Madame Bigger Strikes Again! - part 1 [XWG, Both, Gas]

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coyote wild

You'll love me, I swear.
Sep 30, 2005
XWG, Both, Gas - second installment in the Madame Bigger saga.

(Author's Note: The narrator from the first story was a female PI. She's the one speaking in the beginning, and throughout the story in alternating sections. I want to stress this fact because she plays a more prominent role in this story and I didn't want people thinking she came out of nowhere.)

by Iam Unknown

(Click here for prequel)

1 - The Investigation Continues

Continuing my investigation in finding the elusive “Madame Bigger” led me, as the area's pre-eminent female Private Investigator, to a mansion on the outskirts of town. I had been in correspondence with the owner of the home (which, I’m going to go ahead and say was a palace). So my arrival wasn’t unexpected, nor was it unwanted. This was choice, for I very much wanted to speak to the man that resided behind its gate, within its walls.

For, the man that lived here was Madame Bigger’s first victim: Millhouse Rufus Swanson IV.

He was an heir to his father’s airline business. He now has to manage business from his master bedroom. An entire staff of butlers and maids wait on him hand and foot. From what I hear, the Madame really did a number on this guy. And I really wanted to talk to him.

Seeing as how this was her first victim, I assumed there was something here that could help me. Something that could get me closer to finding her for my employer. I assumed that, being her first victim, meant that she was still learning the trade of her devious devices. Surely she would’ve made mistakes. And I was going to pounce on them.

The large front door opened with the echoing collision and sliding of large locks. I smiled at the hired hand that was opening the door for me. He bent slightly in a bow. He then took my coat and led me down the foyer towards the spiraling staircase that framed the giant, circular, marble floor.

My heels clicked on the floor, sending resounding echoes throughout the place. Luckily, it was much quieter as we ascended the stairs, for they were carpeted.

Suddenly, there was a faint smell in the air. It wasn’t pleasant, to say the least. But it wasn’t horrible either. However, it gained strength the higher we got. It smelled like flatulence. I stole a glance at the man that was leading me to his employer. Surely it wasn’t him.

I put my finger to my nose, as if trying to ward off a sneeze. Mainly, I was trying to keep myself from breathing through that passageway. The smell became stronger and stronger as we pressed on. And suddenly, I could’ve sworn I heard someone actually break wind. It was muffled behind one of the doors. And, of course, it just so happened to be the door that the man was leading me to.

He turned the knob and opened the door to a considerably darker room. I opened my eyes as wide as possible to allow as much light as I could.

“Mr. Swanson,” I heard the butler call. “Ms. Dandridge is here.” It was nice. My name had never sound so dignified.

“Ah, Ophelia Dandridge,” Mr. Swanson called from the shadows with an almost booming voice. “Please, please, come in, come in.”

I moved to the silhouette of the bed, where the voice seemed to be coming from. Then, much louder than I had heard before, a long fart came from seemingly the same source as the voice.

My eyes began to focus, and I could finally make out the man I had come to speak to.

And what a man he was. An entire mountain of a man. He was clearly larger than even any Photoshopped tabloid image of fat men. He was a monument.

His large, domed breasts sat atop his wide field of a belly. He was lying back, his head supported by a very comfortable-looking pillow. His head was connected to his massive form by two distinct, flabby chins; a goatee on the chin on his face. His cheeks bulged slightly, and were of a rosy disposition. His hair was short and spiked. Had he been a few hundred pounds lighter, he would probably pass for a very handsome man.

“Thank you for putting aside time for me in your busy schedule,” I began.

“Nonsense. My time is worthless. Now, what was it you wanted to see me about?” Mr. Swanson asked.

“I’ve come about Madame Bigger,” I said, accenting the name. Apparently, the proper pronunciation was “Bij-jay,” with soft accenting of the J’s.

“Ah, yes. The most interesting stories always seem to involve a jilted ex-lover.”

“So she was your lover?”

“After a fashion,” he answered. “I first met her at the movies…”


2 - Milhous Swanson meets Madam B

It was after the film. I was waiting for my girlfriend while she was in the restroom. I was just out of the swim team for the season, so my body was still in top form. I was supposed to be working the field at this age. I was in my prime. I couldn’t just stay with one girl.

