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Old 05-07-2016, 08:15 PM   #26
Join Date: Feb 2013
Location: The Great Lakes
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Marlow can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokesMarlow can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokes

And we're back.

Chapter 12

Hesper jolted upright, glancing around. She was in a dark little compartment, cramped in on all sides. The floor was carpeted, but damp, and she could hear the rain pounding against a metal exterior.

As her vision slowly refocused, she recognized a nearby barrier as the back of a tall carseat. She grabbed the headrest and hoisted herself up to peer over.

“The truck,” she sighed, “I’m in Dag's truck. Okay. Calm down.”

The driver’s door opened. Dag’s head appeared. “You’re awake. Wow.”

“Yep.” She blinked. “What do you mean, ‘wow’ ?”

“You were, uh, very intoxicated. You didn’t have all that much, but I guess you had it too fast…you passed out.”

Hesper frowned, recalling it only vaguely. “Huh. Did you…carry me to your truck?”

“Er, yes.” He shifted himself into the driver’s seat, looking sheepish. “I got kinda spooked sitting there in a torn-up grocery store with you just…snoring on the linoleum.”

“Why not just go back to the room?” she groaned, glancing up at the motel.

“Roxie has the key. She hasn’t come back yet.” He scratched his beard. “And the front desk lady’s gone. So I figured you could sleep on my cot back there while I get something a little less janky over the windshield.” He jerked a thumb up at it: in place of the trashbags was a layer of translucent cellophane.

Hesper blew out a long breath. She climbed to the passenger seat and plopped down with a huff.

“Feeling okay?”

She nodded slowly. “Yeah, actually. Totally sober.”

He gave her a skeptical look. “It’s only been, like, an hour.”

“Feels like it’s been ten. It’s probably just from drinking on an empty stom…uh-oh.” She straightened up, winced, and shimmied awkwardly. Her bra strap was digging into the flesh over her ribs. Looking down, she noticed a little more cleavage than she was used to seeing. Below that a humble mound of baby fat stretched out the bottom of her tube top, creasing into a shallow roll over her lap.

It was a lap that rose higher off the seat than usual, too. Twisting around to look, she found the back of her skirt rounded taut by a soft, heart-shaped derriere. The lace of her thong arced up above the skirt’s waistband like a whale tail and she quickly reached back to make things more presentable.

“It worked, then,” she realized. “The enchantment…I was right.”

“That’s what you said, yeah, before you…fell asleep.”

She tousled her curls. “Sorry for getting carried away. These enchantments, they really kick things to eleven in the ‘maybe just one more’ department. Ugh, this tummy. Are you seeing this?”

He was. “And the light bulb thing? It lit up when you held it to...erm."

"...to my new fat. It's corporeal quintessence. It has to be."

"So it’s a weight gain spell after all? Like...on purpose?”

“It’s probably a simple acceleration spell. Just applied very…specifically, for complex effect, with some magnifications and minor augmentations to facilitate cooperation with the other enchantments…”


“Intake. Efficiency. A body affected by the spell processes food a lot faster than usual. And more thoroughly. But since our actions and activities are all in real time, there’s no way to use all the energy this generates, so it gets stored…” She glanced down at her gut. “That process gets accelerated, too. Then it’s just a matter of adding an endless appetite curse, which isn’t hard—that one’s pretty popular in catty high school cliques—and you’re off to the races. Or off to the buffet, I suppose.”

Dag thought for a moment. “But I haven’t eaten all night and I feel fine.”

“Hm. So it’s a selective field. Ilta’s a matriarchal demon, after all. Anyway, the important thing is that we know what’s going on: these backwater idiots are trying to store up a pile of fat while prepping the area for the arrival of an indulgence demon.”

“Whoa,” gasped Dag. He followed her every word with fascination, if not comprehension.

“Now I can’t rightly figure where all this is going, but don’t like one bit how we’re getting there. You haven’t seen Roxie?”

“No sign.”

“Up to us, then. Listen, Dag. We need to figure out where these people are meeting. A ritual of this magnitude needs a multitude…and they’d need a sacred place large enough to…”

“How about there?” offered the trucker, jabbing a finger against his side window.

Hesper crawled over him and stared out. Dag leaned back, trying not to stare at her backside.

“The church,” she hissed. “Of course.”

Dag squinted. “Lot of cars in the parking lot for 5:30 in the morning.”

“Those weren’t there when we went by earlier. The party must be starting soon.”

Figures in long black robes were lining up outside the church. Many were still arriving, pulling hoods over their heads as they milled around the lot. Each carried a large offering.

“They’re bringing some pretty big packages with them,” Dag remarked. “What do you think?”

Hesper crawled back to her seat. “Hard to tell from this distance, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s more food.”

“I didn’t realize there would be so many of them. It looks like half the town.”

“This whole place must be in on it.” Hesper found her tote bag and spread it across her lap. “No wonder there wasn’t a struggle at either store.”

“What do we do?”

Hesper dug a sugar packet and a cup of coffee creamer from the bag. She held them up with an impish grin. “We arm ourselves. And we crash the party."

Dag nodded and pounded his fists.

"Also, I’m gonna need to borrow a few more of your pizzas.”
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Old 05-09-2016, 07:19 PM   #27
Join Date: Feb 2013
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Chapter 13

Behind the church sanctuary was a small office, separated from the pulpit by a half-hidden doorway.

Roxie sat atop one of the desks, flanked on either side by the twins. With her hands behind her on the desk, her unbuttoned shirt and unzipped slacks did little to contain the forward rolls of her belly. Ms. Nott peeled up Roxie’s undershirt to expose the pale paunch in full, giving it a thoughtful look.

“I’m willing to bet that not all of this is new,” the woman sneered, clicking her tongue. “An out of shape cop—I’m shocked.”

“Still a cop, though. And this feels like an unlawful detainment, among other things.” Roxie stared past her. Her belt, badge, and hat were piled on a chair across the room.

Ms. Nott nodded and reached into a drawer. “I suppose. But in twelve hours your mortal laws won’t mean much anymore.”

She pulled a bowl and brush from the drawer. She handed it to one of the twins, who left the room and quickly returned with the bowl full of orange paint.

With a gleeful grin Ms. Nott slathered a seven-pointed start on Roxie’s gut. Roxie shuddered at the cold touch.

“But twelve hours isn’t much,” Ms. Nott continued. “So let’s get this started, hm?” She pulled a bandana--also orange--from her pocket, rolled it up, and tied it into a gag over Roxie’s mouth.

The twins seized Roxie by her thickened arms and heaved her to her feet. They led her back into the sanctuary and set her in an ornate wooden chair on the dais.

To her left was another chair, taller, wider, and even more lavishly decorated, with a carved heptagram at its crown. Leila Jones waddled up and sat herself in it, her girth settling heavily.

“Tommy, go help them finish the arrangement,” she grunted. “They’re being too picky about what goes where—I’m more interested in quantity than precedent.”

The twins nodded and stepped down from the dais. Out on the sanctuary floor, several dozen robed figures milled about, carrying enormous serving platters, crock pots, punch bowls, coolers, trays, and baskets.

“That’s our midwest,” Roxie muttered to herself. “Even the cults have potlucks.”

Each robe included a long black veil. Roxie watched as the cultists obediently dropped off their offerings: a slender, bent figure with a casserole, a broad, wide-hipped figure with a pudding, a short, petite figure with a stack of frozen pizzas. Roxie fought the sudden urge to lick her lips and hated her mouth for watering.

Organ music drifted in from the balcony, filling the sanctuary. Once all the food had been arranged, the congregation made its way to the center of the room and jostled each other around until they had formed a pair of concentric circles around the giant chalk heptagram on the floor. There were about thirty acolytes in each circle.

They stood back to back and then, at the ringing of a bell, all turned to face forward. It wasn’t a particularly coordinated effort—some had clearly practiced more than others—but Leila smiled at them with pride.

The sanctuary lights faded. They stood in darkness for a minute, until a glow rose up from below them. The heptagram on the floor shone with a menacing light. A series of candelabras flared to life along the tables and behind Leila on the dais. The music rose, pounding Roxie’s ears.

Ms. Nott took the wooden bowl and uncovered the cistern at the back of the pulpit. Dipping the bowl inside, he filled it to the brim with more paint.

She then descended from the dais, followed by the twins. Walking in stride, they slipped through the rings of devotees and entered the inside of the circle.

Taking care not to step on the chalk of the heptagram, they turned to face one of the acolytes. Her husky figure filled out the dark robe. One of the twins raised his hand and rang a silver bell.

At its tolling, the acolyte pulled her robe open, revealing a fat, almost square-shaped stomach. It was completely exposed and as the robe parted Roxie could see that the woman wore nothing but black underwear and high heels.

Ms. Nott nodded to the proffered belly with a smile. She reached out a hand to touch it an gave it an appreciative squeeze. She then turned to the second twin, who held up the wooden bowl of paint. Ms. Nott dipped a finger in it and traced an orange circle around the woman’s navel.

The acolyte curtsied and closed her robe. Ms. Nott and the twins stepped to the next woman in the circle. The first twin rang his bell again; this new woman opened her robe.

She was a much thinner woman with only a slight pooch to her abdomen, but she displayed it proudly. She sported very thick thighs, too, which Ms. Nott patted with approval before reaching for the paint.

Roxie felt the paint on her own stomach tingle. It was faint, but concerning. The many delicious smells in the room were beginning to overwhelm her, as well. Her head drifted awhile, but a firm scolding from her conscience dragged her attention back to the present.

The ceremony continued. Ms. Nott was having difficulty painting one woman’s navel, which was tucked into the fold of a double belly. Everyone gathered watched with interest.

Roxie turned her head, seeking out the little office door. It would only be a short sprint across the dais, provided no one intercepted her.

“Please don’t,” whispered Leila. “I will chain you down if I have to.”

Roxie swallowed. A hushed gasp went up among the congregation and she panicked, but they were staring at the flat stomach and visible ribs of the next acolyte in line. Ms. Nott clicked her tongue, but gave the woman a reassuring pinch before reaching for the paint anyway.

“And chains are probably my least painful option, deputy,” Leila continued. “Just stay—enjoy the service.”

Ms. Nott moved on to the last woman of the inside circle. This acolyte was shorter and smaller than the others, but her tummy poked out happily with a layer of baby fat. Roxie squinted, half-convinced there was a snake tattoo slithering just above the woman’s hip.

“If you insist,” Roxie murmured.

Ms. Nott made her way to the outer circle and inspected the acolytes there in turn. She painted circles on food babies, beer guts, pot bellies, and aprons of flab. Her hands cupped fat rolls, squeezed flesh folds, caressed bulges, pinched lovehandles, and patted overhangs. Roxie’s own stomach continued to growl, joined by an increasingly loud chorus from the other gathered, impatient appetites.

At length the priestess and the twins finished their last visitation—a small muffin top at the front of the room—and stomped back up to the pulpit. The twins parted to stand at the end of each table.

Leila stood from her chair, huge and round and jiggling before her congregation.

“Welcome and good morning,” she said in a voice that rang off the uncovered stone. “Let us bless our meal.”

The cultists bowed their heads. Roxie glanced around as the candles began to flicker.

Leila spread her hands. “Underworld, netherworld, behind-world, hear us! I am Leila, devoted servant, calling out on behalf of my gathered sisters.”

“Hear us,” chanted the congregation. Roxie shuddered.

“Ilta,” Leila continued, “we call to you.”

The music ceased.

“Hail, Ilta, ravenous one, who devours the sun, who scatters its crumbs as stars across the night sky…hail, Ilta, insatiable maw of the underworld, whose hunger levels mountains, whose thirst drains oceans…hail, Ilta, ye of appetite infinite.”

The candles flickered, then burned brighter. The congregation turned their veiled eyes upon the brazier at the center of the circle.

“Share with us, Ilta, a pittance of your attentions, that we may honor you with a gift. We bring forth offerings, with all humility, that we may pour such treasures down your ever-avaricious throat and add what modicum of girth we may to your immeasurable stomach.”

“Hear us,” the congregation repeated.

Leila stretched a hand toward Roxie. “We offer also this righteous warrior, plunged unto corruption...may she become today an instrument of your power and sovereignty, that she may learn, through the failure of her mortal and martial authority, the true power of your immortal and inescapable imperium.”

"Hear us!"
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Old 05-10-2016, 09:48 PM   #28
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This is great!!
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Old 05-15-2016, 08:31 AM   #29
Join Date: Feb 2013
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Chapter 14

The organ music resumed, faintly, with a driving rhythm.

“And now,” Leila concluded, eyes to the ceiling, belly stretching her robes forward, “let us complete this invocation and begin the amassing of our energies, lest we insult insatiable Ilta with anything less than the fullest and most replete of stomachs.”

“Hear us!” shouted the crowd. The organ’s tempo quickened.

Leila stretched her hands toward the brazier. Her congregation turned in to face it. “Hear us, Ilta, and pity our hunger. Cast your voracious eyes upon us from your depths, grace us with the licking of your lascivious lips, and illuminate us with a portent of your impending presence!”

She splayed her fingers. The candelabras flared and the music swelled. The congregation chanted “hear us!” one last time. A gust swirled through the hall, rustling their black robes and tossing napkins from the banquet tables. But the brazier upon which all their gazes were focused remained unlit.

She grunted and pushed her hands higher. Everyone stared at the brazier; Ms. Nott’s face twisted with growing apprehension.

The wind settled. A handful of the veils twitched as the cultists glanced at one another. Somebody coughed.

“No,” whispered Leila.

“Why didn’t it light?” asked Ms. Nott, lips trembling.

Leila reddened. Her jaw sank into her double chin. “The circle has been disrupted,” she growled. “Step back, my sisters.”

The cultists hurried away from the heptagram and backed into lines along each table. One robed figure remained, however: the petite woman on the far side of the circle. She slowly pulled her right foot back from where it had smudged the chalk line.

“Sabotage! Reveal yourself, sister,” Leila hissed, “and try to explain this betrayal.”

Hesper threw back the hood and shook out her mane of hair. The cultists gasped. “No sister of yours, Leila Jones,” she answered huskily. “I’m putting a stop to this.”

