“SSBW Uniformed Combat Corps” versus the secret police “Balloon Squad”

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Aged Member
Feb 8, 2007
“SSBW Uniformed Combat Corps” versus
the secret police “Balloon Squad”

Link back to earlier “Frying Dutchman” story


Our uniformed Security Corps had grown too big for his little ship.
Koenraad ‘The Frying Dutchman’ announced this in his direct Dutch way at his mid day fry-up session today. We had to go - it was time we found a new home!

Our life had suddenly been up ended.
“Too BIG !” we all exclaimed. “Why? We all thought you liked us this way!”
I recalled how, since I’ve made myself up to Captain, Captain Grieta has joked about “her” little ship being way too small for two SSBW captains.

“None of you lovely soft Sweeties could ever be too big for The Frying Dutchman” Koenraad guffawed – “its just that your Security/Combat show has gotten much too successful.”
“You need to have your own identity, a separate business – your stuff is ideal for digital TV”


So that’s how we were hived off as a separate business with Vilhelmina as CEO.

There was absolutely no disagreement about where we should be based – “Pannecotterra!” we’d all declared.
Four of the team were from there anyway, while Vilhelmina and I regarded it as 'The Fatties’ Paradise on Earth'.

And just as Bliss had earlier sourced us our splashy new uniforms, so she’s proved the link to locating a shore station.
Next time we passed through Pannecotterra, another of her uncles into Real Estate showed Bliss and Vilhelmina around an old Palazzo that had recently failed as a 4 star hotel due to being on the wrong side of town down by the dockyard.

Vilhelmina came bouncing back along the quayside to the ship full of ideas: it had a swimming pool in the back courtyard with an excellent kitchen opening off.
And for all of us who find even shallow grandiose staircases tiring, there’s a big glass lift tacked onto the back of the palazzo accessing the 3 floors of majestic old rooms overlooking the harbour plus all the luxury en suite bedrooms opening onto the courtyard.

Vilhelmina stayed behind through a couple of hot summer months to oversee readying our new home while we went off, lazing around the tiny islands of the Eastern Med.

By mid-September Vilhelmina was ready to welcome us ‘combat’ fatties back to our very own place. The ship tied up opposite our palazzo’s impressively elaborate pillared entrance and the larger souls such as Tina the pianist, Corporeal Simone, and Corrie were trollied across the quay into their new home.

As he took in all the details Vilhelmina created in converting the former hotel, Koenraad put his arm as far around Vilhelmina’s rotund German torso as he could stretch. Hugging and kissing her, he declared:
“Now I can see how you’ve interpreted every last need of your hungry “prize fighters” so imaginatively, we shall all stay and party with you while we overhaul the “Roosje Jelle” in the Dockyard along the harbour.

So that was that. While Captain Grieta bustled off to direct her ship’s re-fit and get her bottom scoured and cleaned in the nearby dockyard, everyone else enjoyed an interlude of feasting and festivities while we christened our new home.


The palm tree shaded old courtyard proved our favourite place to laze about, a magnificent contrast to our little ship’s space restrictions. The pool had a sort of island bar/servery with full dining facilities which links directly to the kitchen.

Vilhelmina said all this had mostly been there already but she’s made quite a few fat friendly changes for her lovely ‘growing babes’.
For example she altered one side of the pool to a very gentle slope so those like Tina, who need to be wheeled about (because they no longer can be bothered to waddle), might glide down into weightlessness and float contentedly around in the pool.
Once in the pool none of us are never very far away from getting topped up from the poolside servery.

One corner of the courtyard is a kind of dance cum-exercise floor with a soft smooth plastic finish where the team can train and workout as well as mount ‘in house demonstrations’ of our combat skills.

And there are big developments about this too: Vilhelmina has brought in a retired Russian ballerina to choreograph us.

Olga Kokakolava is an outrageously bulbous blonde. Her publicity pictures all show off her svelte figure, tutu-clad and delicately piro-etting.
Huh….She can scarcely waddle!
Because nowadays she’s a fat blubber bag just like the rest of us.
This ballerina has difficulty swinging her fat legs past one other each morning along the few metres from the giant yacht moored along the quayside from us.

Vilhelmina reckons that yacht belongs to the Russian billionaire oligarch Vladimir Gorgov, owner of all Kamchatka’s oil and of a French football team that were last year’s Champions.
And, she says, the locals all gossip about how Madame Olga has stacked it all on while the yacht has been based in Panneccotta during the last couple of years. She’s in her early forties at the most; a former Russian celebrity super model!
Madame simply shrugs and smiles whenever we attempt to delve.

Madame Kokakolava is devising a kind of aerial fat ballet that for us to rehearse, like a very slow motion Kung Fu film.
Delia, Aprile and Bliss are still the stars and she’s got them prancing about and even to leap!
Madame is keen to put Aprile into some sort of skin tight blue costume as the ‘baddy’.
She has also found a strong aerial flight harnesses so my big “officers” can swing out from the higher balconies down onto us.

As ever, me and my expanding grossly fat assistante Corporeal Simone are expected to do little more to do than strike static poses. Our role is to act as soft landing cushions for the agile ones to drop down into.

Simone always laughs at how Madame Olga always urges the two of us to “emphasize the dynamics of your figures girls”.
Madame loves to join in demonstrating how to do it - which appears to mean ‘just remember to keep all your fat wobbling.’

So a typical routine goes:
I help Simone to haul her monstrous bum onto centre stage,
Aprile as the fat baddie arrives and picks an argument with us,
in the scuffle Simone’s purple uniform trousers burst off her bum.
Aprile laughs nastily
I get the worst of it trying to fight her
Delia runs in simultaneously as Bliss jumps off the balcony. Both land on us.
We all wallow around wrestling.
Us two SSBWs are saved.

Madame Olga says admiringly that because we are concentrating all our weight so low in our physique, Simone and me ought to do sumo wrestling; we are the ideal size and shape.
Madame has shown us videos of sumo but we’ve been unsuccessful so far in finding any lady sumos to demonstrate the moves for us.
I’d like to invite a 468 lb English lady who looks like me - and Vilhelmina says there’s also a blonde sumo. I point out that, at only 200 lb, her German’s actually lighter than our “aerial ballet” threesome.

Madame has particularly taken a shine to Tina who accompanies our rehearsals on the piano.
She flatters Tina about projecting a physically “dominating presence” - using as proof the success of recent short video clips of our “fat ballet” routines on the web.

We’ve all been noticing how Madame is very happy to appear herself in these videos flaunting her assets.

Even worse: she’s trying to wheedle Tina into more of a performing role on stage in future projects. Tina counters demonstrating that she’s almost immobile these days. She tries to clutch at all the billows of fat drooping off her haunches in a futile attempt to drag it all back on top of her piano bench to either side of her.
Of course we all snigger watching this.
Madame snorts disapprovingly and, hugging into Tina’s collar fat, she crows:
“Ha! You are just proving my point moya malen'kaya dorogaya (my little darling)”.

Privately I’m livid that bloody Olga is cosying up far too close to my very own wonderful Tina.
Tina is Mine! I found her.

Nevertheless Vilhelmina is all in favour of having more variety in future. She says we must diversify to survive now on line.
But she still rates our earlier Fat Women in Uniform ‘Combat Corps’ releases - comparing them to the old Keystone Cops.

To be continued
Last edited:


Aged Member
Feb 8, 2007
Part 2 - Koenraad gets offered ‘a little collaboration’

OK, so talking of diversifying - something rather scarily out of the ordinary has come up:
I’ve only just heard from Vilhelmina who’d heard it first from Captain Grieta.

Apparently Koenraad has been contacted by the Pannecottera Police Chief who is keen to set up an exhibition contest featuring us fat girls in uniform with his elite ‘balloon’ squad. He says he and many of his officers have been following us on line for the months since we came to Pannecotterra and are big fans.

”Eeeuh!” Vilhelmina reacted “I tell you good news liebschen then suddenly I feel you come over all goosebumps and shivery.”

I told her why:

I recalled Simone telling me how frightened she was of Police Chief Scarpia (link to Conference Pears) who, she reckoned, would justify all manner of macho sadistic means to maintain Law and Order on the island.
From way back in her days as a warden she’d always said how scared the traffic wardens were to ‘cross’ the Pannecotterra police - just booking the wrong parked car could land you in a load of trouble.

Koenraad poo poohs all this. He says Scarpia came across as a very congenial warm and friendly guy who’d offered all sorts of tips for cutting through the island’s notorious red tape to get our project off the ground - provided we collaborated with him.

So it was that. Vilhelmina and me were collected, along with Koenraad, one morning by a big black limo with curtains drawn. We were escorted noisily at high speed by a pair of motor cyclists outriders through the streets of the capital to meet Police Chief Scarpia and his elite squad.

After we halted and the sirens died, we heard the driver speak into an intercom and the sound of heavy doors. We drew forward again and stopped for good. Koenraad got the limo driver cops and escorts to help us out of the car onto our feet. We were in the courtyard of another old palazzo - a much darker formal building than ours.

We were ushered through a very crowded gloomy marble floored entrance hall into an old style creaking lift. The cops slammed the entrance gates shut and we ground slowly up to the first floor. Finally they dumped us down to wait in some deep sofas flanking an imposing door on a wide stone paved corridor,.
I whispered to Vilhelmina how the cops had been pawing at my and Vilhelmina’s ‘squashier’ parts far too unnecessarily. She giggled, whispering back she’d enjoyed the sexy feel of their soft black leather gloves.

A very elegantly dressed matronly SSBW eventually appeared to announce the Police Chief would see us shortly. I looked down at myself confirming the dark purple of her expansive trouser suit was exactly the same material as my purple uniform trousers. Clearly Bliss’s uncle Spiteri, the tailor specialises in measuring up SSBW clients.

