R.F.Burton
Well-Known Member
~BBW, Romance, Imagery, ~MWG - from the days of empire the memoirs of s goddess
[Author's note: The private account of the truelove and mistress of Lord Horatio Nelson, Hero of Copenhagen, The Nile, Trafalgar and numerous minor actions, Emma Hamilton.
This manuscript was found in the possession of the former Head Librarian of Calais, France where it had somehow found it's way.
While it is true that Lady Hamilton spent her final sad years in France to escape her creditors, and that she died in Calais, nothing is known about when she acquired the services of the very literate and (to her) indespensable Colline, her maidservant.
It may be added that nothing in current historic record gives us a clue as to what happened to Colline after the Lady's passing, but one can only hope that she found refuge somewhere on the Continent, and with her skill with the pen, may have found more remuneration than she had been able to gain from her long service to the lady.
It must be remembered that while the manuscript appears to be written in the first person, seeing as the date is such that it is, and owing to Lady Hamilton's condition at the time, these words are inarguably those of Colline. ]
I England
Oh I knew how to live before I met Nelson, but there was not real life in me until I did. Everything from my childhood in poverty through my marriage to Lord Hamilton seem to me to be irrelevant now that I have known what true love is.
I had known the love of men from an early age; the course, hard kind that dominates and gratifies their loins but does nothing to seek to really please a woman. Like dogs in an alley they can be, when their base desires fill them and when I was young, and a poor serving maid, I knew that sort of love, if it can even be called such.
The fates had blessed me with a form both supple and voluptuous from an early age, leading the many men whose paths I crossed to describe me as a modern dryad, or a woodland nymph directly from the forests of Attica and the alter of Dionysius. They used me as such as I grew.
By age 15 my full grown height had reached 5 foot and 5 and my breasts were firm and high, above a winnowey waist and soaring hips. My complexion pale, my eyes blue and my hair auburn brown set all off so that by my 16th birthday Sir Harry took me away for his own. My heart felt full of love for him at the time though I now know it was more full of hope. Hope for a full belly every night at bedtime and no pains of hunger. Hope for fine clothes and adventure. Hope that he might make me more than a kept woman.
This hope I now realize was pointless. Harry Featherstonhaugh was not capable of more than seeing me as one of his trinkets, a pearl to show his foppish friends, and a thrill between silken sheets when the whim struck him. That was all I was to him, and well do I remember his admonishments to me when in my revelry at having all that I had been denied for so long in my larder, I covered my body with a lovely and sleek layer of fat: fat that thrilled me with its opulence but which he felt would take away from my luster and the glimmer of his pearl.
He immediately restricted my access to victuals of all sorts and my lithesome figure returned, only to be blown up by his baby soon after, a baby that he soon removed from my care as it embarassed him, and then whisked me off to set me before a man who I thought would be more kind, and at least a being a gentleman, honorable: Sir Charles Greville.
Sir Charles would ultimately even tell me he loved me, which Harry never had, but this love was not alone going to aid him in his way up the social ladder. As he had met a wealthy daughter of an Earl, though she was frumpy, stupid and vain, he determined that I was an embarassment also, and determined to be rid of me through introduction. Sir Charles raved of my beauty, and though I had gained a few stone with the birth of my first child proclaimed my Classical grace and proportions to all in his company. Through this raving and flattery, I was introduced to an artist friend of his, George Romney.
Romney was entranced by my beauty! At least this is how he made his feelings known publicly. I believe partly as the result of some of Sir Charles boasting of my abilities in the bedroom and willingness to please, and partly because of his fascination with all things Classical, of which he remarked my figure was an exemplar, was George's heart captured.
In the bedroom, he loved to fondle the fat I had gained in my confinement and my thighs, hips and even belly were likened to those of the goddesses, but he felt they were in need of filling out. He spoiled me with fine foods; pastries and muse de bouche, foods I had never before tasted and I must say that as my beauty smote Romney, fine tastes smote me. I reveled in a sort of gluttony for months, while George posed and painted, diddled and drew my growing form.
Of these early works, few escaped his private collection, and those were never well received or even titled with my name. English tastes at the time were not those of the 17th Century Dutch, and my figure had swelled to more than 14 stone before I recognized that what was happening to me, though pleasurable beyond belief, would end with me plying my wares on the streets of South London.
The artist would tire, and I would be too fat to find the kind of man that could take care of me in the style I needed. A man who could afford to feed me to immensity, and love me all along the way. George was too flighty, too easily swayed by what he felt in the moment was beautiful. With this decision, I confined myself to tea and small meals, and sadly, I once again saw my now bounteous figure whyle away. George was bereft!
As my figure shrank, he began painting and drawing me, peeling off the pounds with his paint and charcoal, and showing me what a waif I would look like were I to become so thin. These images he would place next to those of me at my most opulent and then point out as such...
"Lady. See how your breasts will shrink from the full and glorious orbs they have become, back to these sharp little prominences! How can you do this to yourself!! You must eat Emma, EAT!"
