through the door that was slightly ajar.

To her complete and utter shock, Vincent’s stomach was grotesquely swollen in a mockery of a very pregnant woman. His breathing came in short, shallow gasps as he undressed. He even complained about the laudanum needing an increase for the next time. Apparently this was routine, for Daniel only murmured soothingly to him and nodded.

She had scurried as fast as possible back to her room. The next day, Vincent arose late as usual, the ball of a stomach gone, and joined her in a late brunch. As he tucked in heartily, as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks, let alone been so stuffed the night before, Charlotte took notice of the way the young duke’s cheeks seemed just the slightest bit fuller. Or was that the giant bites of food?

His shirt didn’t seem quite so loose and baggy, though, either. Surely not, she argued with herself. He wouldn’t allow himself to put on any weight! I’m just being ridiculous. And she resolved never to think of it again.

Unfortunately, the vacation from her mother was over. With his personal physician’s permission, Vincent had invited both her mother and Anne to come and call. Thomas was to join them and together they would all leave.

The gown Thomas had ruined was turned into scraps. Vincent had paid a seamstress to come take her measurements for a gown all her own. No more hand-me-downs to tailor, for once. And it was a beautiful gown! Charlotte even felt beautiful in it, and no one had seen her in it yet.

Once her temporary maid declared her ready, Charlotte took care not to wrinkle the gown. There was no corset for the first time since she had her coming-out ball.

She descended the stairs early enough that Vincent was still in his study. When she heard his footsteps, she turned to watch him. His suit fit him perfectly, as always, and she was struck with how handsome he was. Not that it mattered; he would marry with someone like Anne. As pretty as she felt right now, she would be immediately overshadowed by her sister when she arrived. At least Thomas would talk with her while both her mother and Anne usurped the young duke’s attention.

“Charlotte, you look beautiful,” Vincent said with an easy smile. “That dress is simply perfect.”

She quickly curtsied to hide her blush, but it was still there when she stood. “Thank you, Vincent, for both the dress and the compliment.”

Neither had time to say anything else, for her family was announced. As Thomas entered first and saw her, he grinned wide and nodded in approval. Behind him, her mother and sister were both looking perfect, although the former had dimmed down her finery so that Anne was a spectacle. Any happiness fled as her mother caught sight of her; the pursing of her lips clearly said she noticed the lack of corset. That wasn’t her choice, none had been provided! Still, Charlotte felt her face burn and she looked down. The swell of her tummy made her look a little pregnant, so she hopelessly, desperately sucked it in.

“Lord Vincent Amberly, Duke of Derbyshire, may I present to you my mother, Mrs. Jane Rycroft, and my sister, Miss Anne Rycroft,” Thomas said formally with a bow; their mother and sister curtsied behind him. “You already know Charlotte, of course.”

“I do,” Vincent answered, before bowing in return. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“It’s our honour, please, Lord Amberly,” Mrs. Rycroft said. “And may I say, you have a beautiful home.”

“Thank you, ma’am, but please, Vincent is fine.”

Anne stepped forward. “I am forever in your debt for taking care of my beloved sister,” she simpered.

From where Charlotte stood slightly behind and to the side of Vincent, she saw Thomas roll his eyes. Vincent just smiled.

“It was my pleasure. Miss Charlotte is always welcome here.”

Now with her family, the familiarity was gone. She was demoted to “little sister” and knew she was to fade into obscurity. For the first time ever, that bothered her. She didn’t want Vincent to forget her.

It turned out, she need not have worried.

Dinner started as predicted. After her mother hissed a comment about her eating her regular portions—the ones from home, of course—she was pretty much left to herself. Thomas complimented her a couple times, which she happily returned, before both turned to see how Vincent reacted to Anne’s flirtations and their mother throwing her at him.

Vincent was too busy eating to really notice! Charlotte wasn’t too surprised; that night when he had been bursting from his clothes suddenly came to mind. He must have eaten a lot to get to that point and, once again, she suddenly noticed the little details that were easy to spot now she was so close.

The tailoring was, perhaps, a bit too perfect. Now that they were close, she could see the sleeves of his coat hugging his arms close and his collar looked a smidge tight. Perhaps she wasn’t the only one to have gained a couple pounds in the past month.

Most of the meal passed with Anne and their mother talking, with Vincent politely, but voraciously eating everything within reach. Not just that, but he was consuming a lot of what he could reach. It was almost as if he’d not eaten in days. Whether her sister and mother noticed, she had no idea. However, Thomas did, because he alternatively stared in shock, or tried to hide his amusement.