It was a topic of much quarrel between my girlfriend and I. I told her that I would try my best to keep my hands to myself.

Which I was doing okay, until that day at the movies when she walked into the lobby, alone and glowing.

Her black hair was cut short and straight. It framed her sharp features well. She was wearing a pair of tight jeans that hugged her long, thin legs. She was 118 pounds of walking desire.

She sauntered past and turned her head for an instant. Her eyes locked with mine. She smiled that unforgettable smile, one corner pulled upward. Her eyes moved with the weight of feathers. She gave a wink that knocked the wind right out of me.

Suddenly, the bag of popcorn I was holding was snatched from my grasp. My attention shot to the location of the disturbance, coming eyeball to eyeball with my girlfriend.

“What were you looking at?” she asked.

“Just a-a…” I stammered.

I went home that night with a red, hand-shaped mark on the side of my face.


3 - The PI's Insight

“I went home that night with a red, hand-shaped mark on the side of my face.”

I glanced at the first page of the report I had gotten from Swanson. I was stopped at a red light on Farthing and Fuller. I had made it out of the openness of the country, back to the edge of the city.

Realizing I hadn’t eaten all day, I turned the car into a McDonald’s parking lot. I glanced at my watch.

9:37 pm already! Trouble! My live-in girlfriend was going to have a fit.

Yes, I am a lesbian, try not to faint.

I sat in the parking space for a few moments and went through my files and photos. I found a picture of Ryan Steedleman before he met the Madame, and after he met the Madame. I had the readouts of what was found in the milk that he was forced to drink. I had a Polaroid of Mr. Swanson that he allowed me to take for my files.

I eventually found what I was looking for. The description of Madame Bigger from the Steedleman case.

It would seem that both men saw perfection, but both men describe completely different women. One that sounds like a punk, goth-whatever with purple hair and fishnet sleeves; and another that sounds like a much more distinguished woman.

She seems to be molding herself to her prey’s likings. Which would mean that she was specifically targeting these men!

I went back to Swanson’s report and began reading again.


4 - Swanson's Encounter with the Madam

After Shelly (my girlfriend) broke up with me, I ended up at the bar with the guys. They were buying me drinks to cheer me up.

And there she was.

She was sitting at a booth, all by herself. She didn’t seem to notice me at first, watching the television and slightly moving her head to the music. She glanced over and saw me staring directly at her. She laughed and put a hand to her cheek to show embarrassment. I smiled back to assure her.

I was still watching when she called over a barmaid and whispered in her ear. She pointed directly at me. Both women looked at me for a brief moment before the barmaid was off, completing the strange woman’s order.

She smiled at me, expectantly. Suddenly, a clack brought my attention to the bar before me. A large bowl of nachos was placed in front of me.

“From the Madame,” was all that the barmaid said.

I turned back and gave a friendly wave. I picked up the bowl and took out a chip. I turned my whole body and hopped off my stool. I began a drunken waltz over to her table, where she waited patiently.

I munched away at the nachos as sexily as I could, getting a little cheese on the edges of my lips and mouth. I laughed a drunken laugh. And she just smiled at me. Her eyes followed me the whole way to her seat, where I plopped down.

“I love a man that can eat!” she said with fire in her eyes.


5 - Analyzing the Madam's Motives

“’I love a man that can eat!’ she said with fire in her eyes.”

So, does she see this as a sexual thing? Does she get a thrill from fattening other men? I was still new to the whole P.I. thing, and still fairly young. Young enough to be naïve. I would’ve never thought that fat or anything fat-related could be considered sexual.

I mean, I didn’t think it was disgusting or anything like that. I had just never looked at it that way. The whole idea of feeding was becoming increasingly interesting.

I wasn’t necessarily aroused by the idea, just intrigued by its possibilities. I glanced into my rearview mirror and saw the golden arch. What would it be like? How would it feel to be knowingly fattened? What changes would your body go through? What ramifications would it have to get immense?
I guess there’s no harm in trying it out.

I opened the car door, and got out, bringing the report with me.


6 - Swanson's Encounter

I guess you can say the fattening really began the next morning. I was awakened by a tray being placed over my body in bed. I sat up to a silver tray with a domed plated on top of it.