"Look darling! You have no more belly here! Imagine our pleasure in copulation with no warm and fertile belly to pile between us, how can you do this!"
"And your derriere Dear! From the magnificence of the painting on the left, to this...thin, wan, boyish arse! You cannot continue Emma...please!"
I replied that he should test the taste of the public by putting these works up for sale and finding the public's desires, and that I would live by the result. If they liked fat, I would stuff myself to the likeness of a prize hog for him, and eat myself to helplessness, all of which I of course secretly yearned to do, though just not with him!
With that remark, his loins became enraged and he took me there in his studio, fumbling among pallette and paint and attempting to get me to eat while he throbbed away between my thighs! My mind screamed that I should do, but I resisted, for he wasn't the man, or the future for me. He grasped at every roll and bulge of my body, played with my diminishing belly hang and bosom, and ultimately fell off to the side crying. He was distraught over weight I had yet to lose as well as that which was already gone. It was sad to me as he had been kind in his own way.
Some months later, when it had become apparent that the public wanted the smaller Emma, as a result of the sales and acclaim that his works acquired, he bowed to my wishes and sadly slipped out of my life.
I heard later that I became somewhat of an infatuation to him, and that he painted me, and drew me, charcoled me and penned me again and again, but I was beyond his reach and in sunny Italy, beginning the second phase of my life at the time. Most of the works he did were not of the me he knew and generally reflected the Emma that the public loved, lithesome, waifish, and not at all what I had been when I was with him.
Seeing these images made me think for a time that I had made a mistake and that he was a man who truly loved me but when I was in Portsmouth of a few years ago I was handed a packet by an old acquaintance, saying that I would surely appreciate it now. It was of course one of George's works, a charcole, portraying me at a weight he must have considered his goal for me.
The Emma in the charcole had to weigh all of 30 stone, with great hanging rolls, a ponderous belly and a pair of legs only wide enough to support the burgeoning arse of a hippo! I laughed when I saw it, considering how far beyond the image I had grown by the time I viewed it!
I would always have a soft-spot in my heart for George though: it was he who really introduced me to great foods, and the love of a fattening form that would mark the rest of my life. Without him I may have discovered this about myself, but I think from my vantage now that it was his sharing with me his own love of my fat and the feeding of my youthful hunger that would lead me to become the woman I am now, though sadly alone.
II Italy
When I left George I was for a short time in limbo about what I would do, but quickly found that Sir Charles was not about to have me wandering back into the company of his friends and bringing back to mind my dances, and the child he had fathered and then had spirited away, at least not with a new rich and resenting wife to please!
I was given an offer of transportation and introduction to Sir Charles much older uncle, who I had met while on Charles arm more than once, but who was now British Envoy to Naples, Sir William Hamilton! I was assured by Sir Charles that his uncle was a widower, was besotted by me, and that he could more than afford my upkeep as hostess at his salon! With that thought in mind, I boarded a vessel bound for Naples.
Upon reaching that fair city I found that Sir Charles was as good as his word to a point. Hamilton was in fact a widower who was besotted by me and could also afford my upkeep as the hostess of his fashionable but foundering salon, but I found that he intended to make me his mistress with no thought to my own feelings!
I had barely gotten moved in to the rooms that would prove my residence when the old codger commenced to make advances toward me! He was much older than I remembered him, in his middle fifties and though reasonably attractive for his age, I informed him that I was not that sort of girl, and to be the kept woman of such a man, though he be the Prime Minister, was not for me.
My rebukes of his passion apparently worked for he left me alone and in charge of his salon for a time, and I engaged in the duties of the hostess, entertaining his guests with all the customary fineries and conversation they should expect from a gentleman of substance representing the British government, as Sir William.
After some months of these sort of endeavors my reputation was such in the higher circles of the city that my salon was sought out and, I might add, the cultural center of the place. Months of fine food were once again softening my figure and doing apparently nothing to soften Sir Williams desires, and as I was now in a better position to bargain abandoned myself to his advances that proved to be quite charming.
Sir William loved fat in all of it's forms and in our lovemaking would play with the tiniest little bit of it in the most adorable way. He loved to grab my plumpening arse with both hands as he ravished me, and would rub, fondle and caress my still small belly with his hands for hours, moving to breasts, arms, thighs and calves as the whim took him.
He adored having our cooks prepare me exquisite dishes and called on me to eat from his own plate whenever there was something he found particularly delightful. This adoration of my adipose got my mind reeling as I considered abandoning myself to the thrills of gluttony which at the time I considered my one great passion, but for some reason resisted.
I do not know if I had an inkling of what the future held, or if I simply didn't trust Sir William then, but I managed to keep my appetite in check, and to work off most of my excess with dance and walks through the region and while Sir William continued to ply me with the most heavenly foods, and shower adulation on every tiny little sign of a weight increase, I gained but slowly.
