Cakes and a Sugar Plum ~SSBWs lust

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Aged Member
Feb 8, 2007
Cakes and a Sugar Plum

One of my favourite Dimensions stories is Cakes and Innocence.
I could hardly believe that in real life I’d happened upon a lovely earnest young woman at the mercy of her aunt’s irresistible life-changing cakes - not down in Cornwall but in a beautiful Suffolk tea garden.

Impeccably turned out in a spectacular flame-red tight dress “my” Sugar Plum was on duty standing behind a central reception desk and till at the tea room and garden.

For our foursome (I was driving my old dad out for the day along with his pair of old biddie girlfriends all in their 80s) the garden seemed a really promising find, newly created using mature pleached trees – green walls in the sky – in the re-worked backyards of an old country town. It was just inland from Southwold and a very prosperous strip of Suffolk coast popular with the well to do week-end country cottage set escaping out of London.

The dusty sunbeams of a late summer afternoon splashed across Sugar Plum and the various cakes loaded into the sparkling glass cases around her.
I judged her to be in her early twenties, lovely looking with raven black hair, a flawless pale skin and beautifully made-up big dark eyes.

I enquired were seats available in the garden and she said
“Yes of course. Please do go and find a table. Someone will come and take your order.”

Then she added, smiling sweetly:
“Though why don't I talk you through our lovely cakes first?”

“That would be sensible” I replied and dispatched my relatives to claim a table..

She began with a mighty Victoria sandwich with a seriously thick clotted cream filling and fresh raspberries.
As she leant over down towards it, my eyes swung away off piste into a delicious cleavage emphasised by the square low bodice cut of her red dress. I saw how a sensual slim gold chain was snaking between the softly rippling tops of plump white breasts.


Had my peripheral vision caught something even more startling? The merest flash of Big and RED?

Between the continual coming and going of plump older ladies pushing past to get to the till, I fancied I’d spotted low down at desk level the re-appearance of the tight flame-reddress shockingly far behind where, above counter level, it was politely showcasing a pretty trim red torso!


So often this has proved to be an illusion [FONT=&quot]–[/FONT] simply a jacket of the same material slung over a seat back perhaps, or a red file on the table behind being also caught fleetingly by the sun.

A second sighting confirmed things for real.
There it was [FONT=&quot]–[/FONT] and it was all Sugar Plum! She owned an extraordinarily fat ballooning backside barely contained by the tight red dress. As my exquisite goddess turned around to share her enjoyment of a lemon cream sponge, I witnessed the joyful wobbling of a simply enormous bottom and saddle bag hips bulging joyfully out every which way behind.

I'd clean forgotten the cakes. Now I had eyes only for this Super Pear.
I tried to scope Sugar Plum’s lower figure and was rewarded with a side view of an excitingly extravagant S shape. And the little red dress finished high and tight around her creamy thighs, more or less where the under curve of that improbably fat bottom mashed into the back of a thunder thigh.
Just tucked below the desk, adjacent to Sugar Plum’s excessively protuberant red tummy bulge, was a plate with crumbs and the remains of a pile of profiteroles plus a pastry fork

Sugar Plum had caught me checking out all the incriminating details.

I put my index finger to the corner of my mouth. Following my gesture, an elegantly manicured finger tip collected a smidgen of cream from the corner of her [FONT=&quot]“[/FONT]puck[FONT=&quot]’[/FONT]s bow[FONT=&quot]”[/FONT] of red lipstick. After the shortest of inspections she sucked it delicately away.

Sugar Plum winked naughtily , remarking she could recommend the profiteroles.

[FONT=&quot]“[/FONT]And that chocolate cake too?[FONT=&quot]”[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]“[/FONT]Ah! [FONT=&quot]…[/FONT].Yes why not[FONT=&quot]”[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]“[/FONT]Oh Dear, I[FONT=&quot]’[/FONT]m spoilt for choice[FONT=&quot]”[/FONT] I said.

[FONT=&quot]“[/FONT]We all are! Especially all of us actually working here.[FONT=&quot]”[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]“[/FONT]My aunt likes us to cut into all her cakes at the beginning of the afternoon [FONT=&quot]–[/FONT] so customers don[FONT=&quot]’[/FONT]t feel like they ought not to start a new one[FONT=&quot]”[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]“[/FONT]So[FONT=&quot]…[/FONT] it[FONT=&quot]’[/FONT]s really really difficult to stay slim[FONT=&quot]…”[/FONT] her voice tailed off.

[FONT=&quot]“[/FONT]But you look wonderful![FONT=&quot]”[/FONT] I countered, [FONT=&quot]“[/FONT]and you are so welcoming.[FONT=&quot]”[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]“[/FONT]Yes but you[FONT=&quot]’[/FONT]ve noticed what goes on down behind the counter[FONT=&quot]”[/FONT] she put her hands down on the extremities of her hips.
[FONT=&quot]“[/FONT]And, like, I[FONT=&quot]’[/FONT]ve only been here since I finished uni last year. My aunt offered me it [FONT=&quot]…[/FONT] until I find a proper job. You can probably tell how it[FONT=&quot]’[/FONT]s the same with all aunty Pru[FONT=&quot]’[/FONT]s waitresses.[FONT=&quot]”[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]“[/FONT]I shall make a point of mentioning you in Trip Advisor[FONT=&quot]”[/FONT] I said.

[FONT=&quot]“[/FONT]That[FONT=&quot]’[/FONT]s sweet of you[FONT=&quot]”[/FONT] she smiled.

But then she added [FONT=&quot]“[/FONT]Actually a lot of people mentioned me already [FONT=&quot]–[/FONT] one man even said I[FONT=&quot]’[/FONT]m a [FONT=&quot]‘[/FONT]natural[FONT=&quot]’[/FONT] at promoting our tea room[FONT=&quot]’[/FONT]s specialities.[FONT=&quot]”[/FONT]

He[FONT=&quot]’[/FONT]s damn right, she is. I thought to myself.

[FONT=&quot]“[/FONT]Well I[FONT=&quot]’[/FONT]d better get back to my party to tell them what is on offer[FONT=&quot]”[/FONT] I said

[FONT=&quot]“[/FONT]You[FONT=&quot]’[/FONT]re welcome[FONT=&quot]”[/FONT] she replied.

I saw her turn back to the cakes[FONT=&quot]…[/FONT]. it seemed like a slice of coffee walnut might be about to follow the profiteroles.

When we left, the garden had emptied, I saw my Sugar Plum had left.

Walking back to the car park I caught sight of her waddle up to and struggle to pack herself in behind the driving wheel of a VW Caddy van.

It had a floral lemon yellow and mauve vinyl pattern applied over the basic white van paint announcing Pleached Tree Garden, Cream Teas, Home made Cakes and Pastries; Orders Taken; Events Catered for. Prudence Blouson prop.

I took note of

to be continued


Aged Member
Feb 8, 2007

Part 2 - Cakes and a Sugar Plum

Later that night I checked out the site, an exhaustive array of plush looking photos of all Aunt Pru’s offerings including bespoke enormous birthday cakes and witty little cup cake collections.

What the hell, I thought and pressed ‘contact’.

I concocted a request for a quote for catering for a TV film shoot and clicked my way gleefully through ‘themed‘ cup cakes, tied into a big central themed cake and some standards: a Chocolate cake, a lemon cream sponge, and the raspberry cream Victoria sponge – and remembering Sugar Plum turning towards the coffee and walnut, I clicked that too.

I went to bed dreaming happily of that extreme contrast between demure pure top and outrageously explicit enormous bottom.

About 10.00am next morning I had Aunt Pru on the phone wanting more information about my ‘event’.
I just had to wing it…. I told her it was a Test Shoot for casting a new TV show. ….and it was to be in London.

London? But that’s over an hour and a half away!

So do you not deliver that far? I was so hoping you might because we’d called in to the marvelous tea garden and it was all so perfect.

There were the sounds of fluster at the far end.” He says he wants it laid on in London”
“Well we can do that…. Aunty… Let me speak to him...”

Hello! This is Alicia Russell, I do the setting up for special events. How can we help you? Tell me more about how you’d like it presented?

Could you tell from her voice she was so beautifully trim on top… but below… oh!

Concentrate. Concentrate...

I shaped my mouth into smooth talking Corporate mode…
“Alicia Russell? Ah, you must be the lady I spoke to yesterday – you explained all the cakes…”

“Oh Right! The profiteroles? And the chocolate cake and everything…” she giggled “I’m glad you seem to have enjoyed it.”

We talked for twenty minutes or more. I repeated all the TV test shoot stuff.
No, it’s not casting for a drama series, but for News and Current Events.

Despite her advice, I stuck with my all sweet order – adding strawberries dipped in bitter chocolate - mixed in with plain ones. She was required to have set-up in an address just off York Way, London N1 by 11.30am - in just over one week’s time.

I’d sprung my Honey Trap!
The address was my apartment-cum-studio;
Sugar Plum Alicia was the only candidate;
She was guaranteed to be offered the job…
No! No! Not just any old job…
I am able to offer Alicia the ‘Proper job’ she’d been seeking all through those long months.

She’d disclosed how she’d spent since last summer training for it.
Now she’s in such Great Shape, she fulfills my mental Job Description precisely,
Correction: Alicia now actually surpasses that Job Description.

Alicia is the ideal person to grow with the job.

I’d better introduce myself: I’m Cecil Spender, 47, of no actual fixed address because I’m a tax exile.
People call me Cess or these days Soss because they say I’m turning into a greasy overweight blob (270 odd lbs.); some even think its jokey calling me Suspender;

Helping people ‘Realise their Dreams’ and all that sort of crap is my livelihood. I’ve managed to survive living by my wits these past 20 years. So maybe I’m a ‘Procurement Consultant’ – freelance red trouser wearer.

One of my jobs that has been far too long hanging around on the ‘back burner’ is advising an Arab consortium on overhauling their private TV station.
Over the years their Channel had withered to nothing more than a grubby succession of porn videos put out on the web, or via aerial transmission in certain states. A bored overweight technician in a Rome bedsit loads a stack into a player then goes back to sleep or snacking until something (all too frequently) requires fixing.

I’ve been urging a wider range of easily syndicated programmes: sport: soccer; horse racing and also news, and current affairs, you know: things like stocks and investment packages; consumer shopping reviews; up-market property and tourism.

A major stumbling block has been identifying a link/continuity presenter. Its not that the job is onerous, the station is only on air for five hours a night in the Gulf, but finding just the right person is critical to the station’s revival.

Alicia I believe to be the ideal person to fill that role. Moreover she is bound to grow with the job.

And you can put that down to personal experience...

For example: my London address is actually owned by my girlfriend Susannah Pine-Knightley. I’ve grown her over the years from the naive athletic bronzed back packer I picked up in Thailand to a 300 lb plus confident entrepreneur. Suzie nowadays is a lovely big girl (6’ 6” on her heels) and ‘awfully posh’ - though bafflingly still willing to boss me about as my p.a. despite all my character defects.

I should warn you she does not take kindly to being called Su Pine.

to be continued


Aged Member
Feb 8, 2007
Part 3 - Cakes and a Sugar Plum

We stationed Alicia at the desk facing the camera, she composed herself, beamed at us and off she went reading unhurriedly from the teleprompt. It was uncanny to watch such a crisp image of an exquisitely made-up lovely young woman speaking directly and clearly – with never a hint of what lay concealed below the desk. Indeed there was a calming serenity about her screen presence.

Her great eyes seem to mesmerize the viewer in a close-up,
In a head and shoulders the fierce yellow of the dress contrasted marvelously with her ivory skin, black hair, the gold chain disappearing into the cleavage and that compulsively alluring red lipstick mouth.

George the Technician did several more takes of her talking to camera then the business of the day was declared finished. Alicia switched off; wilting all of a sudden as if she’d been plucked from her natural habitat. Energy sapped, she was helped by Su back out next door to refuel.

George expressed his astonishment at the simple power of the ‘talking head’ shots.
We’ve got to send all that video to the Client “in reverse order” I told George.
It will be a very much more shocking contrast if they simply see her upper body first.

As we pottered around selecting and readying shots to send off as a coherent video to the clients, I realised we were onto an absolute winner.

Now the problem lay in how to congratulate Alicia on being the ‘winning candidate’ without revealing she’d been conned. The best idea I could come up with was to hide behind the Supine form of my ample beloved – after all, that’s why I’d appointed her my p.a.
I always knew I could depend on Su.

And so it was: I caught up with the two of them ‘relaxing’ back in the “Green Room”. Su was already a wee bit squiffy on champagne, I’d noticed, when they’dfirst entered the TV studio.
Now they were both totally out of their brains.
They’d discarded top layers - Alicia’s yellow dress clearly had burst off - and were lying together on the sofa making out.
The morning’s spread lay in ruins, the cup cakes all gone, likewise the chocolate gateaux, the TV theme cake devastated.
We’d scoffed all the strawberries in the TV studio, but I’d returned several slices of cake we hadn’t eaten.

So I found a chilled bottle of sparkling wine, used it to wash down most of the TV theme cake remains then, leaning against the sofa where the two heavyweights were snoring noisily now, I too passed out.

Su woke me up at 2.30am the next morning, and with Alicia still snoring on the sofa behind my head, summoned me into the kitchen for a coffee and a confab.
In her floral pattern silk dressing gown Susannah Pitt-Pine cut an imposing figure. Though damping down a hang-over, stirring a glass of fizzing Alka-Seltzer, she was firmly in command.

Right Mr Greasy Suspenders, I’ve already told the amazing Alicia in there that the job is hers. I also explained before she went in for the video shoot what the job involves.

“Hang on Su….nobody knows what the job involves…yet”

“They do now – Alicia knows – and mee too!
I told her it was based in Pannecotterra and the TV station is run from a luxury serviced flat.”

“But it isn’t”, I protested – “its in Rome - a squalid single room in a highrise block way out in a grim concrete suburb.”

“Listen Greaseblob you’re losing your touch…you know very well those clients are going to rave over that video.
We can get our young Alicia set up for life by them - whatever happens to their grubby little private TV outfit.
Incidentally, I hope you’ve not sent any pornographic shots featuring Alicia to those bastides. She’s still an innocent – whatever she might choose to become later.”

Su’s comment about the porn angle had got me quickly scanning through in my mind the cuts we’d put together to send off. I’d included the close up of the burst apart dress – and of Su struggling to pull the yellow dress down over Alicia’s hip chaos. I also remembered there’d been a clear sight of her wearing a thong in an earlier full rear view.

“I‘ll give you a copy of what I sent off – you can judge for yourself.”

“Fair enough, but what about Alicia – are you going to tell her you’d been secretly filming us?”

“Um….Lets just give her the edited sequence of her in the TV Studio, she comes across so beautifully.”

“OK, her Aunt Pru and her mum will be pleased to see that. But sooner or later your little Sugar Plum’s going to rumble you, you dirty old man.”

Phew, that ‘dirty old man’ tag did sound a tad more ironic - like Su was back on my side.