She was standing over me, wearing one of my bathrobes with my initials on it.

My head was pounding from the night before and I pressed the heel of my hand to my eye, trying to suppress a migraine.

“I’m really sorry,” I began to the woman in my room. “But I don’t think I got your name.”

“That’s all right. Names can be so meaningless sometimes anyway. You’ll probably go all day without using it, naturally.” That’s what she said. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Not that it was deep or anything, but that I was having trouble processing any information fed to me verbally.

“It’s Cynthia,” she said.

“Millhouse,” I said. My words were hidden in a stern grunt of pain.

“Aww, are you hung over?” she asked.

“Looks like that’s the case,” I answered.

“Well look what we have here!” she said, lifting the dome from the tray. Underneath were four plates and on each one, a different treat. One plate had scrambled eggs. Another plate bore a bundle of bacon. The center and largest plate held three stacks of syrup-and-butter-laden pancakes. And the fourth plate was really a small bowl of grits.

All completed with a glass of milk. The milk seemed to be a little off-white, but I blamed that on the booze.

“There’s no way I can even look at that right now,” I said (which was true). I was way too hung-over and the first bite was going to cause me to vomit.

She grabbed the glass of milk and pressed it to my lips. She forced enough of the glass into my mouth to separate my lips. She titled the milk and let it pour down my throat.

I gave a few gags of desperation as I gulped down the milk. It tasted like the creamiest thing I had ever tasted. It flowed over my tongue like silk and continued down my throat and into my belly.

I suddenly felt a rumble in the pit of my stomach as the milk did its magic.

“This is a special concoction of mine. It’ll settle your stomach and you’ll be starving in no time,” she said, soothingly; reassuringly.

All the while, I sat helpless while the milk continued to work its way down my esophagus.


7 - Pondering the Puzzle Pieces Leads to - Emulation?

“All the while, I sat helpless while the milk continued to work its way down my esophagus.”

I lifted my eyes from the page and saw the mess on the table in the McDonald’s restaurant. I had eaten three double cheeseburgers without batting an eye. It was becoming apparent how some people were able to get that big. It was so easy to over indulge.

I took the last fry from the empty box of large fries and hungrily devoured it. I put the box into the other empty box of large fries. They fit together perfectly.

I felt my insides backed, my body felt solid and heavy. I gave a slight belch as the fullness subsided a little. I packed up my things and got into my car.

I wasn’t able to read any more before I reached our apartment. I turned the key in the lock and the door swung open. It was dark, so I dropped my bag and flicked on a light. The table was suddenly visible, so I dropped all of my files on it. I slumped into the chair at the table and saw my girlfriend, Kate.

She was sitting in the living room with her arms crossed. She was dwarfed by our giant recliner we had gotten as a house-warming gift from my family.

She stood up and started walking towards me. She was wearing panties with a small, silk nightie.

“Do you know what time it is?” she asked.

“Listen, I got held up,” I started as I stood up to face her.

“With what?” she demanded. “This Madame Bigger case? Can’t you just take a break for a while? It’s really starting to get to you,” she said.

“But this is all so fascinating,” I began. She smiled and pressed her finger to my lips.

“We can discuss it over dinner. I kind of anticipated you’d be late with your attitude recently, so I started cooking later. It shouldn’t be cold just yet.” She walked away and I stole a glance. I watched as her slender body seemed to sway into the kitchen.

I smiled and took my seat at the table. She placed a large bowl of pasta before me with a fork on the side. I looked up at her and she gave a friendly smile.

She sat down next to me with her own bowl and began to eat.

I was taken by Kate’s beauty. She was everything I wanted in a woman: tall, red-headed, sarcastic, smart, well-read, the works.

“I told you what this woman did, right?” I asked, twisting my fork to gather linguine.

“You mean how she fattens men and then leaves them? Like, a serial fattener?” Kate asked, her mouth full of pasta.

“Yeah. I’m beginning to think that she gets some sort of sexual pleasure out of it,” I said.

Kate lazily raised her eyebrows, feigning interest.

“I think I want to try it,” I blurted out.

Kate looked at me for a moment. She didn’t seem to be too surprised. Kate was always open-minded.

“You want to fatten me up?” she asked.