“An interloper…I should have known. And judging by your aura, you’re a fellow practitioner—you stink of righteous indignation even more than this pitiful excuse for a policewoman.”

Roxie stiffened. The heavy hand of one of the twins pressed down on her shoulder.

“I’m indignant for a reason,” Hesper spat. “If you were a real practitioner yourself, you’d know there are rules to this stuff. Summoning demons is a no-no. And summoning renegade demons too mad for the normal underworld hierarchy is a no-no-no-no.”

Leila shook her head. “I’m aware that what we’re doing is a little unorthodox. But we’re not interested in being lectured by an amateur.”

“I’m no amateur—I’m Hesper Ashling. I represent the arcane council. And either way I’m not interested seeing in the end of the world. I don’t know exactly what y’all think you’re gonna accomplish here, but it ain’t wise and I ain’t about to let it happen.”

Leila narrowed her eyes. One of the twins stepped over to join the standoff, leaving the other with Roxie.

“What ‘ain’t wise’ is threatening our sisterhood. You are too bound by your rules, Miss Ashling, to realize the power we have unlocked. Leave now, disappear, and you won’t be incinerated.”

Hesper reached into the pocket of her robe. “Call off the ritual.”

Leila sighed, unfolded her arms, and stretched a hand forward. A light appeared in her open palm, a tiny glowing orb. It flared, then flashed, and a ball of fire burst forth with a roar. The cultists ducked; shielding their faces.

Hesper pulled a small hand mirror from her pocket. She whipped it into the air and dove to the floor.

The fireball exploded above her. Flames swirled upward, filling the space overhead, only to suddenly shrink. The blaze shriveled away with a pained, screaming howl and were sucked into the surface of the hand mirror like so much toilet water.

The mirror clattered to the floor, shattering upon the stone.

Roxie shrieked through her gag, writhing in terror. Ms. Nott pressed a knife to her throat, hissing for her to be silent. Leila gritted her teeth and stepped down from the pulpit as the twins stomped forward.

“That was lucky,” murmured Hesper, rising to her feet. She cleared her throat. “My turn, then?”

Throwing her robe open, she dug into her bra and tugged out a white index card. She brandished it like a weapon and stared down the approaching twins. They paused mid-stride, watching warily.

“A material anchor,” Leila scoffed. “Don’t you realize you could be free of such limitations? I am working to unchain our magic, Miss Ashling.”

“By chaining yourself to a spirit of destruction. No thanks.” She flipped the card around. It read, in a bold script, “x2 = -1.”

Ms. Nott’s knife began to dig into Roxie’s skin. Blood trickled down from her neck. Roxie shut her eyes against the pain, whimpering.

Hesper closed her own eyes. The index card lit up with a searing white flare; everyone recoiled and shouted, stumbling backward and clawing at their eyes.

“Can’t see—” screamed Leila, falling back onto the steps, her girth wobbling.

Hesper rushed past the blinded cultists and leapt onto the dais. She kicked Ms. Nott out of the way and ripped the bandana from Roxie’s mouth.

“Holy shit! Holy shit!” Roxie sputtered.

“Unholy shit, actually,” Hesper remarked, helping her up from the chair.

“What did you do? What was that?”

“Uh, flashcard. Lucky you had your eyes shut there.”


“Roxie, questions later. We need to run.” Behind her, Leila was stumbling about, searching wildly for anyone in reach.

Roxie took a deep, shaky breath. “Um. Um. Th-there’s a back door. Through that office.” She pointed to the little door behind the pulpit.

Hesper grabbed her hand. “Perfect. Let’s go.”

“The office!” shrieked Ms. Nott. The twins picked themselves up and began feeling their way toward the dais.

Hesper and Roxie blustered into the office. An emergency exit waited at the far end. Roxie slipped away to retrieve her pile of personal items while Hesper kicked over a couple of chairs behind them.

They reached the exit door and fell together against the push-bar, collapsing out into the rain. Hesper shoved the door shut again just as the twins found their way into the office. Roxie pointed to a large clay planter next to the door and they hurried to topple it over and block the way.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Roxie huffed. “I can’t believe this is happening. Did she shoot a fucking…fireball at you?”

Hesper grabbed her hands. “Yeah, she did. But I caught it. Everything’s gonna be okay, Roxie, but we need to get out of here. Where’s your car?”

“This has to be a dream or something…fireball…”

“Roxie. Roxie! Hey, I’m sorry, but this is happening. Y’all can freak out later. Where is your car?”

“Around…around the corner, there. By the bushes.”

Hand in hand, they clambered across the back lot. A chair exploded through the office window behind them and one of the twins began to climb through, silent but seething. A gunshot shattered another one of the windows as the two women rounded the corner.

Hesper and Roxie swung around to the far side of the police cruiser and slumped down against the door, gasping for breath. Roxie’s flabby stomach glistened with rainwater, heaving with each out of shape breath. Hesper yelped.

“You okay?” the deputy panted, fidgeting with her hat.

“Yeah. I just sat in a puddle.”

“Place is flooding. The whole street’s a puddle.” She tugged her car keys from inside the hat. “You don’t mind fireballs and cult magic but you worry about getting wet?”

“You’re wearing pants. I’ve got nothing on my backside but a thong.” She watched Roxie unlock the door. “A thong that barely fits now, at that…”

Another gunshot rang overhead. Roxie swung her door open and reached inside. Hesper tucked a finger into her boot and pulled out a miniature fan.

A flurry of splashes encircled the car, followed by a pair of ominous clicks. Roxie slid back against the open door, shotgun in hand, aiming it over Hesper’s head. Behind Hesper stood one of the twins, pistol trained at Roxie.

Hesper was brandishing her fan over Roxie’s head. Behind the open door stood the other twin, cocking his own pistol. The four of them stared at one another for a moment, fuming.

“Got any more tricks?” asked Roxie.

A roar split their ears. Dag burst from the nearby bushes, swinging a sledgehammer.

Bullrushing the twin behind Hesper, he brought the hammer down on the twin’s hands. The gun fell uselessly and Dag tackled him against the trunk of the car.

As the other twin swung his gun up at the new target, Roxie elbowed the door. It knocked him off balance and he shot wide.

Hesper flapped her fan and a wave of invisible force threw him from his feet, scattering raindrops everywhere.

Roxie heaved herself into the driver’s seat and unlocked the other doors. Dag shoved his opponent down and pulled Hesper after him into the car.

“I saw a light,” he said as Roxie fired up the engine. “Was that the signal?”

“Got you to come running, didn’t it?”

“Guys?” Roxie whispered.

The office door had been forced open. Cultists poured out from the church, jeweled knives at the ready. Leila shoved her way through; her hurrying, jiggling bulk knocked a few of them to the ground. She stretched out a hand, glowing palm forward.

“Drive,” shouted Hesper. “Drive!”

Roxie peeled out. “But where?”

“The hotel?” asked Dag.

“They know I was staying there. And they have to have noticed your truck.”

“My van,” offered Hesper. “Piece of junk blends right in. I left it down at the travel plaza.”
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Old 05-19-2016, 08:47 PM   #30
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Chapter 15

“Okay. This should at least buy us a few minutes to catch our breath and figure out a plan,” said Hesper, pulling the back doors of the van shut. She threw off her black robe and peered through the dusty windows.

The plaza’s parking lot, close as it was to the bloated creek, was beginning to flood. A couple inches of water covered the asphalt, hiding deep pools in the many potholes. They’d parked Roxie’s squad car as close to the bridge as the water would allow and had splashed their way around the plaza to where Hesper’s van was tucked out of sight.

It was a cozy van, at least on the inside. It had probably been state of the art in the early eighties. Hesper turned to check on Dag and Roxie, who were huddled on the middle seat bench and staring back at her, shell-shocked.

“Get down,” she urged, climbing over the rear seat. “They’ll see us through the windows. Yeah, just lie down on the floor between the seats. Good blind spot. I’ll keep watch.”

Dag flopped down to the floor, broad chest facing up. Roxie watched and grimaced. It was immediately clear that there was scarcely room for him, much less the both of them. But at Hesper’s prodding she wriggled down and squeezed herself half next to him and half on top of him. Her pot-belly squished against his barrel-like torso, her khaki uniform melding with his brown flannel in the shadows.

Hesper clambered over the seat and straddled them, keeping her head at window height. Glancing up, Roxie couldn’t help but notice the weight the petite, lingerie-clad woman had put on since leaving the motel. A distinct pouch of baby fat pushed forward from her abdomen and her softened butt cheeks, particularly from Roxie’s perspective, looked positively swollen. The threads of Hesper’s fishnets were spread thin.

“See anything?” asked Dag.

“Nothing but rain. Guess we had a bigger head start than I thought. Nice driving, deputy—saved our asses back there.”

“Saved your asses?” Roxie scoffed. “I’d still be their guest of honor if you hadn’t showed up. They would have cut me open and sacrificed my guts to their fucked-up appetite god or whatever.” Her guts gurgled loudly at the thought.

Hesper shook out her curls. “Demon. And hey, I couldn’t just let them do that—I was just starting to like those guts of yours.”

“Plus, I’ve always wanted to hit somebody with a hammer,” added Dag.

“But seriously, thank you,” Roxie continued, watching Hesper’s uncovered butt bounce as she shifted around. “I thought I was dead. I could kiss you guys.”

Hesper cocked an eyebrow down at her. “We’re not out of this yet. But be careful—I may just hold you to that.”

Roxie adjusted her waistband. “So what was your plan before I told you about the back door? Fight everybody?”

“Something like that, probably. I hadn’t really thought that far ahead..I can be big on improvisation. And I did bring some insurance in the pizza boxes, just in case.” Something outside caught her eye. “Okay, quiet. Here they come.”

She flopped down on top of Dag. He winced, but held his breath and managed to keep silent while she arranged herself face-down across his and Roxie’s stomachs.

“Insurance in the pizza boxes?” Roxie whispered.

“Couple of sugar packets. Now, shh.”

Flashlight beams swept through the windows. They could hear footsteps splashing outside in the flooded parking lot. Women’s voices grumbled to one another.

Roxie’s stomach grumbled in reply. Hesper shot her a look, but her own tummy let out a long whine as well. Gritting her teeth, Hesper reached back to adjust her underwear. The thong was cutting into the soft flesh of her hips.

The splashing drew closer. The fugitives held their collective breath.

“Hey! I think the police car’s over there!” somebody shouted. “Isn’t that it by the abutment?”

“They must be trying to cross the creek.”

“Couldn’t have had much luck with that—they’ll regret trying it. Here, come on.”

The footsteps splashed away. The windows went dark again.

Roxie’s stomach groaned.

“Shit. Sorry, guys, I’ve had this stupid appetite all night…”

“Not your fault,” Hesper whispered, pressing a hand to her own abdomen.

“I feel like I could eat this whole fucking van,” Roxie moaned. “What is going on? It’s not more of this magic stuff, is it?”

Dag shifted between them. “It’s part of what the cult’s doing, right? Hesper said it was part of an enchantment.”

Hesper nodded. “Yep. Exaggerated hunger and accelerated, uh, fat storage. Our friends out there are trying to put on a lot of weight in a short amount of time.” She sat up, slowly and peeked out the window. “So, yes, more magic stuff.”

“But why?” asked Roxie. “What would they stand to gain by…okay, I worded that wrong.”

“Corporal Quintus?” offered Dag, lifting his head.


“Corporeal quintessence,” Hesper corrected him. “I always reckoned it was a myth. A pipe-dream for corner-cutting wannabes like myself. But it looks like this Leila girl has cracked it.”

“What is it, though?”

Hesper pushed herself up onto the seat. “Energy storage. Uh, here…think about the magic you’ve seen me do tonight…you’re just gonna have to accept it’s real at this point, deputy. So, I had to say words and hold up a thing before anything cool happened, right? That flash spell, you remember? It was anchored in the index card. The divination stuff I did at the plaza used the strings and whatnot and nothing happened till the thunder came through.”

“Okay, sure.”

“Mortal magic is manipulation of energy. Has to have a material anchor and a real-world energy source. For that first divination I used the thunder. For the other one I had to light the match first. I used the fire, but I couldn’t generate it from nothing.”

“But when Leila threw that fireball at you…”

“Exactly. Fire from nowhere. All the candles in the room couldn’t have added up to that blaze.” She tapped her chin, as though still working through the logic herself. “Leila’s weight gain enchantment, at least as far as I can tell, allows a practitioner to store arcane energy—that’s the quintessence—store it along with how her body naturally stores…energy.” She looked down and gave her tummy a squeeze.

Roxie put a hand to her own gut. “So that would make me 30 pounds more magical than when I started my shift?”

Dag twisted to face her. “You’re two hundred pounds?” he gasped. Roxie grimaced.

“In theory,” Hesper mused. “But it wouldn’t do anything for you unless you were a practitioner. Hell, I’m a practitioner and I haven’t figured out how to access the energy myself. I know it’s in there..." She gave her tummy a pat. "...but I can’t tap into it. Our cult here seems to have solved the problem, though.”

“So me, I’m just getting fatter,” Roxie sighed. To allow herself to stretch out a bit more, she’d slipped off of Dag and under the bench. She could feel her gut squish against the metal frame.

“Yep. It’s just an effect of being in the enchantment’s range.”

“Leila was the only one doing magic, though,” the deputy realized. “Are the rest of them…?”

Hesper climbed into the rear seat. “Hm, good point. She probably is the only practitioner of them, sure—she just impressed all these local girls with her abilities.”

“Cult of personality,” Dag agreed.

“So why make everyone in town fat if she’s the only one to benefit?” wondered Roxie.

Hesper nodded. “Not sure. Might be she can draw energy from her followers…or might be she’s just a little weird in the head.” She unzipped her boots and began pulling one of them off. “Either way, she’s set this up so that she’ll have more power at her chubby little fingertips than mortal earth has seen in a long time.”

“Just in time to summon a demon.”

“Right. And that’s what I can’t reckon—usually when you call a demon, it’s because you’re asking it for power. That’s…that’s why I called, anyway.” She tugged off her other boot. “Not sure what you ask a demon for when you already have all that power…”

“Can’t be good,” said Dag.

“Nope. And I reckon it’s in our interest to stop her.” She looked back and forth between them. “Y’all with me?”