Here’s what we’re going to do tomorrow: I’m going to drive Aunt Pru’s van up to Suffolk and get the train back. I shall give the video to Pru, telling her that Alicia has been called away urgently down to Pannecotterra to finalize things with the TV station.”


“No Butts for you fatso!
You’ve got to give ‘your little Sugar Plum’ the celeb treatment or she’ll get cold feet.
Get hold of a private jet. We’ll fly her down tomorrow night and stay in that 6 star place by the Casino. Then we can set her up in one of your ‘investment’ flats.”

True, I did have a lot going in Pannecotterra, the tiny Italian-speaking tax haven in the southern Med.
I’d had a share in an ‘on line’ gambling company down there. I’d made a pile and put it into real estate on the island – luxury newly built service flats that lie empty. I usually spend quite a bit of my tax exile year in one of my service flats .
A little known fact is that statistically, the island’s population is the fattest in the whole EU. And most useful for us, Arabic speakers can understand the local patois.

She’d got it all worked out! And it sort of fitted!
Like I said: I know I can always rely on my trusty p.a. Big Su

to be continued


Aged Member
Feb 8, 2007
Part 4 - Cakes and a Sugar Plum

Su went off early in the morning to reassure Aunt Pru with a detail briefing and to give her Alicia’s ‘talking head’ screen test video.

She arrived at the Pleached Tree Garden just after 9 to find Aunt Pru opening up for the cleaners. Evidently she’d dazzled Pru by launching into her best posh-posh Su Pine-Knightley act - her Big Girl hearty charm totally overwhelming the roly-poly country aunty.
Flustered by the news Su was bringing, Aunt Pru had pressed more and more of the Tea garden’s cakes into Su while they talked things through over coffee. As the Tea room staff arrived for work, Alicia’s video was run and re-run above their heads for their admiration.

Su learnt how Aunt Pru had been caring for her niece since a year before she went to uni. Apparently Alicia’s mum Kate, Pru’s younger sister was a sparky heavy lady (it ran in the family) conned by a succession of terrible men. Eventually she’d met a new man, big like herself, on the nearby American airbase but had gone off abroad with him when the base closed.

Aunt Pru disclosed how employers were rejecting her niece because of her weight problem. Su allayed her fears about this since Alicia would be based in Pannecotterra (implying all the swimming and sun would slim her down) and anyway as a TV announcer, only her head and shoulders would be in shot.

Su, using her iPad, ended by showing Pru what a wonderful holiday island Pannecotterra is. Taking advantage of the amazingly cheap cut price airlines, she should be sure to visit her niece, staying in her lovely sea side flat.
An excited Pru insisted on driving Su back down to Ipswich so as to catch the direct fast train back to London.

Thanks to this, Amazon Su was back in our flat by early afternoon.

Alicia had surfaced only about an hour before – extremely hung over. I’d helped her out to where she still sat looking totally ‘gone out’ at our kitchen table. Clad in one of Su’s shortie silk nighties, her enormous squishy lower half was overflowing a broad stool, flopping off on all sides any old how.
I’d been dosing Alicia with a succession of fizzing Alka-Seltzers.
Now waiting for them to take effect, I’d been lost in contemplating where exactly they may have percolated down to in all those swags and bundles of pale soft fat. At the moment the only sign of life in poor sweet Alicia was all that extraordinary dimply chaos quivering as she breathed.

Su snorted in disgust at coming upon me mentally wallowing around in Sugar Plum’s softness. My p.a. actually aimed a kick into my erection as she arrived - which very fortunately I managed to parry just at the last moment.

I began trotting out again for Su’s benefit all of what I’d been impatiently sharing with Alicia about the Clients’ responses to her/my video.
Poor zonked Alicia hadn’t registered anything about the Clients being wildly excited by the video. I was able to relate how, so eager had they been, it being late evening by now in the Gulf, they’d agreed to fund me for whatever I’d asked for: the executive jet, limos … everything !

The limo would pick us up at 6.00pm (in 4 hours time) to ferry us to London City behind Canary Wharf. A Learjet would be waiting to fly to Pannecotterra, arriving shortly after midnight. We would be met by a limo transfer to the 6 star Hotel Palazzo Paradiso in the Casino Park.
During the next two days two representatives of the Client group would visit the island to settle their Star host presenter into … wait for it,….my serviced flat!
Procurement Consultants – (that’s Su and me) were to recruit a support staff locally and furnish a qualified TV and video technician.
I’d got old Quintin Smart lined up for this – an ex Beeb weirdo, totally Asbergers. All he lived for was digitized with wires attached.

Su had switched off listening once I’d said 4 pm the limo arrives to take us to the Learjet, arriving Pannecotterra at midnight.
After that, she claimed later, it was just background noise: blah blah… exposition… blah blah… exposition.. )

She said “So what’s our Alicia going to wear for the journey? All she’s got is my nightie. She burst out of all the frocks she brought with her – for your video remember?”
“Now you say the limo’s going to be here in less than 2 hours!”

“But it’s got curtains…”

“Are you seriously telling me we transport your Sugar Plum all the way down to Pannecotterra simply hanging out of my see through nightie?”

Privately the thought of that, I realized, had sort of turned me on ….Feeders and feedee at 40,000 ft.

“Aha!”…Su suddenly remembered… “There’s a really big woman sells mu-mus at Camden market.”

She found the woman market trader on her phone and negotiated for two - a red and a yellow, to be sent round by taxi. They arrived 40 minutes later and turned out to be in the traditional florid fabric designs popular in West Africa; moreover they came with stapled on cellophane bags containing matching headdresses.

Alicia by now was alive and well…and hungry. She’d hoovered up every remaining shred of yesterday’s cake feast, now we were awaiting a large Indian take away order.
While we all made short work of the chicken tikka pieces, the Indian breads and curries, plus the dips, Alicia and Su had fun chopping and changing with the mu-mus.

In the end Alicia opted for the yellow so Su wore the red. Su plus the red headdress looked even more Amazonian, every inch the powerful business woman.

When the limo arrived, I was very proud to escorting two such eye catching BBWs. to board our executive jet.

to be continued


Aged Member
Feb 8, 2007
Part 5 - Cakes and a Sugar Plum

“The Mediterranean island of Pannecottera, although lying over a hundred miles south of the northern tip of Tunisia, is Italian speaking and very Catholic. Since the Tunisian coast is close enough to be visible on a clear day, there is much that is Arabic about the landscape of the island, the look of its people, and their tastes.
Because they love pampering their children and enjoy both pasta and sweet things, the islanders have earned themselves the reputation of being the most obese population of any region of Europe.
Thanks to tourism and hosting an increasing ‘on-line’ betting and gambling presence, this Euro currency island is thriving, unlike other southern EU nations.”
Preamble to the last section of “The Gourmet Guide to Europe”;
2012 edition


It was late morning in Pannecotterra. I stepped out onto the balcony of our penthouse suite at the Hotel Palazzo Paradiso, sipping a ‘wake-up’ Hendrick’s edgy Glasgow gin with cucumber.

I looked out over the boulevard to the unreal blue of the Mediterranean. Down below me the new Casino Park was planted with new lurid irrigated green grass and Royal palm trees still guy-roped to prevent them toppling out of their concealed concrete tubs.
Over to my left was the florid old Casino, to the right: an artfully tumbled concrete ziggurat of new real estate (that has paid for the new park). A number of my ‘investment’ flats were scattered through that development, all empty.

The flat that we were to move Alicia into, on the top of the pile had a similar outlook to where we are now, though the far side also has views across the harbour to the old city tucked behind its fortified bastions.

I was doing my best to put our flight out behind me.

The two mu-mu clad ladies had behaved very badly, bearing in mind there were two hostess cabin crew ladies on the private jet who must have been disgusted by the carryings on.
It started badly enough when it became apparent that both me and Su had each ordered lavish cabin catering for the flight.
Mine was the more sophisticated: champagne with an elegant 4 course dinner with a French menu and wines.

On the other hand Su using her bl%%dy phone had organized a van to arrive at the last moment to load onto the plane a ton of ‘bad ‘ sticky cakes of the Aunty Pru variety and crates of sparkling Prosecco wine.

We’d quaffed the champers along with my posh French dinner by about the Alps, whereupon the hostesses had re-arranged the interior as a big bed.

Su took this as the signal to get them both started into her cakes.

Alicia perked up no end, her appétite seemingly a bottomless pit.
Profiteroles are plainly her favourite and she’d quickly put away the lions share, but by the time she’d had most of the Belgian chocolate cake, washed down with never ending glasses of chilled prosecco and several great chunks of Austrian Strawberry Gateau, a glazed look was spreading across Alicia’s face.

It was at that point Su really began the Bad Girl behaviour. Though she was acting as if she was smashed, her bulk must have been absorbing the alcohol.

I’d been trying to reason with Ms Supine Knightley but she was having none of it. In her poshest commanding ra-ra tone of voice she rubbished me.
In front of all the in flight cabin crew my own p.a. put me down with:
“Absurd little Economy Class man. This is what Private jets are for. You’re in The Six Mile High Club!”

To my horror she commenced stuffing the incoherent Alicia, and …. Alicia was loving it.
Alicia tugged up her red mu-mu and invited me to massage the magnificent mounding of her great alabaster tummy. I was shocked at how painfully taut it felt but I found some cream and worked away at her with both hands until I could feel it relaxing and softening.
What was really unforgivable was that simultaneously at Alicia’s top end Su had begun cramming more and more of all the sticky cakes and gateaux down into the poor girl, who, goodness knows how, was somehow managing to stay with it, packing huge mouthfuls down and away.

By the time we were landing, Su really was out of her brain as well as also having consumed a mountain of cake herself. Su lay entwined around the semi naked Alicia, both declaring drunken undying love for one another.
Having done my best to keep each of them from totally losing it, somehow I’d ended up trapped in between them at the bottom end of the bed.

Instead of VIP transfer by the limo that was waiting, we were stretchered in an ambulance to the Hotel Palazzo Paradiso – where I had woken up just over an hour ago.


I heard the twosome showering in the wet room and went to call out what they wanted for breakfast.

Su shouted “come closer we can’t hear you.”
I glanced around the corner: My God!
They were helping one another, the heavyweight bronzed Amazon engrossed in soaping Alicia’s bizarrely incompatible body halves. Alicia’s delicate upper half clutched onto Su’s bulk while Su, bending over, was rooting around with the shower hose down amongst the shorter girl’s gargantuan quivering lower quarters.

I shouted there’s cold stuff already laid out but do you want me to order anything hot?

Su brayed back “I just need coffee”, Alicia called “is there any orange juice?”

“I said “yes – and lots of brioche”

“Whats that?” Alicia asked

“They are sort of Italian sticky sweet buns” I heard Su explain.


The twosome appeared, bouncing out into the big penthouse room wrapped into huge white towels. A shortish creamy wobbly pear with spiky wet raven hair and the big bronzed Amazon, her blonde hair coiled into a second white towel.

Immediately they fell upon the heap of brioche, tearing it to pieces as if they hadn’t eaten for a week. Alicia, mouth crammed full, sprayed crumbs everywhere saying she thought sweet sticky cream-filled buns an ideal way for a healthy girl to begin the day.
I delivered them orange juice and coffee - and for myself, poured another gin.

I decided to start into organizing the day for a change. I said we were due to go to dinner at 8.30pm with the two Client representatives at the rented private Palazzo (complete with surrounding hunting estate) they were renting – and that Alicia ought to appear in something other than the one size fits all mu-mu she’d travelled in.

Su and Alicia had already discussed assembling an ad hoc wardrobe for the TV star. Su knew many of the island boutiques that sold ‘off the shelf’ sizes for much larger ladies than Alicia. The problem, as Alicia, twirling in her towel, enjoyed demonstrating, is her figure comes in two very different sizes. They’d decided a ready made answer had to be ‘separates’ as tops to fit Alicia could be bought anywhere.

I saw them off in a taxi to go shopping, Alicia this time wore the red mu-mu. They’d already reserved some posh tops in the boutiques lining the hotel foyer. They could decide finally on which to buy once they’d returned with suitable skirts.

I hurried off to check if the technician I’d contacted yesterday was still sober. I had old Quintin Smart lined up – an ex BBC weirdo, totally Asbergers. Everything he lived for was digitized. He got pulled over regularly in airport security - on the X-ray screen his carry on case crammed full with Beeb kit he’d filched just had to be a bomb.

Trouble with Quint was that if he’d no electronic project on the go, he’d just sit all day in bars drinking. But I reckoned he’d be as trustworthy as a eunuch in a Sultan’s harem supporting Alicia, just delivering all the technical stuff.

to be continued


Aged Member
Feb 8, 2007
Part 6 - Cakes and a Sugar Plum

Sure enough I found Quint in the bar by the ferry underneath the block of flats where he hung out. He’d sunk about as many beers as I’d had gins so we were more or less on the same page. I bought him a late breakfast pizza then we went off for a look round my flat.

It’s a big flat, a massive polished marble tiled floor area with about 7 or 8 rooms. Su and I only ever inhabit about half of it: the main living area, a bedroom, an internet computer room plus stuff dumped in a couple of the other rooms.
Quint got quite excited working out what he needed: a nice studio room, an adjacent technical space including a tiny space to sleep-over in. Both the rooms came with en suite bathrooms. (I ought to have explained another peculiarity of the island: its dwellings are huge. P boasts the largest floor space per person in the EU – fitting really since it also has the heaviest EU citizens,

Quintin assured me that because Pannecotterra specializes in film and TV location work he could hire enough kit in to have an interim studio up and running for the Clients to see Alicia in action before they left in two days time.

Being a fat old fart in red trousers, I know next to nothing about the technicalities of small TV stations - except it’s a whole lot easier than it used to be.
Put it this way: it’s sort of the opposite of Weight Gain that now makes WG telly feasible.

Today a cleverly fitted out Ford Transit driven by the tekkie can do the whole job; where before it needed a whole great concrete Art Deco tower on top of a hill crammed full of technicians, plus a tall mast stuck on top.
Europe and Asia is on something called DVB-T but the Gulf uses DVB-T2 an upgraded version. Basically this digital spec allows several otherwise totally unrelated stations to share the same slot. Like maybe: children’s ‘tiny tots’ daytime TV / shopping channel in the evening/adult porn for wankers thru the night.

Because we decided to use our flat, we’ll have to hump loose kit out of an ordinary van and up in the lift. It includes hired camera, lights, several racks filled with p.c.b. boxes, a computer a million times more powerful than Su’s laptop plus a satellite dish and lots of cabling and gaffer tape.

I asked Quint how we would work relative to the existing guy in Rome. He said it was easy enough: we just contact him and tell him what your Clients are up to.

“Well they are about to replace him. Like maybe tomorrow…. if you’ve managed to fix all the stuff together.”

When I passed him the contact details of the Rome station, he laughed.
“Ha! 'TV Canale Querty' That’s Xandro! You hired Xandro?” (pronounced Sandro)
No wonder he sleeps all the time…He used to work here at the local station - where everyone is either asleep – or seriously snacking.
He fished out his phone.
“Look – I’ve got Xandro’s number already in my ‘contacts’ here.