“No,” I said. “I want to see what it’s like. I want you to fatten me up,” I said.

“Lea,” she began, putting her fork down.

“Just a few pounds!” I protested. “You know, just to see what these victims are going through. It doesn’t have to be a lot. Maybe twenty pounds? No, thirty! That’s less than what actors gain for roles!”

She looked at me quizzically, sizing me up. I could tell she was having a hard time distinguishing whether or not I was serious.

And I totally was.

She pushed her bowl to me with a sly smile.

“You might want to see about getting the front door resized,” she said. “We’re going to make you huge.” Her lips curled into a devilish grin.

I smiled back, nervous, excited. We held each other’s gaze as I leaned my head down to take another forkful. Those double cheeseburgers were going to have some company. I began to think about the burgers already finding their places on my ass and in my belly. And I playfully predicted where on my body this pasta would show. My boobs? My hips?

She just sat there and watched.


8 - Swanson is Sucked into the Vortex

She just sat there and watched as I shoveled in the food. It had been months since we first met at the bar, and I was beginning to consider myself in another serious relationship.

We were celebrating my birthday at the Kitten Club, the hottest strip joint in King City. And while the girls gyrated on stage and bore all, I was stuffing my face with the tastiest chicken sandwich I ever had.

My weight had climbed to 275 pounds. I would be lying if I said that I didn’t notice it as it was happening. Aside from the obvious vision of roundness I had become, my manboobs just now becoming visible, and my stomach beginning to fall over my waist, I was also a lot softer. I found myself to be physically comfortable most of the time, my plush body providing relaxation.

I looked up at her for a moment and smiled as I gathered a bite of chicken and bread. She smiled back, her eyes igniting and her body shifting from the pure joy and ecstasy she got from watching me gorge.

I wanted at one level to lose the weight and slim back down. I needed to get in shape for the swim team in a few months! But she almost encouraged a lazy lifestyle. I found myself sleeping in a lot more, and she almost waited on me hand and foot.

It was easy to see why I had let myself go. Suddenly, the gas pounded at the base of my belly. It shifted around inside and suddenly, found the slide that led out of my ass.

I farted really loud. A passing waitress gave a slight reaction to the noise, and another shriveled her nose.

But Cynthia just sat there and smiled. Without saying anything, she decided I needed more and flagged down another waitress. My face was burning with embarrassment at all of these skinny women serving this fat man. I didn’t want to be in this humiliating scenario.

But Cynthia seemed to be enjoying herself.

"Maybe it’s not so wrong after all. Maybe I should just let it happen." I thought.


9 - Ophelia Begins an Experiment

“Maybe I should just let it happen.”

I put the report on the night stand and turned my attention to my swollen abdomen. I rubbed it to relieve the pressure, and got a few burps out, but nothing major.

Kate was already asleep next to me and I tried not to wake her. I pushed my fingers into my belly, experimenting and playing with the experience. I felt my ass cheeks tremble as a fart eased out of my rear. There was a low, muffled trumpeting sound. I suppressed a giggle and looked over to Kate who shifted under the sheets.

I watched her intently, waiting on a reaction.

“Did you fart?” I eventually heard her accuse in the semi-darkness.

I immediately broke out in laughter.

(Continued in post 10 of this thread)


Active Member
May 19, 2006
I love these stories - the first is brilliant, and this is great so far....I love Mme Bigger! Could the real Mme Bigger please step up..?


Well-Known Member
Jan 7, 2007
If I was a detective...which I sorta am...in my own small way...I would suspect her girlfriend of being Madame Bigger ;)


Well-Known Member
Nov 29, 2005
, Male
I am so thrilled for this new installemnt. Your stories keep me riveted. They are better than Harry Potter in my opinion. Can't wait for the next installment.


Jun 3, 2007
Great stories - keep writing...please! Your word usage is excellent, very descriptive.

coyote wild

You'll love me, I swear.
Sep 30, 2005
So it's been a while, but I wanted you guys to know that I'm working on this now. Trying to wrap it up.

So far, it has pretty traditional weight gain scenes that still move the plot forward, but I mean hey....that's what we're here for, amirite?

I'm just ready to move on to other things. I'd like to submit more standalone, one-off stories. I think I'm done with mutli-part series. Although I think this particular universe lends itself well to a long series.