Scarpia’s Lair

Twenty minutes later the matronly lady herded us into a vast shadowy room and drove us towards a dazzling desk lamp at the far end. A bulky figure in white open necked shirt with rolled up sleeves, dark blue jodphurs and riding boots, appeared from an ante room.
Drying his hands vigorously on a towel, he boomed out
“Welcome to Pannecotterra’s former “Inquisitor’s Palace”.

He came around trying to adjust the desk lamp down from shining in our eyes.
“Aha Koenraad! You have brought some of your beautiful ladies to show me.”

I saw he was fat and ugly, totally bald and aggressively bull necked. Ugh!

“So sorry to keep you waiting - a trivial interrogation took a little longer than I’d anticipated.
Ladies, after such a long delay you must be hungry – Monica - why don’t you fetch us coffee and cake? Quickly! NOW!”

Monica dispatched, he introduced himself to Vilhelmina and myself. “Just call me Scarpia – everyone does”.
He gushed about how much softer we seemed in person compared to on line.
He was disappointed we’d left Simone behind –
“Simone has blossomed so well under your command Signora”, and – patting my bum shelf making it jiggle, he added: “even before she left us, your ‘Corporeal’ Simone was famous…. the owner of the biggest bottom in our little island’s Warden’s Department”.

“Vilhelmina has responsibility for all our nutritional management” I retorted drily, “I simply drill and train my little Corps.”

Scarpia looked Vilhelmina up and down approvingly
“Ah! Yes of course, so I see! The great German contribution to our European Union – Good Living! You must know our Café Braunzucker?” (see link in text above)

Both Vilhelmina and Koenraad replied that they did and they loved it.

Monica returned, this time fussing around a pair of rotund policemen bearing a great gateaux, tableware and a classic big espresso coffee pot.
Vilhelmina correctly identified the cake as being from the Café Braunzucker before we all, including Monica, set to work putting it away.

Scarpia continued to dominate, saying how he hoped we could all benefit from a little collaboration.
Koenraad – you and I will discuss details while you Spazio ….” he clapped his hand hard on the nearer policeman’s shoulder; dark and extremely hirsute, he was also bull necked.
Scarpia made him wince gripping him by it
“….Yes…. Spazio, you escort the two ladies down to our training facilities and introduce them to our special group.”

The interview was over for us as Monica shepherded us through her office. Surprisingly her computer was in an ultra modern small foyer cum kitchenette facing stainless steel lift doors.

The fat pair of cops summoned the lift, helped us both in, then alone with Spazio, the dark paunchy one, down we dropped, swiftly and silently deep into the Police Chief’s underworld.

To be continued


Aged Member
Feb 8, 2007
Part 3 - Cozying up to the Balloon Squad

“Our quarters are in the old cellars of the Inquisitor’s palace” Spazio explained while waiting for the doors to operate.

As the doors opened, he continued: “it was built originally to be a great underground rainwater storage cistern by the Moors before they were driven out”.

We emerged into a brilliantly lit series of arched vaults like a stone forest. There was a large pool with some of the columns standing down into the water, surrounded by all manner and kind of gym equipment. At the far side was a screened off shooting gallery. Behind translucent glass shadowy figures could be seen (but not heard) at target practice. A relaxation area was to our immediate right.

There were cops of all shapes and sizes puffing away training hard on the equipment.
However what really caught our interest were all the excessively fat cops – some lazing in the pool, some sitting at a bar counter or at chairs and tables eating and shovelling pasta into their faces.
So many of the really fat guys seemed to be gazing into screens.

Spazio smiled when he saw our eyes widen in weighing up the fatties. “Yes I see you weighing up my very special boys” he said “Come and meet some of the guys.”

As he helped me waddle into the relaxation area he explained
“We consider ourselves the elite –- we are code named ‘the Balloon Squad’”.

We settled comfortably in great deep leather armchairs. Spazio summoned up refreshments and ushered across three virtually spherical young men, lining them up for our inspection.
They proved to be little more than teenage boys; their naked blubber pale, hairless and totally flawless. But we did note they wore thongs as they wobbled and bounced off one another when Spazio got the threesome to turn about so we could check them out from the rear.

Vilhelmina and I compared notes afterwards: - we were blown away by the boys’ size – not one was less than 6’ 2” high, but from every angle they appeared spherical (we reckoned each to be 700 lbs. give or take).

The tops of their close cropped heads and soft cheeked faces were set within great collars of neck fat which rolled down over their deeply drooping wobbly man boobs.
The guys’ huge bellies billowed out, curving back in down near their knees and spread out around their sides, causing their fat arms to be pushed way outwards by plush rolls of love handles,
Seen side ways on, their spectacularly protuberant tummies seemed closely matched by two rolls of back fat resting on a vast pair of bubble buttocks.
Their legs, like our pianist Tina’s – were just formless random lumps of soft fat all kebabbed together and squashing.

After they were seated on three padded footstools matching our chairs, the only one brave enough to speak was Alfredo.
The other two Gianni (pronounced Johnny) and Rolo remained way too shy, preferring to join with me in hoovering up the plates of tasty freshly baked filo pastry spicy pea, date and ricotta cakes.

Alfredo laughed aloud when we said we were surprised to learn he was 23,
“all my chub makes me look younger” he explained. The other two were only 20 although “big with it” – he giggled, winking and gesturing at me about how the two others continued with their heavy snacking.

Alfredo confirmed Spazio’s intro as being some of Europe’s topmost computing guys specialising in anti-hacking. Alfredo and Gianni were Rolo’s assistants. Plainly nobody wanted to reveal anymore about this.
Spazio promptly switched to complimenting me about my uniform. Alfredo sang our praises and said they had watched all our stuff on line. This chuffed Vilhelmina no end.

Two trolleys loaded with large canteens of assorted pastas and lasagne were wheeled in. A plump policeman materialised beside each of us - assigned to acting as feeders.
There followed forty minutes of silent intensive gluttony except for the sounds of slathering and burping and murmured encouragement and endearments from the feeders.
The “big guys” were happily downing litre steins of iced lager though Vilhelmina and I opted for sparkling mineral water instead.
The dessert trolley arrived along with more coffee. As we enjoyed our selections of semi freddos, chocolate pears and cassata (Vilhelmina told me they were all from the Café Braunzucker) we were treated to some videos on a large drop down monitor.

First there was one of ours, then they showed a selection of theirs. As Spazio offered a commentary, the balloon squad’s bellies began calling noisily for attention. The three great softies dozed off contentedly as their feeders responded by gently oiling and massaging their colossal torsos.

The videos we were shown really did unlock the point of the whole visit for us.

The ‘balloon squad’ came across as unbelievably wacky.
Twelve 700 lb ‘cadets’, no more than soft ball shapes, were all kitted out in dark blue Police pants with wide rich crimson red side stripes
Clever tailoring of their uniform trousers accentuated the dominance of their mammoth tummies. The astounding full extent of their belly underhangs pushed out the pants skin tight really low in their pants, although their trouser flies extended up high on their torsos to just under their armpits. Gappily buttoned white shirts, complete with blue epaulettes with silver insignia at the shoulders above floppy loose short sleeves, tucked deep down into their pants just below their droopy man boobs.

They did look hot – even a pair of died in the wool fat Dykes like me and Vilhelmina had to admit!

The boys resembled smooth billiard balls with painted on uniforms. In the video they appeared to be serving merely as skittles - being tumbled over and rolled all around the place by Police teams clad in jack boots and jodhpurs.
It was terrible how ‘our’ big soft boys passively accepted punishment, soaking up shockingly brutal abuse from the violently macho hard guys.

“Soft against Hard you see! So beautiful to watch.” Spazio leant forward conspiratorially into Villhelmina’s plush side.
“Now - can you see how we would love Capitano Evie’s Security Corps to be making such videos with us”

“But we are only five, sometimes six”, Vilhelmina answered, “and at present only three of our officers remain relatively mobile – how could we possibly join in?”

Spazio chuckled “Ha! Yes, we all realise those three poor young girls will not remain mobile for very much longer!”
“But all this…” he gestured at the fat pouring out of my yellow shirt “… this exquisite soft fat…. is such fun to video.” he said strangely.

“None of us could possibly knock over your great balloon boys” I pointed out.

“Maybe not, but once they are knocked over and just rolling about, then you are able to do what you want with them. Heh! Heh!“
“…and that we shall all enjoy...” he added suggestively.
Then he continued:
“I know Police Chief Scarpia has some ideas. Like you, we use Madame Kolakokava. She knows all the tricks of fight choreography”.

“We need to go home and think about it” Vilhelmina said noncommittally, “we should go up now to find Koenraad”.

Koenraad left the Police HQ some hours ago, he is waiting for you to report back …Spazio said mysteriously (seemingly all knowing). “Allow me to escort you home, it is but a few minutes from here.”

We were gently fettled up into shape by the Feeders then helped back into the lift. Spazio set it off again downwards.

The doors slid open onto a sloping tunnel hewn down through the soft creamy rock. “Here we have a convenient short cut to your Palazzo” said Spazio.
He beckoned out a Policeman who drew out a trolley behind him, then Spazio politely made his farewells and sent us on our way.

True enough; it was just a few metres that we rolled down through the wall lit tunnel, to stop at a door leading into the cellars of our Palazzo.

To be continued


Aged Member
Feb 8, 2007
Part 4 - Hobsons’s Choice for Koenraad ?

Overwrought after such an astonishingly bizarre day, Vilhelmina and I crashed out in her comfortable office/apartment adjacent to the palazzo’s big courtyard kitchen

We downed a chilled bottle of wine, giggling excitedly as we compared experiences.

  • We’ve mentioned already how astonished we were at such perfectly spherical 7 or 800 lb fat blobs. I remarked how they seemed such gentle softies, and Vilhelmina added wistfully “and so in need of mothering”.

  • Spazio we reckoned was creepy – he was a groper and it was, like, he knew everything about us.

  • But the food had been excellent and plentiful; the detail attention to our feeding and care had been a total turn on for both of us.