I denied hiring Xandro personally ...though the only thing I remember vividly about that early Rome jaunt was finding an amazing restaurant with rooms over in Trastavere. The chefs enjoyed getting my p.a. Fatly-Supine nightly. She’d been totally gung ho about weight gain once she’d tasted their anti pastas and pastas. We’d all nudged posh-knocks Su well on towards 250 by the time she was back on her London scales.

Lost, drifting around in pleasant memories, a bout of smoker’s coughing from Quint brought me back down to earth again.

“So it’s a doddle”... he said….”We’ll just tell him we’re closing him down tomorrow and to bring all the kit down a.s.a.p so we can set it all up here and get shot of the hired stuff”...

“I’m not sure they’ll wear paying two tekkies” I said.

“They won’t have to – Xandro will be as pleased as punch to be back home. It will be a big saving on buying all new fancy stuff…you’ll see.”.

I gave Quint a spare key and he went off back to his flat still chuckling and shaking his head in disbelief over Xandro.
As he turned the corner, I saw him fish out his phone.

I’d been hoping to catch a few hours’ kip back in our hotel suite.
Instead I coincided with the return of the two ladies. They were supervising the unloading of a ton of big bags into the hotel lobby.
Alicia, jobbling about happily, had been transformed. She was now wearing a broad purple sun hat, big Perreira shades,a figure hugging red tee shirt with a full white cotton skirt down to mid calf sexily revealing fat legs and snappy sandals with wedge heels.

Up in the air conditioning they were keen to show off their buying spree. Excitedly flaunting their purchases, they began parading in the gear they’d already arrived back in. While admiring themselves, they brushed right past me, walking towards a wide full length wall mirror.

Su was wearing an Amazon sized natural coloured “rich bitch” linen jacket and elegant skirt and a white tee top worn with a string of big red costume jewelry glass beads ad beige high heels. Then she continued coming and going with a whole sequence of variations ostensibly to hear my views.

But I’d lost myself – elevated onto ‘cloud nine’; I was just enjoying the way my p.a. powerwoman’s ‘sashaying’ caused all that impressive bulging bodywork to bounce around. Alicia did not help concentration either, repeatedly bunting into my groin with her vast soft buttocks busying about up and down the catwalk fettling the Amazon.

Eventually Su, still prancing up and down before the mirror appraising herself, threw a question to me via the mirror, “So what do you reckon?”

By now totally distracted, I came back down to earth with a bump “What do you want me to say? It’s a bit like all your other stuff” I replied.

“Well, I know these things always work, I just needed new ones that actually fit,” she said.

“Alicia! Come on out, it’s your turn now” she called…

After an interval in which I could hear rustling and giggles then oohing and aahing off stage, Alicia made a serene appearance – everything aquiver and unbelievably lustrous.
Su had given her the full treatment for this evening’s dinner date. She wore a kind of diamante tiara in her short black hair. Alicia’s delicate upper body was encased in a wonderful kind of clinging smooth silver top. It was short sleeved with a low V neck beautifully showcasing her plump white breasts.
Below and gleaming with every move she made, was an almost crinoline shaped full length skirt in a shimmering smokey grey-purple. There was a lightness about the sheer silk so that as Alicia (sort of) pirouetted, the waist high wrap around lifted, revealing the briefest glimpse of cascades of pale wobbling flesh.
Having witnessed this shock, no one could be in the slightest doubt that the entire virtually translucent skirt was crammed full of a gargantuan mass of ballooning soft fat.

They both laughed at my involuntary reaction.

“Well that’s what you are all looking out for isn’t it?” Su challenged me. She focused on my groin.

Alicia blushed. Looking down at herself, she brushed her hands down over the outward curves of the wafty crinoline skirt. It set everything off quivering once again.
We gazed in awe at the prolonged shimmering.

“There does seem to be quite a bit more of me now….since I met Su” Alicia murmured.

Getting up awkwardly, I positioned myself before her, her bulk pushing gently into me. I stretched my arms out across her width. Resting my hands on each hip shelf, I now looked straight into her eyes.
“Alicia,” I said “believe me - you are just absolutely perfect for this project”

I allowed myself to kiss her on either cheek.

to be continued


Aged Member
Feb 8, 2007
Part 7 - Cakes and a Sugar Plum

I’d only met my Clients once before. It was in the Gulf and it had all been vey Arab – full white robes, headdresses, racing camels, squatting on carpets - eating goodness knows what, followed by diarrhoea on the plane coming home.

This time for their short visit to Pannecotterra, the Clients were renting an old eighteenth century hunting tower. It is a kind of stylized castle with one room on each of 4 floors in a small walled estate towards the centre of the island. Since all these small Mediterranean islands were stripped bare of trees for fighting galleys through the centuries, this protected tract of land had been lovingly re-afforested with a mixture of pine trees and small Mediterranean oaks under which the landowner releases captured wild pigs from mainland Italy as a richman’s playground.

This evening after we’d buzzed ourselves through the gates, the Client representatives bounded expectantly down the tower steps while we drew up, to assist the ladies disembark the limo. Tonight both men wore wearing immaculate white open necked shirts and dark trousers.

Su was first out. She’d chosen an elegantly long electric green / blue shot silk sheath, split dramatically up the leg. Animated by her bulging figure, she glinted spectacularly in the evening twilight. Wearing high heels with her blonde hair piled up, she towered above the welcoming pair.
Alicia proved to be a more difficult extraction, advertising to her attentively polite helpers in the process her extraordinary contrasts of physique.
Do you remember my shock at my first Suffolk garden meet up with Alicia?
Well I’m pretty sure now she consciously contrives flash previews to test if a recipient is pro or con big pears. (In this case, just like me, both were visibly smitten)

Once the ladies were up and standing, I commenced introductions, first Su, briefly dismissed as my p.a. Susannah Pine-Knightley, then more elaborately “and our new TV presenter: the glorious Miss Alicia Russell.”
Our two Clients bowed, each taking the ladies’ hands briefly.
I watched the ladies reciprocally weighing up our Clients: both mid-fiftyish / handsome / neatly trimmed beards / graying hair / one with a thrusting boulder of a belly / the other taller, taking obvious pride in his athleticism.

Mr b.b. Client (a Prince) gave his attention to patiently assisting Alicia heave her implausible bottom end up the steps, while Action Man (the Sheik) had his hand lightly riding the interaction between Su’s back fat roll / big bum shelf as he guided her through into the Hunting Lodge ornate interior.
By the time they were inside, the Prince was like a moth round a flame. His very subtle ‘caring’ handling of Alicia had blown his mind. He’d established beyond doubt, thanks to a bit of the gentlest probing investigation, that Alicia’s very own soft fat lower body crammed out every last crook and corner of an astonishingly full skirt

Similarly Action man was under the spell of Su’s patrician dominance - just like me. Early on I flinched as I heard him address her as Miss Su Pine.
“No one calls me Supine!” she’d hissed. He’d plainly been puzzled by her reaction

Just then trays of temptingly elaborate pre dinner nibbles distracted the ladies as the drinks arrived, so I was able to draw the Sheik aside to explain sotto voce how in English ‘supine’ could also mean ‘submitting by lying down on her back’.

His eyebrows signalling he fully understood, I left out the ‘nightly’ bit.

Dinner was “Pork that lives in the woods” - shot we were led to believe by the Clients earlier in the day from their helicopter as they were circling around the hunting estate before landing.

During dinner, the Prince was elaborately attentive to the every need of Alicia seated beside him. Over the Italian semi freddo gateaux, he began to promote his notion of having Alicia transferred to Quertykeysh, the Clients’ business centre in the Gulf – “where she could be properly cared for”.

I noted a flash of alarm register in Alicia’s lovely eyes at this - so immediately set my mind to work on how to counter it.
I could not believe my ears as Su lent over in front of me across the table braying out loudly “Oh Prince! What a really really Super idea. I know Alicia would absolutely love it!”

And… Su went on ploughing in even deeper…

Now she was trotting out a whole bunch of procedural detail she claimed had been signed and sealed back in London with Alicia’s guardian; then continued with more technical guff about television transmission interfaces and licences.

This is all lies and bullshit I thought to myself.

Then I heard Su saying: “….so we are contractually obliged to work through all this… but in six months time Alicia, I’m sure, would love to take you up on that. “

The Sheik added “By which time Alicia will have become a huge celebrity.
Thank you so much Miss Pine-Knightley. The Prince and I are most indebted to you for explaining so clearly for us the work you have all put in.”

Sitting on the left side of Su from me, the Sheik patted Su’s bronzed arm, adding “It is obvious to us all how Pannecotterra is the ideal half-way house for this enterprise – far more pleasant than that awful place in Rome.”

As the Pannecottan staff brought out Arab style coffee along with plates of traditional sweetmeats, the Prince tugged at one young man’s sleeve murmuring something in Arabic.
The young man returned promptly bearing elegantly gift-wrapped boxes. The Prince handed one to each of us.

Oh Gawd, I thought to myself PRESENTS! I’ve completely forgotten to bring Presents.

Su alongside me picked up her bag, produced two little boxes and, smiling, passed one to each Client, treading heavily on my foot as she did so.
What would I be without her? (Ans: just the same fat slob – only dirt poor).

There was an interlude of eager present opening – mebbe I was the only one not as animated as the others (‘cos my foot still throbbed).

I’d been given a gold ball-pen and pencil set (I’d a good few of these already, I thought sourly).

Each of the Clients unpacked a little pack of fudge marked with the yellow and mauve logo of the Pleached Tree tea Rooms East Suffolk together with a boxed pair of chunky black and white enameled gold cuff links.
Alicia playfully commented that she had lived on her Auntie’s home made fudge right through her childhood.
I caught the Prince murmuring how ‘it had clearly been the making of her’.

Su found she’d been given a heavy gold bracelet with a matching long necklace she could double around her neck. She kissed both the Prince and the Sheik (bending her cleavage low over him with some ‘sensitivity’).

Alicia squealed in delight unwrapping hers, the Prince looking on expectantly. She held up a top rather like a waistcoat chainmail tunic but in gold.

Alicia didn’t take much urging to try it on. Su helped Alicia up and we watched their very different back views retreat behind a screen.

They reappeared with Alicia’s upper body now encased in a wonderful kind of sleeveless chunky chain mail vest in gold. Closer examination showed it to be shiny gold discs similar in size to Maria Theresa gold sovereigns attached to one another at the quarter points by gold links.

The Prince demonstrated excitably how the gold links were expandable, “our lovely presenter need not feel in any way constrained. She is in no way our prisoner, she will be perfectly free to develop in anyway she feels desires.”

Alicia floundered across to the Prince and threw her slim arms around his neck hugging him. In return she received a kiss on each cheek - and a hand on each cheek lower down.


Afterwards, sitting on the jump seat on the way back in the limo I said, semi sarcastically, to Alicia “Well you certainly hit it BIG with the Prince! He seemed to want you all to himself.”
Su responded with
“And you, Dunderhead, said absolutely nothing!
You really were just going to sit there and let him carry her off to Quertykeysh?
I had to work overtime when I heard him say that….
…And it was a good thing someone remembered about PRESENTS.”

Ms bloody Susannah Pine-Knightley put her heavy arm around Alicia and drew her to her Amazon bosom and planted a big wet kiss.
“Never mind him love, you did beautifully. Always remember - I promised Auntie Pru I’d look after you

I sat and watched as Alicia picked at her breasts; her nipples aroused with the stimulation, stood out prominently:
“These gold disc things feel a bit tickly” she said.

to be continued


Aged Member
Feb 8, 2007
part 8 - Cakes and a Sugar Plum

A second morning on our penthouse balcony atop the Hotel Palazzo Paradiso. Once again you find me trying to ease an agonizingly furred up gullet by swigging a ‘wake-up’ Hendrick’s Glasgow gin and cucumber.

I’ve left the two inside, still asleep in a great pile.

Su had hit the champagne last night after we’d got back (actually I’d uncorked the first two) after our ‘dry’ night at the hunting lodge.

Getting increasingly plastered, the big ladies began draping themselves around each other laughing at all the cheesy Italian TV shopping channels they’d begun clicking.
By getting us all ridiculing the farcical presentations we were watching, actually Su was demonstrating to Alicia just how easy TV work was.

Without exception they were all crap. Presenters looked overdressed, forgot their lines, had to be continually prompted by the camera operator over what to say.
One fat and fiftyish presenter resembled a vase of overblown flowers. Her technician had left the camera running while he ran across to place the necklace they’d been advertising around her neck before unashamedly getting aroused by snogging her up.

I comforted myself that no such probs would arise with such a weird old stick insect like Quintin Smart.

Once again my p.a. had done really well. Disguised within last night’s boozy hilarity, she’d been very effectively delivering a huge boost to Alicia’s self confidence.

The new look “TV Canale Querty” switch on was due at 20.00hrs in Quertykesh time (5pm in Pannecottera).
So I was keen to check that Quint was getting his act together. Su had already contacted our regular housemaid Lina to get her daughters to ready the flat for a social event and had ordered in caterers to set up an evening party.

Without waiting for the two to surface for breakfast, I picked up a large Americano on the way across to the flat. I found a big van parked outside with Quint directing guys wheeling hired kit in and up in the lifts.

I hurried up to the flat where Lina and her daughters Gabbi and Sula were already busy. Typical Pannecottans, they were stocky and strong as well as very rotund. All three were bustling around energetically mopping already shiny floors and polishing all the sliding windows onto balconies.
In greeting me they demanded excitedly to know when the TV Star was arriving. Mid afternoon, I told them. And the TV station owners would be arriving about an hour before the show went on air. They nudged one another animatedly about one being a Prince.
But I thought it better they discovered for themselves how he likes to feel up fat girls.


By the time Su helped Alicia out of the lift and into the flat, the place possessed a credible air of an upmarket private TV station. The technical kit all been tested for function and arranged in a professional looking workspace. The presenter’s continuity studio was adjacent with an attractive set overlooking the old town – its silhouette was just visible through some draped light diaphanous curtains.

In the part of the flat we use when we stay, Lina had swept away out of sight all our half forgotten stuff: ornaments, mags. and paper-backs from the big living area overlooking the sea and had organised the large scale flower arrangements Su had ordered in. Caterers were busy bringing up and laying out the obligatory o.t.t. Pannecottan lavish buffet.

Lina and her daughters all exclaimed audibly at the arrival of Alicia - no doubt caused by their first sight of the way she filled that same skirt as the night before, matched now to the gold medallion top.
Our roly-poly pair Gabbi and Sula, by now compressed into their best black maids uniforms, promptly joined with Su in assisting Alicia’s stately wobbling progress through the “front of house” to meet Quint. He was ready to welcome her before ushering her into the Presenter’s room.