Roxie took a deep breath. “Sounds like a public safety issue to me.”

“Not like we’re going anywhere else tonight,” laughed Dag.

Hesper clapped her hands. “Outstanding. No demon apocalypse on our watch. Dag, where did my bag end up?”

“Front seat. I’ll get it.”

“She may have a bellyful of power, but we’re not without our tricks,” she concluded, nodding to herself. “Time to go on the offensive, y’all.”

The window behind her shattered. A muscular hand shot through the opening and seized Hesper by the forehead, wrenching it back against the frame with a crack.

Dag heaved himself up. Roxie shrieked and tried to wriggle out from beneath the bench.

The back door flew open. Ms. Nott, thoroughly soaked and brimming with rage, leapt into the van and plunged one of the cult’s bejeweled knives hilt-deep into Hesper’s throat.

Hesper sputtered. Blood trickled from her mouth. The hand over her head released her and one of the twins yanked her out of the van.

Her body splashed down into the flooded parking lot and lay there, eyes staring agape into the driving rain.
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Old 05-20-2016, 04:04 AM   #31
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Well, THAT was a quick offense!
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Old 05-22-2016, 06:31 AM   #32
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What?! The only practitioner died?!
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Old 05-24-2016, 06:39 AM   #33
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Chapter 16

Roxie’s uniform shirt flopped to the floor and joined her shoes in the corner of the room. Her trousers slapped against the wall and tumbled down onto the pile.

Leila pulled off the deputy’s hat and smirked at it. She paced a little before tossing it away like a Frisbee, then watched as the twins finished chaining Roxie’s hands over her head.

They were back in the church’s office. The desks had been shoved aside so that Roxie could be shackled against the windowless back wall. A low chant from the congregation resounded from the sanctuary.

With her arms stretched overhead, the deputy’s back arched and her stomach jutted forward like a melon. Stripped to her tank top and underwear, she began to shiver. The spare tire around her waist flashed with goosebumps.

“Don’t worry,” Leila purred, “it’ll be plenty warm in here soon. Your conjuror friend only interrupted our initial invocation…delayed us maybe an hour or so. But we’ll restart in a few minutes and still have all day to get you ready for the rites.” She pushed Roxie’s tank top up, letting the whole of her saggy midsection flop out. “Mm.”

“Found one,” said Ms. Nott, appearing in the door. She held up a bathroom scale.

“Fantastic. This will be much simpler. Easier to keep you back here where you can’t mess anything up, deputy. Here, Ms. Nott, slide it under her.”

The twins lifted Roxie off the ground with disturbing ease. Ms. Nott set down the scale and slid it under Roxie’s feet.

“203,” Leila read. “Not bad.” She turned to one of the twins. “So we’ll need another, what, one-thirty on top of that. She should be at least half of me when I reach the threshold weight, or the redirection may not take.”

Roxie scoffed. “Dream on. I won’t eat another damn thing.” She glared with all her exasperated fury, but her stomach rumbled loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Sure you won’t.”

“What about him?” asked Ms. Nott, gesturing to Dag.

Leila scratched her double chin. The trucker lay unconscious in the corner, a bloody bandage around his head.

“We could use more help in the kitchen. Put him to work.”

“Take him downstairs,” Ms. Nott commanded, waving the twins toward him.

Leila stretched, yawned, and patted Roxie on the cheek. “Let’s get this thing started. I am famished.”

“At least…” Roxie choked, shaking her head. “At least tell me what the fuck is going on.”

Leila smiled at her. “It’s very simple, deputy. Between now and sundown we’re going to fill you up with as much food as you can take. We’ll all be doing the same thing out there, so don’t feel singled out or anything, haha.” She adjusted her priestess robes and yawned. “Anyway, then, once the sun’s down, well…then you get to die.”

“I don’t suppose you’ll all be doing the same thing, then?”

“Oh, ah, no. You’re right. You can feel singled out when it comes to that part, I suppose. But if it’s any consolation, officer, it’s for a great cause.” She headed for the door. “And to be fair, you weren’t even supposed to be here. Ms. Nott’s little sister was supposed to be taking one for the team today, but she seems to have gotten cold feet.”

“And then you chased her out of town,” added Ms. Nott.

Roxie glared at the floor.

Leila clicked her tongue. “Alright, friends. Our congregation awaits. And Roxie, at least try to enjoy your last meal…we’ll have Tommy here bring your first course in as soon as we finish the invocation and this stuff is delicious—mm—just to die for.”

Dag’s eyes fluttered open. He glanced around, blinking in confusion. His head throbbed and when he pressed a hand to his temple it flashed in pain.

“Good morning,” said a polite voice. “Glad you decided to join us…thought maybe you had a concussion.”

The voice belonged to a fat, middle aged man in an apron. He was leaning back against a long metal prep table. Dag slowly recognized the room as a commercial-style kitchen. The windows were short and high up on the wall—the room must have been in the church’s basement.

“Renovations,” Dag remembered.

“What’s your name, hoss?” asked the cook.

Dag stood and glared at him. “Are you working with those psychos up there? I’m not telling you anything.”

“D’aw, don’t be like that. The ladies are doing great work for the community. Us fellers down here—” He gestured to the handful of other cooks, all men. “—are right thankful to be a part. You should, too.”

“They just killed my friend. Stabbed her in the throat.”

The cook nodded. “Your friend was a problem. The sisterhood protects the town from problems.” He put a hand on his hip, making sure Dag noticed the gun holstered there. The other cooks did the same. “Are you gonna be a problem, hoss?”

Dag gritted his teeth. He tried to step forward, but found his feet shackled to a wash basin.

“Yeah, no, I don’t think you will be. Because we have your other friend upstairs. You decide to be a problem, well, that little pig of a cop will feel the consequences. So you’re gonna warsh them dishes, hoss, and do anything else me or the fellers tell you to. Clear?”

After a long glare and a deep breath, Dag turned his back to them and reached into the wash basin. It was piled high with pans and trays. “I thought this was a potluck,” he grumbled.

“The first couple courses, sure,” the man laughed. “But this party lasts all day.”

Dag felt through the water for a sponge and began scraping one of the pans. He shut his eyes, quaking with anger.

The cook threw a sidelong glance at the stairway. The twin standing there nodded and headed back upstairs.

“Hear us,” chanted the congregation, “hear us!”

Up on the dais, Leila stretched her hands toward the brazier. Her congregation turned in to face it. “Hear us, Ilta, and pity our hunger. Cast your voracious eyes upon us from your depths, grace us with the licking of your rapacious lips, and illuminate us with a portent of your impending presence!”

She splayed her fingers. The candelabras flared and the music swelled. The congregation chanted “hear us!” one last time. A gust swirled through the hall, rustling their black robes and tossing napkins from the banquet tables.

A whorl of smoke puffed up from the brazier. Leila grinned and shut her eyes.

The brazier erupted in a sudden blaze. The congregation cheered and howled, some shielding their eyes or waving off the blast of heat.

“Behold,” cried Leila, “the promise of arrival! Come sundown this very evening, my sisters, we shall know the presence of our patron and receive her blessing! As the rain outside floods the streets, the might of our sisterhood shall flood this world! We are heard, sisters; we are heard!”

“We are heard!” they shouted with glee.

Leila backed up a few steps. “And it now falls to us to prepare ourselves, sisters! Eat! Drink! Gratify your every decadent urge! We must fill this day by filling ourselves, sisters, for accursed is she who presents herself before Ilta with belt buckled and button unburst—one cannot be lifted up lest she be filled out!”

The congregation tore off their robes and hurled them into a pile around the brazier. They shrieked and ululated as Leila bellowed on, dancing with one another in a bouncing, jiggling display.

“Let us feast,” Leila concluded, settling herself into the great chair. She had kept her robe on and reclined in her throne like an empress. The jewel in her ring glinted in the firelight.

The twins arranged a trio of folding tables before her and covered them with serving platters and silverware. Ms. Nott stepped down from the pulpit and guided the jubilant congregation along the buffet tables.

Leila rubbed her hands and inhaled the aroma of a large breakfast. “Keep it coming, Tommy. I don’t want either of these tables empty as long as the sun’s up.”
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Old 05-24-2016, 02:04 PM   #34
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donny78 has said some nice things

Poor Hesper!

The cultists’ meeting reminds me a bit of Young Sherlock Holmes:
… Rame Tep, Rame Tep!

Keep up the good work!
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Old 05-26-2016, 06:55 AM   #35
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Originally Posted by donny78 View Post
Poor Hesper!

The cultists’ meeting reminds me a bit of Young Sherlock Holmes:
… Rame Tep, Rame Tep!

Keep up the good work!

Definitely! Had some Eyes Wide Shut stuck in my head, too.

Chapter 17

Roxie stared across the office. The storm continued, but it had grown light enough outside that she could see her patrol car in the parking lot. She frowned, wondering why the cultists had bothered to bring it back up.

Her hat sat on the windowsill. Its tarnished star taunted her.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “Hesper, I’m so sorry…”

The sanctuary door swung open, letting in the sounds of a raucous party. The cultists laughed and sang through mouthfuls of untold quantities of food.

Ms. Nott entered, pushing a small cart. Aboard was an assortment of serving plates. Roxie gulped and her stomach leapt.

“Time for breakfast,” Ms. Nott chirped. “First breakfast, anyway. We’ll see how many we get in you before we switch to brunch.”

“I’m not hungry,” Roxie choked. Her stomach promptly growled.

“Of course you are. I know I am…but I drew the short straw and get to take the first shift in here. So, hungry as I am, I don’t get to eat anything until you’ve finished everything on this cart.”

She parked the cart next to Roxie and swept a hand over it.

“Just look at this exquisite breakfast. Think of all the effort and care that went into it. Wouldn’t want to waste that.”

“You people are insane.”

Ms. Nott ignored her. “Look at this stack of pancakes,” she continued, gesturing to what might have been more accurately called a ‘tower.’

Roxie’s eyes widened at the veritable bowl of syrup waiting next to the pancakes. She took a shaky breath.

“After that, we’ve got a big plate of biscuits and all this sausage gravy to go with them. Mm. Oh, how do you like your eggs? If you can’t decide, don’t worry—I brought lots of different options and you can just try them all.”

“How about I try none,” Roxie growled, “and you push that cart right back out of here?”

Ms. Nott sucked her teeth. “Now, deputy, of all the options I brought up, that isn’t one of them.”

“I don’t want any of that shit in my belly. Back off.”

“Yes, but…” The bottom-heavy woman folded up a pancake, dipped it in the syrup, and jabbed it into Roxie’s mouth. “…it isn’t your belly anymore, you see.”

The sudden movement caught Roxie off guard. The pancake was in her mouth. Its savory flavor and fluffy texture were so satisfying and so arousing…she had greedily swallowed by the time she realized what was happening.

Ms. Nott filled a glass of juice. “Deputy, come on, now. Feeding folks is what I do best.” She seized Roxie’s jaw, lifted, and poured the juice into her mouth.

The rushing flood of sweetness overwhelmed Roxie. Her stomach awakened; it was so ravenous she feared it might consume her from within.

“Another pancake?” Ms. Nott asked, smirking.

Roxie vehemently shook her head. But when the woman poked another pancake at her mouth, she bit into it with involuntary zeal.

Ms. Nott lifted the plate of pancakes and held it under Roxie’s nose. Roxie’s eyes rolled back, her eyes closing.

“What an aroma,” Ms. Nott purred. “I wonder how many we can fit in your mouth at once.”

“You…” Roxie stammered. “You sure you…don’t want any for yourself? I’m happy to share.”

The other woman hesitated, glancing at the cart, and swallowed. “I suppose I do.” She picked up a couple of the pancakes. “But I don’t like sharing.”

“Ah. Well, it’s all yours, then. You don’t have to share with me.”

“I didn’t get to be the lieutenant of our sisterhood without a lot of willpower, deputy. If you think I can’t stand here force feeding you without taking a single bite for myself, you’ve got another thing coming.” She held up the pancakes, dripping with syrup. “You’ve got a lot coming, in fact…”

Roxie fought, but had finished the whole stack of pancakes within five minutes. Ms. Nott celebrated by pouring what remained of the syrup bowl down Roxie’s throat, giggling as it spilled over her lips and began trickling down her neck.

She followed it up with a plate of scrambled eggs, holding Roxie’s face still while pushing huge forkfuls into her mouth. A warm glow was spreading in Roxie’s stomach and she could feel the orange paint around her navel tingling faintly.

Ms. Nott stuffed the biscuits into her next, one by one, smothering each with the thick gravy. Roxie felt her eyes beginning to glaze over and there was a pressure behind them, bulging them out.

Her fitful struggles grew less frequent and more sluggish. Her spiteful resistance quieted to an occasional, reluctant glare. It was difficult to remain focused on her anger with her cravings being so generously answered. Ms. Nott hummed happily to herself as she worked through each dish, occasionally casting an eye toward the door and murmuring in anticipation of her return to the feast.

Eventually the plates and bowls stood empty; Roxie’s stomach stood anything but. Ms. Nott drained the last of the juice pitcher down Roxie’s throat and backed away, like an artist inspecting her latest work.

Roxie hung limply against her chains. Her bloated gut gurgled. Her face and chest was sticky with dribbled syrup. She gazed up at the ceiling and belched.

“Wonderfully glutted,” mused Ms. Nott. “Leila will be delighted.” She grabbed the cart and headed for the door. “You’ll get a half hour or so to digest now—we know how fullness can require reprieve, yes—and then someone will be back with second breakfast.”

“Joy,” huffed Roxie.

“I hear they’re making waffles!” Ms. Nott giggled and pushed her way out of the office.

The sanctuary bustled with energy and activity. Cultists rushed from table to table, loading up plates and filling glasses. They milled about as they ate, thrilled with every detail of the meal. A parcel of them were still singing in one corner, and a few others were dancing, though much more slowly and cautiously now.

Leila sat in her throne, head back, mouth open, as the twins took turns feeding her from a similar breakfast spread. They gave her only enough time to chew and swallow before depositing the next pancake or next spoonful. Occasionally she held up a hand and was treated to one of the many beverages before her.

She paused as Ms. Nott passed. “Anything left on that cart?”