So I invite all writers here to take the idea of Madame Bigger and run with it. If any of you have writer's block, feel free to write a Madame Bigger story. She's fattened a lot of people and might still even be out there. Guess you'll find out when I wrap this story up.

Anyway, just wanted to give you guys an update. New installments SOON.

coyote wild

You'll love me, I swear.
Sep 30, 2005
10 – Swanson's Last Days of Mobility

My eyes fluttered open. I moaned at the inconvenience of awaking from a deep, satisfying sleep. A debilitating tingle flowed beneath the surface of my soft flesh, feeling so good and destroying any possibility of motivation I may have to even want to get up.

Then the motivation hit me with the force of an entire cheesecake: I needed the toilet.

I tried lifting myself with the muscles of my chest and arms. I grunted and groaned, exerting myself more than usual. I was able to lift my head, but kept my eyes closed in an effort to focus my strength on getting out of bed.

My head fell back and I began gasping for air. I lifted my head to get a look at what the problem might be, and my curiosity was quickly dispelled.

I couldn't believe it was all me. A landscape of flesh spread from beneath my second chin. I felt like the ruler of a small nation, surveying all he owned. But I knew the truth: my body didn't belong to me. I may have been the figurehead, but my body belonged to Cynthia.

She came into the room, pushing a cart of treats and drinks. Not only would the contents of the cart be detrimental to my efforts of ever getting out of bed again, but they would definitely further hinder my attempts.

Before she could start stuffing me with fattening treats, I alerted her to the situation.

“Cynthia, I need to use the bathroom,” I told her.

“So go to the bathroom,” she replied, lifting the lids off the first dishes. Steam was released into the air and I was suddenly rushed with the smell of waffles and bacon.

I moaned in the excitement and a rumbling fart betrayed my enthused anticipation of the meal. With my eyes still closed, to heighten my sense of smell, I explained to her: “I can't get up on my own.”

She dropped a utensil she was using to stir some sort of chocolate soup. “What did you say?”

I sighed, knowing exactly what she wanted to hear. “I'm afraid you've made me too fat.”


11 – It All Comes Together.

My eyes fluttered open and I stared at the ceiling for a few moments while my mind adjusted to the new state of being.

Months of studying the journals, yet no real results. Well, there WERE results, just not the kind I was hoping for.

Kate had fattened me up quite a bit. She seemed to enjoy it much more than I had anticipated. I could already hear the clanging pots and sizzling stove mingling in the kitchen. And the aroma wafting forward coaxed me into starting to get out of bed.

I groaned at my conflict. Being in bed was so nice and a buzzing undercurrent beneath my pillowy flesh was keeping me grounded. It was almost a high and and I felt helpless to confront it. Suddenly, my rumbling belly warned me to get out of bed. I was curious as to what my belly had to threaten me with, when my question was answered by a thundering fart.

I fanned my nose and began in earnest to get away from my smell. I rocked from side-to-side, like a turtle on it's back. Suddenly, my wobbly flesh had enough momentum to pull me upward. I sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, breathing heavily from the effort. I heard a cracking egg shell followed by a sizzling whisper.

I rocked back and began to propel myself forward.

I waddled into the hall, stepping sideways to get through the door frame. I took a few ponderous steps and turned the corner into the kitchen. “Oh no,” I moaned under my breath.

Kate had prepared an enormous feast. Every table and counter top was covered in food. Plates of pancakes and sausages. Bacon and waffles. Omelets and toast. There was even a plate devoted entirely to pizza rolls. Because apparently, it's never to early for pizza.

I put a hand to my belly as a way to beg it to keep quiet. I didn't want it to be obvious how much I wanted to eat everything in sight. I also didn't want to admit how powerful my appetite had become. It scared me really: the thought of the entire meal as a first course.

All I could do was take a seat and get started. Maybe at some point, I could pretend to get full, as I do from time to time. Without this tactic, I would be bigger than our house!

“Good morning, bum!” Kate said to me without turning away from the stove.

“Morning, babe,” I said, surveying the food as I walked to my seat. I pulled the chair back and slowly turned around. I had to position myself before the chair and slowly lower my enormous ass on to it.