Through the studio door we heard giggles and peals of laughter as Quint settled Alicia with her entourage into place. Then, just as Alicia’s two ‘bridesmaids’ came bouncing back out to watch with us, we saw the first streams of video flashing onto our big screen. Su had remained inside and some 30 minutes of rehearsing took place – much of it for all the world like the shopping channels we had laughed over last night.

What was most striking to us all was how one could never guess at the size of Alicia’s lower half from the way she was framed - seated behind her desk looking at the camera in front of the dramatic backdrop of the old town skyline behind her.

Around the time the Clients were due to arrive Quint came out and I thumped him on the back joyfully about the way it was all coming together.
He confirmed that he’d got Xandro in Rome to switch across then we could go on air at 1700hrs. Alicia was rehearsed to welcome viewers and to introduce the first canned TV show. Quint had selected a tourism-cum-property program on buying old farmhouses on holiday islands and refurbing them as holiday lets.

With just half an hour to go before our first transmission, the station owners finally turned up – in their long white robes this time. Gabbi and Sula bounced off one another in their haste to open the door to receive them, but split apart their best black maids outfits while curtsying. Su and Alicia, in their welcome allowed the Prince no time at all to react to the pair of ball-shaped maids’ embarrassed giggling.

The Sheik complimented us on the new brass plate outside the door. I was about question what he meant but Su cut across me with her confident Big English Girl voice braying
“Your ‘TV Canale Querty’ brand jolly well should be promoted here where it gets filmed’
(I afterwards found she’d merely velcroed another brassplate over our usual “PCI Procurement Consultants International” plate).

I introduced Quintin. In (clean) black teeshirt and (moderately clean) black jeans, steel half moon specs, his beard neatly trimmed and a MTV baseball cap to hide his problematic hair loss, he did look every inch the part of capable techno.

The Clients, wrapping their robes close to them lest they dislodge delicate electronics, had a quick peek in at the working arrangements. After they returned to our ‘front of house’, we briefly explained the night’s first three hours of transmission.

Quint hurried off down the corridor around to the technical kit, then on into position behind the camera. At the same time Su and Alicia withdrew directly into the Presenter’s room.
Su later told me how they’d paid a quick last visit to the room’s en suite bathroom for a primp of Alicia’s upper regions before both Su and Quint had to frantically stow Alicia’s bottom end into place.
Su then stood back behind camera, miming encouragement at Alicia.

In our big living room we all watched on the big wall screen as five o’clock arrived and the station’s usual channel branding sequence began. I noted the two Clients commenting about this to one another but they hushed up immediately Alicia filled the screen.

Alicia’s warm smile and her measured tones were as captivating as her test video had been. She welcomed us, introduced herself sweetly, then explained the new format. Finally after another bit of animated graphics, she announced the first syndicated program and, as it got underway, she and Su reappeared out of the Continuity room and plonked down on our modular seating.

The Prince came across, kissed her then sat down beside her and began feeding her enthusiastically from the finger buffet. The Sheik similarly slid attentively alongside Su.

No one had eyes for ruinous farm buildings in mosquito swamps now flickering across the screen.

While we were applauding Alicia’s brilliant launch, Quint came back in saying we had 45-50 minutes before Alicia needed to ready herself for the next continuity slot.
Talk then turned to consolidation. The Sheik said the Station’s branding needed updating. It looked old fashioned and no longer related to the new content.
Everyone agreed.
Quintin remembered Xandro boasting about cobbling the old one together one afternoon from screen shots. That is exactly what it looked like, one of those anonymous threatening ransom letters.

The Prince said the new brand image ought be centered around Alicia (who blushed at the notion).

Su took over prioritizing the discussion:
How much syndicated content had we in reserve; how did it get streamed. And what about: quality, possible themes and programming?

There was a silence. ‘Too much, too soon’ I thought. For once my p.a. had overplayed.

Quint stepped in to say Xandro had phoned from Rome full of praise for Alicia giving the station a much needed boost. Xandro was packing all the Rome equipment into a Transit van and if he could get on tomorrow night’s Grimaldi truck ferry from Civitavecchia, he’d be arriving in a couple of days.
No one who’d seen Xandro’s grubby old Rome porn tapes was prepared to have Alicia introducing such material.

Quint reckoned his and Xandro’s connections here could secure local TV material

Su and I had exchanged glances hearing of Xandro bringing the Rome equipment. We both realised we might save quite a bit of the cost by stopping hiring expensive technical stuff sooner than expected.
Su continued pressing programming: stressing quality as well as supply, and also who might be able to support Alicia.

The Sheik was quick to propose Su herself. Self-importantly he told us Ms Susannah Pine-Knightley had already substantially confirmed her own strength of character as the executive backbone of the operation.
Flashing a triumphant look at me, Su did not demur.
But she responded (in best posh cut-glass accent) dismissively explaining she’d actually meant who might be recruited to be assistant presenters to relieve Alicia.

Su closed down further discussion exclaiming
“Time we got you ready to knock em all for six again My Sweet!”
She hauled Alicia up onto her feet away from her continuous snacking at the hands of the Prince. Plucking one or two paper pastry cases out of Alicia’s skirts, Su started chivvying Alicia’s wobbling mass across into the Presenter’s suite.

The Prince, who had chivalrously got to his feet to assist, looked across at me indicating I should follow him as he walked out onto the balcony.

He was leaning over towards the sea lighting a cigar when I arrived.

“We need to talk SuSpender, you and I” he said, blowing out smoke rings.

I was a bit hurt at him calling me by my nickname after all my efforts.

“We’re off early tomorrow to the Far East, but before we go I want a clear understanding between us. SuSu is all protective of Alicia (I was relieved to note that actually the guy had a slight stammer!), but you and I know full well it’s her astonishing hips we hired Alicia for… they’re the real bait to lure male viewers – and a good many female viewers too.”

“Prince, we are on the same wavelength about this. It’s the reason why I wanted you to set up in Pannecotterra.
Su’s just mentioned assistant Presenters – there’s no way we will find any thin Presenters on this island – you’ll have noticed they’re all big girls.
Look at our two little maids for example; they always enjoy bouncing off one another. They’d be good on screen, if I could win them over.”

“Bai Jove Suspender! That’s a topping idea” (I’d been noting how much he used these bygone English cuntry gent idioms).

“I agree Prince, I promise I shall work on it.”

I decided to press on about Alicia:

“What I suggest about Alicia is that you handle the PR, You have some stills of her – even some video. What about a rush or two on You tube and a Face Book presence?
That way we maintain a dead pan representation of her on TV Canale Qwerty and the contrasting interplay between screen image and gossip should reel them in.”

“Soso do we understand one another Suspender? It seseems this way you and I are quietly instigating a TV station whose real agenda is weight gain.”

“Prince…”, I replied “let you and I make ‘weight gain’ our ‘mission statement.”

He threw his cigar over the balcony, and gripping me by the upper arm, thumped me on the back to seal the deal. Then he returned to the launch party inside.

Shortly after the first program change (to a syndicated feature about cars for women ) our Clients took their leave; we listened to their helicopter lifting away from the park by the hotel to return to their hunting lodge.

to be continued


Aged Member
Feb 8, 2007
part 9 - Cakes and a Sugar Plum

Neither Su nor I were quite prepared for Xandro when he turned up. True enough, we anticipated a lazy slob with a reputation for dozing amidst the debris of old take-aways in his Rome bedsit.

Xandro in the round proved to be over 400 lbs of intricately tattooed slow moving Goth.

With a whole gamut of engaging mannerisms:
· In (slow motion) thinking mode he’d lift or remove his black horn rimmed shades, rub wearily at his eyes and pinch the bridge of his nose;
· itch at his tufty black beard
· tuck a hand up under a large black tee to absent mindedly caress his upper belly.
· His black baseball cap was constantly either being pushed back or pulled forward.
· Most noticeable of all, he’d hitch his long droopy black shorts back up re-arranging them with precision over his sagging blubbery Michelin inner tube rolls of fat. Instantly they’d drop off down again.
· The above action required repeating several times a minute.

Catching Gabbi and Sula imitating these and bouncing off each other with laughter started me thinking about videoing some jokey short WG cameos.

Clearly Xandro and Quint went back a long way; re-united they made a strange double act. Xandro, probably in his mid thirties, reckoned Quint taught him all he knew while a young apprentice at the island’s TV station.

Within a couple of days the two of them had set the station up with a technical capability that meant we could return all the costly hired-in stuff.

Moving out of the hotel and back into the flat was a further saving.
There was a downside to this for me. Su insisted that she and Alicia share the large bedroom overlooking the sea, while I got relegated to the smaller guest room at the side. Su said this was because she had promised Aunt Pru she’d ‘look after’ Alicia.

However there seemed to be more going on between those two Big Girls than simply ‘duty of care’.
It was like Su’s interpretation of her promise to Aunt Pru was quite simply to ensure ‘poor dear innocent’ Alicia was kept permanently in a state of ‘stuffed up’ bliss 24/7.
It crossed my mind that perhaps Aunt Pru’s proven way of caring for her niece like this may have been confided to Su when she’d called at the café.


The evening transmissions were now settling into a pattern.

As I’d hoped, Gabbi and Sula our two beautifully plump little maids were forever falling over one another in their determination to act as Alicia’s hand maidens. Besides them assisting Alicia in moving and get her primped up ready for the camera, Su got them bouncing happily to and fro keeping everyone (including me) snacked up to the hilt.
I was able to text the Prince that Gabbi and Sula were on their way to adding a unique WG character to our transmissions.

What I’d been slow to grasp was that Gabbi and Sula were actually living in our flat 24/7. They had taken to dossing down overnight in the utility room at the back next to the sink and washing machine because, they told us, they’d not felt safe returning home on late night buses after our last transmissions.
Su said that, since Alicia was delighted with Gabbi and Sula’s enthusiastic encouragement, it was up to them how they wanted to arrange their personal affairs in detail.

Su persisted in pressing Quint to trawl around for a relief presenter to Alicia. But he only seemed to find middle aged ladies retired from local TV work.
In the end it was Xandro who came up with the goods: the younger sister of a well known male TV news presenter on Pannecottan State TV.

At first he was very apologetic about her..
“Like me she’s a bit heavy, …but I do know she’s a natural in front of a camera…
I once videoed a screen test with her as a favour to her brother”

I felt as pleased as Su was about Helena joining the team. As relief Presenter, Helena was the screen opposite of calm Alicia. She came across as strikingly bubbly both in manner and in appearance. With dyed wine red spiky hair, she was very short and somewhere around 220-230 lbs. The camera of course, emphasized the broad curves of her bare shoulders, floppy upper arms and chubby hands. Nevertheless Helena’s round lively face always conveyed a happy gung ho attitude to her weight, which I loved (and so did the Prince!).
Helena came in two days a week and I started looking forward to the jokey repartee increasingly spilling over onto the screen between Gabbi and Sula and Helena - mostly about the dire consequences of snacking on one another’s figures.


Once Su was certain she had someone in place to relieve Alicia, Su announced she had to return to London for a while to catch up on other business commitments. We’d been going successfully for three weeks and Su said I should just let things consolidate as they were.

That was all very well, but as soon as she’d gone, things began stirring up. It ought to have been forseen that Helena, Gabbi and Sula - who enjoyed making a show of being happy little fatties - were all a whole lot smaller than Alicia. Nothing about Alicia’s extreme body proportions had ever been explicitly revealed in our transmissions. Only Alicia’s slender head and shoulders and torso ever appeared on screen – even though she’d been chosen because of her freak pear shape. Moreover Alicia’s screen persona was one of calm sincere gravitas – in direct contrast to the happy fatties.

The problem was that, unbeknown to anyone at the station, the Prince had been leaking tit bits on the web about Alicia’s off-screen dimensions. In particular there was a You Tube version of Alicia’s original screen test highlighting her extreme pear shape. Because of this, an on-line fan club was developing.

Obviously I had to step in and do some Directing. But it was tricky - should I brief the happy fatties about this without Alicia’s knowledge? Because finding her screen test had been leaked could easily destroy Alicia’s self confidence.
If so, might Alicia then feel herself the only one excluded?
That didn’t seem like good people management.

So I decided a few quiet beers mid morning with Quint to chew the cud might be a starting point. But another pitfall opened up here I’d hadn’t foreseen. Quint brought Xandro along, or rather tugged the reluctant big guy in behind him. Blushing, the two then began announcing to me they were embarking upon a civil partnership!

Oh ! My ! God !

This reaction must have shown all over my face because they added almost in unison:
“We wanted you to be the first to know Sess. For you must realise it’s you who has finally brought us together!”

“Well I’d never have thought it …”I mumbled.
But I could see it clearly enough now. Quint was acting like a weird old parent bird compulsively stuffing up his overblown young fledgling.
Great fat Xandro was three or four times the size of tiny hot-wired Quint.

“We’ve taken to living together - mostly in my flat, but working late in the studio it’s really convenient staying there overnight. I didn’t think you’d mind Sess.”

“Actually that’s where it first happened between us… in the studio.” Xandro added dreamily.

Too much Information I said to myself.
Then I thought…. Ferk Me! Serious Weight Gain was now going on in every room of my Flat!

I ordered a bottle of champagne - which over-taxed Quint’s seedy bar – ten minutes later I spied a boy hurrying back with it on a tray with three glasses from the hotel two doors along.

We drank to Xandro and Quints’ future happiness. Then we drank to the continuing success of TV Canale Querty…
“…and all who sail in her” Quint added.
Since we were now at sea and ‘three sheets to the wind’ I called for another round of beers.

That was when Xandro was first to mention Alicia’s Fan Club.
The amazing way her star was rising proved our station had really taken off he said. There were people far beyond the Gulf in the States and Australia adding Likes and Comments to her big pear pictures.

I asked the two of them how they thought Alicia might take this.

“Like us you must have realised from the first how she revels in being admired” Quint replied.

“What? You mean Heavy Bottom End and all?” I asked.

“That in particular…” Xandro said, “…her big bum’s her trade mark. I’ve let the camera run on sometimes as the two little girls have to help her up out of the chair. She’ll scold me about it, but I reckon she loves the occasional subliminal message. She knows she’s unique on TV”

Xandro’s quite the theoretical fat Goth, I thought to myself while he performed his mannerisms, removing his glasses, pinching his nose; finally proudly cradling his hanging belly apron to add extra weight to his hypothesis.

Quintin watched Xandro’s whole repertoire lovingly, then said:

“They do a good big steak with thick cut chips here”

“Lets order” I said “along with more beer”.

“Xandro’s wants to make a suggestion about our station’s branding”

“Yeah,” Xandro said, stuffing his belly back away “Why don’t we ask Lino?”


“Don’t you know Lino? He’s an amazing artist. Knocks off fantastic portraits of typical Pannicotterran characters. He’s really good at BBWs and BHMs”

“Aren’t we looking for someone who can turn in stylish graphics?” I said.

“He’s really great at that.
Everyone uses Photoshop these days – and that’s where I can work with him to develop a good TV interface.
Quint said you’d talked with the Prince about featuring Alicia in the branding”

“Yes“ I said.”that’s true, we did.”