We hugged comfortably, Vilhelmina opened another bottle, and while recalling our earlier stuffing, we enjoyed filling a few cracks from her sofaside fridge.

Koenraad in the courtyard calling out for us brought us back to reality. He burst in exclaiming that he’d had a terrible day.
Vilhelmina and I tried our best to look coherent.
He told us the Police Chief had threatened him.

Scarpia had produced a big file with photo evidence of our debauched living, the carrying off of innocent young girls as well as cultured musicians plus - and most serious of all - the kidnapping of a uniformed law enforcement officer.

“I should turn this file over to the island’s Curia, the Press and the Public Prosecutor” Scarpia had shouted at Koenraad, his face inches away from Koenraad’s.
And the outcome would assuredly land us all in Gaol, every asset confiscated.

With that, he pressed his intercom and big motherly Monica waddled in.

“We’re hungry!” Scarpia had bawled across at her.
Monica promptly re-appeared helping the second fat policeman to wheel in a loaded lunch trolley.

“So what have you brought us today Sergeant Bosco?” Scarpa demanded as the fat policeman busied about, laying out the contents of the trolley.

“Aha!” Scarpa declared triumphantly “Why now, it’s a paella pan, a gas bottle plus all the ingredients for the Frying Dutchman’s trademark fattening dish! “

Scarpia leered around at me “Mijnheer Koenraad will so enjoy cooking up something very special for us.”

Turning to his SSBW PA he said “So Monica, you must stay and eat with us”,
He chuckled and, slipping Monica’s jacket off, ran his hands over and around her smooth expanses of soft shoulder fat adding “I promise you, you will gain from sampling our friend’s special paella.”

“Now Bosco! Open the wine for us” he commanded

“For an hour I cooked for them” Koenraad told us “as Bosco kept refilling our glasses.”

Scarpia and Bosco took to feeding an increasingly squiffy Monica with dish after dish of my paella.
Though Scarpia scarcely took any himself, he insisted that Bosco take his fill, both of wine and my fattening paella.
A drunken Bosco continued stuffing up an increasingly inebriated Monica until eventually I had to help Scarpia stretch the poor SSBW out comatose across his great desk, the two of us carefully easing her trouser suit slacks down around her squashy hips off her domed up belly.

“Finally, with Monica’s 450 lbs and Bosco’ 350 lbs draped bizarrely over his desk snoring off my paella, Police Chief Scarpia began dictating terms to me across the blubber of his inert assistants.”

Koenraad looked at us both pitifully.
“So I have no choice” he choked miserably “…we have to dance to their tune.”

“Well - that’s just fine by us you silly man.” Vilhelmina playfully grabbed at the woebegone Koenraad and hugged him. She drew him deeper into her side, continuing:
“..we’ve had such a lovely afternoon getting stuffed up along with some sweet young guys who want to work with us.
I promise you, we shall all enjoy dancing to Madame Kokakolava’s tunes”

To be continued


Aged Member
Feb 8, 2007
Part 5 - Aprile’s point of view

We’ve just heard from Vilhelmina how there’s some AMAZING big sexy guys wanting to get off with us. Like, just through watching us on the net, she says, they’ve been hooked and everything.

To be honest Delia, Bliss and me are wanting more variety. Basically, a few more of our own age for a start - boys as well as girls.
There’s only one guy, Koenraad, who’s really really nice – though Bliss has a hunch he could be gay. And he’s surrounded by a whole load of sex mad lesbians.

From living all their lives on that boat everyone has, basically like, at bottom turned into great fat dykes - though just you notice how they all, like, flutter their eyelashes whenever they’re around nice Uncle Koenraad.
Vilhelmina reckons Koenraad’s a big softee, like he’s spent his entire life’s savings giving fat girls a fun time, so she says.

Mind, the three of us love coming back home to Pannecotterra because we know everyone, and we really miss our families. Anyway everyone gets fat on Pannecotterra, like it’s a social thing.
Tina’s like us, she also loves being back – along with Big Evie, the Captain of our combat security squad (‘cos they’re – like - girlfriends).

Even Delia’s Auntie Simone is pleased to be home. Delia always says her Auntie had death threats when she was a Traffic Warden,.
But Tee! Hee! Thanks to us three, she’s safe now.
Basically we’ve made Delia’s poor Auntie much too fat – a gigantic new jelly bottom has – like - totally grounded her. She’ll never be able to walk those streets again.

Don’t get me wrong - we’re not ungrateful about Koenraad & Co.
The boat was our first job out of College. Like – we’d had absolutely no luck before.
Meeting Auntie Simone and Captain Evie was how we got the break. We got into show business through the back door.
And, like, now: We’re TOTALLY MASSIVE!
Vilhelmina’s always praising us about our hits on the Net.

But basically, the really fun thing has been all the weight gain.
Vilhelmina loves fattening everyone; she calls us three her ‘sweet little dumplings’ And Vilhelmina, like, actually showed us how we could quietly load up Delia’s bottom-heavy Auntie - ‘Corporeal’ Simone - with such a spectacularly fat pair of buttocks she’s scarcely able to waddle more than a few steps – just like Tina with her massive piano legs !

We have to wash Tina in the shower room with her girlfriend Captain Evie – we’re under standing orders from Captain Evie.
To be honest, this turn me on big time. Big Captain Evie and Tina all mashed up together, with me, like, their hand maiden, having to soap into all that lovely black and creamy olive fat!
We all climax together.

Just recently we’ve had this – like – RIDICULOUS ballet dancer arrive to show us how to dance.
Can you imagine?
A ballet dancer with stupidly fat jelly bag legs like Tina’s – like – actually dancing?
She’s called Madame Olga and she’s Russian. Vilhelmina says the local gossip is about how she shacked up with some Russian billionaire FA. Madame Olga’s been blown up, like, till she’s now well over 500 lbs.

The point of telling you this is that we all – that is Bliss, Aprile and me – have noticed how Madame Olga has the hots for our Tina.
I can tell you: Tina’s girlfriend Captain Evie - she is seriously not pleased about it!

But apart from all the weight gain fun, to be honest life got boring on the ship – just the same thing day after day. Except the times when the sea got really really rough. That was – like – totally HORRIBLE
We all three got really seasick – worse still we’d get wrong off Vilhelmina afterwards for losing weight.
Koenraad’s ship is - like - SO SMALL!
I wouldn’t mind one of those massively big Cruise ship’s - half as big as Pannecotterra - with clubs to go to and everything – I bet you’d forget you weren’t on land.

TBH we’re so looking forward to going clubbing again now we are back home – Delia jokes how now we’re all so fat, nobody will recognise us. Bliss’s told us her real estate uncle was gob smacked when he saw her, like, decked out in her uniform with Vilhelmina. She weighed more than he did - hee hee!
And he’s a really big man in Pannecotterra! Like, he has to pay a driver to drive his BMW, he’s so fat.

So what will all our friends say when they see us now. I’m nearly 400lbs – we’re twice as fat now as we were in College!

We’re arguing about what to wear out clubbing.

To be honest, basically, well my bum’s much much bigger than theirs and my mam sews clothes that cope really really well with us fat Pannecottans. But Bliss and Delia, they’re all for, like, seriously tight, eye-catching little ‘minis’. They say they won’t go out with anyone looking like a 'librarian'
cheeky ! (no pun intended)


OK ! OK ! Forget all the bit above about going off clubbing.
Its all been overtaken by new orders from Vilhelmina and Captain Evie issued just now at suppertime. We’ve to parade in the Police Headquarters tomorrow morning – and, like, look our best in spotless uniforms.


Well we’re here now, in the Police Headquarters – and its totally AMAZING!
Like – its a really massive Spa – all underground and 6 star luxury, I kid you not.

And guess what?

You should see them! Hugely massive lads, six of them – basically – well…um, all NAKED!
They are at work on the rubber training floor - and they are GIGANTIC !
To be honest they’re, like, massive big BALLS – well over 6 foot high.
From the front they’re allbelly, balanced by big jutting backsides with rolls of back fat on top. Bliss and Delia, ogling them, reckon even my big bum’s tiny by comparison :)
And, like, their moobs are brilliant - all mushy and wobbly, drooping way down over the sides of those big bellies.

Only trouble is bloody Olga’s right in down under their belly underhangs. She’s messing about trying to move their squashy blubbery legs.
Madame’s disengaging now….


She’s pushing us three – right in amongst these big boys!
Woops…Aprile’s gone
…ooh! – and now its my turn – oof! ….

Oh Wow! Hey, my great My big ball is so beautifully soft!
Every where I touch he just pushes in, sort of like a half deflated balloon. My balloon is, like, getting the giggles, and it’s set me off too!
“My balloon’s ticklish!” I exclaim.
He reminds me politely that’s why they get called the Balloon Squad.

I asked his name – he said they all called him Lapalla (the ball) and laughed.
So did I, but … suddenly I had this flashback ….
I asked “Hey! Hang on….is your real name Rolo?”

“It is, yes: Rolo Bianchi. Why do you ask?”

“'cos I remember your nickname. My mum used to make your big pants” I said, spanking into his blubber around the lower back part of his ball shape.
“she used to put them against me to show me the difference…and do you know what? That always made me SO HOT”

After I’d said that he went all quiet; I saw he’d gone from creamy white all over to a sort of rosy red blush – the big soft lad was embarrassed – he couldn’t stop blushing.

“You’re really sweet. Just a great fat Softy who can’t take a compliment” I whispered.
He still said nothing, so I tried to hug him.

I heard him mumble “I remember you too….
You’re…really…so wonderful…”, then he sort of choked.

We didn’t have a chance to get any further because a really diicky looking big bullnecked policeman, a paunchy fatso in a posh uniform started shouting orders over a Tannoy.
“That’s Superintendant Spazio, our commander” Rolo gasped while struggling to comply with the commands

Madame Olga managed to push the balloon boys into some formation.

“Now mix it!” she ordered.

We moved forward tentatively.