When they took their leave, Vincent’s stomach was straining the buttons of his waistcoat and bulging out in a nice arch into the high-waist trousers. It wasn’t nearly as grotesque as that one night, but she doubted he had planned to eat as much as he had. She kept sneaking glimpses at him, only to find him smoothing his hand over his middle, or gently rubbing on the side of it. She recognized the latter as a response to being too full, as she sometimes did it herself when she was allowed to eat to her fullness.

The carriage ride home was a nightmare.

“Charlotte, how could you shame yourself by attending Lord Amberly’s present without a corset?!” her mother asked in exasperation.

She stared at her lap, while Thomas came to her defense.

“Mother, that corset you put her in almost killed her! I had to cut it open with my boot knife.”

“It wouldn’t have if she hadn’t gained another stone this winter,” Anne sneered.

Thomas rolled his eyes. “Corsets like that aren’t even in fashion anymore.”

“We have them made for her. The corsets these days simply don’t constrict as well as they used to.”

“Not that it matters,” Anne said, primping her hair. “He’s clearly above her and completely uninterested.

Thomas gave Charlotte’s arm a gentle pat. She leaned against the side of the carriage and sighed. A month of freedom was more torture than a blessing. She finally accepted what she had written on the scrap of parchment and slipped into the last book Vincent brought her to read.

Her mother would be happier if that corset had killed her.

[xxeell]

I feel so bad for Charlotte. I like Avon. =}

[persimmon]

I am quite enjoying this story. Thank you :)

[Durin]

I love this stuff.

More Please

:eat2:

[plushkitty]

Great work so far, NemoVolo! I love the Regency setting. Poor Charlotte; Spanx are bad enough, I can't imagine the pain that a tightly-laced corset would cause. :(

Do we get to witness one of the Prince's infamous dinners at some point?

[Fangs]

Love this story!

More please :)

[Tad]

*bump*

Pleeeeeeeeeeeaaaassssssssssse write some more :bow:

[Molly Ren]

Here I was just thinking "I hope there's some kind of mix-up and Vincent ends up stuffing himself too!" And he did! So you have made me rather happy. No skinny men allowed in this fic! :D

I really like all the characters you have here and their different body types. You seem to have something for everyone who reads this.

[Qit el-Remel]

Bumping this story 'cause it's awesome. :)

[agouderia]

Bumping this story 'cause it's awesome. :)

.... indeed - this is a story where several new chapters would be greatly appreciated!

[NYC_FFA]

I'm joining in bumping this story. More chapters, please. :happy:

[Tad]

My turn to bump again. Nemo, we aren't going to leave you alone you know, so you should just give in and start writing :p

(OK, totally understand if you don't have time, are stuck on the plot, etc....but I do hope you get back to this one eventually).

[NemoVolo]

[Author's Note:] Hi, all. I just got done with finals, so I figured I would post this next bit. I have one more section fully written after this, and part of another started. I don't know when I'll get back to writing this story, as I kind of lost inspiration.

Part X (Avon)

The Season ended and Parliament was dismissed.

Avon was glad, because it meant Mr. Blackmoor was home all the time now. Well, not all the time, because he still went out with Mr. Rycroft. Yet, now she had more control over his meals. Not that she needed to.

She got a little overexcited and used half of each pack of powder before the first month was over. It was harder to stretch them out and make the powders last. She only added a pinch whenever he seemed to slow down again.

The change in Mr. Blackmoor was incredible.

When he was still consuming the rich food of others at the parties, he would come home so full his clothes were tearing at the sides. The next morning, he’d awaken with a growling, painfully empty stomach, despite the amount he consumed the night before still bloating his belly. He’d ravenously attack his breakfast, snack on sweets throughout the morning, and engorge himself on lunch. That evening, Avon would help him into ever-tightening clothes. The whole process would then repeat itself.

Most days Avon spent taking his wardrobe to the tailor’s to be taken out, or letting out what she could. The cook constantly made food and even called in a couple of his daughters to help him when Avon was busy elsewhere.

The highlight of her life came one evening in mid-October.

Mr. Blackmoor had continued to overindulge in food, despite her running out of the powders a month and a half before. She assumed it was from stretching his stomach so much that it now took much more food to satisfy his hunger.

Despite his rather sedentary life—he spent an awful lot of time sleeping off his huge meals—she hadn’t gotten to thoroughly enjoy his changes. Yet, after dining out for the evening with Mr. Rycroft and Lord Amberly, he returned home packed into his clothes. Not only that, but he was quite drunk and, from the way his eyes couldn’t focus, quite possibly drugged as well.