“That’s why I thought of Lino. Some animated BBW graphics that fade into the real life Alicia”.

“Oh Right! Now that’s an idea!.”

Then something else occurred to me.
“Hang on, is this Lino another Gay? Will he be another squashing into the flat ?
“Hang on. Hang on!” Quint did a neat parody of my whinging tone.

Uh Oh, I’d really ruffled Quintin’s feathers (had Smarty-pants bloody Su been here she'd have anticipated this gaffe a mile away and we’d have slipped eloquently by .)
“Um..What I mean is….Will there be lots more packing into the flat and cramming on weight ?

Xandro said quietly “Lino’s shacked up with maybe the biggest SSBW in Pannecottera and certainly the richest. There’s no way they’d want to rough it with us.”

to be continued


Aged Member
Feb 8, 2007
Cakes and a Sugar Plum – part 10

I staggered back to the flat and got my head down to sleep off the beers – the two tekkies’ strange take on the world still running around in my head.

I didn’t surface until late, totally disoriented. I expected morning – but why o why was it was dark?
I looked at my watch incredulously, ten to eleven? Weird!
I sat up and felt that midday binge twinge at my brain; instant recall. I cradled a terrible terrible head in my hands.
The switch off transmission was due in ten minutes (2 am Qwertkeysh time is three hours ahead of us).

I tried showering away the hangover and was wandering dazed through the living room in my towel just at the very moment Alica lumbered in with the two girls. All were giggling. Alicia collapsed onto the modular seating.
“What can you girls fetch me in from the frig, I’m absolutely starving” she demanded of the two maids.
Gabbi and Sula continued giggling.
“Xandro kept the camera running again tonight a really long time after you said Good Night” the girls said.
One sat each side of Alicia’s widely spread bottom end, their excitable petting was working her up into wobbly shimmering waves of soft fat.

Alicia, feigning annoyance at their attentions, re-emphasised her demand for food.
The two went off to forage for Alicia’s supper.

Looking down at herself, Alicia said reflectively. “So I actually am growing even bigger”

I thought this a timely opportunity to engage. “Does it really bother you Alicia? Because everyone says you are making a huge success of this whole venture.”

“Well growing fatter and fatter is what this is all about; let’s face it!
You seem to have forgotten admitting how you’d hired me cos of my huge bum.”
Alicia continued
“You were in total shock at my hip size when you first saw me at Aunt Pru’s. True?”

I blathered around a bit – the baldness of what she’d said shocked me.

She looked across at me “Come to think of it: your gut’s grown a lot too – I’ll bet you couldn’t fit that great cannonball in those English red trousers any more!

“No one has ever given me any ‘Likes’ for my red trousers” I admitted.

“Well – besides ‘Likes’, I’ve also received five proposals for marriage since we opened” Alicia crowed in a mock boasting voice.

She looked down at herself still smiling. She commenced smoothing out the thin white bed sheet wrapped around her enormous bottom end.
“I reckon all this lot’s got to be way north of 400 lbs now” I heard her quietly guesstimate to herself.
We were both watching the soft fat bouncing back again and shimmering as her hands moved across her big wide lap and saddle bags.
She looked up at me and, catching my reaction, added seductively
“…and I don’t reckon my suitors were just after my top half do you?”

I was anxious lest she’d noticed my boner under my towel, so I blustered:
“So was one of your proposals from the Prince?”

“To be honest, I prefer gaining weight here than in all that desert sand. Just imagine sand getting in all your sweaty fat folds….rubbing you red raw. Ugh!”

She glanced around towards the kitchen and yelled
“Gabbi, Sula! Where on earth are you? I’m REALLY starving!”
She puddled at her fat again “I blame those two naughty fat maids for all this lot – they think fattening us all stupid is just one big joke!”

“Ought I to get a proper scale for you Ali?” I tried to sound caring rather than just crudely jacked-up. “That way you could regularly check your weight.”

But she knew what she was doing alright:
“Are you actually saying a regular blog of all our weights would keep all you Weight Gain weirdoes slavering ?”

“Ooh Yes! What a great idea!” Gabbi and Sula exclaimed in unison as they reappeared.
They were wheeling a trolley with a heavyweight supper of platters of cold ham and salamis, tomatoes, baked tarts, cartons of chilled fruit juices and litre bottles of mineral water.

Now the serious business of eating killed all further discussion. The girls were concentrating totally on stuffing Alicia and, in passing, themselves - and from time to time - me also.

After an hour or so the trolley was emptied, and I’d got pissed because I’d also sunk a succession of whisky tots while the girls were feeding us.
Now I was dimly aware of the girls singing a lullaby, softly - over and over. Blearily I focused to see they were gently massaging the great swollen dome of Alicia’s bare belly. As they worked her over, they seemed to be alternately tenderly kissing her taught belly, then kissing one another.
Alicia was snoring; I remember also registering that all were unclothed before I passed out.

I came to, head spinning, mouth de-hydrated in the first dim grey light of dawn.
I too was naked, last night’s bath towel lay on the floor over by the trolley.
I dragged myself upright. God my paunch felt colossal. In shock I looked down at my enormous hard medicine ball of belly. I stooped (ouch) for my towel, swung it around my engorged waist, and grabbed a bottle of Pellegrino.

After several swigs I felt better. I looked across at the modular seating; the girls lay in abandon, bodies entwined, out for the count.
I went over to the windows, the dawn light was strengthening. With more swigs from the Pellegrino bottle plus a good firm banana I’d unearthed, I felt better then realized I was thoroughly enjoying this ridiculous project.

I headed off to my own room. As I passed the sleeping heap of fast-fattening females, Alicia opening an eye, gave me a slow smile.


Morning; as usual very late, something after 11 o’clock.
Feeling good, all SS&Sed, I entered the living room.

Where a hefty mid morning snack break was being enjoyed.

Quint was engaged in piling a plate high with Pannecottan filo pastry pastizzi for Xandro who was already cleaning the crumbs off a first plate. Spiky haired Helen was squashed up alongside Alicia. I remembered it was Helen’s day as Presenter. She was stuffing her fat little self with brioche as well as keeping Alicia’s mouth full.

As ever, like a fat pair of cherubs fluttering around the focus of a classic oil painting,. Gabbi and Sula were hard at it keeping supplies of baked goods and coffee coming for everyone.

Around the intense snacking a confab was in progress.

“It’s a really great idea of Xandro’s to get Lino sketching Alicia.” Helen was saying.
She looked into Alicia’s eyes, “You know, you’re exactly like Agnella used to be when they first met.”
She patted billows of Alicia’s soft fat into life to make her point. “He’ll really love that.”

Xandro was looking pleased; Alicia less so. Perhaps Helen’s inference was deflating; was Alicia’s massive self belief going pearshaped?

Helen (as if she’d shared my crap mental pun) made a quick grab at a plate of cream filled donuts. Feeding them into Alicia’s face, she said in a stage whisper “Poor Lino’s totally besotted. Because she’s ‘the older woman’ you know”
She dabbed away flecks of cream round Alicia’s mouth.

Xandro had risen to greet me, spraying filo pastry crumbs.
“We’ve been getting going on the new station identity” he explained, “Helen is close friends with Lino and Agnella, and reckons she can get them interested.

Helen bubbled: ”I’ve just been showing Alicia some of Lino’s work on my iPad. He’s posted a lot on Agnella since they got together. It’s more artistic drawings and stuff compared to Alicia’s website photographs and video clips.
He likes to show how versatile he is.”

“Well it certainly shows what he’s done to Ann Wotsername in just two years” Alicia said pointedly. “She’s unbelievable. I bet she can’t walk any more!”

“Agnella she’s called” Helen corrected. “true enough, I’ve not seen her walk for yonks. She doesn’t need to, they’ve got everything she needs to just keep on growing.”

There was a silence. Were we all thinking about Alicia’s prospects?

True to type Quint burst the bubble “‘Artistic Licence’ that’s all it is. There’s no actual photos - merely Lino’s interpretations.
The Palazzo’s all her dad’s money, made a fortune out of anti-piracy consultancy. From all the shipping passing by Somalia via Suez. He’s based in Dubai nowadays.”

Helen continued gushing:
“Lino will so want to invite you up to the Palazzo to draw you, it’s a wonderful place.
Their limo will pick you. It’s specially made for Agnella now she’s got so big”

The fat maids agreed “Ooh, that car’s amazing! It’s so Cool. It just sweeps her up, swings her inside then glides off”
“And there’s a fully automated buffet! She just lies back as they drive, sucking on a tube.”
Alicia’s eyes widened; her mouth still too full to comment.

“Come on! We’ve work to do.” Quint called “We need to run through tonight’s show.”

All except Alicia moved off to the studio. The maids doubled back to collect a few plates of baked snacks. Alicia and I heard seams split .

Alicia catching my eye said “Those uniforms are totally obscene.” She was checking me for signs knowingly as she said it.
She asked winsomely “Do you have any of that Special gin left… I rather overdid it last night.”

I got up, turning quickly, aware of tenting again, and began preparing two stiff gins.

Alicia called to me “Susannah’s bringing Aunt Pru out with her when she comes back. I got a text this morning.”

“Is she? I’ve heard nothing from Su about when she’s coming back. I thought she was away for about three weeks.”

“That’s right. They’re coming two weeks tomorrow.

“Oh dear! I wonder what your sweet Aunt Pru will make of all this?”

Aunt Pru Sweet? She’s spent her whole life making people fat.
My mum, her little sister, was over 500lb by the time she escaped to the States with her new boyfriend.”
I mumbled something – probably about all the other ladies at the “Pleach Tree Tea Garden” being rather on the plump side.
“Plump! Those fat bags are all Aunt Pru’s sex slaves.
She’s a sado-masochist - into total domination. They strut around in boots and naughty black leather undies, carrying whips. They’re forcing one another other into stuffing down stale cakes.“

I handed Alicia a large ‘pick me up gin”, she patted the seat beside her inviting me to join her.

She prodded my paunch
“In memory of last night!” she toasted and took a large swig.

“Ah yes! Mothers’ Ruin” she gasped as it took effect “Well named. A girl could get hooked.”

I decided to move on from Sado Masochism in rural Suffolk.
“So what do you think about the whole Lino project?” I asked.

“It certainly looks as if my card is marked - if his girl friend is anything to go by!”

“Immobile within two years eh? That would be fabulous for your contract with the Prince.”

“You don’t have to Alicia - if you don’t want. You are a big Star now; you can call the shots.”

“Thanks Sus – you’re so sweet” (another pat on my paunch) “To tell you the truth, I’m intrigued. I want to see their set-up”

“Yup, so do I. I ought to come with you in any case. I wish Su was here, she’s the brains.”

I got another pat from Alicia (now three quarters down her glass). “OK I agree she’s the one that gets things done. But you’re the one with the original ideas. You are the ‘talent spotter’….spotting me for example.
Now look at me!
Sitting here drinking gin in the lap of luxury; half as fat again as when I was getting whipped by Aunt Pru and her gang…”

“…Let’s have another one Sus…”

As awkwardly as before I went across, quickly set up two more giant Hendrick’s gins with cucumber and returned to her.

“Poor Suss, you don’t seem to be getting as much out of this as we all do,“ she cooed.

I knew immediately what she was referring archly to: “Hang on. Did you, or did you not instantly recognize me as a FA. that very first time?
Look, you and the others doing this is everything I’ve fantasised about since I was a kid ogling fat girls and their mums.”

“Well you were acting like you wanted to be doing more with us last night. The girls were up for it except you’d drunk too much. They think you’re a sweetie.”

I suddenly remembered where I’d found my towel lying.

“Don’t look so Hangdog. Come here and have a cuddle, you deserve it.” She bunched up against me. Super soft hips and love handles overwhelmed me.

Alicia finished her second monster gin and put the glass down. She was definitely squiffy, for now she murmured naughtily “I’ll bet you’ve never had anyone as big as me sit on you.”

I gulped in astonishment.

“Come on, pull me up, then I’ll show you some real squashing.”

She took some hauling up, but then with me spread-eagled on the modular seating, the feeling of her easing down on me, gently flooding across me, getting heavier and heavier as she relaxed, was indescribable.
All I could utter were incoherent gasps and gulps.

“Are you still there?” She called and began bouncing, laughing as she did so.
We stayed still for sometime, I was trying hard to act completely inert - like a slab of pressed beef.
She rolled off me at last.
“Wow…” I eventually found the breath to say.

“See! That’s done us both a power of good!”

The maids bounced in, scavenging for snack reinforcements for the studio.

“Ooooh! They giggled. “Looks like someone’s just been getting what he kept begging us for last night.”

to be continued


Aged Member
Feb 8, 2007
Cakes and a Sugar Plum part 11

Helena had herded Alicia, Xandro and me down into the entrance foyer to the flats waiting for Lino to pick us up..
Outraged at being excluded from the jaunt, our two fat maids were determinedly making a statement. Bursting out of their gappy maids outfits, they were flouncing about immodestly supposedly trying to merge with their surroundings behind a florist’s display, intent on watching our departure in Lino’s Cool car.

Helena’s mobile pinged the car’s arrival and the four of us trooped outside. Drawing silently to a stop beside us, Lino’s ‘car’ was more like a short section of Italian Pullman coach in height and width (but about the length of a Transit van). It was a glossy windowless box, the colour of a dark chocolate brown UPS van.
“BuonGiorno.”The driver greeted us “Sono Gianni vostro conduttore/Good Day I'm Gianni your conductor.”
Using his remote he caused the side of the car to slide aside and a neat hydraulic arm to deliver a section of modular seating (similar to ours upstairs) onto the paving beside us.

After Gianni had checked us for comfort, the four of us were swept up (slowly enough not to cause alarm,) and placed within the vehicle. The door slid shut beside us.
We sailed off past Gabbi and Sula (positively blasting out of their uniforms with resentment) and the car was already swinging out onto the roadway before Gianni slipped in behind the steering wheel as ‘driver’.

“It’s alright” he called “I’m only sitting here for appearance sake – so as to be seen by other drivers. To be honest, you’re actually a lot more safe than if I were actually driving.
Just think of me as here to look after you, I’m now switching the smorgasbord service on for you.”

Lounging back on our seating, in which even Alicia and Xandro appeared small, the ‘windowless box’ had turned out to be a dark tinted glass spacious travelling pavilion. We were keeping up briskly with the swirling streams of traffic along the busy marine boulevard when the soft beguiling ‘smorgasbord service’ announcement embraced us.

“Ciao. I’m inviting you to help yourselves to the smorgasbords appearing within easy reach of your seating. There are also tubes above your heads to pull down and use for beverages or for any items marked with ‘for tube feed’ on the menu screen on your console. Grazia e ricordiamoci aspettiamo molto grandi appetiti! (Thank you and do remember I’m expecting really big appetites!)”