The dance to which I refer I should take some time to describe as it will appear later in this narrative: I called it, at Sir William's suggestion, The Attitudes! Sir William was a lover of all things classical and when out for a walk in the Spring of 1787, we passed the crumbling ruins of an ancient Roman temple dedicated to the Goddess Venus, who Caesar claimed to be descended from.
I had taken to wearing what would later be called Empire style dresses, which I felt were not only the fashion, but flattered my figure and concealed the stone or so extra weight that I was carrying as the result of Sir William's indulgences and wearing a light shawl against the Italian sun.
In a moment of playfulness I ascended onto the steps before the crumbling columns and took on a delicate pose, which I explained to Sir William was that of Venus as she road the foam and first stepped upon the golden shores of Greece. He was enraptured with my playful idea, and asked me to assume another pose, this time of Venus on the night of her wedding to Ares.
After more than an hour and dozens of poses, Sir William begged me to indulge him then and there, and with a call to the cart and footmen who followed us to carry on ahead to the next village and await us, he bent me over a crumbling column, lifter my dress and proceeded to take me in the most delectable way, with his belly above my arse and the fat of both making such an irresistible sound as they met in our passion.
Upon completion of our weakness, he begged that I would perform what he dubbed "These attitudes" for our guests at a party we had planned a week hence. From here began my work as more than a simple hostess, or model. I would now be an artist in my own right.
My "Attitudes" became an overnight success in Naples. I would strike various poses from classical mythology using only my dress, robes and shawls as props, holding each pose for approximately a minute. I would play Niobe, and Venus, Ceres and Persephone, Diana and Minerva, as well as countless Niads, Driads and Nymphs, all from the ancient myths.
Sir William would introduce each pose and as time passed, would call on the audience to guess which classical character I was playing at, and it became a form of High Cultural Charades! All the best sorts loved it, the educated, the elite, the artistic and above all, it brought Sir William and I closer and closer together, both in public and in the bedroom.
My dresses needed to be tailored occasionally as they became tight around bust and hip, but in general the empire style allowed me four years of luxurious eating, of course coupled with the exercise of the "Attitudes" and increasingly vigorous lovemaking with Sir William before the stones I was gaining became noticeable to our audience and by then I had a new talent. I had begun to sing opera!
By 1790, I had crested the 15 stone mark when the idea came to Sir William. We had sat through a particularly dreary opera featuring a rotund soprano of what appeared to be at least 25 well placed stone that I ought to try singing.
"Larger women my dear have great ability to alter the amplitude and pitch of their voices and of course, you could then add some weight to your wonderful figure to purpose!" He remarked with a gleam to his eye. I noticed that his pants did little to conceal the arousal that seeing a well formed fat form brought out in him and I liked it. I had begun to feel safe with him, and with that safety had come back my great desire to fatten.
I had dreamed of a time when I was so large that I would need servants to carry me, servants to feed me. This would be impossible without a tender man, and Sir William was certainly that but he also had his own needs. It was getting harder and harder for him to achieve the sort of erection needed for satisfaction without that he place his manhood against my belly, or at the base of my plumpening back and stroke and knead, fondle and stroke my fat to frustration.
Often he could not get, what the sight of this corpulent German soprano had done for him from me, though he and I try for hours. I would not lose Sir William now! I would fatten and seduce him and when I had gotten big enough I was sure I could get him to marry me. All of this meant, in order to maintain social status in Naples, I would need to explain my weight gain, and that meant I would sing!
I never thought I was very good at opera, though others said differently, and Sir William raved. I loved the performance part of it, and the costuming, but I just could never think I was in any way talented at music. What I was talented at though was eating, and with Sir William's help I had nearly equaled the German soprano's 25 stone by Christmas of that very year!
The effect on Sir William was magical and he came to attention at the mere sight of me and though he never actually fed me during our acts of love, did all but. As my bottom grew broader he enjoyed having me stand against our bedroom wall while he made at me from behind grasping my bulging belly all the while, or fondling my now hanging breasts.
He adored having me atop him, smothering him beneath my mass and wiggling and jiggling my belly or grabbing on hard to my hip fat, sometimes even leaving me bruised. I worried sometimes that I would kill him as I increased in size as he was not getting any younger but though he panted and sweat and often had to ask to stop in the midst of my assaults, he simply wanted more. More of me, and more of me, at all times of the day.
One day for a picnic Sir William begged that I accompany him to the ruins of Pompeii which were being excavated at the time as their were pictures on those walls that I need look at to understand and though I was over 25 stone by then, in the spring of 1791, I took the carriage out with him.
My weight made the carriage lean, and the seats creak, and the bumpy road caused all the fat upon me to jiggle and wiggle in quite an erotic fashion. At one point one of my breasts lept clean from my dress (the empire style is low cut) and flopped down upon my waving belly. Sir William's eyes glazed over at the sight but he remained a gentleman and rather than ravishing me then and there as we both wanted, gently replaced my heaving boob back into it's cover, erect nipple and all to give away my own feelings.