Finally she had the chance to linger with her gaze as he shed his frock coat. The top of his waistcoat ended well above his natural waist, allowing for the large, steep slope of his rounded belly to push out the front of his trousers, which were already tight from being stretched taut across his swollen hips and backside. Avon was in heaven.

“I mus’ tell you, laudanum is manfi—mangi—wonderful stuff, Avon,” he confided to her up in his bedchamber. “Vincent’s spot on ‘bout it.”

She nodded and agreed, entirely too focused on the way his rounded belly sat heavily on his lap. There were gaps between the buttons both on the vest and his shirt, exposing pale pink flesh to her.

With a soft sigh, Mr. Blackmoor peered around his bedroom in thought. “You know, I think I could do with some dessert. See if cookie left us some, will you?”

Blushing in excitement and awe—how could he think of eating when he was so stuffed?—she nodded as he began to absently rub the side of his middle. The stitching was straining where his love handles bloomed.

“Of course, sir, right away.”

Anna knew the effects of laudanum, and also knew that there was a supply among other remedies located in the kitchen. When she grabbed the tray of sweetbreads and pastries, she also grabbed a small pot of honey for dipping as well as the laudanum, which she poured into a small bowl. Everything loaded onto the tray, she carried it back upstairs.

By the time she got there, Mr. Blackmoor was groggily reclining against the ornately carved headboard. He smiled lazily at her.

“That looks delicious,” he praised her.

With a smile, she set the tray on the bed next to him. As he reached for the first treat and dipped it in the honey, she removed his shoes and stockings. He deserved to be comfortable.

“Let me do tha’ for ye,” she said softly, taking a piece and dipping it first into the laudanum and then the honey, before giving it to him.

“Ooh, mm…” He leaned back into the pillows, cloth creaking as buttons strained.

Avon felt a rush of heat throb between her legs at the sight of his belly sticking up straight out of the underside of his vest. It arched up and up, cresting a good distance from his body, before sloping steep back into his trousers. From her spot, she couldn’t see his groin, it overshadowed it. Not a single wrinkle or creased marred his clothing, either, as all extra material was stretched to its limits to keep him covered. He was beautiful.

And she told him so. “Ye’re gorgeous, sir.”

He just smiled sleepily and dipped a sweet in broth, before popping it into his mouth. Unable to help herself, and emboldened by the likelihood he wouldn’t remember anything the next day, she allowed herself to smooth a hand over the great ball of a belly. Despite how swollen it was, she could feel the layer of soft flesh on top. Biting her lip, she refrained digging her fingers into it and turned her attention to helping her rich employer finish off the tray of sweets.

With every bite, he sunk deeper into semi-conscious oblivion. He even slurringly called her Cynthia, the traitorous wench who left him. Avon wasn’t offended, no, because she was more than happy to focus on his body. Swollen like a tick, he only continued to grow and she could have sworn he was getting fatter before her eyes.

Suddenly, with a tear, two buttons on his vest burst off, allowing his gut to fall forward a little more. After that, with a couple more bites, another button. Then a fourth, a fifth. And the buttons on his overstressed shirt didn’t stand a chance either, four popping open almost simultaneously. An expanse of pale skin was exposed, covered in silver and red lines that marked the progress of his growing waistline.

“Mmn…” With a large groan, belly and chest expanding with air, the rest of the buttons lost their battle all the way up to the valley of his softening breasts.

The seams on his trousers were beginning to fray and a few small holes appeared along his hips and side.

“Oh-ooh…”

Yet still he continued to eat, mouth open after each swallow like a baby bird’s yearning for more. There were only a few pastries left, but Avon dutifully fed them to him. When they were gone, she sat back to observe the damage.

The large belly was swollen so huge and high it was almost grotesque. The hem of his pants dug tightly into the flesh, bisecting it into another large roll. She couldn’t even see the waistband, it was so deeply embedded.

Breathing shallowly, Mr. Blackmoor held onto his great belly as he tried to sit up. Even pushing his thighs wide apart to make room, the movement was too much. With a great snap, the waist of his trousers gave out. Surging into the unrestrained cloth, it created a mammoth of a belly. He belched loudly, before falling back on his pillows. The waistband slid down his belly, revealing even more evidence of his rapid weight gain.

Within minutes, he was sound asleep.

Avon sat there completely still for a while, staring in utter shock. He had just eating himself into destroying an outfit, and she helped him! Reaching out, she pushed her hand hard into his stomach, eliciting a groan from Mr. Blackmoor. Still, she kneaded, massaged, and rubbed her way around the huge middle. She traced those marks gently, fondly, and caressed his soft love handles.