“Not a crumb,” Ms. Nott replied, beaming. “She finished every last morsel.”

“Good, good.” Leila rocked with a burp. “I had a feeling she’d do well. Got a hunger in her, that one. Go drop the cart in the kitchen and then you can grab a plate.”

Ms. Nott bounced. “I already know where to start. Can’t wait to catch up.”

Leila reached out and patted the woman’s tummy. “Good work. Alright, boys, back at it. Mmph.”

Roxie banged the back of her head against the wall. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

They’d left her alone in the office. It should have been her opportunity to mount a daring escape, but she wasn’t making progress.

She’d writhed against her manacles for a while, but her arms had been raised overhead so long they had fallen asleep and were all but useless. There was nothing within reach of her feet, either, and when she’d tried to stretch herself horizontally to the nearest desktop she’d ended up swinging back against the wall like a drunken pendulum.

She stared at the ceiling. “Just walked in here like a fucking idiot. No warrant, no cause, just ‘hey, hm, wonder what’s in that creepy-looking church?’ Sat there stuck under a carseat while Hesper…” She choked, blinking as her eyes welled up. “What the fuck, Roxie…what happened to you? You were so pumped to be a hero and now you’ve just failed—just fucking failed—at literally every chance to be one.”

She thrashed against the chains. She twisted round and slammed herself bodily into the wall a few times. The last slam shook the wall enough that a heptagram hanging on the far side of the room fell off its hook and clattered to the floor.

“Damn it,” she groaned, wincing.

Lightning crackled outside. The heptagram reflected its pale flash.

Roxie swallowed. “Alright, spirit world, or whatever,” she whimpered to the empty room. “I don’t know who, or which side, um, to ask…are there even sides? Come on, Rox. Anyway, I don’t have all that magical shit to ask with. But look, if anyone out there is listening…wouldn’t, uh, wouldn’t say no to a little good luck for once here.”
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Old 05-26-2016, 10:27 AM   #36
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Ms. Nott is such a sexy feeder! I sure would love to see "MORE" of her!
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Old 05-30-2016, 11:37 AM   #37
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Chapter 18

The sky overhead swirled with hot rage, ruddy colors flashing and darkening and shifting. There was no more rain and the air had grown impossibly still, despite the swirling heavens. The ground underfoot was remarkably smooth, like slate, but soft and pliable.

Hesper prodded it with her foot. Doing so created a small indentation, but it flattened as soon as she drew her foot back. Looking around, she realized she was standing in a large, shallow depression. It seemed she was somehow weighing down the land where she stood.

She took a few cautious steps. The center of the crater followed her, as though she were walking across a giant trampoline. Hesper scanned the horizon, but couldn’t tell how far it stretched.

Her neck itched. She reached a hand to it and felt a gaping slit to the left of her throat, cleaned of blood but certainly not healed.

She felt movement in the ground and turned around. A woman was walking her way, bringing her own depression in the ground with her. As she approached Hesper, their respective craters began to merge.

The woman was tall and graceful, with a striking hourglass figure. She was naked and her skin, if it could be called that, was jet black. There was a lustrous sheen to it, as though she were sculpted from a block of obsidian. Her eyes glowed with a familiar orange fire.

Hesper folded her arms. “You must be Ilta.”

The demon smiled. “I must be,” she replied in an echoing voice that seemed to come more from the ground than her mouth. “I am pleased to meet you, Hesper Ashling.”

“I take it this is your…realm,” Hesper ventured, looking around, “and I’m about dead.”

“It is. And you are not yet death’s property, no. Not while I hold you here.”

Hesper studied her. “You’re a lot…slimmer than I expected.”

Ilta ran a clawed hand down her flat stomach, cocking her narrow waist. “What you see before you is a projection. My true body—my true girth—is too vast for mortal perception. I find wearing it rather impractical when holding court with those as tiny and inconsequential as yourself.” She bent down and patted the ground. It wobbled faintly. “But I assure you, dear Hesper, that it is present.”

Hesper swallowed, but kept her eyes locked on Ilta’s.

“When you were sixteen,” the demon purred, “you attempted a rite of invocation. You called out to the underworld, seeking counsel and offering your servitude in exchange for demonic favor.”

“Yeah. Nobody answered.”

“The call was nonetheless heard. And the perceptive of us here took notice.” She circled Hesper. “Your humility was appreciated…and remembered. You brought no scheme to entrap us, no ambition to outwit us. You simply called. And now, with circumstances arisen as they are, I have intercepted you on your way to death’s door that I may answer your very earnest call…and hold you to your offer.”

“That was over a decade ago.”

“There is no expiration date on desperate pleas, dear Hesper. And oh, do I remember your desperation.” She stood behind Hesper, draping her long fingers over the conjuror’s shoulders. “You would not renege on a deal with the underworld, would you? I expect you know what becomes of those who do.”

Hesper stepped away and turned to face the demon. Ilta pulled her hands back, a mischievous grin on her face. She wrapped her arms over her chest and waist, pushing up her cleavage and caressing her navel.

“I reckon I can at least hear you out,” Hesper muttered.

Ilta grinned, baring her teeth. “As I said, I only propose that you honor your original offer: you perform for me a service and I reward you with a favor. Why don’t you sit? I’m quite comfortable.”

Hesper hesitated, but lowered herself to the ground. She stared up at the demon. “I’m listening.”

Ilta reached a hand to Hesper’s head, feeling her strawberry curls. “This situation in Renaeville…the coven who put that hole in your lovely little neck…it is a situation which has attracted my attention.”

“Yeah, they’ve been working pretty hard to get you up there.”

“A noble, if misguided goal. One which should certainly visit nothing but havoc and pain upon them.” She knelt down behind Hesper, continuing to play with her hair. “More to the point: I have no desire to go.”

Hesper blinked. “You don’t want a cult devoted to you…to summon you? You don’t want whatever great sacrifice they’re planning?”

Ilta frowned. “I want nothing of the sort. Hesper, darling,” she said huskily, massaging Hesper’s shoulders, “I’ve stayed out of earthly affairs for the past thousand years. I let my temples rot and my followers scatter…I simply don’t find mortals very filling anymore. I daresay I’ve…outgrown your plane.”

The ground beneath them rumbled. Hesper glanced down at it, but the demon’s hands were very calming. Her touch was cold, but it created warmth. “I see. Well, in all honesty, I wasn’t big on the idea of you coming up, either. No offense, but demon-raising usually just sows, you know, chaos and destruction.”

“Oh, of course. No offense taken. Moreover, I would have to rise up from my throne. And I’m afraid I’m not as…mobile…as I was in my earth-ravaging days. The price of decadence, dearest, but one worth paying. It is a decadence which I see you are finally beginning to discover, hm…” She gave Hesper’s tummy a squeeze.

Hesper took in a sharp breath, trying to keep her lip from quivering. “So…don’t go?”

“Protocol, darling,” the demon sighed, clicking her tongue. “Rules and rituals reign over our kind, as you know. If those imbeciles conclude their regrettable rites, I shall be required to rise. Oh, Hesper, my poor legs cramp at the very thought.”

The hand on Hesper’s gut began to gently caress it. Hesper felt herself relaxing herself back into the demon’s embrace. Ilta rested her chin on Hesper’s shoulder. Her other hand drifted down Hesper’s side and joined its partner on her stomach, cradling the softening bulge.

“I propose this to you, lovely little Hesper: I restore you to your body on earth, abrogating that troublesome wound in your neck.” Her hands ran up and down Hesper’s body.

“And in return?” Hesper asked, shuddering, her eyes falling closed.

“In return, you continue your mission. Prevent the coven from carrying out their ritual as planned. Interrupt them, impede them, inhibit them…and retrieve for me a prize from my would-be priestess. Without it, she shall be unable to attempt this again.”

Hesper leaned her head back, draping her hair down Ilta’s back. She could feel the demon’s bosom heaving against her. “Prize?”

“Yes. It seems a rival of mine has furnished Miss Leila with a bauble, an artifact of power…there is no shortage of backstabbing schemes among us demons, and I’m sure this is the beginning of some such impetulance…”

“Corporeal quintessence,” Hesper realized.

“As you call it. Leila inherited the knowledge of it from her mentor. My rival gave her this bauble as a means to access the power.” She stroked Hesper’s hair. “Hesper, I would very much rather have the key to such power in my hands rather than in those of some ambitious mortal. Ambition is so…vexing. I much prefer appetite.”

Hesper laid her hands over Ilta’s. “So you give me a second shot at life…and in return you want me to save the world…” She twisted round to look her in the eyes. “…from you.”

Ilta smiled. “Precisely. I am spared the trouble of rising from the comfort of my throne. You are spared the chaos and destruction of my arrival. And your imminent death, of course.”

“And give you an edge in your…rivalry.”

“A welcome gain…as all are gains, mm. In exchange, you come away with the knowledge of new power—the knowledge you sought when you first called us all those years ago.” She turned and slowly laid Hesper down on the ground. “I have answered your call, and shall fulfil my promise if you will yours.”

Hesper stared at her. “I accept.”

“Delightful,” Ilta cooed. “I hope it does not sicken you too deeply to have bargained with my kind…I know how you have regretted calling to us.”

“I reckon the other option ain’t much better,” Hesper admitted. “I can save the soul-searching till after the job’s done.”

Ilta bent low over her, licking her lips. “I’m glad you can see reason…very wise of you. Let us seal our arrangement, darling Hesper.”

The demon kissed her. Hesper arched her back against her.

“Delicious,” Ilta whispered, pulling her lips away. “We are bonded until the contract is fulfilled. Bear in mind, the pact is singular. Should you perish again, the deal will be considered void. I cannot steal you from death again.”

Hesper grimaced. “I understand. Might need a little guidance, though. If Leila’s got access to all that power, what am I supposed to bring against her?”

Ilta stroked her cheek. “I think you already know. You can find power in any pantry, any cupboard, dear Hesper. You have until sundown to seek it out.”

“I can’t access that power.”

“Not yet, perhaps.” She reached down and kneaded Hesper’s belly. “But there’s no reason not to store it up until you can.”


“I trust in your resourcefulness, Hesper. And your newfound…appetite.”

She kissed Hesper again, longer and more deeply. Hesper moaned quietly. Ilta pulled away, then kissed the wound on Hesper’s neck.

“As for this,” the demon added, “you must keep it covered. Any cloth will do—it has done bleeding, but should it remain exposed for any amount of time you shall quickly expire and all this dealing will have been for naught. Is that clear?”

Hesper nodded.

Ilta gave her a peck on the forehead. “Good. Are you ready?”
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Old 05-30-2016, 07:20 PM   #38
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donny78 has said some nice things

I'm glad that Hesper is "alive".
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Old 06-01-2016, 04:14 AM   #39
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donny78 has said some nice things

Ilta seems like a fat planet. This reminds me of the Inca god Viracocha.

Viracocha was one of the most important deities in the Inca pantheon and seen as the creator of all things, or the substance from which all things are created, and intimately associated with the sea.[2] Viracocha created the universe, sun, moon, and stars, time (by commanding the sun to move over the sky)[3]
Wira means fat, and qucha means lake, sea, or reservoir.
(source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Viracocha)

The wikipedia article also offers a different, pre-Incan etymology, but anyway, “fat reservoir” fits well.
The German wikipedia article mentions that the Inca knew fat as a source of power.
So, it seems logical, that all things have been created from the power of fat.
This concept reminds of the Kween weight gain stories. Kween, too, is an ancient and fat being. The source of Kween’s godlike magical power, which she uses to make herself and others fatter, is her fat tissue.
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Old 06-01-2016, 12:22 PM   #40
Join Date: Feb 2013
Location: The Great Lakes
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Originally Posted by donny78 View Post
Ilta seems like a fat planet. This reminds me of the Inca god Viracocha.

Viracocha was one of the most important deities in the Inca pantheon and seen as the creator of all things, or the substance from which all things are created, and intimately associated with the sea.[2] Viracocha created the universe, sun, moon, and stars, time (by commanding the sun to move over the sky)[3]
Wira means fat, and qucha means lake, sea, or reservoir.
(source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Viracocha)

The wikipedia article also offers a different, pre-Incan etymology, but anyway, “fat reservoir” fits well.
The German wikipedia article mentions that the Inca knew fat as a source of power.
So, it seems logical, that all things have been created from the power of fat.
This concept reminds of the Kween weight gain stories. Kween, too, is an ancient and fat being. The source of Kween’s godlike magical power, which she uses to make herself and others fatter, is her fat tissue.
I like the sound of that. A mythology of indulgence--maybe some kind of feeding pantheon--seems thematically fitting for our community.

Big fan of the Kween stories...hoping there's more to come from that saga someday. Glad you're enjoying this one!

Chapter 19

The sky overhead swirled with thick grey cloud. Thunder rolled in the distance. Rain spattered down on Hesper’s face. She coughed, gasped, and clapped her hand to her throat. Everything was cold; the warmth Ilta’s touch had created in her was gone.

She was lying, face up, half-submerged in three or four inches of water. Sitting up, she found herself near what had been the edge of the creek bed. Now the flooded stream had overflowed its banks and was spilling into the surrounding basin.

Groaning, Hesper got to her knees, then finally to her feet, using her free hand to straighten her rain-soaked underwear. She could see the travel plaza just up the road, with her van still in the parking lot.

Floodwater swirled around her naked ankles. Shivering, she set off toward the plaza, stepping cautiously around potholes and holding her right hand to her neck. Ilta had been right: there was no flow of blood, but the hole was definitely wide open.

“This is gonna get awkward,” she muttered. “Might need two hands at some point…”

After a long slog and a few stumbles, she reached the van.

The back doors were still hanging open. The dome light was on, but shone only faintly; there evidently wasn’t much left in the battery. Hesper climbed in and found her black robe crumpled on the floor.

She felt through it and pulled out the orange bandana she’d taken from Roxie’s mouth. She frowned at it and doubled it over into a rectangle.

“Only one way to find out.” She took a deep breath.

In a quick move, she took her right hand from the wound and wrapped the bandana around her throat in its place.

She held her breath for a few more moments, eyes squeezed shut. Nothing happened. She didn’t keel over dead. She opened one eye at a time, exhaled slowly, and tied the bandana as tight as she dared, double-knotted.