My cheeks were flushed with desire for what only he could give me by the time we arrived at Pompeii, and I shamelessly begged him to allow us to retreat into one of the excavated hovels so I could slacken my passion but he begged that I resist and asked that I follow his lead. With the carriage parked at the ruins edge, we walked down a street of ancient cobble stones, or I should say he walked. I waddled with my grand belly swaying under my skin tight dress and my bosom jiggling with each step and once again threatening to leap out into the Italian sun.
My weight had jumped rapidly over the holidays and I was now sporting red stretchmarks upon my belly, arms and arse as Sir William proudly informed me, and this bustling down an old and unevenly cobbled street was taking it's toll.
"William dear, You are wearing me out with your haste Sir. Do you want your Emma, your fattened little Grecian Muse to wear herself out, or nay, wear off some pounds with this endeavor! You must slow down please or I will fade away!"
William informed me that we had but a short distance to go, and though it was, I confess to have been panting and footsore when we arrived at our destination, what Sir William informed me was the home of a fairly wealthy Roman merchant. We found that the walls were painted, and painted with the most shocking, provocative and in my own and Sir William's opinion, utterly stimulating frescoes, with one in particular the object of Sir Williams pilgrimage.
It pictured a very fat nymph using her mouth on the phallus of a Satyr, and Sir William's eyes betrayed his desires. Soon I found myself naked, with fat belly and bosom pressed upon Italian earth and my mouth full of Sir William who was delirious with pleasure.
As I worked my mouth around him he grasped at my rolls, and stroked my fat wherever he could reach. When I had brought him to his moment, he climbed atop my belly and began to work himself as hard as he could up and down with my fat arse cushioning our ride, and my own juices dripping down to the historic floor of that merchants house. My belly was now so well formed that Sir William needed to lean far forward and pull me in to kiss my mouth, and I found the interplay of his older, well formed body and my fattened younger one to be above all things delightful! Upon completion of our wonderful acts that day, we made our way back to the carriage and rode back to Naples, stopping along the way but once to water the horses and quench our own thirsts at a nearby stream.
III Marriage
That little stop for water nearly proved to be both our undoings. The following morn both Sir William and I were beset with the most terrific pains in our bowls and stomachs and soon both of us were incapacitated. I do not know how long Sir William suffered but what I do know was that I didn't come to myself for more than a month and when I did, I was emaciated.
Sir William informed me that we had been taken by a miasma from the stream, but be that as it may, I had lost all of 10 stones while Sir William also was much aged. Upon my awakening he cried his eyes out and thanked the Lord for my recovery proclaiming that he would not lose me, and could not lose me, and that this awful moment had awoken him to his own sin. We would have to be married.
As you must imagine, this was a dream come true for me, though I was not in much condition to celebrate and knowing as well that it meant returning to England I worried. I was not a good sailor, and felt that an ocean voyage would wear even more of the glorious meat off my already much reduced form, but Sir William implored me not to worry, and that we would happily add it all back and more, as husband and wife. With that said, and my heart eased, we set sail for England.
Upon arrival in Portsmouth, I was truly a changed woman from what I had been when I left. From a fallen girl from a poor family I had rose to become famous as an artist, an entertainer and was now to be married to an Earl. These differences made my heart proud, but at the same time, I was a woman used to being enfleshed in healthy fat, ruddy, glowing and soft and now after an arduous sea voyage I was tottering on 10 stone again, almost as small as I had been when I met Sir Charles.
The wedding was the event of the season in England: one of the largest and most lavish of the decade. I, by that time had gained back a stone, but still felt paltry by my old standards but our wedding feast was bounteous, and Sir
William kept me stuffed, and yes there too, nearly the entire week the wedding took to finish. When we finally set sail for Naples again I was back to a healthy 15 stone and counting on the wonderful cuisine that would greet me when I landed in Italy.
It was another rough sea voyage and should have been simply that had not Sir William suffered a nasty knock on the head during fall caused by the vessel taking a sudden lurch. When he came too he vomited for a time and then took to his bunk. I thought all was well until a few days later when the vessel, after entering the Med and experiencing one of those particular days only Mare Nostrum can bring with Zephyr winds blowing light and a blue sky hanging bright that Sir William came to me.
He complimented me on my retaining my fat through the voyage to this point, and one thing leading to another was soon wiggling and jiggling, pinching and prodding. He loved to grab the roll right under my breasts and stroke it sideways towards my hips, then slide his hands down and grab the bounty above my backside and then that. Feeling his wonderful hands shaking and playing with my growing arse, I became hot with desire and grasped for his manhood which was flaccid and limp, to my chagrin.
Temporary, I thought, now that I had learned from the little journey to Pompeii, the arts that Roman matrons used in the Amor, and I began to work upon him with my mouth,which again, was to no avail. Sir William in frustration that he was, and full of desire, remarked that once I had gotten back my healthy belly, and surrounded myself again with blossoming fat, all would be well with him. So he said, and so I hoped, though it was not to be.