The chair groaned in a similar disappointment to the one I displayed at waking up. I actually felt sorry for it. But then Kate turned from the stove and scooped a mountain of fried potatoes onto a plate nearby and I began to feel sorry for me again.

“Kate, we need to talk,” I said, my eyes moving from plate to plate.

“What's up, sweetheart?” she asked, pouring some milk into a glass from our giant pitcher. She placed the pitcher on the counter and slowly carried over the glass, careful not to spill any. I thought she was going to place the glass next to my plate, but she kept going and put it directly to my lips.

“Hurry and sip!” she said. “I put too much!”

I slurped the milk as she tilted it more. It flowed down my throat, cooling my chest. If I wasn't mistaken, I could have sworn it was flowing into my boobs and around the edges of my large, dome of a belly. But then, it kept going until it landed between my thighs and began radiating a warmth I could barely contain.

“Oh my god,” I actually said aloud as she waited for my reaction. “I had forgotten how good that was.”

“You've just developed an addiction,” Kate said, matter-of-factly.

I chuckled as she brought the edge of the glass back to my lips. It poured between my lips and into my body. My ever-fattening body. My eyes went wide as I suddenly needed to take in air, but couldn't. She pulled the glass away, allowing my to gasp for breath.

I rested one hand on my chest as it heaved and my other on my belly, swearing I could feel it swell against my palm and fingertips.

“What do you mean....addiction?” I asked, gasping for air.

“Well the milk is a major part of the process, so giving it addictive ingredients just makes everything easier. You wanted to see what it was like to get fatter. This is the fastest way to do it,” Kate explained as she scooped more eggs onto a plate.

I noticed Kate's phone sitting on the corner of the table. While she busied herself at the stove, I swiped it and slid the lock aside.

I tapped her photos icon and saw a selection of folders. They had labels like “masterpieces” and “works in progress”.

I stole a glance to make sure she was still cooking. I tapped the “works in progress” folder and watched the screen populate with even more sub-folders. This time, they all had names. Like actual names. Randy. Michael. Seth. Eddie. Nathan.

I touched the “Eddie” folder and watched the screen populate with images. It was various images of an attractive gentleman. Ginger, with a beard. Curly, short hair. Pretty good shape. Well...he has a little chub. Actually...he's pretty overweight. Wait...he's huge! It's a progression!

This Eddie person is getting fatter over time.

I touched another folder. Nathan.

Dark eyes; dark, spiky hair; impossibly handsome smile. Rock hard body.

Soft body.

Fat body.

Oh my god, can he even walk at that weight?

I go back to the sub-folders. I scroll through countless names and find....oh no.


As in Ophelia.

As in...me. Just another “work in progress.”

I tap the folder and watch as the last few months flash before my eyes.

I have a clear window into the past and I can see my thinner self. I can see my jawline and my collar bone. I can actually see myself ballooning right before my eyes. I see the cake we had to celebrate my breaking the 200-pound barrier.

“Just a little bit,” I had told her. “I only want to gain a little bit.”

Those words echoed in the head of my well-padded self.

“I don't hear chewing!” Kate called.

I jumped, fumbling with the phone and my greasy fingertips. I caught the phone and placed it where it was.

Kate spun around and placed an enormous bowl of eggs with bits of bell pepper, onion, and cubes of ham at the one clear spot on the table. Every available surface was now covered in the most fattening food imaginable.

I shifted my bulk as I smiled nervously. The chair groaned in agony. I blushed.

“Here,” Kate said, scooping up a heap of eggs on a fork and bringing it to my lips. I closed my mouth around the neck of the fork and Kate pulled the utensil out, my lips sliding against steel. I chewed the fluffy eggs and textured peppers. My teeth squished it all into digestible chunks and my tongue pushed it all down my throat.

She glanced at the phone and noticed the grease streaks running perpendicular to each other. As if some fatty had been recently using her phone. I saw the rage in her eyes. I saw that rage become a false smile as she directed her attention to me.

“I think we need to discuss ways to limit the amount of calories your body burns day-by-day,” Kate said through her burning eyes.

I gulped back everything that was in my mouth. “Like what?” I asked nervously.

“Like walking, for instance. I think you should cut back on that,” Kate said as she shoved another forkful past my lips.