As we were lured into a second heavy breakfast with cheeses and sliced meats as well as the customary brioche and pastizzi, we were clearing the congested urban streets and accelerating up onto the elevated main island expressway to head past the big brewery and the wineries (Mafia controlled?) up towards the centre of the island.

Alicia asked about the clip clopping noise of a trotting horse. Helena, explained it was the sound the otherwise silent electric limo needed to emit to warn pedestrians. She pushed buttons and we heard other sound options: Volare blared out, then Que Sera and other old Italian pop favorites and football chants. Quickly we reverted to the stately horse drawn carrozza mode - at over 50odd mph!

Helena enjoyed showing off more of her friends’ technical wizardry. She pressed Alicia and Xandro into sampling the ‘tube feed’ menu items: fruit salad, mint, chocolate, shakes or the various savoury smoothies (which Xandro slurped down with gusto). Helena went forward with a pile of Pannecottan favourites to share with Gianni while they chatted.

I enjoyed the panoramic views as we skirted the walls of the old cittadelladucale on its hilltop then descended the far slope through a compact undulating landscape of citrus groves and vineyards and the villas of the wealthiest Pannecottans secure within high walled private estates.

We paused before heavy iron gates before drawing up in a stone paved palm court before a grand old villa. Gianni deposited us hydraulically at the top of a few steps as the young artist - Xandro says he’s barely into his twenties (Agnella is 4 years older) - stepped out to welcome us.
Lino kissed Helena and codded Xandro about his prominent great belly – to which Xandro responded in kind, feeling up Lino’s deep new ‘bay window’ incredulously to mutual raucous laughter.

Lino however was wholly reverential in receiving Alicia.
Helena had said in the traditional formal Italian manner ‘Ho il piacere di presentare la mia amica Alicia a voi’. (I have the pleasure to present my friend Alicia to you)
Today Alicia was wearing her trademark flamboyant flame red dress.
An earlier version had stopped me in my tracks; Lino’s reaction was far more dramatic.
Looking every inch the romantic Byronic artist-hero, long hair drawn back into a pony tail, black bearded, and with his magisterial belly pushing out a pristene linen smock, Lino stopped dead. With half shut eyes he commenced surveying Alicia’s totally startling figure.

“Totalmente Meraviglioso!” (Totally Wonderful!) Lino announced at last; continuing with:
“Alicia, ei incredibile in fotografie, ma assolutamente magica a tutto tondo.
(Alicia, you are unbelievable in pictures, but utterly magical in the round.)”

It was such a coup de theatre that we applauded spontaneously with shouts of “Bravo!”

Helena was delighted “See! Lino’s been following us all on the web version of Canale Qwerty, but in the round you’ve him blown away! What did I tell you Alicia?
OK Lino! Now we must take Alicia to see Agnella.”

Lino led us through the cool interior of the house, talking as he went.

“Did you enjoy Agnella’s custom built plaything?”

“Whatever happened to your helicopter?” Xandro said negatively “it was so exciting looking down at the island. ”

“It’s Agnella’s dad’s latest project. The limo’s on test from a German consortium wanting to break into autonomous electric cars. He’s persuaded them Pannecotterra is the ideal place to test – if it survives our traffic chaos, it should be marketable anywhere there is big money he says.
Did you note the “clopping” noise? That’s Agnella’s idea.”

“She’s waiting for you down in our favourite loggia.“ he said.

Helena was quick to produce a buggy for Alicia and they led us out and along the terrace overlooking lush irrigated gardens. Beneath a shaded loggia we came upon Agnella.

She was vast beyond belief, three, maybe four times the size of Alicia!
Agnella appeared to be some six feet across and reclined, spread across a broad upholstered bench beside a beautiful pool. She was…well naturally…busy eating!

But she was a stunningly turned out raven haired beauty. Helena revealed later that Agnella had a whole squad of Beauticians attending to her (who, via friendship also worked on Helena). Agnella was strikingly made up – great dark eyes and a smiley full sensual mouth dominating a mass of chins...

They’d somehow managed to coax her fat into a tight fitting black silk top with a square cut deep neck and an enormously full skirt layered in almost transparently sheer silk. Her form could be read with clarity under her dress.
Two years ago she’d apparently been as dramatic a pear as Alicia. Now she sported enormous torpedo breasts lolling across a belly that forced her legs aside to rest ahead of her on the floor. She almost reclined against a mountainous pair of buttocks which compressed the bulges of fat that had once been legs.
I found it impossible not to be aroused by the sexuality of her vast bulk.

She shrieked in delight at the sight of Alicia.
“There’s our star” she cried “Lets get a look at you!”
Lino helped Alicia upright from the buggy and our hosts exclaimed in unison “Just like I was/you were when we first got together in this very loggia!” [read 'Paper Weight Gain' here]
Lino hugged Alicia and after waddling her over to Agnella, pushed her down between Agnella’s billowing bosoms.

Agnella did her best to kiss then shed tears. “Oh don’t mind me! …Helena’s spot on… I was exactly your size just three years ago.”
Then she laughed “Now look at us both…
…and back then Lino was a stringy18 year old!”

Lino manouvred Alicia onto the adjacent bench saying “you two sit and recover. We shall leave you to bond.
I’ve ordered coffee for you to talk over, along with some ricotta packed canolli to fill a few cracks.
We need to go off now to plan the technicalities of this afternoon’s task.

When they were alone, Agnella continued to gush. She’d seen all Alicia’s web site videos and outtakes. Helena had told her lots about the antics in the Canale Qwerty studio and especially about the two naughty fat maids. Agnella had become a huge fan - why had Gabbi and Sula been left behind?

And Xandro - what had changed Xandro?
“He used to be so morose. Now he looks so ‘healthy’ – he’s really big and fat like Lino!”
Alicia explained about Xandro’s feeding/feeder relationship with old Quintin.

In fact Alicia pretty much downloaded everything: Aunt Pru / the Pleached Tree Tea Garden, sado-masochism with cakes – and Susannah’s imminent return with Aunt Pru.
“Ooh you’ve got to bring Aunt Pru to see me! Promise!”

They’d finished all the cannoli and Alicia belched happily. She looked over the verdant classic Italian garden out to the undulating landscape beyond. She realised how much she was loving all this fat fat fat business.

She suddenly clicked how she was able to see those gentle hills differently.
“Have you ever thought how those hills look like fat girls lying relaxing just like us?”

“Of course Darling; it’s really no accident that we see them like that. Don’t you know that long ago in these islands they all worshipped big Fat Lady Goddesses? They even built temples that looked like Fat Ladies – the earliest buildings in the World – so Lino says.
I like to imagine I’m one of those Fat Goddesses myself…swelling… swelling… swelling…” Agnella tailed off dreamily.

Alicia too slid off into a pleasant (perhaps shared) reverie…

After sometime, Agnella announced it was time to swim. Alicia came-to reluctantly, she was unwilling to discard her salacious dream.

The beauticians appeared and drew the silk dress off Agnella and began to swing her (hydraulically) into the pool. Agnella gestured with a “You’re coming in too!” for the attendants to turn and gently prepare Alicia for bathing.

The two relaxed in the pool, Alicia continuing to marvel at the sheer size of Agnella and how she appeared to whoop it up despite her immensity.
“Its not ‘despite growing fatter’ Darling– its because I’m growing fatter and fatter and fatter”.
Shouting this out to the world triumphantly, Agnella ended up laughing ecstatically.

Still laughing and being far more mobile in the water she began squishing ‘tiny’ Alicia up against the side with her bulk.
“You could easily be as big me” she was now murmuring seductively…”I promise you…”
Alicia was feeling the pressure…”every day Darling that I swell up bigger it feels more awe-inspiring.”

Mysteriously Agnella then disclosed “Daddy so loves how his baby daughter has blossomed.”
“He says it’s since she seduced her ‘toy boy’.”

“You mean Lino?” Alicia asked. “He seems so talented.”

“That’s right, daddy reckons Lino has a big future as a great artist. That’s why he’s putting so much money into us. Daddy’s given us this place because he’s based in Dubai these days.”

“Is that near Qwertykeysh?” Alicia asked.

“You don’t ask me geography questions Darling… though he does say he knows of your Prince.”

“The Prince asked me to marry him last week.” Alicia let slip.

Agnella swam up close, jostling Alicia
“And what did you tell him?” she asked, deeply serious all of a sudden.

“That I’m not ready to settle down yet”

“Excellent! Don’t ever sell yourself too cheap Darling.”

By being so demonstrably concerned about the young star’s prospects, Agnella had just been chosen by Alicia to be her future role model: her idealised Fat Lady Goddess.

For her part, Agnella knew that, by swimming thrillingly close, her fat so intimately enveloping and squashing Alicia, she’d just succeeded in seducing the burgeoning new TV star.
So, with Helena already enjoying her personal growth plan; she was now lusting after fattening up those two very naughty plump maids….

continued in post # 16 below
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Aged Member
Feb 8, 2007
Why thank you kind Sir!

How very nice to hear from you Sir Richard; we Dims devotees assumed you to be still ‘up denial’ (so to Speke) with that wonderful fat Lady Hamilton (here)

I hope this story hasn't been forgotten. It is one of the best erotic short fictions I have ever read. Truly masterful.

I was also wondering about the other stories you've authored, which you mention in the post above. Do you still plan on posting them here. I would be delighted to read them.
And even the awesome Lady Agouderia posted
A very funny take on Lady Hamilton's story - because there's some truth to it…
And Oh Sir!…how you promised us:
I plan on extending the tale, and I will promise more on Giuseppi!
I also want you to know that I plan on bringing some of my other tales to Dimensions, extended and completed post haste!
I'm sure we will all reckon two and a half years to be "completed post haste!" :eat2:

Thank you so much for posting here. :bow:


[FONT=&quot]Important PS
[FONT=&quot]for English lit [FONT=&quot]P[/FONT]rofessor R.[FONT=&quot]F[/FONT]. Burton[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Nah[FONT=&quot], not W Faulkner - just remembered my rip-off incompetent hero is:
[FONT=&quot]Harry Christmas in Jasper Gibson's 'A Bright Moon for Fool[FONT=&quot]s'[FONT=&quot] reviewed here[/FONT][/FONT][/FONT]
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Well-Known Member
Dec 23, 2008
I will promise to make a further foray into the world of the Lady, from her Italian interlude through the a reasonable conclusion soon. Historical fiction is a genre that has been lacking here lately. I thank you for your kind words and memory of my work.


Aged Member
Feb 8, 2007
I find attempting a few sketches can help me get into my characters.

The first is Alicia's first meet-up with Agnella

The second is me being the 'old fart' Cecil Spender - Soss (who plainly lies about his age!)
"I do feel reassured by the way that, when she's supine after half a dozen or so large Pimms, my amazon PA always starts admiring 'the cut of my jib'."
The last is my P.A. Ms. Su Pine-Knightley escorting me from my favourite wine and spirits merchant in the old town


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Aged Member
Feb 8, 2007
Cakes and a Sugar Plum part 12

Lino took us back inside to his studio to show the ideas he’d sketched for morphing Alicia from video to beautifully loose water colour graphics and vice versa.
The images were mocked up on screen together with overlays of sympathetic choices of typography for titling the new brand image that we could firm up on later. All very professional.

Xandro and Lino began discussing the detail of sketching and shooting, none of which really needed Helena and me.
Helena took me off and insisted on conducting me all through the villa’s flamboyant old rooms, hardly ever used now and kept shuttered up.
It seemed to me that each successive era had reacted against its forebears, abandoning spaces, preferring to add its own suites of rooms, stuffed full of impractical furniture and great dark oil paintings. Photo frames
encrusted every surface, tarnished and fading, full of forgotten faces .

We ended up in Agnella’s dad’s hi-tech kitchen in the modern part of the house all space age swirls and clashing colours,.
Lino was about to add a softer range of more contemplative spaces around a large indoor pool, designed Helena said, to support Agnella’s ‘mobility’.

Helena and I were sharing a jug of fresh squeezed orange from the posh frig so I broached my idea of shooting some comedy shorts. I told her how I so enjoyed the joshing between her and the twins, plus occasionally Xandro. .

Helena jumped at this and started putting forward ideas herself and chuckling. She stressed we should also involve Alicia plus Agnella.
“But Agnella’s in a totally different league” I said.
“She’s also my Best Friend!” Helena retorted. “What about some of Lino’s cartoony animated things. And some Fantasy shots?”

I could see this as a possibility.

“Allora, all this hard work has made me really hungry! Lets round up the others. Agnella says she has lunch arriving at the pool for us.

The two supersize women were floating inert out in the middle of the pool, side by side when we arrived. Lino showed us the bathing hut where we could choose cozzies and change.

I swam out intending to dive under the two already in the middle. Seen from below could they look like water lilies?
Nah, lilipads are strictly 2D; these two beauties are very definitely 3D.

I opened my eyes momentarily down below. Peering upwards I glimpsed an extraordinary collection of giant silvery bubble like sculptural forms hanging in the glittering bright water.

I surfaced the other side of the floating female island. I’d been intending to splash Alicia but the pair looked too serene. I could visualize them as two humanoid jelly fish almost mingling together.

I turned on my back and working just my feet, propelled myself backwards lazily away. I caught the smokey exciting smell of charcoal grilling meat drifting across the pool. Caught up in watching lunch being set out under the loggia, I surprised myself in heading to a cushioned standstill in Xandro’s monstrous torso. Bouncing back out again, I stood up to find him standing (droopy) man-boob deep, talking anxiously with Lino and Helena about this afternoon’s tasks.

They were saying “We have to be back not much after 4pm in time for Alicia to be on air at 5pm.
Working backwards this means we’ve not much more than an hour after lunch to get everything done.”

The two big floating islands drifting nearer us had overheard this.

Agnella chipped in with “well come back tomorrow then – and be sure to bring the twins this time”

“Gabbi and Sula aren’t twins.” Helena called back.

“Well they act like they are” Helena’s pernickety correction got brushed brusquely aside as Agnella returned to organising, “anyway you’ve got to come back tomorrow, it will give us time now to relax and enjoy today’s lunch.”
She said with emphasis: “I’ve gone to a lot of trouble to arrange this lunch.”

All of us recognized a command when we heard it. We went ashore meekly and commenced loading our plates from the spread of antipasti laid along the back of the loggia.

Standing last in line with my plate I reviewed the swimwear choices ahead of me.
Xandro had chosen a pair of long, vaguely ex army, baggy shorts exactly like his day to day wear for his deathly white heavily tattooed gross body.
Sun tanned Lino wore a near invisible thong with his genitalia neatly stowed into a pocket in rear of his spectacular belly droop.
Helena’s rather flappy pink and cream two piece contrasted strongly with her bronzed soft fat.
For myself, I’d been pleased to find a neat little Speedo - although Helena (in front of me) couldn’t stop laughing about it.

She told me it emphasized my great snowball of a belly and spindly white limbs.
So I felt obliged to point out that what she had on was hardly up to the job of coping with her bulgy floppy bits.
Helena wiggled her very fat bubble bum back at me with “so you disapprove do you?”
And with that, the fat little cow bunted back so violently into my gut, she totally winded me “…Oof!”