Lady Hamilton's Story
by R.F.Burton
by R.F.Burton
[Author's note: The private account of the truelove and mistress of Lord Horatio Nelson, Hero of Copenhagen, The Nile, Trafalgar and numerous minor actions, Emma Hamilton.
This manuscript was found in the possession of the former Head Librarian of Calais, France where it had somehow found it's way.
While it is true that Lady Hamilton spent her final sad years in France to escape her creditors, and that she died in Calais, nothing is known about when she acquired the services of the very literate and (to her) indespensable Colline, her maidservant.
It may be added that nothing in current historic record gives us a clue as to what happened to Colline after the Lady's passing, but one can only hope that she found refuge somewhere on the Continent, and with her skill with the pen, may have found more remuneration than she had been able to gain from her long service to the lady.
It must be remembered that while the manuscript appears to be written in the first person, seeing as the date is such that it is, and owing to Lady Hamilton's condition at the time, these words are inarguably those of Colline. ]
I England
Oh I knew how to live before I met Nelson, but there was not real life in me until I did. Everything from my childhood in poverty through my marriage to Lord Hamilton seem to me to be irrelevant now that I have known what true love is.
I had known the love of men from an early age; the course, hard kind that dominates and gratifies their loins but does nothing to seek to really please a woman. Like dogs in an alley they can be, when their base desires fill them and when I was young, and a poor serving maid, I knew that sort of love, if it can even be called such.
The fates had blessed me with a form both supple and voluptuous from an early age, leading the many men whose paths I crossed to describe me as a modern dryad, or a woodland nymph directly from the forests of Attica and the alter of Dionysius. They used me as such as I grew.
By age 15 my full grown height had reached 5 foot and 5 and my breasts were firm and high, above a winnowey waist and soaring hips. My complexion pale, my eyes blue and my hair auburn brown set all off so that by my 16th birthday Sir Harry took me away for his own. My heart felt full of love for him at the time though I now know it was more full of hope. Hope for a full belly every night at bedtime and no pains of hunger. Hope for fine clothes and adventure. Hope that he might make me more than a kept woman.
This hope I now realize was pointless. Harry Featherstonhaugh was not capable of more than seeing me as one of his trinkets, a pearl to show his foppish friends, and a thrill between silken sheets when the whim struck him. That was all I was to him, and well do I remember his admonishments to me when in my revelry at having all that I had been denied for so long in my larder, I covered my body with a lovely and sleek layer of fat: fat that thrilled me with its opulence but which he felt would take away from my luster and the glimmer of his pearl.
He immediately restricted my access to victuals of all sorts and my lithesome figure returned, only to be blown up by his baby soon after, a baby that he soon removed from my care as it embarassed him, and then whisked me off to set me before a man who I thought would be more kind, and at least a being a gentleman, honorable: Sir Charles Greville.
Sir Charles would ultimately even tell me he loved me, which Harry never had, but this love was not alone going to aid him in his way up the social ladder. As he had met a wealthy daughter of an Earl, though she was frumpy, stupid and vain, he determined that I was an embarassment also, and determined to be rid of me through introduction. Sir Charles raved of my beauty, and though I had gained a few stone with the birth of my first child proclaimed my Classical grace and proportions to all in his company. Through this raving and flattery, I was introduced to an artist friend of his, George Romney.
Romney was entranced by my beauty! At least this is how he made his feelings known publicly. I believe partly as the result of some of Sir Charles boasting of my abilities in the bedroom and willingness to please, and partly because of his fascination with all things Classical, of which he remarked my figure was an exemplar, was George's heart captured.
In the bedroom, he loved to fondle the fat I had gained in my confinement and my thighs, hips and even belly were likened to those of the goddesses, but he felt they were in need of filling out. He spoiled me with fine foods; pastries and muse de bouche, foods I had never before tasted and I must say that as my beauty smote Romney, fine tastes smote me. I reveled in a sort of gluttony for months, while George posed and painted, diddled and drew my growing form.
Of these early works, few escaped his private collection, and those were never well received or even titled with my name. English tastes at the time were not those of the 17th Century Dutch, and my figure had swelled to more than 14 stone before I recognized that what was happening to me, though pleasurable beyond belief, would end with me plying my wares on the streets of South London.
The artist would tire, and I would be too fat to find the kind of man that could take care of me in the style I needed. A man who could afford to feed me to immensity, and love me all along the way. George was too flighty, too easily swayed by what he felt in the moment was beautiful. With this decision, I confined myself to tea and small meals, and sadly, I once again saw my now bounteous figure whyle away. George was bereft!
As my figure shrank, he began painting and drawing me, peeling off the pounds with his paint and charcoal, and showing me what a waif I would look like were I to become so thin. These images he would place next to those of me at my most opulent and then point out as such...
"Lady. See how your breasts will shrink from the full and glorious orbs they have become, back to these sharp little prominences! How can you do this to yourself!! You must eat Emma, EAT!"