“It's you,” I said against my better judgment. “You're the Madame.”

“Brava,” Kate replied sarcastically. “All I had to do was leave the evidence right in front of your piggy snout.” She shoved a blueberry muffin against my mouth, causing me to bite and chew as fast as I could just so I could begin asking questions.

“You wanted me to find out?” I asked, my mouth still full and my cheeks bulging.

“Usually I wait until they're fully dependent on me. I've never revealed my true intentions to anyone before they've hit the 400-pound mark. But you...you're different.”

“Screw you,” I said, almost pouting.

“No, really. You love this. You're the first person I've come across that actually embraces her new pounds,” she said. “And it's fascinating.”

“So what happens now?” I ask, trying to keep the questions coming so I wouldn't have to give anything else away.

“Well, you're obviously free to go. But what will you do? Arrest me? What have I done, exactly? What law have I broken?” She spoon fed me some of the chocolate soup. “Or you could stay. And continue to learn more about me.”

I thought about the ultimatum. I had been sleeping with Darth Vader. I had been willingly offering all of the information I had to my enemy. To my target. I felt betrayed. I felt...destroyed.

But I couldn't let those feelings show now. I couldn't think about anything until I was out of her sight. At the moment, I just had to get through this intellectual showdown without sinking all of my battleships.

I had one major question. The one question driving me through this entire investigation. It was three-letters long, but asking it would've sealed my fate. It would have been a willing submission to her just to learn the truth. Asking it would mean giving myself to her and relying on her for everything. With the risk that she might leave me forever. She only keeps tabs on her masterpieces.

But I had to know. I had to. Even if it meant being her prized. personal hog for the foreseeable future.

I swallowed a syrup-drenched chunk of butter-soaked waffle and asked the question that would pretty much surrender my ass to the bed.



12 – Motivation.

Why? I can barely remember. I haven't really thought about it in years. I guess to figure out why, I'd have to go back to Millhouse. Ah, he was quite the hottie.

It was all Shelly's idea, really. She just wanted to see if she could trust him. She told me what he liked based on how well she knew him and the type of magazines he kept. So I just kind of fashioned myself to meet his ideal. Shelly wanted to see how he'd react.

Unfortunately, his reaction...became his undoing.

But even once Shelly broke up with him for oggling me, she wasn't done with him. She wanted me to really bring him down. Ruin him.

“Make him fat or something,” was what she had said. It was a throwaway idea. She was just speaking hypothetically. All she really wanted was for him to lose his power. And one of the reasons he had so much power, was because he was a draw for the women.

But outside of cartoons, how can anyone really be “made” to be fat? Human beings have more willpower than that. Somewhere along the line, they'll catch on. They'll see your game. It will reveal itself through popped buttons and torn seams.

It will make itself known through buckled chairs and broken belts. They'll see photographs of themselves and begin to realize what's happening to them. They'll piece together the person behind every morsel. They will immediately recognize that one voice telling them it was okay.

They would remember my voice as the most powerful element in their expanding waistline.

But he never caught on. Even on the last day his ass ever left the bed.

“I'm afraid you've made me too fat,” he said, finally. And I knew I had him. I knew he was mine from that moment on. I would no longer have to manipulate him or whisper to him to increase his size. He would grow naturally from here.

I helped him up and supported him as he shuffled to the restroom. His belly wobbled with every step and the walls rattled once his enormous bulk landed on the toilet seat.

He looked at me apologetically as he farted. The trombone-sounding gaseous expulsion echoed off of the toilet bowl. The amalgamation of smells made up of his prior feasts squeezed its way into my nostrils. I felt my nethers twitch and my stomach turn with hunger.

That was when I first noticed the danger of creating fatties. It's in what they produce. Maybe it happens at some point during the digestion of the milk, but somewhere along the line, the addictive additives in the milk become addictive pheromones.

Whatever type of gas my fatties produce, it awakens the glutton within. Which is why I've decided that it's only best if the target is the only one exposed to their gaseous releases.

As I watched him sit there, discreetly clearing out his belly, making room for the next round of feasting, I realized that our time together was limited.

But I knew he wouldn't be my last...