It wasn’t comfortable, but according to Ilta it would keep her alive. She got up and headed forward through the van.

“Please…please…please…” she huffed, working her way to the front seat. There she found her tote bag tucked under the center console. “Yessss. Hey there, partner.”

She tried the ignition, but the engine wouldn’t turn over. The dome light dimmed, then wouldn’t glow at all.

“Damn it.” She squinted out through the windshield.

The sun was still nowhere to be seen, but the cloud cover allowed just enough light to shift the world from starless black to a bleak grey. Through the trees behind the travel plaza, Hesper could make out the shape of a small house.

She opened her bag, but found it had been ransacked. Most of her tricks and trinkets were missing. Her change of clothes was still inside and she found her boots stuffed under one of the seats, but all of her most important spellcasting materials were gone.

Setting the bag down, she reached over and opened the glove box. Three bottles of Kentucky bourbon rolled down and clinked against each other.

“Oh thank goodness,” she sighed, picking one up to kiss its label. “Now, y’all stay right there. I'll be back when this is all over.” She replaced the bottle and closed them back up in the compartment.

Huddling up under her cloak, she hopped down from the van and slung the tote bag over her shoulder. She slapped the hood of the van, put her head down, and began trudging toward the house.

“Fucking cults,” she growled.

It was an old white house with a yard full of junk. A pair of painted wagon wheels welcomed Hesper into the driveway and a broken rocking chair sat uselessly on the porch.

Hesper grimaced at the front door and adjusted her bandana. Out of habit, she reached into her bag, only to remember that the skeleton key she’d enchanted was no longer inside. She paced the porch for a minute, then shrugged and rang the doorbell.

No one answered. Looking around, she saw no lights on in the windows.

“All up at the potluck,” she decided, noticing dark windows in the houses further up the street. “Alright, then.”

She picked up a rock from the front walk and took aim at the nearest window. There she froze, eyebrow cocked, and lowered the rock.

“This is rural Indiana,” she realized. Dropping the rock, she stepped back up to the front door and turned the handle.

It swung open. A cat trotted up to meet her, whining. It wound around her ankles, sniffing, and then sauntered off.

Hesper followed it inside, locking the door behind her. “Anybody home?”

No answer, again. Hesper peeked around the ground floor. Locating the kitchen, she found a box of toaster pastries waiting unopened on the counter. After a moment’s hesitation, she popped the cardboard lid and tore open the packaging of a pastry. Pushing it into her mouth and tucking the box under her arm, she made her way upstairs. The cat followed, staring up at her uncovered butt as it with each step.

She found the bathroom and got the shower running, dumped her bag on the bed, and stripped out of her wet underwear, working her way through the toaster pastries as she went. They were gone by the time the shower had heated up and she could feel her stomach awaken as she stood there in the steam.

“Sundown,” she wondered aloud, scrubbing her hair. “Equinox today…puts it around 7:30…7:20, maybe. Need a plan. Need a plan.”

None had materialized by the time she stepped out of the shower. She toweled off, taking extra care around her bandana-covered neck, and dug through the drawers for a blow-dryer.

“Come on, Hesper. You’re Kentucky’s foremost occult detective. You can do this.”

Her mass of hair took a long time to dry. Once it finally had, it seemed larger and wilder than ever. She considered doing something with it, but shrugged and headed back to the bedroom.

“Alright. Leila’s got power. Lots of it. And will have plenty more by tonight, with this enchantment in effect.” Hesper stepped into a new, drier pair of black lace underwear. “And she’s got the artifact that lets her use that power.”

She reached back to snap her bra into place. “Why all that power to bring up a demon, though? I put a call through with just some roadkill and a couple of candles when I was a teenager. Took ten years to get a response, I suppose…

“Unless the power’s not for the summoning. Must be another play…storing it up for something.” She nodded to herself, pulling on a new pair of fishnets. “Means she probably can’t afford to waste any of it.”

She shook out her tube top. “So you force her hand. Make enough trouble she has to throw some magic at you instead of her goal. Maybe see if you can pick out this artifact she’s using…” Once the top was on, she shimmied her way into the skirt. “…and get a hold of it.”

“Yes,” she decided, clapping her hands together. “Get a hold of it, access the power you’ve stored up, and take control of the situation. Hell, yes. There we go.”

She puffed out her chest and set her hands on her hips. The mirror showed her a tough, if diminutive woman, ready for anything. It also showed her, however, the slight beer gut exposed by the shortness of her top. The curve of the snake tattoo only served to outline the bulge of her midriff.

“For that to work, though…gonna need to store up some power of our own.”

There was an old scale in the corner of the bathroom. She shuffled over and jumped up on it; the needle swept up the dial and bounced back and forth over 155.

Hesper stared at the mirror and sighed. “Goodbye, meticulously-maintained petite figure.”

The cat meowed at her from the doorway.

She zipped up her bag. “Yep. Okay, darlin’, let’s see what y’all have in the fridge.”

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Old 06-01-2016, 07:24 PM   #41
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cohen has said some nice things

I went to check what their starting weights were and it was in chapter 6 or 7 so here's a bump for it.

Hesper: 130
Roxie: 170
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Old 06-04-2016, 12:25 PM   #42
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Chapter 20

The pantry, to Hesper’s surprise and dismay, was largely empty. Very little remained save for a few basic baking goods, another box of toaster pastries, and some insubstantial odds and ends. Hesper frowned and grabbed the pastries.

The refrigerator was even more disappointing, offering her only condiments, salad dressings, and a can of cat food. The freezer, at least, contained a couple of frozen pot pies and a box of popsicles.

Hesper opened the can of cat food and set it on the floor. She plugged in the old microwave and munched on the toaster pastries while her pot pies cooked. Once they were ready and steaming, she set them on the kitchen table and pulled up a chair, fork in hand.

She looked down at her tummy, poking it. “You ready for this? I reckon there ain’t no coming back from what we’re about to do.”

It rumbled. Hesper took a deep breath and jabbed her fork into the tender, flaky crust of the first pie.

The cat leapt to the table as she ate, following the scent of chicken. Hesper shooed it back to the floor, where it continued to beg.

Hesper stared at the empty pantry, chewing thoughtfully. “So your owners—I’ll just assume they’re taking part in the festivities—looks like they brought all the food in the house, just about.” She noticed a pile of dishes in the sink. “And pre-gamed with what was left.”

The cat mewled.

“I saw a lot of pretty sizable bellies in that circle, even for a country town…new bellies, from the looks of it. They couldn’t have emptied the whole damn town, could they?”

“We pretty much emptied the whole damn town,” boasted the cook.

Dag looked up from his dishes, wiping suds from his apron. The cook was sliding a tray of whole chickens into the oven.

“We asked Leila how much food they’d need for this party,” he continued, “and she just laughed and said ‘all of it.’ You shoulda seen Jody’s face!”

“But why?” asked Dag.

“Why? ‘Cause he was taken aback—”

Dag shook his head. “Nah. Why do it? This…this stuff doesn’t seem weird to you at all? You’re on board with…summoning a demon, or whatever?”

“Sure, it’s not the direction we expected the church to go. But you bet yer ass we’re on board. Leila’s the greatest…we’d do anything for her.” He closed the oven and began preparing another tray. “She’s shown us things. Amazing things. Her magic is real, hoss—I’ve seen it.”

Dag turned back to the dishes.

“Hell, man, you’ve seen her. Not two days ago, she were just the skinniest little thing. Could break her in half with yer thumb.”

“Not so little anymore.”

“Damn right. Ain’t seen nothing like that nowhere else. She’s got magic and she’s got herself a grand plan for Renaeville.” He pointed his tongs at Dag. “So if Leila Jones says to feed her and her girls all the food in town, we’ll sure as shootin’ feed them all the food in town.”

One of the other cooks appeared in the doorway. “Hey, chef, they’re eating faster than we can serve them. You spare us a hand up here?”

“Jody, man, I’m elbow-deep in raw chicken. Shit. Here, take the dish-boy. Big feller like that can carry anything you need.”

Jody eyed Dag. “That safe?”

“Sure,” the cook chuckled. “He won’t try nothing. He knows the consequences if he does. Don’t you, hoss?”

Dag stared at him. “Yeah.”

“Good man. Go on, then. Handcuff key’s hanging on the wall yonder.”

Once they’d unshackled him, Dag draped his apron over the side of the wash basin and dried his hands. He removed the bandage from his head, gingerly tapping his wound. He washed the blood from his forehead and, looking a little more presentable, sullenly followed Jody upstairs.

He heard the sanctuary before he reached it. As the door opened, a flood of new sounds joined the chorus: women’s voices, giggling, dishes and silverware clattering, liquids pouring, lips smacking, belches, hiccups, and satisfied moans.

Dag stared as he entered. The cold, meticulously arranged sanctuary was now warmed by a flurry of back and forth activity, so frenetic that it seemed chaotic at first glance but also so efficient it must have been choreographed.

Many of the women had paired up or settled into small cliques. They took turns feeding and being bed, preparing plates and cleaning up scraps, massaging bellies and having their bellies massaged. Some had brought lotions and oils and their bloated paunches gleamed in the firelight.

Carts circled the room, pushed about by the men. The groups of women waited patiently for each visit, watching the cart approach with brightening faces and widening eyes. Plates were distributed and methodically picked clean.

Jody presented Dag with a cart and pointed him in the direction of three women across the room. Dag nodded slowly and set his hands on the cart, looking it over.

There were three shelves on the cart, each laden with a variety of brunch plates. Bacon, sausage, a pile of croissants, a couple of enormous omelettes, and a pitcher of orange juice. Each shelf of the cart held the same extravagant spread, elegantly arranged.

Dag reached the trio of women. They were sitting in a row against the wall, reclining lazily with their hands on each other’s stomachs. The one in the middle was the largest, with a richly tanned belly that creased several times over and jutted out over her lap. She had probably been rather large before the magic had even taken hold. The woman to her right nursed a smaller but doughier belly that did more spilling than jutting. She sat on a much thicker rear end that flattened out over the floor. On the left sat a generally slender woman with a newly-developed beer belly and a pair of uncommonly large breasts.

She fingered them lightly as Dag approached, smiling at him in delight. “Brunch is here, ladies,” she purred.

The others woke from the haze of their food comas and grinned. “My, that looks just spectacular. Oh, and it’s a new guy…I don’t recognize you, mister.”

“Dag,” he sighed. “Look, I’m not really…here by choice. So just, uh, let’s get this over with.”

The big-bosomed woman stretched her arms. “Don’t worry, baby, we’ll be gentle,” she lilted, touching her lips.

“Right. So, pick what you want, I guess. There’s all sorts of shit…just grab a plate and I’ll get out of your hair.

“Honey, I don’t think you understand,” said the bottom-heavy woman, twirling her hair. “We get all the plates.”

Dag looked down at the cart. Each shelf had the same arrangement, including a full juice pitcher, and he suddenly realized why. “Ah. Okay. I…see. And I suppose you aren’t gonna grab them yourselves, either.”

The larger woman chuckled. “Nope. Unloading is your job. But don’t worry…” She leaned back. The other two woman nestled against her, rubbing her gut. “…we can take care of the rest.”

Dag nodded. He spent the next several minutes emptying the cart, laying the plates and bowls at the women’s feet. He poured three glasses of juice, set them on the floor, and then, frowning uncertainly, set the pitchers next to them.

The women watched with playful fascination as he arranged their meals. The cart finally emptied, Dag backed away, eying them. The busty woman blew him a kiss, then tore into a croissant. The others followed suit and Dag turned away in a huff.

He stared across the sanctuary. Up on the dais, practically supine in her throne, Leila rested her hands on her paunch while the twins took turns placing fruit slices in her mouth. She looked bigger already, somehow, straining the seams of her closed robe. Her cleavage was squeezed up enough that it nearly met her wobbling chins.

Off to the side, Ms. Nott leaned against the podium, shoveling egg down her gullet. She’d let her hair down and her thick glasses were askew. Her rear end swayed to and fro.

The brazier blazed away in the center of the room. A handful of women danced arm in arm around it, their bellies bouncing, swinging, and shimmying in a bizarre and mesmerizing display.

Tearing himself away, Dag’s eyes landed on the far end of one of the banquet tables. He squinted and moved around the fire to see more clearly.

There they were: three frozen pizzas, courtesy of Amluth Frozen Foods. He could recognize that swirly lettering anywhere.

“Hesper’s insurance,” he whispered. He turned his cart and made a beeline for the table, ducking under the outstretched hand of one of the dancers.

He pulled the cart alongside and sidled up to the pizza boxes. They were unopened and sitting beneath a tray of cookies. He reached to move the tray.

“Don’t worry about those,” said Jody, grabbing his wrist. “They’ve got to thaw for a bit longer. We’ll probably do them mid-afternoon, with the other Italian courses.”

Dag opened and closed his mouth. “I just thought…I thought somebody might want…some. Sorry. Cart was empty and I didn’t…know what to do.”

Jody steered him away from the table. “My bad. I should have explained…you just have to bring the cart back to the dumbwaiter and we’ll load it up for you again. You don’t have to pick stuff out for yourself; no need for that.”

“Oh,” said Dag, casting an eye back to the pizzas.

“We’re aiming to keep to the schedule. Chef put a lot of effort into his menu, mm hmm.”

“I guess so.” He rapped his knuckles on the cart handle. “So what is next, then?”

Jody glanced around. “They’ll work their way through brunch, then we’ll give ‘em a half hour or so to digest…then I think we’re on to lunch number one.” He pulled a notepad from his pocket and flipped through it. “That’d make it, ooh, deli stuff. You oughta see how long them sub sandwiches get, big guy.”

“Can’t wait.”

“You just remember to stick to the menu.” Jody clapped him on the shoulder. “You leave the rest of it alone. Don’t need you wandering off.”
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Old 06-05-2016, 04:54 AM   #43
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donny78 has said some nice things

I hope that the food will stick to “Ms. Nott-so-small’s” pear-shaped figure.
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Old 06-20-2016, 10:45 AM   #44
Join Date: Jul 2014
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mbauto has said some nice things

Enjoying the read, can't wait to find out what happens next
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Old 06-20-2016, 09:03 PM   #45
Join Date: Feb 2013
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Chapter 21

Hesper waved goodbye to the cat and closed the front door. Sucking on the end of a popsicle, she set off up the street.

The floodwaters continued to rise from the creek and Hesper’s boots kicked up a loud splash with each step. The next house over, built in a lower bowl, was already surrounded by a knee-deep pond. Hesper stood at the edge for a moment, but decided to follow the road uphill instead.

Her stomach gurgled. Despite the pair of pot pies she'd inhaled, she still felt famished and her food baby seemed so slight her stomach may well have been empty.

She came to a more modern looking house, full of weirdly shaped windows and painted a variety of clashing colors. Even the mailbox had an artsy flair. The front door was locked, but the corrugated back door opened straight into the kitchen.

There was even less in this refrigerator and nothing but ice in the freezer.

“Hesper, this ain’t looking good,” she muttered to herself. “Leila has a two hundred pound lead and you’re trying to get fat hunting for scraps.” She headed over to the pantry. “Seems like a pretty lopsided race…ah, hello.”

The pantry only sported one shelf that wasn’t empty, but that shelf was stacked full of ramen noodle cups.

Hesper dropped her bag. “College all over again.”

“Starting to sound like a frat party out there,” said Roxie, cocking her head to the sanctuary door. A spoonful of potato salad appeared in front of her face and she sullenly opened her mouth to accept it.

Her latest feeder, a tall, winsome redhead, chuckled as she scraped up what remained in the bowl. She was still wearing her robe and it hung open around a stretchmarked double-belly. “The barbeque lunch came with a couple rounds of beer. I imagine the sisters are loosening up a little.”

“How come my cart just has the iced tea, then?” Roxie wondered. She opened her mouth to wonder more, but another spoonful of potato salad interrupted her.

“You ain’t here to have fun. Leila says you lost that privilege.” She dropped the spoon into the empty bowl and began stacking the used-up dishes. “Means more for me now that my shift is done, too.”

Roxie stifled a burp and looked down. Two beer bottles clinked against each other in the woman’s robe pocket.

The woman wiped Roxie’s face with a napkin. It was the nicest thing any of her feeders had done so far. She gave Roxie a pat on the stomach and pushed the cart toward the door.

“What’s up next?” Roxie called. “Just so I can…mentally prepare.” A pang of fullness in her stomach made her wince. The last thing she wanted to think about was more food, but it was the only way she knew to keep the cultists talking.

“Some lovely desserts,” the woman replied, eyes brightening. “I hear we each get a whole apple pie.”

“D-dessert? So does that mean we’re almost done?”

“Oh, goodness, no. Maybe ‘dessert’ isn’t the right word. It’s more like a…sugary interlude between lunches.”


“Don’t you worry, hon. There’s lots more food.”

Hesper stared at the microwave, waiting for a cup of water to boil. The first ramen cup, lid peeled, waited patiently at her side. She glanced back to the shelf and all the cups there, then at the clock.

“This is gonna take forever,” she concluded.

Raiding a utility closet, she picked out a chewed-up extension cord and a permanent marker. She wandered through the house, locating the master bathroom, then returned to the kitchen and dug through the pockets of her bag for a small book. She flipped through the pages, nodding to herself.

Fifteen minutes later, she found herself kneeling next to the bathtub. The house was as weirdly furnished inside as it was outside and the tub turned out to be an antique metal basin on ornately molded legs.

She filled the tub with a few inches of water and dipped a finger in to test the warmth. Unimpressed, she uncoiled the extension cord. Humming softly, she tied one end around the tubes of a nearby radiator and the other end around one of the tub’s legs.

That done, she pulled the marker from her bra and traced a line up from the leg. She extended this into a wide circle around the base of the tub, whispering, “revered metal, remember thy forge…”

The marker line began to glow a dull red. Within a minute steam was rising from the bathwater and bubbles were forming. Hesper sat back and tore open a ramen cup.

Dag leaned back from his wash basin. He’d just refilled it with fresh hot water, filling the air with suds and steam.

The head cook sidled up next to him and dumped an enormous pile of trays and mixing bowls into the basin. He clapped Dag on the back and gave him a thumbs-up.

“Gosh, thanks,” sighed the trucker.

“Aw, don’t get pouty. You’re keeping up real good.”

Dag shuffled his feet. “Hard work, though…don’t suppose we get to eat at some point? Keep up our energy?”

“Us? Eat?” the cook scoffed. “All the food’s spoken for, hoss. I planned this menu down to the letter. There ain’t extra and you and me don’t need none. It’s them gals upstairs that matter.”

“Yeah, I get that, but what about, like, food that wasn’t part of your menu?”

“It’s all on the menu. I even organized all the potluck dishes.”

“Not all of them.” Dag raised a finger. “I brought a few frozen pizzas with me. They aren’t part of your menu…we could just bring them down here to share with the cooks. Pizza’s…good for morale.”

The cook eyed him. “Dedication to the cause is even better for morale. If you’ve got pizzas up there, I’ll make sure they end up in stomachs that deserve them. The only thing your stomach deserves is a bullet, so you quit worrying about what ain’t your business and get your hands back on that sponge.”

Hesper slumped back against the tub and slurped up the last mouthful of noodles.

“Now that’s a food baby,” she said with a belch, setting her hands atop her distended belly. The noodles had warmed her considerably and the sheer quantity she’d sucked down had finally quieted her hunger.

She reached back and opened pulled the tub’s plug, letting the ramen broth drain away.

“Alright,” she moaned, “that’s too houses down. Much fuller, but not really any…urrp…heavier.”

Leaving the bathroom, she walked over to a picture window in the living room and stared at her reflection in the glass. Her tube top had ridden up an inch, showing her midriff up to the bottom of her navel. It was starting to look a little softer and a good deal smoother. Her skirt, already snug on her hips, now showed off the contours of her upper thighs. Hesper pressed herself up against the glass and looked out.

The back yard opened up on the wooded hill behind town. Under the dreary, rain-filled sky, she could see most of the town square, all its windows darkened.

“Can’t be the whole town,” she mused. “Has to be a holdout somewhere…somebody who didn’t get the memo, or who didn’t want to play along…”

Her eyes widened and she turned her gaze up the hill, following the road into the woods. There was the curve that had defeated Dag’s truck and there, tucked into the trees a few hundred yards further up, was a large house with a faint light in one of the windows.

“That’s more like it,” said Hesper. “And there are even a few homes to stop in on the way up to tide me over.”

She found her way into four more houses on the way up, in fact. None of them had much to offer, but it was enough to keep her stomach from whining too loudly as she slogged along.

In the first she found a few boxes of Chinese take-out, which she inhaled in less time than it took to heat them up. At the second house the refrigerator provided her with a bucket of cold fried chicken. She skipped warming it and simply picked her way through it on the way to the next house. The third house had a cupboard full of canned soups, which she dumped unceremoniously into a large pot. The fourth house was stocked with pretzels and home-brewed beer and she spent a longer time there than intended.

Bloated and staggering, her skirt unbuttoned and her footsteps unsteady, the uphill hike stretched into an arduous and time-consuming journey. By the time she reached the driveway of the hillside house, she was sober again and blindingly hungry.

She found the front door hanging open; someone had left in a hurry. Hesper strutted in, belly-first.

It was the fanciest house she’d seen in town so far. It must have belonged to Renaeville’s wealthiest residents, lording over their little country town from a hillside chateau.

A living room with a vaulted ceiling and massive bay windows overlooked the woods below. Hesper wandered around, poking at the ritzy couches and frowning at what seemed to be too many mirrors for one room. They too readily reminded her of the pillow of flesh jutting out from beneath her tube top.

She slinked out into a dining room, just as lavishly decorated. To her delight, it connected to the kitchen, but a second doorway caught her curiosity. She pushed the door open tentatively and slid inside, fumbling for a lightswitch.

A looming cabinet greeted her. Frosted glass concealed a dark interior; Hesper presumed it to be a wine cooler, perhaps, and sidled flirtatiously up to it. She rolled her fingers along the doorhandle and pulled.

She froze. The shelves of the cabinet were stocked floor to ceiling with cartons of ice cream. A small sound escaped Hesper’s lips as a gleeful shiver ran up her spine.
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Old 06-22-2016, 07:33 PM   #46
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Chapter 22

Hesper stared at the ceiling. It was made of reflective copper or brass panels and showed in dull, golden tones the decadent mess she had created.

The ice cream—rich, sweet, fluffy, and full of fat—was having the desired effect upon Hesper’s body. Her stomach had expanded before her eyes from a beer gut to a pronounced pot belly, her navel deepening and widening. The poor snake tattoo had stretched to new lengths and his head had begun to turn downward, hungry eyes fixing up on her dessert-spattered lap.

Her tube top had ridden so far up it now served as little more than a bandeau. Fortunately, the lacy bra beneath needed all the help it could get as Hesper’s breasts filled out. They’d grown much less than the lower half of her body, but like her cheeks and chin they’d developed a new, more noticeable roundness.

She was surrounded by emptied ice cream cartons. They represented a little under half of what was in the freezer and Hesper had begun to wonder if brain freeze could be permanent or fatal.

Without looking, she reached for the latest carton she’d been working on, a Neapolitan, but succeeded only in swatting it further away.

“Damn it,” she burbled, looking over. The turned toward the carton and reached across her body for it.

A rending tear echoed through the house. Hesper’s skirt ripped cleanly down the side of her thigh and flapped open. Evidently only a handful of brave threads had been holding it together and they’d all surrendered at once.

Freed, her butt spilled out onto the hardwood floor with an audible slap. Hesper rocked side to side on it for a moment, surprised by how wide she had become and impressed at how long the skirt had labored to restrain so much.

She patted her gut. “Wow. Yep, that is definitely more quintessence, Hesper. A lot more.” She gave it a soothing rub and hiccupped. “At least that half of the plan is working.”

Scooting over, she grabbed the carton and set it on her lap. She’d dawdled too long, though, and what remained of the ice cream was largely melted. Taking a deep breath, she put the corner of the carton to her lips and opened her throat, steadily gulping the rest down. Excess cream dribbled from her mouth and ran down her face, chest, and stomach, but that was nothing new. She sucked it down and when it was finally gone she hurled the carton away in triumph.

It landed by the doorway, at the feet of a thin, disheveled young woman brandishing a golf club. Hesper froze, gaping, and belched.

The girl was hunched over with weariness, bedraggled hair falling over a harrowed but beautiful face. “You’re not one of them,” she panted, lowering the club. “Who are you? What are you doing in here?”

Hesper eyed her. “You…you’re the one who ran away. I was in that police car…you were all red, though.”

“Orange,” she stammered. “They painted me orange. You’re…police?”

“Not me, no. Not exactly. We’re working together. I’m more like, uh, magic police.” She belched again. “Excuse me. My name’s Hesper.”

The young woman softened. “So you know what they’re doing down at the church…you’re here to stop them.”

“I’m gonna try.”

“By eating ice cream?”

Hesper grimaced. “Er…well, yes. I tried the usual approach, but that already got me killed.” She tugged at the bandana. “What about you? What’s your deal?”

“I’m…Lilith. If you met the, um, coven, then you probably met my sister. Dark hair, looks like a librarian. Huge ass.”

“Oh, sure. She’s the one who stabbed me in the neck.”

Lilith winced. “That sounds like her. She had me tied up last night. They were gonna cut me open after their party today. Kept talking about demons and curses…I got out and ran….spent all night hiding.”


“This is her place. I came back this morning. Figured she’d be at the church all day, so I’d have time to work out how to get the fuck out of this town.”

Hesper wiped her mouth. “Probably a smart move. As for me, I’m gonna do whatever’s gotta be done here.” She gestured to her midsection. “Whatever it takes, as you can see. But I could use your help.”

“What do you need?”

Hesper grunted. She put a hand to the wall and began to stand up. Her thong promptly snapped.

Lilith stared, opening and closing her mouth.

“Well, for starters,” Hesper wheezed, “I don’t suppose y’all got any spare drawers?”

With a plaid parochial-school skirt wrapped around her waist and fresh carton of ice cream tucked under her arm, Hesper plopped herself into a chair at the kitchen table. The waistband of the skirt covered the bottom roll of her belly but did little to conceal its shape.

Lilith sat opposite her with a mug of tea, looking frail and exhausted.

“Just tell me what you know,” Hesper offered, opening the ice cream.

“Not much. I’ve been upstate for seminary the last few years. Haven’t been back to town in a long while…not many escape the Renaeville life here, so once I got out I didn’t look back.” She sipped at her tea. “It’s not a bad town, but there isn’t much here for young people. They tend to just get stuck and get old.”

“I know the feeling. Left a similar place back in Kentucky.”

“Yeah. Well, a week ago my sister called…just out of the blue. We barely talked even when I still lived here. But she called and said things have been turning around for her since she got involved in the church.”

Hesper chomped down on a spoonful of ice cream. “Skeptical?”

“Surprised. Growing up, she wouldn’t have been caught dead showing interest in anything I cared about. Plus, the church here was as sleepy as the town. They almost closed it up a couple times.”

“Seems pretty lively now.”

Lilith looked away and nodded. “Yeah, and she was all excited about that. Said they got this new worship leader in who was changing everything, turning people’s lives around. Went on and on about how amazing this ‘Leila’ was and how she was re-energizing the whole town. Even got the local fellas to renovate the old chapel…they were having a big celebration to unveil the new sanctuary and I was invited.”

“So you came home. I’m gonna go out on a limb and assume you weren’t thrilled with the renovations.”

“Yeah, nope. She’d said they’d gotten more progressive—or ‘contemporary,’ she called it—but I didn’t figure they’d switched to…demon worship.” She shook her head. “I try to be open minded and supportive but I ended up, uh, expressing some disappointment. Which I regret.”

“How’d she take that?”

“Not well. She had these two big fellas grab me and tie me to a chair…some church, hm. They made me wait there till this Leila person could come talk to me. And I tell you, that woman scares the hell out of me.”

“Yeah, I met her…briefly. Quite the presence.”

“And so skinny. Skin and bones.”

Hesper cocked an eyebrow. “Not anymore. What did she say?”

“Well, she gave me this long stare and asked me if I was hungry. Told me she sure was. Said she was the hungriest person who ever lived, that she could feel the hunger of all her sisters. I can still hear her in my head: ‘I’ve found a way to satisfy us all.’ And my sister hangs on her every word, even though this chick’s holding a knife to my throat.”

“Leila mention how she planned to satisfy everyone?”

“She…how did it go? ‘Why should we scrape for earth’s scraps when we can feast on the food of gods?’ Didn’t say which gods, though…”

“Power,” Hesper offered, setting down her spoon. “Arcane energy. Quintessence. The food of gods.”

“She told me I was gonna be a…vessel.”

“Vessel for what?”

Lilith squinted into the distance, remembering. “She said I would be a cup—yeah, a cup—from which she’d ‘drink the fires of the underworld.’ Who talks like that?”

“Somebody who’s been reading books that should never have been written.” She dug into the ice cream. “We already know she’s trying to raise a demon. They made an invocation this morning.”

“But I got away. I slipped the ropes and ran away. The way they were talking, it sounded like they couldn’t do the ritual without a vessel.”

“They found a new one. The cop that tried to talk to you.”

Lilith shrank. “I’m so sorry…I didn’t know. I was so scared.”

“It’s not your fault. These folks are bad news all around.” She tapped the spoon to her lips, thinking. “The summoning ritual doesn’t involve a vessel, though. Just the circle and the fire.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means there’s more to the plan than just raising a demon and asking it for a favor. Ilta’s a big deal down there, but this amount of ceremony is excessive for the usual chat-and-bargain affair. A vessel wouldn’t be involved. Vessels are for containment…oh.” She dropped the spoon.


Hesper stood up. Her stomach hit the table, shoving it a few inches and nearly spilling Lilith’s tea. “It’s a trap. Leila wants to bind Ilta to a mortal body.” She ran her hands through her hair. “She’d have her own pet demon to either order around, or kill, or trade to a rival demon for…I don’t even want to think of the ramifications. She pulls this off, every outcome is bad for our plane.”

“She couldn’t really do any of that, could she?”

“It would take power like we’ve never seen.” She walked to the window overlooking the town and gazed down at the church, her stomach squishing against the glass. “But it’s a power she’s figured out how to get. If she really does have a way to tap into corporeal quintessence, then the power amassed by sixty people feasting nonstop for twelve hours on the vernal equinox under an infinite appetite curse and a calorie storage acceleration enchantment…” She paused, out of breath. “…could be just enough to make it work.”

Lilith gaped, mouth opening and closing uselessly.

Hesper pounded her fist against the window. “And I have no clue how to stop her.”

“Maybe we should just run. There has to be a way to get out of town—didn’t you say you had magic, too?”

“I do,” Hesper agreed, “but I can’t run from this. I’ve been taking the easy way out my whole career, cutting corners and burning bridges at every chance to get ahead. It’s only dragged me further behind.” She turned back to the window. “There are two people down there who trusted me, who chose to help me with a fight they didn’t understand. I don’t know if I can beat Leila, but I at least have to get my friends out of there.”
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Old 06-26-2016, 06:58 PM   #47
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Chapter 23

Dag followed the assistant cook back upstairs. A cart was rolled into his hands, laden with bowls of pasta. Dag frowned at the cart and nodded, wiping his brow. Behind his scraggled beard he had grown pallid and shadows hung beneath his eyes. His hulking frame sagged with weariness.

He looked up and tried to plot his route across the sanctuary. The once cold room had grown uncomfortably warm and the booming rhythm of a too-loud song from the soundsystem oppressed all thought.

What had been a flurry of back and forth activity, as organized as it was frenetic, had devolved into sluggish, uncoordinated muddle. All sense of order and choreography to the festivities had vanished in favor of shambling decadence.

The women remained in their cliques, though several groups had begun to merge as floorspace became a premium. Their bodies lay draped across each other, heads lolling in drunken bliss and mouths chewing on the latest course. Their clothing, much of it outgrown, torn, snapped, or burst, had been abandoned to the fire in the center of the room.

There was not an empty belly in sight. Many sagged and spilled onto the floor; many were so thoroughly stuffed they jutted straight and smooth into the air. Quaggy, gelatinous fat spread throughout the sanctuary.

Dag pushed the cart toward his usual trio of women in the corner. They had moved out from the wall and were encircled by empty platters and bottles. The larger woman lay supine on the floor, her belly so bloated it defied gravity. Her companions reclined lazily against it, their heads meeting just below her navel.

The bottom-heavy woman’s hips spread the length of the bigger woman’s torso. Her midsection creased into several deep rolls, like a staircase leading down to her lap. On the other side, the busty woman’s breasts had grown so large and now hung so low she had to tuck her hand under them to massage the glutted dome of her gut.

“Hey, he’s back,” she slurred, seeing Dag approach.

“More pasta?” asked her pear-shaped counterpart.

Dag sighed. “Fresh bowls for everyone. Linguini, I think.”

Their hands shot into the air, open and waiting, like the beaks of baby birds. Dag carefully lowered a heaping, steaming bowl into each woman’s eager grasp. They began eating before he could reach for the silverware, stuffing handfuls of noodle into their own and each other’s mouths.

Dag reached down to the bottom shelf of the cart. He gave each of the three a basket of breadsticks and a bottle of wine, then scooted the cart away before they could ask him for anything else.

Heading up the room, he could see Leila on the dais. She was gargantuan, as obese as anyone Dag had seen in person. Having outgrown her chair, she’d spilled down onto the floor and rested against it in a position that nearly hid her face behind the mountain range of her breasts and belly.

Her robe lay behind her like a cape, unable to reach even around her lovehandles. A discarded bra hung over the armrest of the chair. Its cups looked scarcely large enough to cover her nipples.

Leila’s feast had not paused since it began. While her followers rested between courses to breathe and digest, Leila had pressed on without cease, doubling or tripling their intake. She was incoherently inebriated, but her mouth was open and showed no inability to continue chewing and swallowing as the twins kept up her endless supply of food and drink.

Ms. Nott lay next to the office door, face down, butt bulging up. She shoveled pasta into her mouth from a pair of bowls in front of her.

“Hey, trucker,” said the assistant cook, slapping Dag on the back. “Give me a hand with this.”

He loaded a number of bowls and baskets onto Dag’s cart. His own cart had several other servings, along with a shelf of small dessert plates.

“The girls are a little too drunk to take care of their prisoner,” the man explained. “Chef says that makes it our turn. You’re just gonna help me bring stuff in there, though. You’re not allowed to go anywhere near her. Got it?”

Dag glared, but nodded. They moved to the edge of the dais. The cook watched Dag heft his carts up the pair of steps, then led him to the office door.

As the cook drove cart through the doorway, though, Ms. Nott reached out a clumsy hand and seized the corner leg.

“Ssseconds,” she moaned.

“What?” The cook looked down, but it was too late. The cart twisted, rolled, and overturned, spilling its contents onto the office floor with a mighty crash.

Dag looked around. There were a couple giggles, but nobody seemed to have noticed the crash over the noise of the music. He glanced at the end of the banquet table: his pizza boxes were still there, untouched.

“Hey,” growled the cook, “get your ass in here.”

“Sssorry,” groaned Ms. Nott.

Dag squeezed past her into the office. He turned to look for Roxie, but the cook grabbed him and pulled him over to the capsized cart.

“Change of plans. You’re gonna clean this up while I go back for a new round. And I’m chaining you to this desk here, so don’t get any ideas. Clear?”

Dag winced as the man yanked his shackles behind him. “Uh, clear.”

“Good. Be quick about it.” The cook bustled out of the room, opening and closing his fists. He managed a polite greeting for Ms. Nott before slamming the door shut.

Dag watched him go, then turned. Roxie stood against the wall on the far side of the room, arms tied overhead, head hanging sleepily.

“Roxie?” he whispered.

Her eyes fluttered open. She looked around, blinking. “Dag?” she moaned, seeing him in the corner.

“Yeah. It’s me. Are you okay? Are they taking care of you? How do you feel?” He stopped himself, realizing how childish he sounded.

“Oof, they’re…they’re definitely taking care of me. How do I feel?” She belched and looked down. “I feel…fat.”

Dag swallowed. Roxie had definitely grown since he’d last seen her, though perhaps not as much as some of the women in the sanctuary.

Her chunky midsection had filled out into a thick, heavy spare tire. Her lovehandles flowed further out to each side than her plush paunch pushed forward. Everything about her, rather than rounding out, seemed to have simply widened; her thighs, her ankles, her arms, her cheeks, her chin, her waist, and even her breasts. They spilled out beyond the straps of her tank top. Her panties cut into the flesh around her hips.

“What about you?” she asked wearily. “You okay? You look exhausted.”

“I’m…okay. They’re just making me do lots of work.”

“Maybe I don’t have it so bad after all. They’re just making me eat lots of food.” She frowned. “Although I’m supposed to die when they’re done in there…so there’s that.”

Dag slowly righted the cart. “You asked me, last night, if I believed in magic.”

“I assume you do, now.”

“I did then, too. I had always thought—hoped—that some power like that was out there, even if I hadn’t found it yet.” He shook his head.

“Guess you found it.”

“Guess so. You didn’t believe, though. You didn’t want to.”

“I barely have a grasp on the world as it is…throw magic in there and I’m totally lost. It’s the last thing I wanted.”

“I always wanted to believe. I thought if magic existed, it could make things better. Help people do good.”

“Too much risk, though. Too much to be scared of.” She stared at the ceiling. “My kid brother believed in it. Back when we were little, he thought he could read minds and walk around in other people’s dreams and stuff. I’m sure none of it was real, but it scared the shit out of him. And unlike everything else a big sister can help with, I couldn’t protect him from stuff like that. I was so happy when he finally grew out of it.”

Dag shoved a pile of pasta back into its bowl.

“Isn’t this proof? Whatever those people are doing in there is terrifying and I’m…I’m chained up in here where I can’t protect anyone from it. Not myself, not you, not…” Her voice cracked. “…not Hesper.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, setting the bowl down.

Roxie rattled her chains. “She at least knew what was going on…what she was doing. I’m only here because I fucked up.”

“What do you mean?”

“The fact that I got this call at all…I’m on this shift because I fucked up. I got sloppy on a drug bust a while back. Overstepped my bounds trying to shut these guys down. Ended up with a busted leg…could have been worse, and not just for me. I got to land a punch before they all got away, but it almost…” She shook her head. “Soon as I got back from the injury, the department stuck me on graveyard shift on the world’s dullest stretch of highway. Thought it would keep me out of trouble.”

Dag grunted. “Same here, actually. I stopped to help a stranded driver last month, ended up late for a delivery. It was kind of my third strike, so they shifted me to this new overnight route to nowhere.” He rubbed his eyes. “Driving all night…I’m getting used to it, but you never really feel alive.”

“I hear that.”

He snorted. “I wasn’t even that low on gas when I stopped here. Still had half a tank, probably. I was just trying to play it safe.”

She shook her head.

“Anyway, Roxie…screw-ups happen. And there are consequences. But that’s not, you know, who you are.” He spread his hands. “You went out of your way to remind a criminal that there’s at least one person who cares about the law…who will stand up for it. That counts for something.”

She smiled at him. “You’re a good man, Dag. Looks like stopping to do a good deed is gonna make you late for this delivery, too.”

“And short, too. I’m down like six or seven pizzas.” He got to his feet, staring at the door. “Speaking of which…”


“This could be our chance.” He tugged at his chain. “Hesper put something in the pizzas she brought in. Called it her ‘insurance policy.’ I’ve been trying to get to it all day.”

“The sugar packets she mentioned,” Roxie remembered. “What’s in them?”

“I’m not sure. I think it was more magic stuff. But if we can get a hold of them…”

“We at least have to try,” she agreed. “Put up some kind of fight. You know where they are, then?”

“The pizzas are right outside the door, down on the table. I just need thirty seconds without that asshole breathing down my neck.”

Roxie nodded, looking down. “Okay. Yeah. I’ll…I’ll think of something.”
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Old 06-30-2016, 07:32 PM   #48
Join Date: Feb 2013
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Chapter 24

A black sportscar sent up a spray of water as it rounded the corner. Most of the lower roads were flooded now and as Hesper looked out the window she saw that several of the houses she’d visited earlier were now awash.

The burger joint’s parking lot was on just enough of a rise to be comparatively dry, but the car had to plow through a veritable moat to reach it. Lilith held her breath the whole way, exhaling only once she’d parked and shut off the engine.

“Nice work,” said Hesper.

“Thanks. But I’m still confused. I thought you wanted to get to the church…why stop here?”

Hesper kicked open the door and hefted herself out of the car. “Because you ran out of ice cream and I’m still hungry. Plus, according to your scale, I’m only at two hundred pounds and I need a much fatter ass if this is gonna work. Oh, and grab my bag.”

“If what’s gonna work?” asked Lilith, slinging the bag over her shoulder. “You have a plan?”

“I don’t have a plan yet, no. But I have an idea.” She adjusted the skirt and headed for the restaurant. “…and an appetite.”

The skirt’s plaid widened and rounded across her backside, highlighting her heavy curves. The grid shifted up and down as she trudged across the lot. As high as the skirt sat on her waist, little rolls of backfat still curled over the waistband, bouncing with each step.

She threw open the door and flounced inside, rubbing her hands together. Lilith snuck in behind her with the bag. A small young man appeared behind the counter, horror and confusion on his face.

“We’re closed,” he stammered. “Special event. Er, oh, are you with the sisterhood? I haven’t met everyone yet…why, uh, what’s going on?”

Hesper breathed deeply of the greasy aroma. “Reckon I could ask you the same. Every other place in town sent all the food they could muster up to the church for today…” She sashayed up to the counter. “…but y’all are back there cooking up a storm, like you’re still expecting the dinner rush.”

The man sputtered. “Leila said to have things ready for the afterparty…said she was having a group in from, uh, another town, or something.”

“Try ‘another plane of existence,’ or something,” Hesper replied, beckoning Lilith over. “Your afterparty is for an army of darkness.”


Hesper reached into her bag. She pulled out a spoon and set it on the counter. “There’s gonna be a change of plans, okay?”

“I…I don’t think I should,” he protested. “I follow what Leila says. She…I mean, she’s got magic.”

“Magic? Funny you should mention that.” Hesper winked and snapped her fingers.

The spoon launched itself up and planted its concave surface on the tip of the boy’s nose. He gaped at it, eyes crossing. Lilith looked back and forth from him to Hesper.

“If I snap my fingers again,” Hesper said calmly, “you will experience a significant amount of pain. Alternatively, if you decide to cooperate, I will put the spoon back in my bag.” She strode away and sat herself at a large table. “So, like I said, there’s been a change of plans: I’m your dinner rush.”

“Oh,” he wheezed. “Um. What can I, uh, what can I start you with?”

Hesper smiled. The spoon fell from his nose and clattered to the countertop. “Burgers. Like…several of them. With fries.” She tapped her lips. “Supersize me.”

He hesitated, trembling, but hurried to the back. Lilith collected the spoon and joined Hesper at the table.

“What would it have done?”

Hesper looked up. “What?”

“The spoon.”

“Oh, nothing. I didn’t have time to add in anything fancy beyond the nose trick.” She snapped her fingers and the spoon leapt from Lilith’s hand to her nose.


Hesper eyed her. “You said they painted you?”

“What? Oh, yeah. Orange. All over. Took over an hour to wash it all off this morning.”

“That orange?” Hesper asked, pointing up.

Lilith looked. The heptagram was painted on the ceiling above their table, tacky and glistening. “Yep. Exact same.”

“Doesn’t look like run of the mill paint. But they sure seem to have a lot of it.” She stared up at the star. “Any chance you saw where they had it? Must have taken a lot to drench you.”

“There’s a big—what’s it called—cistern, or urn, or whatever…it’s behind the pulpit.”

Hesper nodded. “I think I saw that. Looks Grecian? Red-figure pottery?”

“I guess so. They’d pour water into it and scoop out the paint.”

“Might be the artifact Ilta mentioned,” Hesper wondered. “Something I can work with, at least. Ah, and here’s my new best friend with a tray full of food.”

He set a pile of burgers in front of her. “I’ll be right back with…with your fries.”

“Good man.” She watched him bustle off. “Alright, then, Lilith…pop those toys up on the table. We’ll see if I can eat and prepare spells at the same time.”

Dag looked up from behind his cart. He had finished wiping spaghetti sauce from the floor and reached for a fresh rag to clean his hands.

Across the room, Roxie belched. The assistant cook chuckled at her and set down his fork.

“Well, deputy, looks like you’re all done with that bowl,” he sneered. “That’s two in one session—I’m proud of you. Of us.”

She glared at him. Her eyes bulged, though that was due more to the pressure of her fullness. Her stomach, bloated taut, gurgled unhappily.

“That was…a lot of pasta,” she agreed.

“Sir, I’m done with the cleanup,” Dag reported, standing.

“Thanks, hoss. Alright, deputy, we’ll give you a few minutes to let that course sink in. I’ll be back in a bit and we can finish the rest.” He stalked over to Dag and unchained him from the desk.

Roxie stifled another burp. She looked fit to burst. “No,” she wheezed. “Still hungry. Plenty of room for…for more.”

“You serious? You barely made it through that second bowl.”

“I’m fine. I’m ready. I want you…” She took a deep breath, looking him up and down. “…to feed me that last bowl.”

He puffed out his chest. “Alright, darlin’. You wanna get fed, you’ll get fed, heh.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” she purred. “All I ask is that I get something to wash it down with this time. Those ladies out there hog all the drinks.” She leaned as close to him as the chain would allow.

He glanced at the door, hand on his cart.

“Better get started before I lose my…appetite.”

“Hoss,” growled the cook, his eyes fixed on Roxie’s, “go grab the lady something to drink.” He slid the handcuff keys across the floor.

Dag pounced on the keys. “I think there was a pitcher right at the end of the first table.”

“You got thirty seconds. No funny business.” He tapped the gun in his holster.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Dag stormed out into the sanctuary, nearly tripping over a passed out Ms. Nott.

He hurried down from the dais and weaved his way to the banquet table. The stack of pizzas was still there, surrounded by the detritus of the feast. He cleared them off and grabbed the top box.

Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, he seized the cardboard and tore it open. Taped to the inside of the box was a yellow sugar packet. Dag pulled it out and checked it—a small rune was scrawled faintly on one side.

Palming the packet, he stuffed the box between the other two and stepped back from the table. He glanced around the piles of women around him, stole a carton of milk from one of them, and shuffled back into the office.

“Felt like more than thirty seconds, hoss,” said the cook, his fork in Roxie’s mouth.

“The pitcher was gone,” Dag explained, holding up the carton. “Had to find something else.”

“Uh huh. Deputy, you alright? Lookin’ a little green there.”

She swallowed. “Might have…overestimated my tummy. Sorry to disappoint, but we’d better stop.”

He patted her stomach. It was too full to jiggle. “Heh, I told you. Good try, though. Nothing wrong with taking some time to digest. Alright, hoss, let’s get you back downstairs. With things starting to wind up, I figure your work’s about over.”

“Over?” Dag echoed.

“That’s right. So you may, heh, may want to say buh-bye to the deputy here. Probably won’t see her for a while.”

Dag gaped at him, then looked to Roxie. She hung her head. The cook snickered and pushed his cart toward the door.

The trucker stepped forward and grabbed Roxie for a sudden, spirited kiss. His hand slipped into her tank top and tucked the sugar packet into the cup of her overtaxed bra. She shuddered and returned the kiss.

“That’s enough, hoss,” called the cook. “I didn’t say you could cop a feel. Heh…on the cop, heh.”

Dag pulled his lips back. Roxie smiled at him. He ducked his head next to hers and whispered, “Hesper said it’s a one-time use. Good luck.”

He felt her gasp faintly. She craned her head up. “You too,” she breathed.

Dag backed away. He grabbed his cart, put his head down, and followed the cook back into the sanctuary.
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Old 07-03-2016, 02:30 PM   #49
Join Date: Jul 2007
Posts: 58
weaverof has said some nice things

Deep below, in some much used level of hell space, a cadre of demons spawned from whence the earth and the realm of gluttony (and perhaps outworld) silently readied themselves for more news from above...so that their own fantasies may be fulfilled...

and an old wizard in grey with a funny hat two dimensions over cocked an eyebrow and spoke "Now This seems interesting..."

Good writing mate.
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Old 07-05-2016, 05:13 PM   #50
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Marlow can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokesMarlow can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokes

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Chapter 25

Roxie squinted. The sun was sinking below the horizon outside. Its dying light reflected off the windshield of Roxie’s squad car, through the office window, and bathed her stretch of the wall in an orange glow.

She hung limply from her manacles, gently twisting from side to side. Pinching pains throbbed from the sides of her chest. The tank top had been able to ride up from her inflated midsection, but her bra had been designed for a woman half her size. Her panties had long since torn and fallen away, but her fat stomach hung low enough to cover what the underwear had abandoned. Roxie couldn’t see past her paunch to read the scale, but she had to be double what she’d been when she’d arrived in town. Her body felt as though it simply had no more room for itself.

The door swung open and the assistant cook sidled back in, carrying only a small tray.

“Well, we’re losing the sun,” he remarked, heading over to her, “and things are winding down out there. Not a course too soon…chef was starting to have trouble keeping up. But congratulations, deputy; you made it.”

She belched in reply.

He set the tray on the floor and glanced down at the scale. “Just a hair over three-thirty. Nice work, officer. That’s a gain to be proud of.” He patted her stomach, watching it wobble. “Would you like some tea? Helps calm the tummy.”

“That would be perfect, actually,” Roxie realized. She took a deep breath and winced. “But could you do something for me, first?”

“Depends…you have been much more cooperative, recently.”

She gave him a sheepish smirk. “Look, I was a few sizes smaller around the, uh, chest when you brought me in here. The ladies have probably taken the least of all this new weight, but...that hasn’t stopped this bra from trying to strangle me. I mean, look at this…”

He did.

“Could you maybe unsnap me?”

“Oh, um…I think I could do that, sure. Just let me swing around here…wow, yeah, that is hanging on for dear life. Down to just one little hook.”

Roxie rolled her eyes as he fumbled. “I bet. So just…you have to…oh. Holy shit.” She breathed deeper than she had in hours. “So, so much better. Wow.”

The cook paused, watching something fall to the floor. “Was that…a sugar packet?”

She forced a laugh. “Wow, yeah, I totally forgot about that. It’s been there since, er, that coffee break we had before lunch. That was back when I was...less cooperative. One of the ladies didn’t…”

“Must have have been uncomfortable.”

“I just gained a hundred and seventy pounds. Everything’s uncomfortable.”

“Huh.” He eyed it.

“You want to just put it in the tea? Poor little guy’s been waiting all day, after all.” She stared at him. “And I could use something sweet.”

He blushed, but bent down and opened the packet. Roxie’s stomach gurgled.

“Wh…what’s happening?” Leila gurgled, on the other side of the wall. “Why’d you stop?”

Ms. Nott leaned over Leila’s mountainous bulk. “You made it, mistress. Six hundred and sixty-six pounds…with time to spare.”

Leila looked blearily back and forth at the twins, who nodded. With only her head and shoulders propped up against the chair, she was all but lying down on the floor between them, yet her body rose past their knees like a well-endowed jello-mold.

Much of her flab spilled out across the floor around her, but her belly, stuffed as it was, stretched defiantly upward in a pale, stretchmarked dome. Her titanic breasts, each heavier, rounder, and seemingly more bloated than some of her congregation’s bellies. Her upper arms had expanded into jiggling wings and, topheavy though she was, her ankles were thicker around than Ms. Nott’s own thunder-thighs.

The congregation was largely quiet, either dozing or half-heartedly starting to clean up. Ms. Nott and the twins waited obediently for Leila’s debauched mind to formulate instructions.

“Then I propose—hic!—propose we take…a little break,” her puffy face eventually slurred. “Half hour to…sober up and get shtuff in—hic!—in order.”

“Of course, mistress,” Ms. Nott replied with a bow.

Leila waved vaguely at the office door. “Go get the vessel ready. We’ll make sure nobody inter…interr…” She interrupted herself with a heaving belch. “I’ll sssend Tommy in to get you when it’s—hic!—when it’sh time.”

On the other end of town, Hesper stepped down from the little glass scale. She shot out a hand, grabbing Lilith for support.

“276,” she gasped.

Lilith stared. “Amazing. So your plan..?”

“I don’t know if it’s enough, but we’re about out of daylight.” She glanced out the restaurant’s window. “I’ve pretty much doubled my weight, so it’s a start. Just depends on how well I can bluff.”

“If you can bluff half as well as you can eat, I think you’ll be just fine.”

Hesper laughed. “Yeah, never realized I had such a natural talent for it. Just imagine what I’ll be able to do with some practice.” She rubbed her gut and turned around.

The plaid skirt had fallen off forty pounds ago and she now displayed her plush lower half in all its quaggy glory. Her thighs were thick with cellulite, her butt cheeks hung from her backside like a pair of bean bag chairs, and her belly drooped out like putty. The snake tattoo’s head was questing its way around to her under-belly and would probably be buried by the next few pounds. Her unrestrained hips had flowed out even further and now, short as she was, she seemed to be as wide as she was tall.

“I tell you what, though,” she breathed, sitting. “The next time I need to gain seventy pounds in one sitting, I’m going someplace a little more upscale. I feel like I’m sweating fryer grease.”

Lilith slunk into the chair next to her. “The next time? Do you have to do this often in your…line of work?”

“Well, no. This is definitely a first.” She leaned back and rubbed her gut. “To be honest, though, I might not be completely opposed to trying it again sometime. Can't believe I spent all those years agonizing over my figure. Wonder if I can work this into my next case...”

Lilith shook her head.

Hesper eyed her. “You’re seriously not hungry? You’ve been in the enchanted area this whole time, subject to all this appetite magic, and you haven’t eaten a thing? Remind me to analyze your aura when this is all over.”

“More magic?” she scoffed, rising. “Let’s take a rain-check on that one.”

Roxie’s eyes fluttered. The tea had quieted her indigestion, as promised, and warmed her stomach noticeably. The warmth spread from there, filling her chest, flowing into her limbs and extremities. She felt her heart rate begin to quicken. Her fingers twitched.

The cook packed up his tray and stood. He leered at Roxie, hands on his hips. “You know, my friend always used to say cops were pigs.”

She glared at him, double chin creasing. Her hands writhed in their cuffs and she suddenly felt a shuddering crack from the beam above.

The door swung open. Roxie forced herself to relax, slowing her breathing, but the energy surging through her was difficult to resist.

Ms. Nott waddled into the room, carrying an enormous wooden bowl.

“Ma’am,” reported the cook, “she’s reached her threshold weight.”

“Excellent. And our mistress has just reached hers. You may head back downstairs—thank you for your help. And remember that I am not to be disturbed while I prepare the vessel.”

He nodded and scurried from the room. Ms. Nott latched the door behind him and sauntered up to Roxie.

“Looks like you were able to catch up, after all,” said Roxie, hands quivering.

Ms. Nott twirled around, cocking her thick hips to one side. Her butt bounced accordingly. “I almost made it to three hundred. Would’ve made it if…what are you…are you okay, deputy? You’re…”

“I’m great,” Roxie grunted. “Just a little sugar rush.”

She wrenched her hands down with a sudden, superhuman strength. The chain ripped through its section of the beam, showering her with splinters. With a choked cry she spread her arms, snapping her handcuffs.

Hunched over, she settled her unsupported new weight on her feet and worked to find her balance. She looked up at Ms. Nott.

The bottom-heavy woman swallowed. “Oh, hell—”

Roxie tackled her with all her bulk, slamming her to the floor and spilling the paint in a wide swath. Ms. Nott wheezed and slapped uselessly, but Roxie seized the wooden bowl and bashed her over the head.

The bowl cracked; the woman went limp.

Roxie rolled off of her and slumped back against a desk. Panting, she slipped her bra the rest of the way off around her flabby arms. She tugged down on her tank top, but it could cover very little and it was so stretched to transparency that it scarcely concealed what it covered.

She sighed, kicking the bowl away, and glared at the unconscious Ms. Nott. “That’s for Hesper.”
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