"Look darling! You have no more belly here! Imagine our pleasure in copulation with no warm and fertile belly to pile between us, how can you do this!"
"And your derriere Dear! From the magnificence of the painting on the left, to this...thin, wan, boyish arse! You cannot continue Emma...please!"
I replied that he should test the taste of the public by putting these works up for sale and finding the public's desires, and that I would live by the result. If they liked fat, I would stuff myself to the likeness of a prize hog for him, and eat myself to helplessness, all of which I of course secretly yearned to do, though just not with him!
With that remark, his loins became enraged and he took me there in his studio, fumbling among pallette and paint and attempting to get me to eat while he throbbed away between my thighs! My mind screamed that I should do, but I resisted, for he wasn't the man, or the future for me. He grasped at every roll and bulge of my body, played with my diminishing belly hang and bosom, and ultimately fell off to the side crying. He was distraught over weight I had yet to lose as well as that which was already gone. It was sad to me as he had been kind in his own way.
Some months later, when it had become apparent that the public wanted the smaller Emma, as a result of the sales and acclaim that his works acquired, he bowed to my wishes and sadly slipped out of my life.
I heard later that I became somewhat of an infatuation to him, and that he painted me, and drew me, charcoled me and penned me again and again, but I was beyond his reach and in sunny Italy, beginning the second phase of my life at the time. Most of the works he did were not of the me he knew and generally reflected the Emma that the public loved, lithesome, waifish, and not at all what I had been when I was with him.
Seeing these images made me think for a time that I had made a mistake and that he was a man who truly loved me but when I was in Portsmouth of a few years ago I was handed a packet by an old acquaintance, saying that I would surely appreciate it now. It was of course one of George's works, a charcole, portraying me at a weight he must have considered his goal for me.
The Emma in the charcole had to weigh all of 30 stone, with great hanging rolls, a ponderous belly and a pair of legs only wide enough to support the burgeoning arse of a hippo! I laughed when I saw it, considering how far beyond the image I had grown by the time I viewed it!
I would always have a soft-spot in my heart for George though: it was he who really introduced me to great foods, and the love of a fattening form that would mark the rest of my life. Without him I may have discovered this about myself, but I think from my vantage now that it was his sharing with me his own love of my fat and the feeding of my youthful hunger that would lead me to become the woman I am now, though sadly alone.
II Italy
When I left George I was for a short time in limbo about what I would do, but quickly found that Sir Charles was not about to have me wandering back into the company of his friends and bringing back to mind my dances, and the child he had fathered and then had spirited away, at least not with a new rich and resenting wife to please!
I was given an offer of transportation and introduction to Sir Charles much older uncle, who I had met while on Charles arm more than once, but who was now British Envoy to Naples, Sir William Hamilton! I was assured by Sir Charles that his uncle was a widower, was besotted by me, and that he could more than afford my upkeep as hostess at his salon! With that thought in mind, I boarded a vessel bound for Naples.
Upon reaching that fair city I found that Sir Charles was as good as his word to a point. Hamilton was in fact a widower who was besotted by me and could also afford my upkeep as the hostess of his fashionable but foundering salon, but I found that he intended to make me his mistress with no thought to my own feelings!
I had barely gotten moved in to the rooms that would prove my residence when the old codger commenced to make advances toward me! He was much older than I remembered him, in his middle fifties and though reasonably attractive for his age, I informed him that I was not that sort of girl, and to be the kept woman of such a man, though he be the Prime Minister, was not for me.
My rebukes of his passion apparently worked for he left me alone and in charge of his salon for a time, and I engaged in the duties of the hostess, entertaining his guests with all the customary fineries and conversation they should expect from a gentleman of substance representing the British government, as Sir William.
After some months of these sort of endeavors my reputation was such in the higher circles of the city that my salon was sought out and, I might add, the cultural center of the place. Months of fine food were once again softening my figure and doing apparently nothing to soften Sir Williams desires, and as I was now in a better position to bargain abandoned myself to his advances that proved to be quite charming.
Sir William loved fat in all of it's forms and in our lovemaking would play with the tiniest little bit of it in the most adorable way. He loved to grab my plumpening arse with both hands as he ravished me, and would rub, fondle and caress my still small belly with his hands for hours, moving to breasts, arms, thighs and calves as the whim took him.
He adored having our cooks prepare me exquisite dishes and called on me to eat from his own plate whenever there was something he found particularly delightful. This adoration of my adipose got my mind reeling as I considered abandoning myself to the thrills of gluttony which at the time I considered my one great passion, but for some reason resisted.
I do not know if I had an inkling of what the future held, or if I simply didn't trust Sir William then, but I managed to keep my appetite in check, and to work off most of my excess with dance and walks through the region and while Sir William continued to ply me with the most heavenly foods, and shower adulation on every tiny little sign of a weight increase, I gained but slowly.