Not big enough yet, Mr. Blackmoor, she thought with an excited grin. Not near big enough.

Carefully, she collected the bowls and tray, and retreated back downstairs. After cleaning up in the kitchen, she hurried off to bed. She couldn’t wait for the dreams to start.

[Qit el-Remel]

Right on! http://smilearchive.com/s/otn/realhappy/luxhello.gif

[Tad]

:) Glad you made it through exams......and not just because of a new installment on the story!

[Durin]

Thanks for the installment!

Great story

:eat1:

[atwolfe]

WOW!!!! Your inspiration doesn't seem lost as this installment clearly shows a great continuance of the story :)

[Undine]

I'm going to bump this story because it's absolutely fantastic. I only wish there was more for me to enjoy. :wubu:

[flowers]

Please continue this story! It is fantastic!

[NemoVolo]

Hi all.

Unfortunately, due to many computer mishaps, I have lost what I had started for this story. Fortunately, what I do have, is mostly written down in notebooks. I just have to find those and type them up. But with senior year of undergrad, I'm not sure when I'll have time.

Just know this isn't a permanent hiatus.

[NemoVolo]

[Author's Note:] I've decided to post this up, since I already had it written out and typed it up the other night. I've got the next two parts done, too, but I'm trying to space them out. It's hard, though, and comments will probably make me post faster. I'm a sucker for appreciation like that.

Part XI (Vincent)

As Christmas loomed, Vincent knew he was going to need help before the next Season started. His stomach was almost always full of food, despite his failing attempts to lose the gut he gained. As the months had passed, the hard ball melted into a soft tummy with matching love-handles. His ass had widened and all over, his body was covered in a thin insulation of fat. Gone was his athletic body, replaced by this one going to seed ridiculously easy.

He refused to spend the upcoming Season swollen like a tick, sleeping through the days only to get so drunk and drugged up at Prinny’s club that he didn’t have any memory of the amount of food he was consuming. If he was going to have a small social life outside the Whitehart, he needed a way to loosen up his stomach so he could eat without pain. Even small portions left him in agony now.

It was one afternoon while he was going through the stack of correspondence Daniel brought him that he found the answer.

On a beautifully written card, from a Lord Trevett, was a message:

To Lord Amberly, Duke of Derbyshire,

It has come to my attention you are in the same predicament that I, myself, was in a year ago. The overindulgent lifestyle of His Majesty is hard to adjust to as fast as his peerage is expected to. The older lords have been past their prime and don’t face the same societal problems we might.

The Prince Regent took pity on me and gave me the name of a brothel and the women he recommends. She works miracles, I swear.

Go to the address on the back of this card and ask for the girl called Cinnamon. Do not worry about discretion. The mistress of the home knows not to talk, and Cinnamon has a very limited clientele. Your identity will be safe.

Lord Trevett
Duke of Worcestershire

The Prince Regent had suggested to this man a prostitute to cure his indigestion? It was a little difficult to believe, but Vincent wasn’t naïve to the heir’s indulging in all sins of the flesh. Perhaps he should not have been so surprised.

Still, he was getting desperate enough to try anything. He sent a messenger ahead to inquire to when this Cinnamon would be available next. He felt bad for the poor lad, who was barely able to wheeze that she available that night. Vincent sent the boy to the kitchen and asked Daniel’s little brother to go inform them that he was to be expected.

Later that evening, after Vincent had heaved himself out of his carriage and awkwardly moved into the brother, he was startled by how inconspicuous it was. In a fairly nice neighbourhood, it had no advertising as to the nature of what went on inside. Like Whitehart, it was of a very private, elite nature.

A young boy showed him the way to Cinnamon’s room, without Vincent even opening his mouth. Bemused, he followed, only to find her room was on the first floor. Jacob, the boy, explained the first floor in its entirety was Cinnamon’s suite, and only the entryway and parlour were for public use. She was the one who made the most money and needed the room. Vincent, for his part, stayed silent and followed.

Jacob paused in front of a closed door and knocked.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Jacob. Your new gentleman is here.”

There were soft footsteps and the door open. “Please, do come in, my lord.”

Vincent stepped inside. The room was nicely furnished, the bed was gigantic and the posts all looked thicker than normal. Well, if Prinny is a regular visitor, it would have to be custom made and reinforced, he reasoned. He found the room agreeable, and turned to find the woman he came to see.

She was standing politely behind him, hands clasped in front of her with modesty. She was wearing little more than a chemise, however, under a very thin, light evening dress. In the cool room, he could see her nipples straining the material that her ample bosom filled out nicely.