“Niet! Do it Like So….. “

She bumped in low down against the nearest balloon and bowled him over, she then propelled Corporeal Simone forwards, and like,across before similarly toppling her too. Up-ended, Corporeal Simone lay bottom up, squashed hard against the balloon.

Two balloons, clearly fancying their chances against Tina’s gigantic blubbery piano legs, moved towards her. But Captain Evie dived in to defend her girlfriend. She misjudged it, ending up, along with Tina, all mixed up between and below the two balls of blubber.

I played safe: bucketing in at Rolo. He seemed to roll over even before I’d attempted the up- ending. We stayed still just as we’d landed
in a beautiful, like, intimate heap.

to be continued


Aged Member
Feb 8, 2007
Part 5 continued

“You See! You all roll very well. Just like my big soft Russian Dolls!” Madame Olga roared with laughter.

“Can we just play those sequences back now?” she called across to Spazio.

Still in heaps down on the floor, we were surprised by the video playing back above us on the drop down screen.

It began with Madame Olga rooting in around the balloons’ fat legs; fast forwarded through our arrival then, ultimately, Spazio played the sequence over several times where we were actually engaging with the balloon squad – pausing to save key freeze frames.

It proved a great ‘Ice Breaker’. Feeling exhilarated, we’d all rocked with laughter.
Spazio announced it was time for us alll to take a break for refreshment.
Basically “Refreshment” grew into a long lunch. It was enjoyable because, during eating, and to be honest, drinking like, far too much alcohol - we began learning about one another – especially our sexuality.

Vilhelmina began it by admitting her uncontrollable ‘feeder’ weak spot for fattening any willing girl; Spazio agreed, though “helping lovely ‘big soft boys’ to mature” was how he justified his .

Then, BIG SURPRISE! I hear Bliss join in agreeing, like, how she too loved ‘big soft boys’. I saw she was, like me, nestling up against a balloon boy

Noticing how the balloons reacted pleasurably to her, I nudged Rolo in the love handles asking what he thought.
Before he could answer, Olivo, one of the guys who had ‘plumped’ for Tina cut across, to say he’d only ever known fat boys like himself. Like, he’d never had an opportunity to meet any real ‘ladies’. The other ‘big boys’ grunted in agreement.

Tina blushed at this.

Ha! We’d always known Tina swung both ways, but what about big Auntie Simone?

I looked across at her; she was red in the face with drink, happy and laughing.
Then I remembered Delia had told us, like, how her Aunt had been abused in past relationships with violent men.
Of course!
Remembering how frightened she’d always been by the Police as a Traffic Warden, some of those affairs, I realised now, basically must have been with Policemen. I’d never thought to ask.

Yet here she was, joking in our local patois, oblivious to the way her (like, actually our) gigantic floppy buttocks had burst free of her purple uniform pants to be the dominating centrepiece of an admiring balloon group– though TBH her yellow shirt, tightly stretched and gappy, was still in place.

“OK Girls!” Captain Evie cried - trying to flaunt her rank, Captain Evie obviously decided it was time she intervened.
“I have a uniformed squad to supervise! Remember?

I don’t want you all up-ended under a whole pile of Blubber Mountains.”
Her blatant double entendre earnt her a few sniggers as she continued:
“So why don’t the balloon squad get into their uniforms for an afternoon session?”

Quick as a flash Vilhelmina and Spazio both came back overruling her:
“We think wearing uniforms should be postponed until tomorrow when you are all still fresh”
To be honest, this was basically true – like me, they’d noticed that Tina and a couple of the big balloon boys were asleep.

Attempting to find a compromise Madame Olga suggested
“So that both groups may be similarly matched, why don’t you girls slip out of your uniforms for the afternoon session?”

There was a silence.

So once again Madame Olga jumped in:
“Spazio – what about using those fragrant oils you rub into our boys’ bodies?”

“Yes! That’s a GREAT idea” the balloon boys agreed.said. “Those oils stop stretch marks and chaffing due to sweat. Lets oil up our partners, it’s why our fat is so smooth and soft.”

Spazio fetched two boxes, giving one containing six phials of oil to Vilhelmina, handing the other to his boys.

Vilhelmina passed a phial each over to us.
Peeling off our uniforms off, we began applying the oil to one another. Luckily us girls are always required to wear thongs under our purple uniform trousers.
The two big guys Bliss and me had got off with, Rolo and Gianni started offering us advice. So we got them to rub the oil in and around our flanks. Rolo worked a frangipani scented oil into my fat so lovingly. Bliss too, I saw revelling in the attention she was getting from Gianni.
I was relieved to see that at least all us girls had been wearing thongs under our purple uniform trousers.

Madame Olga had eased a near comatose Tina out of her clothes before working the oil intimately in and around all of Tina’s astonishing corpulence.
I overheard Vilhelmina say mischievously while oiling up Captain Evie: “You must have noticed Capitano, how our naughty ‘little’ Tina seems to have forgotten her thong today?”

I really enjoyed the revitalized feel to my newly anointed body and the way all my fat oiled fat thighs were sliding really really sexily by past one another, easing my difficult walking.

Even big Auntie Simone’s mobility dramatically improved after Captain Evie oiled in and around her gigantic bottom end. Captain EvieI took hold of her hand in helping her advance over, ready to engage with those vast oily balloons; Simone’s soft fat slid easily like mine.

Though it was now much more difficult to push against the balloon boy’sour opponents’ soft slippery blubber, it really did seem like they were tumbling over of their own accord - anticipating our attempts to overturn them.

Once everyone had toppled over, it was huge fun wallowing around on the squashy training floor, never at all sure ‘what was what’ in the vast writhing mass of corpulence.
At one point I realised Vilhelmina had joined in when I momentarily came face to face with her and got a big wet kiss.

After about twenty minutes we all lay flat out, exhausted basically, by all the oily wrestling.
Spazio, the only one not on the floor; stood by the edge of the training pad, in uniform with a video remote ready in his hand.

We watched him control the video re-run on the screen above us.

First it was striking how, like, contrasty all our body colourings were.
While basically Captain EvieI stood out as the only black SSBW, Madame Olga was way over at the opposite extreme as a ghostly white SSBW. The half dozen boy’s balloon shapes were a lusciously smooth uniform creamy white.
But us Pannecotteran girls were a wonderful range of honey to nut brown coloured tans with striking white bits where the sun’s rays never got through fat folds and overhangs.

Second we got to confirm the‘my’ big guys did actually tumble before weI hit them.

Madame Olga, somewhere behind me, laughed saying.

“Of course my dears! I’ve been teaching them how to fold one leg then fall. Otherwise you’d never have a chance!”

Whose sides was I jammed up against? I felt the sides of blubber wobbling as they chuckled at me trying to wriggle myself free. They turned out to be my Rolo and also Alfredo.
Alfredo rolled over away from where we were lying and, growling with pleasure, proudly showcased Marco’s enormous doming belly.
Lying flat on his back, Marco felt up Alfredo in return. With a great belly laugh he said “As you can see, if Madame Olga stopped us practicing our ‘how to fall’ timing, you’d never shift us.”

Still in his uniform, Spazio hauled Captain Evie up and wrapped her into a great towel. Totally pooped from her exertions she collapsed into one of the big easy chairs.
I watched her taking stock over the debauchery:
Madame Olga was happily cuddled up against a sleeping Tina.
Vilhelmina was gently prising Simone free from being partially trapped below the flooding expanse of Cosmo and Olivo’s great bellies.

I suppose basically the last thing Captain Evie would have registered as she dozed off for her siesta, was us more mobile girls riding happily atop a stupendous heap of inert balloon boys….

With us all dressed and ready, Vilhelmina had to, like, shake Captain Evie awake saying “Its time to go home - otherwise we’ll miss dinner!”
We ‘lightweight’ girls helped to rouse Captain Evieme stuffing her fat all back, more or less, into her uniform trousers and shirt.
While we were helping her, I noticed Bliss blowing kisses at Gianni. I looked across at Rolo. He was asleep, the pet – a giant ball of blubber.

It was right at that moment I realised, like basically, that I was SO IN LOVE!

On the ride back home Captain Evie told us she’d had a dream full of calculations – “what might my girls weigh now? 350 lbs or even 400 these days….and the boys? Well 700 at least, probably more like 800 lbs,
Wow! Fancy having to manipulate all that oily blubbery fat…”

So I asked her
“would it feel better to be the owner of the fat? Or be us having to handle it?”
She looked at me dreamily saying “now that’s some question.”

This has become, like, the most pleasurable thought I love to “weigh up” while going to sleep.

To be continued


Aged Member
Feb 8, 2007
Part 6 - Dough Boy Rolo’s story

Life for me and my big dough boy mates is pretty totally perfect.
I just love lying around along with the other fat lads…

Fat against Fat.
Nothing can beat this totally sensuous feeling.

We lie alongside one another, checking ourselves out constantly on the big CCTV screen

That’s me winking at the camera.
You can see I’m just one big lovely ball of soft mozzarella cheese, that’s why they all call me ‘lapalla’ (the ball). My fat face is just about still visible but look at the way my silly short blubbery legs and fat arms just stick out of my body.

I’m no more than an enormous soft white balloon – we look like crashed airships, according to an ‘air spotter’ police guy.
I love how my corpulence flattens out which ever way I roll and lie across our soft rubbery mat.
So all we big lads can manage is to flop around to cosy up against one another; it feels so good as my fat wobbles around pushing up against my friends’ fat as we help one another.

Everything about me is so completely useless unless I get set upright by my ‘helpers’.


My mum used to be so proud of me as a kid, way bigger than the others. As I grew larger, so I preferred to sit at my computer rather than play out in the street.

And that’s why, ever since I was a kid, I’ve been able to hack into any site I please. The other kids would call around to goad me into accessing the naughty sites. I could get through anything, cracking passwords, firewalls, everything.
Thanks to my prowess, we were able to sample whatever took our fancy.
Most kids on the block just wanted me to copy hard porn down onto their keys.