The dance to which I refer I should take some time to describe as it will appear later in this narrative: I called it, at Sir William's suggestion, The Attitudes! Sir William was a lover of all things classical and when out for a walk in the Spring of 1787, we passed the crumbling ruins of an ancient Roman temple dedicated to the Goddess Venus, who Caesar claimed to be descended from.
I had taken to wearing what would later be called Empire style dresses, which I felt were not only the fashion, but flattered my figure and concealed the stone or so extra weight that I was carrying as the result of Sir William's indulgences and wearing a light shawl against the Italian sun.
In a moment of playfulness I ascended onto the steps before the crumbling columns and took on a delicate pose, which I explained to Sir William was that of Venus as she road the foam and first stepped upon the golden shores of Greece. He was enraptured with my playful idea, and asked me to assume another pose, this time of Venus on the night of her wedding to Ares.
After more than an hour and dozens of poses, Sir William begged me to indulge him then and there, and with a call to the cart and footmen who followed us to carry on ahead to the next village and await us, he bent me over a crumbling column, lifter my dress and proceeded to take me in the most delectable way, with his belly above my arse and the fat of both making such an irresistible sound as they met in our passion.
Upon completion of our weakness, he begged that I would perform what he dubbed "These attitudes" for our guests at a party we had planned a week hence. From here began my work as more than a simple hostess, or model. I would now be an artist in my own right.
My "Attitudes" became an overnight success in Naples. I would strike various poses from classical mythology using only my dress, robes and shawls as props, holding each pose for approximately a minute. I would play Niobe, and Venus, Ceres and Persephone, Diana and Minerva, as well as countless Niads, Driads and Nymphs, all from the ancient myths.
Sir William would introduce each pose and as time passed, would call on the audience to guess which classical character I was playing at, and it became a form of High Cultural Charades! All the best sorts loved it, the educated, the elite, the artistic and above all, it brought Sir William and I closer and closer together, both in public and in the bedroom.
My dresses needed to be tailored occasionally as they became tight around bust and hip, but in general the empire style allowed me four years of luxurious eating, of course coupled with the exercise of the "Attitudes" and increasingly vigorous lovemaking with Sir William before the stones I was gaining became noticeable to our audience and by then I had a new talent. I had begun to sing opera!
By 1790, I had crested the 15 stone mark when the idea came to Sir William. We had sat through a particularly dreary opera featuring a rotund soprano of what appeared to be at least 25 well placed stone that I ought to try singing.
"Larger women my dear have great ability to alter the amplitude and pitch of their voices and of course, you could then add some weight to your wonderful figure to purpose!" He remarked with a gleam to his eye. I noticed that his pants did little to conceal the arousal that seeing a well formed fat form brought out in him and I liked it. I had begun to feel safe with him, and with that safety had come back my great desire to fatten.
I had dreamed of a time when I was so large that I would need servants to carry me, servants to feed me. This would be impossible without a tender man, and Sir William was certainly that but he also had his own needs. It was getting harder and harder for him to achieve the sort of erection needed for satisfaction without that he place his manhood against my belly, or at the base of my plumpening back and stroke and knead, fondle and stroke my fat to frustration.
Often he could not get, what the sight of this corpulent German soprano had done for him from me, though he and I try for hours. I would not lose Sir William now! I would fatten and seduce him and when I had gotten big enough I was sure I could get him to marry me. All of this meant, in order to maintain social status in Naples, I would need to explain my weight gain, and that meant I would sing!
I never thought I was very good at opera, though others said differently, and Sir William raved. I loved the performance part of it, and the costuming, but I just could never think I was in any way talented at music. What I was talented at though was eating, and with Sir William's help I had nearly equaled the German soprano's 25 stone by Christmas of that very year!
The effect on Sir William was magical and he came to attention at the mere sight of me and though he never actually fed me during our acts of love, did all but. As my bottom grew broader he enjoyed having me stand against our bedroom wall while he made at me from behind grasping my bulging belly all the while, or fondling my now hanging breasts.
He adored having me atop him, smothering him beneath my mass and wiggling and jiggling my belly or grabbing on hard to my hip fat, sometimes even leaving me bruised. I worried sometimes that I would kill him as I increased in size as he was not getting any younger but though he panted and sweat and often had to ask to stop in the midst of my assaults, he simply wanted more. More of me, and more of me, at all times of the day.
One day for a picnic Sir William begged that I accompany him to the ruins of Pompeii which were being excavated at the time as their were pictures on those walls that I need look at to understand and though I was over 25 stone by then, in the spring of 1791, I took the carriage out with him.
My weight made the carriage lean, and the seats creak, and the bumpy road caused all the fat upon me to jiggle and wiggle in quite an erotic fashion. At one point one of my breasts lept clean from my dress (the empire style is low cut) and flopped down upon my waving belly. Sir William's eyes glazed over at the sight but he remained a gentleman and rather than ravishing me then and there as we both wanted, gently replaced my heaving boob back into it's cover, erect nipple and all to give away my own feelings.