At this point everyone turned to watch the sight of Agnella being swung ashore in a sling.
Raised out of the pool, she appeared to be no more than a dripping wet mass of unmanageably soft jelly-like spheres.
Before her attendants sprung into action toweling off her, I thought I could make out a gargantuan central belly sack surrounded by immense buttock and bosom balloons and sundry vestigial blobs that might once have been limbs.
After carefully arranging Agnella over her special bench, propping parts of her up with cushions, they wrapped her into a huge soft sheet of toweling bathrobe.

Alicia was likewise dealt with and soon the two supersizers were being plied with plate after plate from the buffet.

The buffet allowed us to take stock of the full range of foods Agnella had ordered to be prepared. After that we could choose subsequent plates to be delivered to our place settings by the attendants.
Xandro acted like he’d not eaten for a week joyfully exclaiming at his favourite dishes. Plates of different antepasti followed by pasta queued for his attention.
I enjoyed the classic island baked pasta with a crispy cheese topping, though the chunk I was brought was so huge that I was still munching while the others were enjoying plate after plate of the spit roasted wild boar and the steaks or fish from the charcoal grill.

As we were tackling our ‘secondi piatti (the main meat course) I saw Agnella indicate she now wished to change over to a hose supply.
While we ate, I kept half an eye on her as, after being hitched up to the feeder hose, she slipped slowly off into a contented semi conscious stupor. All the while she appeared to be sleeping, I saw how the hose continued pulsing into her.

Helena, sitting alongside, whispered to me “Isn’t that the hottest bit of Feeding you’ll ever witness?

True enough, I was thoroughly roused myself. I asked: “So tell me Helena - do you maybe see yourself ending up like that?”

She looked at me dreamily…

Unexpectedly I then had an earful “What the fuck do you mean ’Ending up’ like that? You’ve got it totally back to front Darling!
For someone with ambitions like me from Pannecotta – Agnella is sublime. Fattening up is just the beginning… For her…and yes… maybe for me”

From now on I lost all sense of how much we were eating as we got deeper and deeper into unpacking Helena’s psyche.
Like everyone else I already knew all about the Fat Lady Goddesses of these stone age little southern Mediterranean islands. I suppose I first heard about them as a kid when enormously Fat Ladies chimed with my secret childhood yearnings.
I really would have loved to worship a Fat Lady Goddess inside an actual Fat Lady temple!

O.K. Now here is what I think I heard from Helena:

She insists the cult still exists. Apart from Agnella who, with Lino’s passionate encouragement is transforming herself, she knows a dozen more cases of women utterly committed to morphing into Goddesses.

As a newsman on Pannecottan T.V., her brother regularly gets reports of vastly fat immobile women secreted inside the everyday fabric of Pannecottan society.
The stories never make it into the broadcast news bulletins, though Helena can show me video evidence, shot not just in private domestic settings but in institutions as diverse as prestige Island catering establishments, a University campus, a Mafia clandestine get-together and even within a hush-hush Police training unit.

She reckons canny islanders have always hedged their bets. They go to church on Sundays, businessmen might analyse market reports in futures trading, politicos in suits fly up to Brussels for EU shenanigans, yet at the same time they may all be sounding out their favourite Fat Lady Goddess.

I was discovering how obsessive Helena really is, hiding behind her jokey packaging. She says (stuffing down another hunk of baked pasta the size of her head) growing fatter is the enjoyable easy bit. She sees her primary goal as shaping up mentally for a future role as mentor and oracle.

I had fallen asleep over an umpteenth slice of sinful ricotta gateaux when a attendant shook me awake to say the bus was about to depart back home.

I tried to rouse Helena but so blown out was she with her own gluttony that she was incoherent. The attendant turned back to assure me that Helena usually stayed overnight with Agnella and Lino. They too were still out for the count as I stumbled past back to the bus.

I found Xandro already on board; with ‘driver’ Gianni busy ministering to a groggy Alicia.

She lay, moaning, eyes shut, spread-eagled across the seating on her back. A staggeringly great belly domed upwards out of a food stained beachrobe.
Now and again she was mumbling incoherently.
I remember I heard “I’ve stuffed in more just now than I’ve ever eaten in my entire life…oooh! …
Auntie Pru you should be so proud of your little niece …Oh God!
… though not so little now … eh ? …Aunt Pru ?… so very very very fat now …
Oof! hurts sooo much”

“Her Ladyship’s due to be working in front of my camera in an hour’s time” said Xandro urgently “we need lots of ice and ice cold fizzy water to get her going”

“I’ll get Smogasbrod to organise it” Gianni said and went off to collect paper towels as the vehicle was leaving the villa behind.

While the bus, its driver’s seat vacant, ploughed smoothly along, all three of us (four if you counted the concerned Smorgasbord) worked away hard at shocking Alicia back into sentient action.
Successive ice packs got her squealing and eventually staying awake.
Once she’d begun swearing foul oaths and the direst of threats at her tormentors, at least we knew linkages were being re-instated between pain, brain and creative expression.

Gianni, still threatening more ice pack torture in one hand, had the hose ready in the other to deliver ice cold sparkling water.

Xandro and I worked away in tandem on belly massage. We were both shocked at the packed mass we could feel. No matter how hard we tried, it was so reluctant to disperse.

Alicia was emitting grunts now, but whether of relief or still of pain, we weren’t sure. But she was quaffing litres of the fizzy mineral water. She also began belching and farting prodigiously.

Xandro got the giggles about all the farting.
“Ha ha ha, she’s usually so very Ladylike in front of my camera, but, ho! ho! Her insides are working away now just like anyone else’s!”

By the time we were turning onto the marine boulevard Alicia was sitting up with a clean beachrobe (produced by Gianni) drawn around her.
Indeed Smorgasbord was delivering chilled prosecco to Alicia through the hose by the time we drew up alongside the apartments.

Gabbi and Sula were standing by, along with Quint, ready with a gurney. Gianni, back in the driving seat once more along the marine boulevard, had routinely messaged them of our arrival and predicament.

But Alicia brushed trolleying aside. Instead she made a theatrical point of processing in her enormous white robe (one of Agnella’s) slowly through the busy entrance foyer to the lifts. The maids holding onto the towelling sheeting looked for all the world like bridesmaids.

Quint hugged Xandro with relief, saying they had a quarter of an hour to get Alicia ‘camera ready’.

to be continued


Aged Member
Feb 8, 2007
Cakes and a Sugar Plum – part 13

In the hours following Agnella’s ‘relaxing’ lunch I felt like I’d swallowed a boulder. I kept trying to burp away the pain but in swallowing more air in the vain hope of inducing belches, ratcheted up my bloated discomfort. I wiled away the evening sprawled out in the living area. With a bottle of iced Highland Park for company, I watched Alicia on the monitor.

Alicia was fantastic!
I immediately noticed that, because of her grossly expanded pear shape, Quint had positioned her noticeably further back from her presenter’s desk. Since she could no longer use her desk, all the while she talked she was unconsciously caressing the crest of that new taller belly.
She was also still wrapped around in Agnella’s huge white beach robe, for which the girls had somehow conjured up a matching white turban to conceal her greasy food encrusted hair.
Considering how smashed Alicia had been on the way home, they’d managed to work wonders with thick make-up on her ravaged face – outwardly she appeared as composed as ever.

And in addressing the camera, Alicia’s serene personal style was even more laid back than usual.
To my mind, her whole body language seemed to be saying ‘Wowee! You would not believe how much I’ve been blown out in today’s mammoth stuffing. But in spite of everything, I’m somehow still here delivering just for you.’

I found that incredibly arousing!

For once Gabbi and Sula surprised me in their sympathetic response to Alicia. Though of necessity both had to appear on camera to support Alicia, in no way were they distracting the viewer as they usually do.
The Pellegrino sparkling water bottle and glass on Alicia’s desk, clearly an essential life support tonight, was well beyond Alicia’s reach.
So Gabbi was always on hand to deliver the glass safely over Alicia’s new topography into her hand whenever appropriate, and kept it topped up unobtrusively like a world class butler.
Likewise, Sula stationed alongside Alicia was quietly watchful, ready to gently re-arrange Agnella’s big wrap around whenever it was in process of sliding.

All in all an extraordinary evening of improvised TV which, as an FA, I’d found most alluring.
But of course I was fully aware of what had caused this cobbled together performance.

However I quickly received a direct phone call from the Prince after station shutdown.

“Dammit sussussus! That was the best evening yet.
Brilliant… stuff tell Alicia. She projected herself so directly … she she she looked so Beautiful…ber but so so so vulnerable! And the mer maids supporting her were so so so charming.
But we ssstill need to find some better sin…sin…syndicated programs, they were awful……”

I was way too knackered to do anything other than just listen.

Suddenly the maids piled in with “Hey Soss! We can’t shift Alicia. She’s passed out!”

I stumbled into the studio to find Alicia had slid out of the chair onto the floor on her back… groaning.
Xandro and Quint were bent over her.
The maids hustled back in with their stock panacea for any crisis – tonight it proved to be a large bitter lemon cheesecake.

Actually we all quickly consumed it, even Alicia was good for the two pieces the maids managed to post into her between her gasps.
We left the maids once more administering ice cold sparkling Pellegrino mineral water.

They proposed staying the night with her since none of us were up to carrying her to bed.


Riding up to Agnella’s villa next day, the two maids played silly Bs in the limo all the way. The were chatting up Gianni, taking turns in the ‘driving seat’, and attempting to stuff down one another’s gullets every item on offer from Smorgasbord’s menu using the hosepipes.

Quint and Xandro sat huddled in back, intensively plotting the coming day’s work.

Alicia and I sat side by side on the central seating sharing a pile of sticky brioche and chatting. Clad in a cool looking pale green linen suit, she’d somehow collected herself together this morning.

I was struck at how thrilled she was at the praise from the Prince’s for her heroic ad hoc performance last night.
I had of course already relayed this to everyone last night but she’d switched off by then. Totally out for the count.
She wondered whether there were things she might learn by watching the video of last night. I said I thought that a really great idea.

We compared notes about yesterday’s get together and how we’d fared. She gushed to me about her first exhilarating meet-up with Agnella and swimming together.
Conversely, all Agnella’s subsequent pressurised gross stuffing rituals had utterly overwhelmed her.

I told her of Helena’s extraordinary rant at me and of her goal to become a Fat Lady Goddess. Alicia quizzed me closely about this, sharing more of her heart to heart talks with Agnella.
She could understand Helena’s ambition to be a mentor and oracle but she emphatically disagreed that the enjoyably easy bit might be the fattening-up.

I realised Alissa was frightened, but then, perhaps, might I be too?

She and I both agreed we very much wanted our ‘Big Su’ back (as Alicia terms my PA). Without ‘Nanny’, as I sometimes think of her, we seem in danger of getting well ‘out of our depth’.

I held her hand and said ”Alicia its only a few days now”.

She said “yes, but Soss, what kind of shape might I be by then?”

I thought it better not to mention her brand new mannerism.
Her hands were still constantly caressing her new ‘high rise’ belly top. It was like she was unconsciously marvelling at its startling upsurge into her corporal existence.

to be continued


Aged Member
Feb 8, 2007
Cakes and a Sugar Plum – part 14

Agnella was ‘busy’ floating in the pool when we arrived - and on no account should she be disturbed during her meditations. This was conveyed to us by Helena who’d breakfasted with her earlier after staying over.

But Helena did propose that our two maids could be spared briefly to help serve Agnella her late morning coffee and cake down in the loggia. Because they were two of Agnella’s favourites in our TV show, this would come as a lovely surprise for her.

Alicia glanced questioningly across at me on hearing this. But I reckoned it was more than an hour away and since they’d only be away a short time, it seemed fair enough to agree; so we got down to work.

Helena led Alicia away to a lift with the maids to go up to her room to primp up for being filmed. It clearly being ladies work, I went off with the tekkies.

I wanted to watch them work with Lino to create animations videoing his artwork. I was probably expecting more quick rewards seeing beautiful screen images like I’d enjoyed on Lino’s computer screen yesterday.

But this morning was an interminable love-in between the three concerning the bewildering interaction (and present glitches) between Lino and Xandro’s computers and also Quint’s video camera. They went on endlessly about compatibility between computer programmes/ video techniques /stop frame /onion skins/time lapse. It sounded like they were trying to out do one another in some macho phallic foreplay.

Bored by all the willy waving, I abandoned them after twenty minutes.
I rang Alicia’s mobile to hear how they were doing. I wished I hadn’t.

Apparently nothing at all fits Alicia - in particular the red dress she had on to be filmed in yesterday and had left behind overnight.

I hurried up to their room knowing how central Alicia in her red dress was to our new station identity.

Alicia sat on the edge of the bed, clad only in bra and vast loose silk drawers, Her belly, forcing her knees apart, hung down in front of her nearly to the floor.
Nothing new there - except for the silk drawers. Agnella always preferred a thong.

But anyone could spot Alicia’s new fitting prob in just one quick look.
Those weird floral silk drawers were working overtime stretching upwards over the rising summit of Alicia’s now greatly expanded belly.

She’d always been proud of her firm breasts thrusting forward from her torso in stark contrast to the chaotic masses of soft fat below. Now, her bra was being pushed up, resting atop the new belly.

Alicia was caressing the new doming top of her belly dreamily - as I’d been noticing all morning.

“Where on earth did you find those drawers ?” I asked.

“Aren’t they lovely, they used to be Agnella’s favourites.”

But it wasn’t Alicia who’d answered me, it was Helena.
“We’re busy making adjustments to Alicia’s famous red dress. We’ve had to borrow Agnella’s ‘live-in’ dress makers”, Helena explained.

I saw our how Gabbi and Sula our two maids were snipping away happily at some (more or less matching) red dress material, following instructions from two other young women who were busy sewing.

“Doesn’t Alicia look so amazingly healthy today?” Sula gushed at me.

I knew how Pannecottans still all use the archaic fatter to mean healthier in the local (more or less Arabic) patois.

“So we are altering her dress so Alicia’s cleavage will be overflowing dramatically” Helena enthused.

Attendants appeared bearing coffee and snacks. It caused Helena to check the time “Hey kids! Aren’t you going off to surprise Agnella?”

The fat maids bustled off excitedly with the attendants.

I sat on the bed as close as I could get to the broad beamed Alicia.
“You OK ?” I asked.

She looked up at me with
“I will be once they get that sodding dress to fit. It must have 'shrunk in the wash' overnight.”

“That’ll be it” I smirked, “but they’ve nearly got it ready to try on now…”

Actually it took several goes at fitting – and with me helping!
I tried really hard gently pushing at her beautifully soft fat to coax it into the material. But I had to concede I could see as well as hear the risk of splitting precarious new seams at every attempt to coax the iconic red dress down over her ballooning lower middle.

At the point where we did actually have it over her - though with no possibility of her moving (I suspect even breathing) without it splitting apart, we eased it back off so they could make the last necessary adjustments.