But me?
I only really got turned on once I’d found the weight gain sites. Then I was hooked. And as I grew faster and more proficient at cracking sites, stuffing myself continuously, so I grew more and more rotund, just peering into the screen.

I was moving slower and slower, I had to hold onto my enormous gut to steady it. As my mobility deteriorated, my belly droop sagged over my pants, my tee shirts rode up to my girly big boobs as I lumbered around.

Around about that time I found the Police were getting interested in me. Several times the “Plods” called around to question me.
Finally to my mum’s consternation, I got bundled off to Police Headquarters to be worked over and interrogated.
Far from being arrested as we’d feared, I found I was being checked out intensively by the IT squad. Only much later did I learn how I’d totally outperformed their best computer nerds.

After that my destiny became clear; I began to be ‘groomed’ to enrol as a Police IT specialist after leaving school. My mum was flattered that Sergeant (as he then was) Spazio called around to chat her up. He took us out several times treating us at new glitzy tourist hotels we’d never seen the inside of before. I’d tuck into a huge pasta followed by a knickerbocker glory, while my mother, worried as ever about her weight, picked at bar food listening to Spazio assuring her of the promising career that awaited her ‘big boy’.

Entering the Police at eighteen, I’d already acquired my nickname, weighing in at a ball shaped 406 lbs.
Mind, during basic Police induction training things got really ugly.
Any fat guys enrolled as Police Cadets were routinely humiliated in basic training. Bellowed at for falling behind, losing points in drill, failing totally on every kind of assault course, I got persecuted by the bully-boy instructors as well as my teammates for losing them all the competitive workouts.
Only once did I score any points - on rather tricky computer task, supposedly a ‘group’ assignment. While I sat on my arse and won first prize and bonus points for all the team members, they all were off clubbing around town.


I have to admit that six months of Hell during Basic Training did change me, exactly as Spazio had promised it would. I emerged absolutely committed – mentally hardened while at the same time totally softened up bodily!

Spazio now set about readying me for work in his elite ‘balloon squad’.

I received orders to report to Spazio’s personal Police apartment where, from the first I was surprised how he treated me.
He’d changed completely. Previously he was always like a favourite uncle, showering me with fattening treats.
Now, coaxing me into huge stuffings of pasta and puré (cinnamon flavoured pureed potato mixed with rich dairy cream - deliciously semi liquid and warm) he was more like a loving mother-cum-nursemaid.

Murmuring in my ear, he’d assure me how I needed special preparation for my privileged lazy good life alongside all his other lovely dough boys. In the evening I was introduced to sipping Pannecoterra brandy with him while he gently massaged my distended belly.
He’d clean up my chins attentively then start creaming my enormous body.

In a dreamy haze I began to enjoy him going on to caress and kiss all my lovely fat - and I might be aware of him slipping out of his uniform…zzzz

One evening I was astounded to feel my privates touched up!

I couldn’t contain myself. The tickling was too exciting. I writhed all around yelling my head off; I came in a rush.
I heard him laughing - then, as he slapped all around my fat bottom, I heard him bellowing
“You’ll be in for a good lot more of that my lad, I can tell you!”

And so it proved. Through epic bouts of heavy eating and drinking I was thoroughly ‘educated’. I grew to enjoy the contrast of his hairy hard paunchy body against my creamy soft fat corpulence.

Spazio could be astonishingly gentle with me yet at the same violent and brutal. While getting both fattened and abused at the same time, I realised I was being comprehensively rehearsed.
I would never know what was coming next in the gamut of secret policemen’s sexual fantasies.

He’d savour flourishing his wickedly sharp old fashioned cut-throat razor as he shaved all the hair off my head and from around my boobs-cum-underarms.
After a night of violent sexual abuse, one morning - with me bent over the bed - he shaved the hair off my fat backside and from around my anus.

Finally, with us both on tenterhooks sproinging excited erections, he burrowed under my belly apron and, with heavy breathing by both of us, he commenced the delicate shaving away of pubes off my genitalia,

When he’d finished and we’d both recovered from climaxing, he began carefully rubbing astringent cream into all my shaved areas, assuring me I’d never be disfigured by body hair again.
That done, he smacked me around genially and pronounced me ‘Good and Ready’. I was about to be initiated into his elite ‘balloon squad’.

Settling in, I really enjoyed flaunting my expanding size, emerging sexuality and my specialised computer skills.
Though a few like me serve as the Police computer expert/advisors, all we otherwise are expected to do is laze about, feed and be totally self absorbed.
We’ll admire ourselves at the same time as preening one another to ensure our soft smooth pale fat remains in pristine condition. No unsightly surface blotches and rashes are tolerated on us.
A skin blemish is the number one trigger for rage in Spazio’s daily body inspection line-ups!

Just three times a year Spazio orders the squad to be turned out in immaculate uniforms for those famous events where we are on display before being arranged in patterns as human skittles.
We just have to be bowled over and be punished by the top ranking bully boys as part of their final assessment by judges in the Police Passing out Parade.

Actually we all enjoy the ritual as a reminder of those harsh days back in Basic Training – all those hard bully boys’ bodies compared to us.
Then follows the intimate attention of all the swabbing and mopping up of our pitifully bruised corpulence afterwards.

And another thing….
Since obviously we’re far too enormously fat to reach around our own great bellies, me and my mates are obliged to assist one another always.
Unless it’s the regular daily times when we get ‘force fed’ by our ‘feeder’ helpers, my mates and I have to keep one another topped up by assisting one another to snack continuously. And, way too fat to get to our own bits and pieces, we ‘dough boys’ are nevertheless flexible enough to mutually attend happily to one another’s sensitive parts.

I so love it when the other guys get to work me over – barging, squashing and teasing me, pushing in to access genititalia and bumhole, getting me off in so many inventive and, often as not, shocking ways,
Oooh! Aaaahh…Oooh! Aaaarghh… bliss….zzzzz…

Equally, I get as much pleasure in being able to reciprocate, springing a surprise attack along with my big mates on some unsuspecting half asleep stuffed mound of blubber.

As I said above, life for us dough boys has settled into being well nigh perfect…..zzzzz


Suddenly, as if to contradict all Spazio’s previous male extreme weight-gain, force-feeding regimes and Police macho sex-and-punishment training, this famed bunch of uniformed women combat fatties has been sprung on us.

Moreover Spazio orders us to engage in close physical contact with them!

Whatever are we to make of it?

Amazingly, Aprile and I discover her mum was my mum’s seamstress’s. She’d immediately recognised my nickname and said how blown away they’d been at the

Amazingly, the sparkiest and best looking combat girl Aprile and I discover her mum was my mum’s seamstress’s!
Aprile, a gorgeous big pearshape, immediately recognised my nickname and told me how blown away she’d been at the unbelievable size of the shirts and pants her mum used to sew for me!
She says her mum would hold up my gigantic pants against her kids for a laugh.

Aprile murmurs how she much prefers me now: nothing but a big soft naked white balloon with absolutely zilch getting in the way. She squirms as she speaks, squashing all her unbelievably soft fat up against my blubber with intense pleasure.
Noticing how I’m blushing all over in embarrassment, Aprile giggles and nuzzles my fat. She whispers how, whenever she saw those pants of mine she always had the hots.

Of course Aprile is a whole lot more mobile than me. Even with that delectable big bum, she still runs several steps during her fight routines - although she’s growing close to 400 lbs, so she tells me. Madame Olga has partnered us off together for rehearsals. I’m maybe twice her weight, but sweet little Aprile tells me happily how she doesn’t mind a bit when I roll onto her and squash her.

I love to see Aprile come barrelling towards me, It’s all to do with timing, not an easy thing to sync between two sizeable fatties.
At the very moment she arrives to deftly up-end me, I have to pull my trick of bending my right leg to topple over. She crashes into my fat and rebounds back out. I like her feigning surprise at my springiness; we often repeat the bounce several times.
I adore her rolling me over and bumping me up against one or two of my other mates.
Finally she’ll end up astride me, sinking deep in my fat, pretending to ride my vast tub of blubber into combat.
I’ve procured a whip and am encouraging her to crack the whip vigorously at the same time as kicking into me so as to spur me on.

You can imagine this is so much more fun because, to conserve our uniforms, we prefer to practice without them.
To tell the truth Aprile and I have got something good happening between us.

To be continued



Aged Member
Feb 8, 2007
Part 7 - Captain Evie reports on her Combat Squad

Vilhelmina and me have now gathered the full back story about our new partners from ‘Corporeal’ Simone. As a former Traffic Warden who’d suffered all kinds of abuse while attached to the Police, Simone has felt it a personal crusade to piece together and cross check all the various rumours about the Police she’d heard over the years.

It seems that for decades the Pannecotterra Police have hidden away this secretive cult collection of sadistically nurtured uselessly fat young Police Cadets deep-down underground behind the Police Headquarters.

Way back in the Mafia ridden post WWII years of food shortages, a big lure for boys to enrol as Police Cadets was all the conspicuous snacking and eating of pies while hanging about during boring initial trainee assignments. Being issued with larger and larger shirts, the fatter Cadets became the butts for cruel macho police practical jokes.

Those able to cope with the bullying would win promotion (Police Chief Scarpia himself comes from this pedigree; our Balloon Squad Superintendent Spazio is another).

Others, flabby overweight victims of a relentless cycle of abuse, would drop out of humiliating fitness routines. They’d hide away in the dark and, stashing more weight on in their misery, they’d grow compulsively grossly fat. Lurking in the dungeons of the former Inquisitor’s Palace, these sad pale lumps of lard were nothing more than Slaves.
Basically their lot was being forced into all the menial duties: emptying latrines, swilling out the cells and stables, scrubbing and cleaning, boiling soiled laundry, cookhouse slops and gardening drudgery.

A fortunate few hit upon a way out by totally super sizing themselves.
Burying himself within an ever expanding mass of blubber, a fat boy would dream of breaking through to a charmed life of idle luxury. He could be chosen to join a homo erotic elite of uselessly corpulent Fat Policemen secreted away in the inner quarters, kept solely for the sexual gratification of a select high ranking few.

More recently things have improved; as clever fat kids are lured into an ever growing specialist Police task force to spearhead anti Mafia cyber based crime; counter hostile nations’ computer hacking/corruption and extend computer-based surveillance work.
Nowadays, it is the brainiest young computer nerds recruited into the Fat Squad as deskbound IT freaks who morph up into the biggest of these heavyweights.

That said, even today, in every annual intake into the Police academy there will be at least one cadet overindulging, growing addicted to the snacking and eating part of basic police training. By ending up grossly fat, such a student could still fulfil the fundamental reason for selection
Whichever their route to being a Fat Policeman, the long term career path for such big guys is secure.

They may even get chosen for super-sizing up and training as one of “our” celebrity balloon squad partners.


I’m particularly happy to update you on Madame Olga Kokakolava, my rival - you may remember Vilhelmina had warned me she was trying to win over Tonia’s trust.

In keeping up with the rest of us weight gain regulars down in the underground spa, ‘ballerina’ Madame Olga’s legs became so grossly fat, she’s no longer capable of the short journey around the corner back home to her millionaire’s yacht.

Instead Spazio’s agreed to our 700lb “ballerina” boarding in permanently at the Police underground facility.
“I’m able to give myself to the job 24/7” Madame Olga explains proudly. But at least the blubbery great cow now gets less access to ‘my’ Tonia.

After Madame Olga finally conceded she’d got too fat to get back to his yacht, the billionaire Russian oligarch quickly identified a new project. He’s seduced a Bulgarian opera diva who we can actually hear thickening day by day aboard his yacht.

Sitting in the sun at the big first floor salon windows of our Palazzo Vilhelmina and I first caught sight of her from the rear, an extrovert big blonde, down on the Quayside. She’s a strikingly majestic figure, tall and stately; evidently proud of her spectacular size. She’s easily 450 lbs or more.

She’s extravagantly wide too: proportionally, the lower two thirds of her figure seems extra-large, compared to the top third – so much so that her hips are a wide undulating tableland of quivering soft fat as a plinth for the stack of fat rolls that are her torso.

Her head seems smaller again, perched atop broad expanses of creamy shoulder flesh. Though a double chin was evident, there were no rolls of fat around her neck. She wears her long wavy blonde hair artfully drawn to one side and twisted up fixed with a red rose in a tacky Spanish Carmen style.

The rest of her turn out is equally cheesy heavyweight opera diva. She wears full skirts, with layerings of black lace and silk swagged over shiny scarlet satin. Up top the black lace shawl like layerings, though covering her upper arms, dramatise those plushy exposed shoulders and (once she’d turned to display it) an impressive plunging cleavage.

Trailing in her wake, like a fussy little pilot launch attending a cruise liner, her FA male model escort trips along – lightly built with black hair gelled back along his skull. Exquisitely presentedwith fashionable mustaches and goatee amidst dramatically dark designer stubble,he gets totally absorbed in ensuring her trouble free navigation of the potentially hazardous quayside.

As she brushed against something the little man immediately leapt forward to dust her pillowy right hip free of some imagined dirt.

Stopping and swivelling around trying to peer over her immense stern the vast woman yanked up her layers of full skirts. Comfortable Birkenstock sandals were momentarily glimpsed under great fat 9 inch wide calves while the little latino man disappeared completely from view beneath the billowing waves of buttock fat frothy black lace and scarlet silk.

“Phwoar! I’d like his job” said Vilhelmina, sniggering in my ear.


Our link withthe Balloon Squad continues to blossom – OK, I’ll grant you its helped by Madame Olga’s creative direction.

The so called “elite fighters” we have to challenge and “fight” are such lovely gentle guys, perfectly round and hairless - so fat they are scarcely able to walk.

Aprile and Bliss have fallen for two of the biggest: Rolo and Cosmo. Its sweet how both couples are so in love.
Of course this alarmed Vilhelmina, but I accuse her of being a great fat dominating lesbian wanting to control all us women – its perfectly natural, I told her, for healthy young girls to dream about boyfriends.
Vilhelmina replied that Spazio was worried too - but I said “Of course he will be. The gross hairy bastard is jealous. He’s the mirror image of you about all “his lovely fat boys”.

Working with such huge round puff balls of soft fat has proved a real fun push over.
The Balloon Squad seem to exist simply to be sat on dominated and punished by whoever engages with them.

Mind you, they are endlessly pampered and ministered to by squads of Police trainers who feed wash and dress them and help with their uniforms. Vilhelmina says its like teams of mechanics swarming around race cars.

On our working days Madame Olga rehearses everyone from a stout ‘Director’s chair’ in the Police spa; she no longer gets to train us at our Palazzo.
It pisses me off if she deigns occasionally to descend into our warm-up body oiling and ‘hug in’ sessions during rehearsals. Of course (as Vilhelmina never fails to point out) she’ll always work her way up close against Tina to ‘jokingly’ compare her gross legs with Tina’s loveliness.

Madame Olga’s developed a variety of plot lines and screen plays for our videos. Vilhelmina as our Business representative, reckons Scarpia the Police Chief has to vet them all, and offers ‘suggestions’.

Here’s a screen play from one of our current high rating series:

The Balloon Squad are filmed being prepared and dressed in beautifully pressed pale blue Police short sleeve shirts tucked into huge navy trousers tailored to fit over their bellies.
During the Presenter’s compulsively urgent commentary they get individually trolleyed out and lined up for detailed inspection. Spazio, whip in hand, decked out in dress uniform and riding boots, struts around his prize specimens. He uses the whip to ‘tickle’ and highlight parts of the Dough Boys as they are commented on by the Presenter.

Meanwhile our preparations are also videoed. Unlike the Balloon Squad, we are expected to dress ourselves - helping one another. This is getting more tiring as we three heavyweight members are becoming less and less mobile. Vilhelmina continues relentlessly piling weight onto us.
She and the Presenter delight in calling attention to this: Simone is near 700 lbs these days, Tonia 600lbs and me? Well I’m now well over 500lbs.

The cameras like to show how breathless we get doing the simplest things like raising our arms to get our shirts on.

The three girls have been growing too. Though all three are now over 400 lbs, they are still expected to dress big Auntie Simone and Tonia.

To help us in dressing and getting ready, Vilhelmina has introduced Ursola, one of her favourite chefs from the kitchen at the Palazzo.
But fat little ‘Soli’ prefers naughtily to interpret her role as keeping us (and herself) fully topped up as we toil at readying ourselves.
Soli bustles around dolling out deep fried titbits; she’ll plop them directly into my mouth with a little dab of her napkin (and maybe a tiny peck of a kiss). As the Presenter notes: it’s generally two treats for us, then one for herself.

I’ve noticed how the cameras are increasingly enjoying Soli. She does look sweet busying about in her loose pale blue chef’s pyjamas. She’s short and she’s all belly – a nice big three ringer. She has to lean back to balance everything - with her tits all wobbly and lolling around on top, right under her nose and chins.

When we are all primped up and ready we also get announced one by one.

Tonia appears on camera first, she wears a magnificent cream coloured lace and chiffon dress and gets assisted across to her white grand piano. Not everyone may be aware that her crinoline skirt is filled out to 100% capacity by Tonia’s below-waist immensity and with her gigantic squashy fat legs.
Once Tonia’s lower body has been arranged around her on a stout bench to her satisfaction, off she will plunge crashing out dramatic piano chords as a prelude to a classic silent film style non-stop piano accompaniment.

Unlike Tonia, I am still able make a point of marching on aggressively as Captain of my Combat Squad. I stamp to attention, all aquiver, then I introduce my uniformed ‘officers’ - in reverse order – because we can all march on except for Corporeal Simone. Amidst wild canned applause and wolf whistles her celebrated buttocks will be trollied on.
Once Simone is in place, I step forward, and advance down my Squad showcasing the way our spectacular corpulence is compressed into our uniforms. I keep being reminded to draw attention to any gappiness and splitting seams. These days to help with this screen effect our uniforms are made of a much lighter material, though we still maintain exactly the same colour and style.

I proceed over to Spazio who is positioned in front of his line up. I square up to him, my massive breasts mashed deep into his paunch (once I actually managed to barge him over backwards in amongst his Balloon Boys).

I challenge Spazio formally to Combat!

Next Spazio marches over to direct his ‘Trainers’ arrange the Balloon Boy squad across the rubber mat into a battle pattern he’s decided upon for today.
As the camera roves across the lines of combatants with a voice over talking-up each protagonist in turn, the Presenter’s voice goads viewers into placing bets on line about how long the “combat” will last, who will be the first to be tumbled and who will be the last left standing.
But there’s never any betting on which team wins – because we always do!

When the Presenter blows the whistle we all pitch in – maybe not at the speed of light exactly, nevertheless we’ve been trained to display a threatening ‘massive’ resolve.
Combat proceeds a bit like a ponderous game of bowls or skittles.

We need to topple the Balloon Boys, roll them over, then sit and bounce on them. But remember we big fat girls have hardly any endurance and must not look like we’re using our brains - just simply use our body weight.

So the skill is in us big SSBWs concealing how we quickly have to read the way the ‘enemy’ has been positioned and figure out how our squad can tumble the softies in the least tiring, energy draining way.
Simone and me will usually try to take out and sit on about three between us before we’re knackered and done for.
Meanwhile Delia, Aprile and Bliss will have been exhausting themselves prancing about tumbling the outliers.

But the threesome still have to reserve enough energy to end the show by rolling all us combatants up into a heap together, before thoroughly squashing and punishing us.
Our uniforms reduced to tatters, there’s a quick shot of Spazio in spotless uniform shouting the order ‘cut’! with a whip crack.

At last its over, everyone lies totally exhausted.

The Police Trainers attend to the Balloon Squad, barrowing most away for R&R, maybe a number for attention to bruises.
We just wait to have sweet little Soli arrive and circulate with a welcome refreshments trolley

But on ‘filming’ days it is always such fun afterwards as we all get stuffed up together – even with Madame bloody Olga joining with us.

To be continued


Aged Member
Feb 8, 2007
Part 8 - an invitation for Captain Evie

A really weird thing has been happening these past few days. Police Chief Scarpia has been coming down to the Spa; he makes a point of stopping to sit by me and chatting me up. I didn’t like him the first time we met and I ain’t taking no shit from him now either - but I will say he’s persistent.

He’s clearly smitten by big fat black ladies; he’s admitted as much. But I just heft my massive hooters into his face and go “So who isn’t?”

Now he’s trying a new line – feeding me a sob story about his ’poor little boy’ upbringing.
Simone’s persuaded me to encourage this, so she can dig more dirt.

There’s more of the poor abused fat kids crap I told you of before; then he starts on: there are ones ‘like me’ who pull themselves up by their own bootstrings and strength of character blah blah blah…zzz
But I pricked up my ears when he got to telling me about his partner Marilyn – because she’s apparently a Ghanaian. That’s just next door to the Ivory Coast, where I came from.

He told me how they’d met when she was a waitress at the Café Braunzucker (actually more and more I wish I’d made it along to that cafe, but it was always a bit too far across town for a big girl like me to get to in a couple of off-duty hours).
He reckons she’d had him hooked from the first. He was besotted by her recklessly wanton weight gain. I scoffed at the rates of gain he was quoting.
“No one does that” I said and, barging him heavily in the side for emphasis, adding “this little lot’s taken me 20 years or more”.

In my peripheral vision I saw all the others in the background stop Gobsmacked after I’d pushed at him.
No one ever did that to the Chief of Police.
But Scarpia had clearly enjoyed it.
He licked his lips and, leaning closer, whispered: “I’ve not got a hair on my body”.

It was my turn to be Gobsmacked. I said nothing.

I’ll show you when I take you to meet Marilyn, she really admires you. She’s seen all your videos. She says you’re like her - a survivor; reckons you speak her local language.

“She speaks Anyin?” I asked involuntarily.

“She’s from close to the Ivory Coast….”

“Aha! Then she’s right!” I laughed with surprise.

I suppose I’d relaxed, flattered by the praise.
He beckoned across for a coffee; two double espressos arrived along with his usual tray of Braunzucker pastries.
He seemed to have changed, somehow he’d softened…

“Marilyn’s been the instigator of all this” – Scarpia gesticulated around at the pool, the gym, the shooting gallery and all the Balloon Boys relaxing around our training mat.
“The Police Department back in the old days was really grim – like: this was where all us fat kids hid - in the old Inquisitor’s dungeons.

I looked around and remembered Simone’s stories about the old days.

Scarpia added:
“One of my former Police colleagues, enjoying all the changes she was making said ‘your Marilyn has a limitless capacity for indulging policemen’s fantasies, she really knows how to keep all her Police boys “home and happy.”
Turning to look me straight in the face Scarpia said
“Nowadays, thanks to your linking up with us, our health and recreational facility even makes a profit – and like you all it continues to grow!”

He got up to leave saying
“So my lovely Marilyn wishes me to invite you to tea. She’s looking forward to comparing notes.”


Vilhelminha and Simone were all agog about this when I told them about my invite back at the Palazzo. They prised every last jounce of detail out of our afternoon’s cakes and espressos tete a tete

Simone insisted I should accept.
Vilhelminha said she should accompany me – as CEO of UgsistiCs - ‘Uniformed Girl Security team in Combat’ or some such bullshit silly name.
I told her I would just be going along by myself - also that we’d both be talking in Anyin – so forget it!

The next day there was a message for me up at the Police spa: I was to be met by an escort in the Chief of Police’s private lift foyer in the spa at 16.00H the following day.

Though we normally slop around informally on practice days in just big loose scruffy tee shirts, long enough to hide our ‘bits’, for going out to tea with my new ‘friend’, Vilhelminha and Soli primped me up good in my ‘best’ purple and yellow uniform.

I felt good strutting my stuff across out into the Chief of Police’s lift foyer, where sure enough, fat Policeman Bosco was awaiting me.

We descended maybe just one stop (compared to going down back home) and he helped me out into an extraordinary limestone cave, theatrically lit. He gestured across to a great glittering bowl with a cascade of water dropping down across the back. I was taken aback by the sight but when I turned back to him, Bosco had vanished; ascending back away in the lift.

I heard Scarpia shouting from the pool and advanced towards it. There he was in the water demonstrating his weirdly pale fat hairless nudity for me. He gesticulated over towards the cascade where I could vaguely make out a vast shape of a similar colour to me.
“Go and meet Marylyn” he said and letting go off the rim of the pool, he dog paddled across and under the cascade.
I managed to walk around the side until I was being splashed by the cascade.
“You’ll need to get out of that beautiful uniform Captaine Yvette Abusanje” a deep voice called to me in Anyin, and after a loud happy laugh, added “Come in and join me, we need to talk. It’s beautiful in here!”

I replied tentatively, unsure quite how I’d strip off without getting my shirt and pants all wet. Two sylph like girls materialized and began gently to divest me of shirt, bra and pants. As a third bore my uniform away, ‘my’ two helped me step in under the cascade.
Good Grief! It was warm!

to be continued


Aged Member
Feb 8, 2007
Part 9 - is the Big Boss Marilyn ?

I looked around for my host, all I saw was hairless fat blob Scarpia half embedded in a kind of liver coloured watery, well… soft liver is all I can say it all looks and feels like.

Scarpia looked up, appraising my nakedness and laughed. “This is all our lovely Marilyn” he said drawing his hand through the watery soft liver for emphasis, then added “as you can see, she’s rather bigger than you!”

“Step in and get close to me” Marilyn called invitingly to me in Anyin, “don’t be shy, just push in and move into me. You’ll enjoy our get together - I promise you”

I began advancing. As I slid my foot forward down the mosaic tiles into the shallow water I felt a pleasant tickly sensation as the slippery soft liver began parting around my carves. I noted it was a lighter palm nut colour than my own purply black big body. Reflecting about this, I stepped further…. into nothingness. I overbalanced into what I now felt was like warm chocolate blancmange. But it did feel relaxing.
“Yes this really is all me,” Marilyn giggled in our language, “I’ve no idea how big I am anymore – but I do love it. Especially when somebody comes and joins me.”

“But I can’t tell anything about you” I said stupidly, “where you begin, where do you end?” Marilyn laughed again “don’t worry no-one can – not even me!”
“Where’s your face?”
“Its over here”

Scarpia cut in with “what’s Evie saying to you?”
Marilyn’s reply also came in Italian “She’s asking exactly what you keep wanting to know”.
Scarpia snorted, took a deep breath then rolled over and disappeared down out of sight under the brown liver-in-water.

Marilyn’s voice cried in Anyin “Scarpia’s trying to nobble me, I can tell.” She laughed before adding “but I can tell you, he’s nowhere near the right place.”

This time I giggled, “its like one of our forest proverbs about the advantages of young girls with big bottoms.”
Marilyn laughed raucously “Ah yes… I remember – she’s the best hi-life dancer in town but she’s still her daddy’s virgin daughter!”
We started exchanging West African proverbs and laughing.

I forgot about my awkwardness about not being able to ‘read her body language’ and we just went on talking and laughing and talking still more. I hadn’t spoken so much in my own language for perhaps twenty years or more.

We covered a wide range of topics. While trading one another’s bios and experiences I picked up a few revealing titbits about how all this spa development came about. I’ll try to remember it all for Simone.

Eventually Marilyn said “Ooh! We’re quite forgetting tea! What do you take?

I looked about me, could see no sign of tea, coffee or of cakes, so asked “what do you usually take?”
“The girls will give me a tube” Marilyn replied. ”Maybe you would you like to try one?”

“Maybe…” I repeated doubtfully.
As usual Marilyn was laughing at whatever I said.
She was right: “I can tell you are wondering what its like” she commented,
“just relax and the girls will do it all for you. Would you like something from back home?”
“Back home?”
“Yes every day I take fufu with gravy by tube, also cassava, yam, palm nut soup, or yam.
But you can also take European: the usual Italian pastas; vedura purees and sweets.”
“Yam is for men wanting to jack up their virility” I joked, “but I’ve not taken fufu since France.”

One of the young girls appeared, tube in hand and slipped it into my mouth.
“Just suck and it will start” she said.
I did so and the wonderful oily smokey glutinous fermented taste of childhood slid down my throat. I was relishing it so much that only later did I register the young girl had spoken my own language to me !

“So you like my fufu? I’m feeding on it too” I heard Marilyn say.

I thought – how’s she able to speak with this tube in her mouth?

Scarpia wriggled past me grinning
“Because they are feeding her differently to you and me”
he explained before disappearing down again. I did wonder: how had he just read my thoughts?

Some moments later I felt the whole chocolate womb I was lying in quivering and shake. Momentarily it gripped around me; and there was a great prolonged cry of a woman climaxing – this time Scarpia had hit the target.

I was gently relieved of my tube by the girl and I relaxed. I’d no idea of time as I drifted into sleep.


I woke up back in the Police spa; it was 22.00 hours.
I was naked, lying in a recliner alongside our practice mat, my uniform neatly folded by me, together with one of my usual slopping around tee shirts.

Trying to sit up, I discovered my stomach to be pumped up hard. It was like a great iron dome; I gasped at its size.

Two of the Police trainers noting my discomposure, came across and helped dress me. They had to tug the straining tee shirt down over my belly.
Vilhelmina and the others from the Palazzo had all gone home long before this time, so they very kindly summoned a team to take me home.

Even though it was approaching midnight when I got back to the Palazzo, Vilhelmina fell on me immediately exclaiming
“Mein Gott! Your gut! Evie, you look like you swallowed a whole Beetle!