My cheeks were flushed with desire for what only he could give me by the time we arrived at Pompeii, and I shamelessly begged him to allow us to retreat into one of the excavated hovels so I could slacken my passion but he begged that I resist and asked that I follow his lead. With the carriage parked at the ruins edge, we walked down a street of ancient cobble stones, or I should say he walked. I waddled with my grand belly swaying under my skin tight dress and my bosom jiggling with each step and once again threatening to leap out into the Italian sun.
My weight had jumped rapidly over the holidays and I was now sporting red stretchmarks upon my belly, arms and arse as Sir William proudly informed me, and this bustling down an old and unevenly cobbled street was taking it's toll.
"William dear, You are wearing me out with your haste Sir. Do you want your Emma, your fattened little Grecian Muse to wear herself out, or nay, wear off some pounds with this endeavor! You must slow down please or I will fade away!"
William informed me that we had but a short distance to go, and though it was, I confess to have been panting and footsore when we arrived at our destination, what Sir William informed me was the home of a fairly wealthy Roman merchant. We found that the walls were painted, and painted with the most shocking, provocative and in my own and Sir William's opinion, utterly stimulating frescoes, with one in particular the object of Sir Williams pilgrimage.
It pictured a very fat nymph using her mouth on the phallus of a Satyr, and Sir William's eyes betrayed his desires. Soon I found myself naked, with fat belly and bosom pressed upon Italian earth and my mouth full of Sir William who was delirious with pleasure.
As I worked my mouth around him he grasped at my rolls, and stroked my fat wherever he could reach. When I had brought him to his moment, he climbed atop my belly and began to work himself as hard as he could up and down with my fat arse cushioning our ride, and my own juices dripping down to the historic floor of that merchants house. My belly was now so well formed that Sir William needed to lean far forward and pull me in to kiss my mouth, and I found the interplay of his older, well formed body and my fattened younger one to be above all things delightful! Upon completion of our wonderful acts that day, we made our way back to the carriage and rode back to Naples, stopping along the way but once to water the horses and quench our own thirsts at a nearby stream.
III Marriage
That little stop for water nearly proved to be both our undoings. The following morn both Sir William and I were beset with the most terrific pains in our bowls and stomachs and soon both of us were incapacitated. I do not know how long Sir William suffered but what I do know was that I didn't come to myself for more than a month and when I did, I was emaciated.
Sir William informed me that we had been taken by a miasma from the stream, but be that as it may, I had lost all of 10 stones while Sir William also was much aged. Upon my awakening he cried his eyes out and thanked the Lord for my recovery proclaiming that he would not lose me, and could not lose me, and that this awful moment had awoken him to his own sin. We would have to be married.
As you must imagine, this was a dream come true for me, though I was not in much condition to celebrate and knowing as well that it meant returning to England I worried. I was not a good sailor, and felt that an ocean voyage would wear even more of the glorious meat off my already much reduced form, but Sir William implored me not to worry, and that we would happily add it all back and more, as husband and wife. With that said, and my heart eased, we set sail for England.
Upon arrival in Portsmouth, I was truly a changed woman from what I had been when I left. From a fallen girl from a poor family I had rose to become famous as an artist, an entertainer and was now to be married to an Earl. These differences made my heart proud, but at the same time, I was a woman used to being enfleshed in healthy fat, ruddy, glowing and soft and now after an arduous sea voyage I was tottering on 10 stone again, almost as small as I had been when I met Sir Charles.
The wedding was the event of the season in England: one of the largest and most lavish of the decade. I, by that time had gained back a stone, but still felt paltry by my old standards but our wedding feast was bounteous, and Sir
William kept me stuffed, and yes there too, nearly the entire week the wedding took to finish. When we finally set sail for Naples again I was back to a healthy 15 stone and counting on the wonderful cuisine that would greet me when I landed in Italy.
It was another rough sea voyage and should have been simply that had not Sir William suffered a nasty knock on the head during fall caused by the vessel taking a sudden lurch. When he came too he vomited for a time and then took to his bunk. I thought all was well until a few days later when the vessel, after entering the Med and experiencing one of those particular days only Mare Nostrum can bring with Zephyr winds blowing light and a blue sky hanging bright that Sir William came to me.
He complimented me on my retaining my fat through the voyage to this point, and one thing leading to another was soon wiggling and jiggling, pinching and prodding. He loved to grab the roll right under my breasts and stroke it sideways towards my hips, then slide his hands down and grab the bounty above my backside and then that. Feeling his wonderful hands shaking and playing with my growing arse, I became hot with desire and grasped for his manhood which was flaccid and limp, to my chagrin.
Temporary, I thought, now that I had learned from the little journey to Pompeii, the arts that Roman matrons used in the Amor, and I began to work upon him with my mouth,which again, was to no avail. Sir William in frustration that he was, and full of desire, remarked that once I had gotten back my healthy belly, and surrounded myself again with blossoming fat, all would be well with him. So he said, and so I hoped, though it was not to be.