Long hair that appeared a light auburn hung loose to her hips and her eyes sparkled with amusement and mischief. She was very fair, and also very beautiful. Tall, with long legs betrayed as such by the clinging skirt without any petticoat, her hips were curved enough and her waist small enough to not require any stays.

There was a playful lift to her lips when his eyes finally managed to focus on her face.

“I am—”

“Lord Vincent Amberly, Duke of Derbyshire,” she finished for him, voice husky and smooth as if she swallowed honey. “I’ve been expecting you, sire. Lord Trevett mentioned he might be… passing along his knowledge. He was not long ago in your position.”

On reflex of vanity, he tried uselessly to suck in his swollen middle. “What position would that be, precisely?” he asked, eyes narrowed slightly.

Moving slowly over to him with swaying hips, she reached out to gently slide her fingers across the expanse of his waist. “I’m sure you know,” she purred.

She sauntered away, over to where a full flask and two clean glasses waited on the desk.

“Sherry?” she asked, holding out a newly filled glass to him.

He accepted it and she motioned for him to sit down, which he did on the settee. She sat on the chair across from him with her own glass.

“Now, I’m not sure what Avery—that is, Lord Trevett, told you,” Cinnamon said with a soft sigh, “but it appears I have the reputation among the Prince’s friends of being able to hypnotize the body. If that were the case, I highly doubt I would be here. I do, however, have a certain knack for preparing a man’s body for the abuse our dear Prince inflicts on his closest friends.

Vincent glanced around and noticed, for the first time, how much of the room was covered in food, especially rich, fattening food. The door leading to the dining room was wide open and he could see the heavily laden table. It looked as if Cinnamon was expecting all of the Whitehart gentleman to come. When he looked at her once more, she was smirking faintly.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked, feeling like a canary within reach of a hungry cat.

She took a sip of her sherry and hummed. “Well, the eating part isn’t your problem, is it? What is, then? Your remaining vanity?”

He couldn’t believe it. This whore had him blushing—him!—like a school boy, not the full-grown man he was. He shifted and nervously smoothed a hand over his front. Cinnamon’s eyes followed the movement as it arched over his gut.

“It… the pain. I took so much laudanum last Season to keep up, I was barely conscious. I can remember only a few days, and I don’t want it to be that way again,” he finally confessed, a little surprised by how easy it was. Maybe she really could hypnotize him.

Cinnamon frowned faintly, which did not mar her features at all. She got up, crossed the few steps over to him, and glided onto his lap. Her knowledgeable, practiced fingers began undoing his waistcoat.

“Hey, wait—” She hushed him with a gentle kiss.

“You poor thing,” she cooed, getting the vest undone and working on his shirt next while he shed the waistcoat. “You’re just not used to this at all, but don’t worry. I know exactly what you need.”

Once his shirt hung open, she slipped backwards and pulled him to his feet. He followed docilely as she led him to the bed, where he laid on his back. Cinnamon crawled up, pausing at about his knees, to untie his trousers.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Vincent demanded, grabbing wildly for her hands.

“Helping, of course,” she said slowly, patiently. “The Prince Regent trusts me, so I would think you would, too.”

He released her hands, but eyed her warily, which she ignored.

She hummed to herself and crawled up to straddle his hips. With soft hands, she gently began to slide them around the expanse of his stomach, massaging and rubbing.

“Ooh, mmm…” Vincent moaned, relaxing into the plush mattress as she worked magic.

It felt as if she was gently coaxing his body to stretch and loosen, to make more room for all the meals he had eaten. Any tension in his stomach started to fade; he let out a loud, long belch. Cinnamon just smiled and kept going.

There was no way for Vincent to keep track of time passing. His attention was solely on the sensations coming from wherever her hands touched. He did know that she didn’t stop at his stomach, but rubbed and kneaded his sides, back, thighs, and hips, too. It was paradise.

Until the growling of his stomach startled them both.

Cinnamon laughed and slid from him, giving his belly one last caress. “Go, eat. You’ll be doing this all night.”

That sounded absolutely splendid to him. As he got up, he reached to unfasten his trousers. He would need all the room he could get.

For the first in weeks, his stomach felt empty. And he was starving to fill it up again.

[clockworklove]

An amazing update-- I've truly missed this wonderful story. I love that you have a full cast of really interesting characters (especially Avon and Pierce!) who's parts are all told so uniquely. I can't wait for more!

[geekybibabe]

I'm so happy to see an update to this story! Thank you!

[flowers]

Wonderful wonderful wonderful! You have such a knack for description.

[atwolfe]

Oh! I was so happy to see more to this story! I can't wait for more :happy: