~BBW/BHM. Magic Fantasy, Feeding, Lesbian Sex ~XWG- what if feeders and feedees could have their own night club and the effects were only temporary? Isty is about to find out
**This probably needs some editting/formatting; and I'll leave it to observer for the tags, there's pretty much everything in this story.**
Christina walked into her new studio apartment in New York. It looked so empty with all of her things still in boxes. She stood surveying it, her new home in a big, sometimes frightening new city. She stood wearing a long, floral skirt and a baby-blue top over her thin but well-proportioned figure. Her long, sandy-blonde hair hung down over her shoulders.
This job as music critic of The Post was a dream come true, better than she could have ever imagined. But she couldn’t help but feel a little intimidated by the big city, and homesick for the plain, clean suburbs of Michigan. Oh well, she thought to herself, life goes on.….
Just over four months later, Christina was walking down the streets of The Village at after two in the morning. The conventional bars were closed, but she and her new group of friends were determined to find a new underground place that just might have something interesting and unique.
She wasn't attired in her traditional hometown clothes. Instead she was wearing ripped up, skintight jeans over a pair of open, beat up, second-hand combat boots that didn’t quite fit right. She wore a white, spaghetti-strap midriff tank top underneath a bright orange, long-sleeve fishnet shirt. Her hair was bleached platinum blonde and was braided up in a series of almost-dreadlocks that stuck out from her head at odd angles. Her face was covered with extravagant eye-makeup and bright lipstick.
Working as music critic, she had gone to a lot of shows; and met a lot of interesting people. They had introduced her to the bohemian lifestyle it was so easy to fall into in New York City. Her new friends had taken her to all kinds of interesting and bizarre and sometimes scary underground clubs around town. Stuff that was probably illegal and definitely considered wrong; but when you were in the club, it was safe. And like they say, when in Rome…
She had taken to calling herself “Isty”, a shortened version of “Christy”.
She was traveling with three friends, a punk-looking guy with liberty spikes she had just met; Dozer, a huge man who dressed like a gypsy, and Lucinda; a flamboyant lesbian. They were more than a little drunk and looking for something new. She had never been in this area of town before, and she was feeling optimistic, if a bit dizzy.
“Man, there’s nothing down here.” Dozer said, leaning against a streetlight to keep himself balanced. “Let’s go back, try taking a left at that one street.” he said vaguely, leaning his head against his arm.
“Nah man, just a little farther.” Lucinda said.
“Eh, I agree with Doze,” the punk guy said.
“What about you Isty?” Lucinda asked.
Isty looked around, it did look pretty dead, mostly just empty warehouses and a few closed holistic shops. On second thought it looked absolutely dead, deserted, like a scene from a movie. One of those generic empty places in New York where the big action scenes happen and the monster finally catches the girl.
“Yeah, maybe- wait.” She said, she had spotted something. One of the buildings had a neon sign on it. Just a red circle, small and partially obscured by the architecture. As she watched a young couple walked up to it and entered.
“What’s that?” she asked the group.
“I don’t know, I’ve never seen it before.” Dozer said, looking up from his position.
“Yeah, me either,” replied Lucinda.
“You got me, man.” aid the other guy.
“You wanna check it out?” Isty asked, half turning. The punk guy shrugged. Dozer lifted an indifferent hand as he put his head back against his other arm.
“Sure.” Lucinda said. They began to walk towards it.
As they approached, Isty watched another couple walk out. This time it was a hugely fat man and a young woman. The man looked absolutely exhausted. Isty took a brief second to wonder what a hot young girl was doing with a huge guy like that, and then became even more puzzled as she noticed that the girl was rubbing her hands up and down the man’s stomach as they walked.
“I wouldn’t go in there if I were you.” A dusky voice said from her right. Isty stopped, startled, and looked over. Around the corner of a warehouse, a woman and two men stood smoking cigarettes. Isty recognized the woman. Her name was Angelica, or Angelic as she preferred to be called.
Angelic was tall and a little older; she never actually mentioned her age but Isty suspected she was closing in on forty. She had olive skin and short black hair, and was wearing elbow-length black gloves and a flowing black dress that was ripped and torn, showing off her fit body and black underwear beneath. Isty had seen her around at a lot of shows and clubs, another bohemian like her. The two men she didn’t recognize.
“Hey Angel, what’s up?” She asked.
“Not much.” Angelic said, blowing smoke.
“Hey Luce, Dozer, Only,” she said, addressing the other three. They mumbled greetings in return.
“You know what that place is?” Lucinda asked.
“Yeah,” Angelic replied, “but I wouldn’t recommend it.”
“Why not?” the punk guy, apparently called ‘Only’, asked her.
“I don’t think you’d like it.” Angelic said.
Isty sighed, this was just like Angelic, she loved to play the experienced mystic, heralding the wonders and fears of the New York underground. Drama queen. she thought.
“So just what is it, Angel?” she asked.
Angelic blew smoke and looked her in the eyes, a look of distaste upon her face. She did so hate to be interrupted.
“That’s where they go to get fat,” she said.
Isty looked at her with a puzzled look on her face.
“They?” Lucinda asked.
The four of them stared at Angelic with varying levels of confusion, which satisfied Angelic to no end. Isty snorted with derision and looked at the club again. Another couple was walking in, two men, one of whom had his hand firmly on the flat stomach of the other. The second man had on very baggy clothes.
“Man, screw it, let’s get out of here.” Dozer said, leaning against a building. “I don’t feel so good.”
“Yeah, Who needs that? Later Angelic.” Lucinda said.
Angelic nodded in response. Only saluted in farewell, and the group started walking back the way they came. Isty stood a moment longer, looking at the club in curiosity, then looked back at Angelic. Her eyes seemed to glint through the fog of cigarette smoke. Then she snorted again and rejoined her friends.
Later that night, she lay in bed. “That’s where they go to get fat.” Angelic’s words ran through her head.
"What does that even mean?" Isty thought. It was so confusing. And intriguing. A mystery disguised as a building.
Since moving up here, Christina had fallen in love with the outsider culture and bohemian lifestyles of the “underground”. It was so exciting, so different from the plain, clean suburbs she had grown up in. It had been more like moving onto an alien world than just to another city. It was the best thing she could’ve ever imagined. And she was determined to try it all.
She didn’t know what that club was, but she was determined to go back and find out. Her entire life had been so monotonous and boring, so sheltered back in Michigan. Christina was a simple girl from a simple town. But hr alter-ego Isty was a whole new person, who would rather look back and say she did it and hated it than to be someone who didn’t do it at all. She resolved in that instant to go back to that weird little club and find out just what it was. And screw Angelic anyway. she thought.
Not quite a week later Isty was back, alone this time. She was standing in almost the same spot and staring at the club. Tonight she was wearing six-inch stiletto heels underneath frayed camouflage fatigues, and the cut-off top from a “little black dress” underneath a leather motorcycle jacket. She watched as a lone man walked in, like the one from that couple before, he was wearing unfashionably baggy clothes. She furrowed her brows and began to walk towards the club, her heels clicking on the pavement.
As she approached, her stomach tied up in knots; none of her friends had been able to come. She suspected she shouldn’t have gone without them; but curiosity had gotten the best of her. She still hadn’t figured out what the club was supposed to be, and it was driving her nuts. She simply hadn’t been able to wait. Isty walked up to the polarized glass door, took a deep breath, and stepped inside.
The scene inside assaulted her, nearly knocking her off her feet. It was like nothing she’d ever seen. It was dimly lit, and clouds of smoke wafted around lazily. There was a small bar off to one side, and a neon sign over it proclaimed the place “The Donut Shop”.
All of this was predictable for the underground. What was shocking were the people. Men and women sat all around the place, on couches, in chairs, on the floor, in various stages of undress. And at various weights, she noticed. And they were all eating. No, not just eating, feeding eachother.
All yhis came in a rush, so it was hard to see specifics, but all the couples and groups around the place were eating or feeding each other donuts. They looked fairly plain, but they glistened and dripped with grease or sugar or something. People shoveled them into their mouths, or more cprrectly their partner's mouths. She observed intently a couple siyiing near the door, the man lovingly feeding the woman. Stomachs jutted out, breasts hung low, asses protruded out and jiggled in the air.
She watched as buttons popped and zippers slid down; it was an orgy of food, a monument to indulgence and obesity such as she had never imagined..
Isty stood in the doorway, mouth wide open at the spectacle before her. Then a plump young woman with jet black, spiked hair and a skirt with a Chinese motif walked up to her. Isty looked and noticed that her midriff top exposed a rather sizeable gut.
“Feeder or feedee?” the young woman asked.
“Huh?” Isty stammered, not sure what was going on.
A wry smile came across the hostesses face. “Ah, a first timer,” she said.
Isty nodded.
“Like what you see?” She asked, rubbing a hand seductively along the underside of her gut.
“I… I don’t know.” Isty said, unconsciously touching her own stomach.
The hostesses’ smile became a little bigger and slightly more genuine.
“Come on honey,” she said, taking Isty’s hand. “we’ll start you off small.”
Isty opened her mouth to protest but instead allowed herself to be led along sheepishly to wherever she was going.
"This is ludicrous." she thought. "What in the world is this place?
She wasn’t sure if she wanted to go wherever the hostess was taking her. She fought the urge to yank her hand away and run for the door. She felt like plain old Christina again, but the Isty took over and and her lip curled up into a sneer. She shook her head to the left and let one of her braids fall in front of her eye to remind herself who she was. She was Isty now, and she would try anything once.
As the hostess led her along, Isty looked out at the scene on the floor. As she looked closer, she noticed that not everyone was eating. There seemed to be a very definite dichotomy going on. All the groups and couples seemed to be split up. There was the thin one or ones, who weren’t eating; but they were feeding the fat ones. And everyone seemed to be loving it.
As Isty looked out through the crowd, she saw two men on opposite sides of a couch leaning towards a small coffee table to grab more donuts. As they sat back, the person in the middle of the couch leaned forward and Isty was astonished to glimpse to reveal someone she knew.
“Angelic!” Isty said, but it was lost in the din of the place.
Angelic leaned forward, and by chance looked up to catch Isty’s eye. For a very brief second, a shocked look came over her face, and then it changed to a knowing smile.
Without a word, Angelic leaned back again, revealing a sizeable gut. Isty’s jaw dropped, no one could gain that much weight that fast! But then the two men leaned over Angelic again, continuing to feed her, and the hostess pulled Isty out of sight.
"Were those the same guys she was with when I saw her near here last time?" she thought. But od coiurse there was no way to ask the question.
Finally, the hostess led Isty into a small, clean, well-lit room, with a single, comfy-looking chair.
“Have a seat honey,” the hostess said, and Isty walked in, sitting down. The chair was really comfortable, but it was also huge. Built to accommodate someone much larger than she. And for obvious reasons, she supposed. As Isty was looking down at the chair, the door clicked shut, and she sat by herself for a few moments.
A minute or so later, the door opened and the hostess came back in with a tray of donuts. Isty sat silently, unsure of what to even say. The hostess set the tray down between them, kneeling on the floor.
After a few minutes of silence, the hostess finally said, her eyes looking at the donuts,“You know, I don’t usually do this I actually took my lunch so I could come back here with you.”
She raised her head and looked up at Isty. Isty’s eyes widened.
“Oh, I’m not, uh, I mean…” she stammered. The hostess smiled.
“That’s fine.” she said, looking down. But Isty could still detect a note of disappointment in her voice. “We can still both enjoy this.”
She looked back up and picked a donut up off the tray, sidling closer to Isty.
“Have some.” the hostess said, holding the donut up to Isty’s mouth.
Her stomach knotted and fluttered and seemed to bounce around inside her. She wasn’t sure what to do. She looked into the hostess’ eager eyes, then licked her lips and took a bite. It was delicious, and so rich. It tasted like sin; like overindulgence and decadence and “Christina you’re a very bad girl!”. She wanted more. She swallowed and quickly took a much larger bite.
“That’s right.” the hostess murmured, and Isty wolfed down the rest of the donut.
"Man its so filling!" Isty thought, putting a hand to her stomach. She felt like she was going to burst. Off of one donut!
“Did you like that?” the hostess asked, bringing another donut up to her mouth. Isty nodded, licking the sugar or whatever it was off of her lips and starting on the second donut. She moaned as she wolfed it down. As the hostess leaned down to get a third donut, Isty felt a strange sensation. The button of her pants was straining.
She looked down and gasped in horror. Her stomach bulged out like she was pregnant. No, like she was fat. She had seemingly gained thirty(forty?) lbs since she had sat down. The cut and frayed seam of the dress she was wearing as a top rode up over her gut, revealing soft rolls starting to form. The button of her pants strained heroically, twisted sideways as it hung on by the very last thread.
“What did you do to me!?” Isty almost shouted. She looked up to see a shocked expression on the hostess’ face.
“Oops.” she said.
“’OOPS’!?” Isty shouted.
“You didn’t know?” the hostess asked.
“NO!” Isty shouted, starting to rise.
The hostess put a hand over Isty’s. “Wait, Wait!” she said, coaxing Isty back into her seat. “Just listen. That’s the trick about this place.”
Isty stared at her uncertainly.
“It makes you fat real fast-“
Isty started to protest again, but the hostess cut her off, “-but it wears off!”
“What?” Isty asked.
“I don’t know how it works or why or where it came from, I just work here,” the hostess said. “But don’t worry, tomorrow you’ll be the same skinny little stick you were when you walked in here.”
Isty relaxed a little, still unsure.
“Just trust me,” the hostess said. “and try and enjoy it.”
Isty leaned back and looked at her stomach. She had to admit, it was actually kind of… nice. Her stomach was so soft. And she felt soft. Soft all over in fact. She wondered if there was more than just sugar in those donuts. When she looked up the hostess was offering her another, and she gladly ate it, licking the hostess’ fingers this time. The hostess moaned.
This time Isty could feel it. As she finished the donut, she felt her body press against her clothes. The button of her pants finally popped open, flying across the room. Her ass spread against the cushions of the chair, raising her up a little bit. Her breasts strained her now bra-like top. The hostess ran a hand across her stomach and she moaned. It felt wonderful. Her skin was so sensitive stretched like that. She was so soft now…
The hostess got up and straddled her thighs. They were so much bigger than before, so soft and jiggly. She felt the hostess press another donut to her lips, and she ate it without opening her eyes. She put her hands on her stomach and just felt herself swell… Her body expanding outwards, growing larger, softer, the pounds piling on and on… “Don’t eat too much Christina” her mother’s voice “you’ll get FAT” The word echoed out in her mind. She was fat. And getting fatter. Look mom, no waist.
As Isty’s body swelled, the hostess thrust her hips forward to meet her swelling stomach, and their two guts collided, causing them both to moan. Isty brought her hands up and grabbed the hostess’ lovehandles, pulling her gut into her own again. She moaned and then felt the hostess’ hand pulling hers outwards. She felt the hostess lean in.
“Now do me,” she said breathlessly.
Isty opened her eyes and saw the hostess pressing a donut into her hand.
Isty sat up, reaching around the hostess’ hips to support her, and then put the donut to her lips. The hostess bit into it eagerly, gulping it down. Isty squeezed the hostess against her as she swelled, feeling the girl’s swelling gut pressing into her already bloated one. The hostess moaned orgasmically, her eyes rolled back into her head.
“You want to get fat?” Isty asked, and the hostess nodded, her eyes still closed.
Isty got up and slid forward onto the floor, holding the hostess in front and beneath her, so she was laying on top of her. Her back landing in the donuts, crushing a few and scattering the rest.
“You want to be a big fat pig?” Isty asked, not thinking where the phrase had come from.
The hostess nodded again, moaning “Oh yes.”
Isty reached down and grabbed another donut, pressing it to the hostess’ lips.
“Eat up, piggy,” she said.
The hostess wolfed it down, and as her body swelled, Isty started grinding her hips against her, causing her to moan. Isty too was moaning, she had never been more turned on. She grabbed another donut and pressed it to the hostess’ lips again, this time biting the other side at the same time. The two bit and then joined into a passionate kiss, passing the sugary, fattening substance between them. And they swelled, growing fatter and fatter. Two balloons joined at the nozzles…
The seat of Isty's pants split, exposing her fattening ass.
The hostess’ considerable bulk on top of her, practically forcing donuts into her mouth.
The two of them were shortly leaving together, arms around eachother’s shoulders; two hugely obese women staggering out the door, laughing uncontrollably.
Isty was aware of a hand on her stomach, and her hands, gripping folds and mountains of soft, warm flesh.
The huge mound of her own stomach, a globe, a weatherballoon, a blimp; and beneath it spiky black hair between her two huge thunder-thighs; the best feeling she’s ever felt…
The next morning Isty woke up in a strange bed, putting a hand to her head as she sat up. She was naked. She looked down at herself as last night started to come back to her, she was as thin as ever. Her breasts were decent sized, and her stomach pooched out the tiniest bit, but she was still thin.
She looked to her left in the bed. A woman, the hostess from the club, lay next to her.
"Oh what did I do last night?" she thought with horror. She did take a moment to note how thin the hostess actually was though. Her ribs protruded clearly from beneath her arm, next to her Isty actually felt a little fat again.
Feeling sick, Isty got up and found her pants. They were split in several places, including the back, but they would have to do. She pulled them on, then looked around for her jacket. She pulled it on, zipping it up to cover her breasts, then pulled her cigarettes out of the inside pocket. She saw a large, frosted glass sliding door to one side of the loft-style apartment and walked over and opened it as quietly as she could.
The sun was high in the sky and her eyes hurt. She lit a cigarette and leaned on the railing of the balcony, looking at the unfamiliar cityscape beneath her. She recognized the skyline, and used it to get a vague idea of where in town she must be, but she didn’t recognize any of the building directly beneath her.
She closed her eyes and smoked and tried to remember what in the hell had happened last night. She remembered the club… The Donut Shop. An orgy of food and sex. The hostess had led her in… She wanted to have sex but Isty didn’t, she didn’t like girls. Isty snorted smoke and looked behind her at the glass door.
"Yeah, I don’t like girls at all." she thought to herself with a sigh. She closed her eyes again and tried to think.
The donuts, the donuts had made her fat. She put a hand to her stomach, still soft but the same soft as usual. Whatever effect the donuts had had, if it had even been real, had worn off.
"Too bad.. " she had to admit she liked her thin size most of the time; but she knew she was going to be back at the Donut Shop before too long.
She blew smoke at the horizon and looked at the sun, it looked like just before noon. She couldn’t remember too much about last night, particularly after a certain point of being in the room, but she remembered enough, and from where she woke up it was obvious.
What was she going to tell that girl in there? She didn’t even know her name! And what did it mean for herself? Was it all whatever was in the donuts or… what?
She sighed out smoke again and took another drag. She didn’t care right now; right now it was time for breakfast.
**This probably needs some editting/formatting; and I'll leave it to observer for the tags, there's pretty much everything in this story.**
The Decadent Underground
by Caffiene
by Caffiene
Christina walked into her new studio apartment in New York. It looked so empty with all of her things still in boxes. She stood surveying it, her new home in a big, sometimes frightening new city. She stood wearing a long, floral skirt and a baby-blue top over her thin but well-proportioned figure. Her long, sandy-blonde hair hung down over her shoulders.
This job as music critic of The Post was a dream come true, better than she could have ever imagined. But she couldn’t help but feel a little intimidated by the big city, and homesick for the plain, clean suburbs of Michigan. Oh well, she thought to herself, life goes on.….
Just over four months later, Christina was walking down the streets of The Village at after two in the morning. The conventional bars were closed, but she and her new group of friends were determined to find a new underground place that just might have something interesting and unique.
She wasn't attired in her traditional hometown clothes. Instead she was wearing ripped up, skintight jeans over a pair of open, beat up, second-hand combat boots that didn’t quite fit right. She wore a white, spaghetti-strap midriff tank top underneath a bright orange, long-sleeve fishnet shirt. Her hair was bleached platinum blonde and was braided up in a series of almost-dreadlocks that stuck out from her head at odd angles. Her face was covered with extravagant eye-makeup and bright lipstick.
Working as music critic, she had gone to a lot of shows; and met a lot of interesting people. They had introduced her to the bohemian lifestyle it was so easy to fall into in New York City. Her new friends had taken her to all kinds of interesting and bizarre and sometimes scary underground clubs around town. Stuff that was probably illegal and definitely considered wrong; but when you were in the club, it was safe. And like they say, when in Rome…
She had taken to calling herself “Isty”, a shortened version of “Christy”.
She was traveling with three friends, a punk-looking guy with liberty spikes she had just met; Dozer, a huge man who dressed like a gypsy, and Lucinda; a flamboyant lesbian. They were more than a little drunk and looking for something new. She had never been in this area of town before, and she was feeling optimistic, if a bit dizzy.
“Man, there’s nothing down here.” Dozer said, leaning against a streetlight to keep himself balanced. “Let’s go back, try taking a left at that one street.” he said vaguely, leaning his head against his arm.
“Nah man, just a little farther.” Lucinda said.
“Eh, I agree with Doze,” the punk guy said.
“What about you Isty?” Lucinda asked.
Isty looked around, it did look pretty dead, mostly just empty warehouses and a few closed holistic shops. On second thought it looked absolutely dead, deserted, like a scene from a movie. One of those generic empty places in New York where the big action scenes happen and the monster finally catches the girl.
“Yeah, maybe- wait.” She said, she had spotted something. One of the buildings had a neon sign on it. Just a red circle, small and partially obscured by the architecture. As she watched a young couple walked up to it and entered.
“What’s that?” she asked the group.
“I don’t know, I’ve never seen it before.” Dozer said, looking up from his position.
“Yeah, me either,” replied Lucinda.
“You got me, man.” aid the other guy.
“You wanna check it out?” Isty asked, half turning. The punk guy shrugged. Dozer lifted an indifferent hand as he put his head back against his other arm.
“Sure.” Lucinda said. They began to walk towards it.
As they approached, Isty watched another couple walk out. This time it was a hugely fat man and a young woman. The man looked absolutely exhausted. Isty took a brief second to wonder what a hot young girl was doing with a huge guy like that, and then became even more puzzled as she noticed that the girl was rubbing her hands up and down the man’s stomach as they walked.
“I wouldn’t go in there if I were you.” A dusky voice said from her right. Isty stopped, startled, and looked over. Around the corner of a warehouse, a woman and two men stood smoking cigarettes. Isty recognized the woman. Her name was Angelica, or Angelic as she preferred to be called.
Angelic was tall and a little older; she never actually mentioned her age but Isty suspected she was closing in on forty. She had olive skin and short black hair, and was wearing elbow-length black gloves and a flowing black dress that was ripped and torn, showing off her fit body and black underwear beneath. Isty had seen her around at a lot of shows and clubs, another bohemian like her. The two men she didn’t recognize.
“Hey Angel, what’s up?” She asked.
“Not much.” Angelic said, blowing smoke.
“Hey Luce, Dozer, Only,” she said, addressing the other three. They mumbled greetings in return.
“You know what that place is?” Lucinda asked.
“Yeah,” Angelic replied, “but I wouldn’t recommend it.”
“Why not?” the punk guy, apparently called ‘Only’, asked her.
“I don’t think you’d like it.” Angelic said.
Isty sighed, this was just like Angelic, she loved to play the experienced mystic, heralding the wonders and fears of the New York underground. Drama queen. she thought.
“So just what is it, Angel?” she asked.
Angelic blew smoke and looked her in the eyes, a look of distaste upon her face. She did so hate to be interrupted.
“That’s where they go to get fat,” she said.
Isty looked at her with a puzzled look on her face.
“They?” Lucinda asked.
The four of them stared at Angelic with varying levels of confusion, which satisfied Angelic to no end. Isty snorted with derision and looked at the club again. Another couple was walking in, two men, one of whom had his hand firmly on the flat stomach of the other. The second man had on very baggy clothes.
“Man, screw it, let’s get out of here.” Dozer said, leaning against a building. “I don’t feel so good.”
“Yeah, Who needs that? Later Angelic.” Lucinda said.
Angelic nodded in response. Only saluted in farewell, and the group started walking back the way they came. Isty stood a moment longer, looking at the club in curiosity, then looked back at Angelic. Her eyes seemed to glint through the fog of cigarette smoke. Then she snorted again and rejoined her friends.
Later that night, she lay in bed. “That’s where they go to get fat.” Angelic’s words ran through her head.
"What does that even mean?" Isty thought. It was so confusing. And intriguing. A mystery disguised as a building.
Since moving up here, Christina had fallen in love with the outsider culture and bohemian lifestyles of the “underground”. It was so exciting, so different from the plain, clean suburbs she had grown up in. It had been more like moving onto an alien world than just to another city. It was the best thing she could’ve ever imagined. And she was determined to try it all.
She didn’t know what that club was, but she was determined to go back and find out. Her entire life had been so monotonous and boring, so sheltered back in Michigan. Christina was a simple girl from a simple town. But hr alter-ego Isty was a whole new person, who would rather look back and say she did it and hated it than to be someone who didn’t do it at all. She resolved in that instant to go back to that weird little club and find out just what it was. And screw Angelic anyway. she thought.
Not quite a week later Isty was back, alone this time. She was standing in almost the same spot and staring at the club. Tonight she was wearing six-inch stiletto heels underneath frayed camouflage fatigues, and the cut-off top from a “little black dress” underneath a leather motorcycle jacket. She watched as a lone man walked in, like the one from that couple before, he was wearing unfashionably baggy clothes. She furrowed her brows and began to walk towards the club, her heels clicking on the pavement.
As she approached, her stomach tied up in knots; none of her friends had been able to come. She suspected she shouldn’t have gone without them; but curiosity had gotten the best of her. She still hadn’t figured out what the club was supposed to be, and it was driving her nuts. She simply hadn’t been able to wait. Isty walked up to the polarized glass door, took a deep breath, and stepped inside.
The scene inside assaulted her, nearly knocking her off her feet. It was like nothing she’d ever seen. It was dimly lit, and clouds of smoke wafted around lazily. There was a small bar off to one side, and a neon sign over it proclaimed the place “The Donut Shop”.
All of this was predictable for the underground. What was shocking were the people. Men and women sat all around the place, on couches, in chairs, on the floor, in various stages of undress. And at various weights, she noticed. And they were all eating. No, not just eating, feeding eachother.
All yhis came in a rush, so it was hard to see specifics, but all the couples and groups around the place were eating or feeding each other donuts. They looked fairly plain, but they glistened and dripped with grease or sugar or something. People shoveled them into their mouths, or more cprrectly their partner's mouths. She observed intently a couple siyiing near the door, the man lovingly feeding the woman. Stomachs jutted out, breasts hung low, asses protruded out and jiggled in the air.
She watched as buttons popped and zippers slid down; it was an orgy of food, a monument to indulgence and obesity such as she had never imagined..
Isty stood in the doorway, mouth wide open at the spectacle before her. Then a plump young woman with jet black, spiked hair and a skirt with a Chinese motif walked up to her. Isty looked and noticed that her midriff top exposed a rather sizeable gut.
“Feeder or feedee?” the young woman asked.
“Huh?” Isty stammered, not sure what was going on.
A wry smile came across the hostesses face. “Ah, a first timer,” she said.
Isty nodded.
“Like what you see?” She asked, rubbing a hand seductively along the underside of her gut.
“I… I don’t know.” Isty said, unconsciously touching her own stomach.
The hostesses’ smile became a little bigger and slightly more genuine.
“Come on honey,” she said, taking Isty’s hand. “we’ll start you off small.”
Isty opened her mouth to protest but instead allowed herself to be led along sheepishly to wherever she was going.
"This is ludicrous." she thought. "What in the world is this place?
She wasn’t sure if she wanted to go wherever the hostess was taking her. She fought the urge to yank her hand away and run for the door. She felt like plain old Christina again, but the Isty took over and and her lip curled up into a sneer. She shook her head to the left and let one of her braids fall in front of her eye to remind herself who she was. She was Isty now, and she would try anything once.
As the hostess led her along, Isty looked out at the scene on the floor. As she looked closer, she noticed that not everyone was eating. There seemed to be a very definite dichotomy going on. All the groups and couples seemed to be split up. There was the thin one or ones, who weren’t eating; but they were feeding the fat ones. And everyone seemed to be loving it.
As Isty looked out through the crowd, she saw two men on opposite sides of a couch leaning towards a small coffee table to grab more donuts. As they sat back, the person in the middle of the couch leaned forward and Isty was astonished to glimpse to reveal someone she knew.
“Angelic!” Isty said, but it was lost in the din of the place.
Angelic leaned forward, and by chance looked up to catch Isty’s eye. For a very brief second, a shocked look came over her face, and then it changed to a knowing smile.
Without a word, Angelic leaned back again, revealing a sizeable gut. Isty’s jaw dropped, no one could gain that much weight that fast! But then the two men leaned over Angelic again, continuing to feed her, and the hostess pulled Isty out of sight.
"Were those the same guys she was with when I saw her near here last time?" she thought. But od coiurse there was no way to ask the question.
Finally, the hostess led Isty into a small, clean, well-lit room, with a single, comfy-looking chair.
“Have a seat honey,” the hostess said, and Isty walked in, sitting down. The chair was really comfortable, but it was also huge. Built to accommodate someone much larger than she. And for obvious reasons, she supposed. As Isty was looking down at the chair, the door clicked shut, and she sat by herself for a few moments.
A minute or so later, the door opened and the hostess came back in with a tray of donuts. Isty sat silently, unsure of what to even say. The hostess set the tray down between them, kneeling on the floor.
After a few minutes of silence, the hostess finally said, her eyes looking at the donuts,“You know, I don’t usually do this I actually took my lunch so I could come back here with you.”
She raised her head and looked up at Isty. Isty’s eyes widened.
“Oh, I’m not, uh, I mean…” she stammered. The hostess smiled.
“That’s fine.” she said, looking down. But Isty could still detect a note of disappointment in her voice. “We can still both enjoy this.”
She looked back up and picked a donut up off the tray, sidling closer to Isty.
“Have some.” the hostess said, holding the donut up to Isty’s mouth.
Her stomach knotted and fluttered and seemed to bounce around inside her. She wasn’t sure what to do. She looked into the hostess’ eager eyes, then licked her lips and took a bite. It was delicious, and so rich. It tasted like sin; like overindulgence and decadence and “Christina you’re a very bad girl!”. She wanted more. She swallowed and quickly took a much larger bite.
“That’s right.” the hostess murmured, and Isty wolfed down the rest of the donut.
"Man its so filling!" Isty thought, putting a hand to her stomach. She felt like she was going to burst. Off of one donut!
“Did you like that?” the hostess asked, bringing another donut up to her mouth. Isty nodded, licking the sugar or whatever it was off of her lips and starting on the second donut. She moaned as she wolfed it down. As the hostess leaned down to get a third donut, Isty felt a strange sensation. The button of her pants was straining.
She looked down and gasped in horror. Her stomach bulged out like she was pregnant. No, like she was fat. She had seemingly gained thirty(forty?) lbs since she had sat down. The cut and frayed seam of the dress she was wearing as a top rode up over her gut, revealing soft rolls starting to form. The button of her pants strained heroically, twisted sideways as it hung on by the very last thread.
“What did you do to me!?” Isty almost shouted. She looked up to see a shocked expression on the hostess’ face.
“Oops.” she said.
“’OOPS’!?” Isty shouted.
“You didn’t know?” the hostess asked.
“NO!” Isty shouted, starting to rise.
The hostess put a hand over Isty’s. “Wait, Wait!” she said, coaxing Isty back into her seat. “Just listen. That’s the trick about this place.”
Isty stared at her uncertainly.
“It makes you fat real fast-“
Isty started to protest again, but the hostess cut her off, “-but it wears off!”
“What?” Isty asked.
“I don’t know how it works or why or where it came from, I just work here,” the hostess said. “But don’t worry, tomorrow you’ll be the same skinny little stick you were when you walked in here.”
Isty relaxed a little, still unsure.
“Just trust me,” the hostess said. “and try and enjoy it.”
Isty leaned back and looked at her stomach. She had to admit, it was actually kind of… nice. Her stomach was so soft. And she felt soft. Soft all over in fact. She wondered if there was more than just sugar in those donuts. When she looked up the hostess was offering her another, and she gladly ate it, licking the hostess’ fingers this time. The hostess moaned.
This time Isty could feel it. As she finished the donut, she felt her body press against her clothes. The button of her pants finally popped open, flying across the room. Her ass spread against the cushions of the chair, raising her up a little bit. Her breasts strained her now bra-like top. The hostess ran a hand across her stomach and she moaned. It felt wonderful. Her skin was so sensitive stretched like that. She was so soft now…
The hostess got up and straddled her thighs. They were so much bigger than before, so soft and jiggly. She felt the hostess press another donut to her lips, and she ate it without opening her eyes. She put her hands on her stomach and just felt herself swell… Her body expanding outwards, growing larger, softer, the pounds piling on and on… “Don’t eat too much Christina” her mother’s voice “you’ll get FAT” The word echoed out in her mind. She was fat. And getting fatter. Look mom, no waist.
As Isty’s body swelled, the hostess thrust her hips forward to meet her swelling stomach, and their two guts collided, causing them both to moan. Isty brought her hands up and grabbed the hostess’ lovehandles, pulling her gut into her own again. She moaned and then felt the hostess’ hand pulling hers outwards. She felt the hostess lean in.
“Now do me,” she said breathlessly.
Isty opened her eyes and saw the hostess pressing a donut into her hand.
Isty sat up, reaching around the hostess’ hips to support her, and then put the donut to her lips. The hostess bit into it eagerly, gulping it down. Isty squeezed the hostess against her as she swelled, feeling the girl’s swelling gut pressing into her already bloated one. The hostess moaned orgasmically, her eyes rolled back into her head.
“You want to get fat?” Isty asked, and the hostess nodded, her eyes still closed.
Isty got up and slid forward onto the floor, holding the hostess in front and beneath her, so she was laying on top of her. Her back landing in the donuts, crushing a few and scattering the rest.
“You want to be a big fat pig?” Isty asked, not thinking where the phrase had come from.
The hostess nodded again, moaning “Oh yes.”
Isty reached down and grabbed another donut, pressing it to the hostess’ lips.
“Eat up, piggy,” she said.
The hostess wolfed it down, and as her body swelled, Isty started grinding her hips against her, causing her to moan. Isty too was moaning, she had never been more turned on. She grabbed another donut and pressed it to the hostess’ lips again, this time biting the other side at the same time. The two bit and then joined into a passionate kiss, passing the sugary, fattening substance between them. And they swelled, growing fatter and fatter. Two balloons joined at the nozzles…
The seat of Isty's pants split, exposing her fattening ass.
The hostess’ considerable bulk on top of her, practically forcing donuts into her mouth.
The two of them were shortly leaving together, arms around eachother’s shoulders; two hugely obese women staggering out the door, laughing uncontrollably.
Isty was aware of a hand on her stomach, and her hands, gripping folds and mountains of soft, warm flesh.
The huge mound of her own stomach, a globe, a weatherballoon, a blimp; and beneath it spiky black hair between her two huge thunder-thighs; the best feeling she’s ever felt…
The next morning Isty woke up in a strange bed, putting a hand to her head as she sat up. She was naked. She looked down at herself as last night started to come back to her, she was as thin as ever. Her breasts were decent sized, and her stomach pooched out the tiniest bit, but she was still thin.
She looked to her left in the bed. A woman, the hostess from the club, lay next to her.
"Oh what did I do last night?" she thought with horror. She did take a moment to note how thin the hostess actually was though. Her ribs protruded clearly from beneath her arm, next to her Isty actually felt a little fat again.
Feeling sick, Isty got up and found her pants. They were split in several places, including the back, but they would have to do. She pulled them on, then looked around for her jacket. She pulled it on, zipping it up to cover her breasts, then pulled her cigarettes out of the inside pocket. She saw a large, frosted glass sliding door to one side of the loft-style apartment and walked over and opened it as quietly as she could.
The sun was high in the sky and her eyes hurt. She lit a cigarette and leaned on the railing of the balcony, looking at the unfamiliar cityscape beneath her. She recognized the skyline, and used it to get a vague idea of where in town she must be, but she didn’t recognize any of the building directly beneath her.
She closed her eyes and smoked and tried to remember what in the hell had happened last night. She remembered the club… The Donut Shop. An orgy of food and sex. The hostess had led her in… She wanted to have sex but Isty didn’t, she didn’t like girls. Isty snorted smoke and looked behind her at the glass door.
"Yeah, I don’t like girls at all." she thought to herself with a sigh. She closed her eyes again and tried to think.
The donuts, the donuts had made her fat. She put a hand to her stomach, still soft but the same soft as usual. Whatever effect the donuts had had, if it had even been real, had worn off.
"Too bad.. " she had to admit she liked her thin size most of the time; but she knew she was going to be back at the Donut Shop before too long.
She blew smoke at the horizon and looked at the sun, it looked like just before noon. She couldn’t remember too much about last night, particularly after a certain point of being in the room, but she remembered enough, and from where she woke up it was obvious.
What was she going to tell that girl in there? She didn’t even know her name! And what did it mean for herself? Was it all whatever was in the donuts or… what?
She sighed out smoke again and took another drag. She didn’t care right now; right now it was time for breakfast.