While they were making the final tweaks, I hurried back to the tekkies to warn them. In truth they seemed to have moved not one iota in the two hours since I’d left.

I told them we really had to prioritise shooting Alicia in the red dress because it really did look at the very edge of bursting off.
Of the three only Lino’s face signalled anything of the excitement (and lust) I myself was trying hard to stifle.
Lino said “then you’ll have to tell her to leave it off till after lunch. We shall make it the first thing we do.”

I turned to go and Lino said “actually its time we all broke for lunch, we should start again in an hour.”
Quint said “I don’t want to go down and eat myself silly by the pool, we’ve work to do!”
“Its just pizza or pasta on the terrace today” Lino said “so nothing fancy guys.”

I went to call Alicia down and wait by the lift.
Just Alicia in the usual vast robe appeared with Helena.

“So our naughty maids haven’t returned?” I asked.

“Did you really expect them to?” Alicia asked pointedly.

“They’re sure to be having so much fun with Agnella” Helena said.

“Huh! They’ll be fit for nothing by the time Agnella’s done with them” Alicia commented.

“I’ll fetch them back for the afternoon’s shoot” Helena assured her.

We’d been ambling slowly (waddling) through from the lift to join the others on the shady western side of the terrace. Just below, in the garden a pair of cooks were at a pizza oven.
I selected myself a very welcome iced lager out of the local bottled beers and soft drinks frig. Alicia chose a Latte almond drink; Helena the favourite local rival to Coke – bittersweet Chinotto.
I stayed with the women; the guys still busily digitising dicks .

I was also anxious about nursing Alicia through lunch and into that dress.
“Fancy sharing a pizza?” I asked, “you always like anchovies and I feel like anchovies today.”
I requested a Pizza Neapolitana (tomatoes, mozzarella, capers, anchovies and olives) with extra anchovies.

We ate our four pizza slices each, and as Alicia began looking around for more, I decided to intervene with: “Alicia, I’d like you to take a turn around the terrace with me.”

Alarm bells went off deep down in Alicia’s new Belly “What me walk? But I’ve not finished; I want pasta like Helena’s.”
Helena was still digging happily through mounds of pasta with clams.
“Then I’ll need dessert and everything!”

“Alicia! RED DRESS ! Remember?” I was trying my best to look menacing.

Everyone had stopped eating and turned to look; seeing my beetroot face, some were giggling.

I continued more evenly: “Look, I need to talk you through what I’d like you to do in the red dress this afternoon…see ?
OK - I’ll compromise! Howzabout letting me fetch a dish of ice cream along for you while we talk?”

I pulled her upright . Leaning heavily on me, Alicia slowly waddled around the corner.
We stopped at the nearest bench overlooking the view; she kept a hold of me, pulling me to her...“Soss, something really weird comes over me when I'm here. It’s like I’ve got to out-eat smug bitch Helena.
You’re absolutely right, I really do need to fit in that dress. Like…I know it won’t be much good for more than an hour.
For Sure it’s going to blast off me in shreds.”

Alicia we need to be sure to make the most of it while it stays in one piece.
Then Kaboom! Do your damndest…
.. and I’ll make sure we get it on camera.
Then you can eat…Deal?”

“Deal” Alicia whispered, “you’re so sweet Soss. You do really care about me.”

True to her word Helena did fetch Gabbi and Sula back in time for the afternoon.
But they were very different.
Though they now wore new uniforms that actually fitted, they’d blown up like balloons!
[As an aside Alicia whispered to me “Funny! How the two blown-up maids got nicely fitting new uniforms when their meeting-up with Agnella had been such a surprise?”]

Helena had been obliged to ferry our resized maids back in a buggy.
Their hair was still wet from swimming, plus I’d come to recognise the dreamy look they both had from having been clustering in close-up, amongst Agnella’s archipelagos of soft fat.

They were also incapable of doing anything on camera except lie around and sleep.
But as it turned out, the afternoon’s filming turned out to be surprisingly brief. The tekkies were jubilant that all their much derided digital dickery was all working brilliantly.

The shoot went as follows :
Quint had prepared a simple simulation of the usual presenter’s set (a simulcra Lino termed it).
Alicia - still in her underwear - was carefully positioned before the camera and tested.
Helen and the dressmakers carefully eased Alicia’s red (onion skin?) dress over her corpulence.
Alicia managed to deliver three complete rushes of video to camera (the last with rotund maids asleep either side)
On the fourth, the dress began audibly and visibly ripping, so Alicia really hams it up…then Kerbang !
(the fat maids can only manage briefly to open heavy lidded eyes at the disturbance).
The camera cuts on a close-up of Alicia’s facial expression a picture of shocked innocence.

It was all done within the hour and Alicia promptly buggied herself off down for tea and ‘an early bath’ rendezvous with Agnella.
The rest of us followed on afterwards down for tea and a swim in our own time.

Before I went off down to the loggia and the pool, I enjoyed watching Quint’s rushes through several times and was very heartened.

Xandro had also caught a lot of ‘out take’ fun and games on a room camera which we reckoned could be useful for editing into my little shorts.

That night, back in my flat, the ‘Canale Querty’ transmission was another precarious piece of dangerously ‘ad libbed’ weight-gain TV.

Luckily Helena had returned with us in the limo, because the maids had blown out so down at the pool.
Fortunately therefore, she could partner Alicia in a lively BBW double act since Gabbi and Sula, supposedly in support, were slumped in the background most of the evening.
Helena scolded the two repeatedly, shouting point blank into their dreamy looking faces about disgracing themselves on TV in such a stupor of over-indulgence.
The maids, still balloon-like, were only capable of sheepish grins and incoherent burps and belching in response.

At one point even Xandro had to venture briefly on set to help the two basket cases.
It struck me how unbelievable he appeared on screen: now sporting a grotesquely puffed-up belly drooping out of his Goth tee, not to mention the heavy black beard, weird tattoos and those grotty long shorts.

I found this all made astonishingly stimulating TV watching.

I awaited a call from the Prince.....

to be continued


Aged Member
Feb 8, 2007
Cakes and a Sugar Plum – part 15

By the time Su was due back with Aunt Pru in tow the following Friday, the Villa had become a second home for us all at Canale Qwerty. We had been up there most days perfecting the new animated graphics.
We were also having a load of fun shooting and editing more of “my” comedy shorts.

Up at the Villa, Aunt Pru’s reputation as a Feeder was preceding her, thanks to the two irrepressible fat maids repeating Alicia’s tales of the goings-on at her aunt’s tea shop – embroidered with ever more blown-up embellishments.

So intrigued were Lino and Agnella about Aunt Pru and her powers that they insisted we borrow Gianni and the limo mid afternoon to transfer Su and Aunt Pru from the Airport

But instead of Su being gobsmacked at the sumptuous welcome, she went ballistic. She was gobsmacked alright - though with shock about the drastic changes in us all while she’d been away.
Su exploded first off as she clapped eyes on me waiting at Arrivals.
“Fucking Hell Soss! You’ve turned into a bloody great barrel! I could roll you home.”
“And by the look of those bloodshot eyes you’ve got to be brim full of Single Malt whisky.”

So instead of the friendly hugs I’d been hoping for, all I got was a lot of painful poking of my belly button - which I have to admit was peeping out through blasted-off shirt buttons.

Fortunately Aunt Pru was out of earshot for Su’s initial salvo at me.
But she did witness Su getting her first eyeful of Alicia (who’d remained on board the limo).

“My God Alicia! I don’t believe this is all you!” Su said, joggling at all Alicia’s belly blubber “You must have totally blown your TV image with all this heaped up in front of you.”
She took in all Smorgasbord’s dishes laid out “And why this ridiculous tea party?”

“Woomffff” Alicia responded, spraying patisserie crumbs over everyone.
She tried again - spitting out a few words as well as crumbs: “Weumf…wanted to make you both welcome.”
Gesturing to her side, she said “Come and make yourself comfortable Aunt Pru… and try these Patisserie Roma…I promise you they are delicious!”

Aunt Pru wasn’t at all the cozy knitting pattern Miss Marple I’d been expecting.

A bottle-blonde razor trimmed hair-do topped by a giant quif drew the eye away from Aunt Pru’s squat S shaped sack of a body. She packaged herself tight into a black pair of tailored trousers and a silvery purply-mauve short sleeved open knit top.
She arrived with a clam-shell wheeled suitcase seemingly big enough to live in. The garishly purple portmanteau decked out with large red and green poppies had to be wheeled across by Gianni, struggling mightily to keep the whole kaboosh ‘straight and level’.

Everything about Aunt Pru signaled a doughty hard edged character. Throughout the half hour journey to our flat she interrogated Alicia minutely about the goings on here - at the same time effortlessly keeping pace, patisserie for patisserie, with her far more capacious niece.

On the adjacent seating I was also being grilled about ‘goings on here’ but with no benefit of refreshment.
Obviously I tried putting the best spin on things by highlighting:
· the praise we were getting from Qwertykesh,
· the wonderful new station graphics Xandro had commissioned from Lino,
· the jokey new ‘shorties’ Xandro was turning out for me,
· a vast demand for more of this ‘weight-gain comedy’ genre opening up on YouTube.
Su angrily rubbished all my carefully marshalled bullet points. She’d been working away
[working her fingers to the bone? I asked myself: nope. Everything about her still looked pretty plushy!]
in London at sourcing quality programme content for Canale Qwerty - while I’d been pandering to gross orgies of gluttony behind her back here in Pannecotterra.

As we slowed to a halt outside our building’s foyer, I took comfort from us being nearly at the flat - now she could see the real facts for herself.
The whole gang were waiting upstairs ready to welcome her - along with the fabled Aunt Pru. Even Lino had invited himself along out of curiosity, though Agnella had stayed home in her pool.
Plus Gabbi and Sula (now even their “new” uniforms were bursting apart) had a good spread laid out ready.

Well…I was in need of several stiff drinks before I could face enjoying the reception.


Several hours later, I woke up feeling more or less ready to join the others - thanks to most of a delectable bottle of single malt Highland Park Einar imparting a warm inner glow.

I ought to explain:
I’d dispatched Su, Alicia and AP up in the lift without me, by warning the overload would otherwise trigger.
I took the next lift up to the floor below and slipped up the back service stair where Lina, our cleaner (and the maid’s mum) had let me in.
She agreed to keep mum about my arrival and I went off to hide in my backroom.

It was dark when I surfaced and to slake my de-hydration I stumbled out in need of a long drink.
I found the living area deserted save for empty dishes and glasses. I grabbed a bottle of Pellegrino, about all that remained and sat down.
Looking across at the monitor, I realised the studio was in use for the evening session. Alicia and our two maids were on screen, but of Helena there was no sign.

Watching the monitor and wondering how things had gone, I gradually grew to be distracted by an intermittent slapping sound.
Eventually I decided the noise was inside the flat, then found it to be coming from “our” room that Su now shared with Alicia.

I stood outside; the door was ajar. ‘Thwack’ I now heard distinctly, followed by a giggle.

I peeped around…
My Oh My!
Here was Ms Susie Amazon High-and-Bloody-Mightily all tied up, her big bulgy jobbling buttocks red red raw
And Aunty Pru, stashed into a joke naughty bespangled Dominatrix costume, was swinging a long handled wooden broad paddle for all she was worth.

Thwapp! Went the paddle once more, and again there was a schoolgel like giggle from Aunt Pru as she enjoyed all that Amazonian blubber wobble.

I admit, even I found the prospect of Su’s punishment strangely rewarding.

Aunt Pru offered up a hefty slice of a tall chocolate cake on a plate for Su’s mouth to Hoover instantly down.
From the look of Su’s distended belly and chocolaty face, a good many slices of chocolate cake had already passed south.

I watched for a bit before returning to the living area. I was surprised to find Lina shuffling around clearing the room.
“Lina you should have gone off hours ago” I said.
Lina said she didn’t trust her two daughters. She said they were getting out of hand and needed a thorough spanking: “If their dad was still alive he’d put them both across his knee!”

Now I don’t know why the Devil suddenly got into me - but I told her that if she felt like that, she ought to take a peep around Su’s bedroom door.

I returned to sitting watching the monitor enjoying the new station branding as the night’s TV was closing down. Any fantasies about Lina’s discipline needs were displaced by the sounds of Alicia’s impending arrival.

Recently Alicia had fattened up so much she no longer could slip between living area and studio t perform her continuity links as she had at the outset. In fact the hugely bulky Xandro and the very nearly spherical maids were making a ludicrous pantomime of squashing Alicia through the door and onto the seating.
Even Quint, doing his best to stand aside and hold the door open, now sported a belly ball like mine (but somewhat smaller) on his spidery frame.

Alicia collapsed close against me and amidst a lot of laughter, lent all over me delivering a great big kiss.
I wondered what on earth had prompted this.

“Consider it well earned” Alicia said.
I learnt it was for bearing the brunt of the worst punishment meted out by Amazon Su on her arrival.

“But I deserve more than just one kiss for that.” I said.
The fat maids said “Possibly….So can you handle all of us?” before rudely dumping down and bouncing on me.

“One at a time! One at a time!” I gasped. I heard myself imitating an old time “I speak your weight” machine.

I wanted to know how it had gone at the flat.

They reckoned Big Su had quietened down by the time she’d emerged from the lift. She’d apparently got squished into hard by Alicia, aided and abetted by Aunt Pru – all fired up by a sugar rush following Smorgasbord’s tea party.

Quint and Xandro, returning to the living/relaxation area from the kitchen with enormous doorstep sandwiches, caught the end of us talking and Xandro added how Su had really take to Lino.

“But he’s one Hell of a lot fatter than you Xandro!” I commented.

“Its his winning ways, duckie - you could all learn from him” Alicia said cuttingly. “Nothing at all to do with belly size.”

Alicia continued “anyway Lino’s got Su and Aunt Pru sufficiently interested about the Villa that they are keen to come up with us tomorrow.

The fat maids looked hungrily at the tekkies’ doorstep sandwiches

“Hey, why haven’t you brought sarnies for us? You’re not the only ones starving after the night’s work!” said Sula.
Gabbi flounced off saying “OK, I’m going off to find mum and what she’s been cooking up.”

We continued talking about what we had to do up at the Villa tomorrow.

Some minutes later after a commotion. Gabbi stomped noisily back - dragging mum behind her!
Just in her underwear, mum was carrying the wreckage of a chocolate cake (a lot of which was round their faces).

Aha! I thought, this is going to be interesting…

Alicia reacted immediately “Aunt Pru made that cake!…”

Gabbi said “That’s who mum got it off – didn’t you mum?
Aunt Pru had it, plus a lot more interesting kit in her big suitcase. As you can see it’s got mum really hooked.”

I looked mum over…Beside the chocolaty mouth, there was a tell-tale distended stomach and a few purply red weals around the back of her barrel like figure.

“Wey Hey!” I said, yawning “I’m off to bed, its been an eventful day...”

I knew I’d got more than enough to reflect over….

to be continued