I wanted to do it again. I wanted another piggy to add to my pen. Something had awaken in me. Like I had wanted this all along. I wanted to start collecting them.

I had been taking pictures with my phone of Millhouse's expanding body. Most of them candids and not in the least bit flattering. Taking bites out of hotdogs, trying to fasten buttons, him rubbing his bare belly by an empty pizza box, etc.

I would send them to Shelly so she could post them to a blog she had started.

She wouldn't be seeing this one of him on the toilet. I stopped sending them in when he hit 450 pounds. At that point, I felt like he was mine.

And mine, he was. Once I severed all ties with Shelly, he really started to balloon. The last time he ever protested about his increasing weight, he was cresting 600 pounds. He protested before and we would usually end up in a fierce fight that I would win. But this time, I locked eyes with him and whispered: “No.”

After cleaning him with the bidet and spraying him down myself, I helped him back to bed. He turned when he got to the bed, placing his ass against the edge. He kept his eyes on mine as I held his hands, preparing to lower him.

He was breathing heavily and eventually nodded, meaning he was ready.

We slowly lowered his bulk onto the bed. The mattress groaned and popped. He glanced over to the tray I had brought in to see his favorite midday treats. He licked his lips subconsciously as he eased into his bed.

He shimmied backwards and got into his position. Seeing all of that blubber clash against itself and wobble about was a sight to behold. He was a human sea.

I walked over to the cart and began rolling it to the edge of the bed.

He kept his gaze on it as it rolled up to him. His eyes seemed worried. His eyes betrayed his thoughts. He knew just as I did, that he had just walked for the last time. And as I draped the bib around his chins and over his breasts, he set in motion the next logical course of action.

“I think it's time I return home. I think I have overstayed my welcome,” he said.

As I brought the fudge brownie to his plump, slick lips, I quelled his worries. “I'll call William and have them prepare a space to accommodate your current....condition.”

He looked up at me as he chewed the brownie and released a long, drawn out fart. I fanned my nose again and laughed at him. My belly rumbled and I took a bite out of the brownie in my hand without thinking. I quickly corrected myself and shoved a huge chunk of the brownie directly against his lips. He slurped it in and sucked my fingertips.


13 – Unlucky.

I waddled to our bedroom, all 278 pounds rippling and wobbling with each footfall.

The squeaky wheels of a loaded dinner cart were hot on my heels as the Madame rolled my next meal behind me. I entered the bedroom and collapsed on the bed, weighted down by the endless breakfast. The Madame closed the door behind her and rolled the cart up to me.

“I've had so many piggies since then, Lia. I still visit them all from time to time and care for them.”

She brought a forkful of pie to my lips and I wrapped my lips around it.

“If you have me locked away, some of them might starve to death. I'm the only one that knows the location of them all.”

More pie.

“So you see, my dear Ophelia, your search has been in vain. I exist because I must. Each of my victims has been insurance against my incarceration.”

A sip of shake. My belly rumbled with building pressure.

She leaned in close and whispered to my ear.

“Welcome to my fan club, sweetie. You're mine.”

The pressure swelled against the base of my ass and released itself into the world.

The Madame stood up, fanning her nose and smiling in confidence of her dominance over me.

Still grinning that devil's grin, she brought the shake straw to her lips...and took a sip.


coyote wild

You'll love me, I swear.
Sep 30, 2005
Thank YOU! Glad you liked it.

It may be the end of this tale, but I'm not convinced it's the end of the saga.

For instance, who hired Ophelia in the first place? Just how many fatties are there around the city, unable to move and how is the Madame able to care for them all?

I might revisit this series sometime in the future, but until then, I invite any writer interested to carry on the saga if they feel so inclined. Go nuts.

But my next is something completely different.


Well-Known Member
Oct 2, 2005
This was really good and fun to read, is a very nice story! Bravo!

I'm not convinced it's the end of the saga.
I hope someday we read more about Madame Bigger, she rules!!


Well-Known Member
Nov 14, 2012
It's always been such a well written story with that line of deviousness. You want to root for Ophelia to discover who is doing this but Madame explains herself in a such a succinct way. Ophelia can't help her overeating now and I'm assuming Madame is in the business of persuading people to do what they ought not to. Would love to see what has happened to those characters.

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