OK she meant an old VW and was exaggerating.
All the same ‘in just going out for tea’, I’d loaded on an extra 20 lbs.


Following my extraordinary afternoon, as you can probably guess, there were two major outcomes:
First of all Simone’s narrative about the Pannecotterra Police and its underworld, I’d found to be topsy turvy.
Marilyn is the secret underworld Big Boss; Scarpio merely her puppet-on-a-string. He dances to her tune – a ham actor playing a ludicrous Baddy in a 1950s French B movie.
It is Marilyn who has master minded all we enjoy – the whole underground Police spa. She freed our Balloon Boys for unlimited career growth. And right now the profits from our on-line videos are growing exponentially.

Second outcome: Marilyn is messaging me constantly - pressuring me to return, maintain contact, continue our fun relationship. She’s now adamant our intimate Anyin get-togethers should become a regular weekly meet up.
Both Scarpio and Spazio are pressing me hard too – Scarpio has his usual sob story approach ‘Marilyn’s so lonesome without you’.

Naturally all at the Palazzo are insisting I accept. From a business angle I’d be right at the centre where the big decisions get made.
Vilhelmina says this would easily slot into our weekly routine of rehearsing and filming.

So I grab at some of my nearer belly rings to emphasise one really big downside for me:
Weight Gain!

I’d done the math, so I said “Meeting up weekly with Marilyn I’d be gaining over 100lbs every three months.”

No one looked like this mattered.
“But In six months I’d be even fatter than you Simone!” and I bunted one of her colossal half exposed fat buttocks. It all continued jiggling for maybe 6 or 7 seconds.

And you know what? They all just laughed…

to be concluded


Aged Member
Feb 8, 2007
Part 10 - Vilhelmina takes final stock

Down in the underworld, Madame Olga forever boasts about Spazio appointing her as the full time ‘live-in’ choreographer to “her“ Dough Boys.
In truth she has been sucked down deep into the honey trap sprung by our secret Police hierarchy. She will never be permitted by Superintendent Spazio ever to emerge to tell of its secrets and depravity.

What I’ve realised is that we in the Uniformed Women’s’ Combat Squad are also being sucked into a similar fate. Moreover, perversely we are increasingly taking pleasure in the process!
We’ve always loved the sensuality of our ever swelling bodies; now we’re slowly but inexorably quickening our descent into that inviting honey trap. We are desensitised, hypnotised into immobilising ourselves in our own fat.

Most days we make our ever more profitable weight gain videos with the Balloon Squad. However the web site is most careful never to give any clues about the location of our antics.

And our three young girls never ever did go out clubbing.

Instead, all three found boyfriends within the Balloon Squad and, thanks to Captain Evie’s romantic French notions, they are fusing ever closer romantic bonds.

Talking of Captain Edie - she, Tina, and Corporeal Simone, as well as me, are now extravagantly fat - far too loaded down in fact, to possibly contemplate walking out unaided along the Quayside.

So none of us actual leave our Palazzo anymore …..except via the basement umbilical cord to the Secret Police underworld, aided by our Police Feeder/Helpers mobility team.

Nowadays Spazio has given us a Police Guard on the front of our Palazzo. I have to remind myself they must be there to keep us in (although, with my growing immobility, I’m inconvenienced only in my head).
Because of what we now know, the Police - whoever Evie maintains is in overall charge - are never going to allow us back out into the ordinary everyday outside world to blab about the corrupting pleasures of our secret dark Pannecotterra underworld.


After nearly 6 months the “Roosje Jelle” refit was finally completed and Captain Grieta (who’d mostly stayed with her ship) moved her along to the berth opposite our Palazzo, ready for embarking and for departure. But Koenraad and the rest of the ship’s complement of crew and plumpening ‘passengers’ remained in our Palazzo unable to go aboard since, as I explained to Koenraad, they too are effectively under House Arrest along with us.

Koenraad hadn’t sussed this before and, outraged by the confinement, was intent on protesting to the Authorities.

‘Corporeal’ Simone, with long experience of local bureaucracy, argued that any protest would no doubt trigger the issue of a formal Government restraining order on some trumped up charge.
In agreeing with her, we suggested it would be easier to somehow distract the guard, enabling the “Roosje Jelle” group to slip past and out of the Palazzo, cross the quay and sail away. The Authorities would be too embarrassed by such a simple ruse to give any real hassle.

It went like this:
Over a week had past. The guards had forgotten the mooring up of the “Roosje Jelle”.
Just before midnight Simone, Tina and Evie began a commotion in the entrance hall of the Palazzo.
They pretended they were arguing over who was the girlfriend of whom and started fighting noisily.

The three lighter girls arrived in their nighties and made even more noise trying to pull the heavyweights apart. Delia went to the main door pleading for assistance from the Police guards.
The two guards, unlocking the main door, burst in to find our celebrated Security Corps in a state of dishabille, struggling volubly, and apparently violently, in a corner behind some pillars.

The two fat Police guards waded in, trying to restrain the really big threesome. Simone (as usual she’d quickly ‘lost’ her uniform pants) ‘accidentally’ fell over backwards onto one of the guards. She adroitly plonked herself right down on his chest, obscuring him completely beneath her giant naked buttocks.
Evie ‘fell’ across the other’s legs and Tina, in joining her, carefully positioned her vast bottom end over the Police guard’s head and upper body.

Along with the lighter two girls, they all began acting the fool. They raucously tried to stop one another from being flustered and to disengage, while at the same time, carefully maintaining a thoroughly all-inclusive squashing.

As lookout, Delia stayed out of it, only giving the signal to calm it once she was sure the last of the “Roosje Jelle” escapees had crept past the pile of writhing fat women, left the building and crossed the quay.

She remembered to push the heavy Palazzo doors shut while the big ladies slowly disentangled themselves and, in extricating their traumatised ‘squashees’, began thanking the two guards profusely for coming to their assistance.
However, the fat Policemen, in particular Simone’s giant buttocks’ squashee, remained in a state of shock.

The two Policemen were pleased to be invited inside and were revived with tumblers of brandy.
Feeling ‘comforted’ by continuing soft squashing and the proximity of warm womanhood, Sergeant Bruno and Constable Arlo drifted happily off into oblivion. The pair slept like babes in arms among the threesome’s spectacular soft contours.

Sergeant Bruno and Constable Arlo became our firm friends. Sergeant Bruno’s daughter wants to join our ‘Combat Squad’ when she finishes her College Media Studies course. Carrying her picture, he says proudly she takes after her dad - over 300 lbs already - and very pretty.
Constable Arlo’s girlfriend is one of our in-house caterers, so it’s not surprising the Constable gets repeated cautions for nearing 400 lbs.

Whenever they are on guard duty, friends can come and go. No one has ever checked on just how many of us are in the Palazzo.

And nothing was ever mentioned about the departure of Captain Grieta’s little ship.
These days we all watch Koenraad’s new Security Corps on line. He’s back with just two big expanding girls again and they carry on snacking on duty in the same purple trousers, but with orange shirts.

The Palazzo nowadays has a dignified brass COPS plate fixed outside– so I’m told, alongside the main doorway.
Corporate Operations Projects within the Pannecotterra Police is an ‘expanding digital competence’. I originally brainstormed the COPs title for which I’ve received stick from everyone for its vacuous absurdity.

And so with this, our Palazzo has finally been annexed by the Pannecotterra Police.
We’ve all been totally swallowed up.

However, I’m far too fat to care anymore, I’m lying among my original Security Squad recruits, all of us now immobile.

I ought to fill you in a little more about us.
Thanks to Evie’s close relationship with Scarpia’s life partner Marilyn, it seems Evie, Tina, Simone and me have all qualified to join Marilyn in the lower level in the luxurious underground spa.

Now I’ve got to know her, maybe Marilyn is better characterised as more a concept than an actual woman – she’s like a cumulous cloud 10-15 metres or more across, and floats in this enormous silver mosaic glittering bowl.

She’s originally from West Africa like Evie, and met up with Scarpia while working at Café Braunsucker.

Now we’ve moved in with her, we all communicate via an intercom, I hear Marilyn speaking in German, but she and Evie hear me in their language – weird!

Marilyn’s got us master-minding a project to buy a redundant cruise liner La Vita Ronde with our internet money. Its to be anchored offshore as a permanent home for COPS .

Floating in our big bowl is so marvellously relaxing that it almost feels like I’m melting slowly into a beautiful trance..
But I’m still as interested in food as ever. Realizing what I like, the sweet girls who help us with our feeding tubes have been procuring some of my favourite East European goulashes and dumplings!
Sheer Ecstasy!

Evie says Marilyn has explained to her that the pleasant dissolving feeling is the special spa water actually softening us.

But Marilyn doesn’t pretend to know what will eventually happen to us all. Talking to her, she told me that given time, she hopes we will all be big and slippery like her.
Pressed further, she suggests we may possibly finish-up coming together! Blending as one.

I remember this was what Bliss and Aprile always wanted, only they won’t be in a position to notice any more. Like us, they get fed through tubes nowadays - locked into permanent sixty nines with their respective balloon boys. Totally away in fantasy land!

Fair enough, I say. Nobody knows for sure how its all going to end….

Being German I’m always searching for meanings, links and consequences.

Maybe imprisonment in this honey trap for all eternity Is my punishment for lusting after Captain Evie and Corporeal Simone in their outrageously provocative fat-girl Traffic Warden uniforms. My abducting them initiated this whole fantasy trip.

The End

fat hiker

Well-Known Member
Oct 25, 2005
Ottawa, ON
This is quite the series! Odd characters, in some some ways, but a lovely sequence of events, with rich descriptions.


Aged Member
Feb 8, 2007
Many thanks for those comments - a fair summing up of a series I was pleased to be done with.
Odd characters certainly - but I do enjoy penning the descriptions; they are all of real places in the southern Med.

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