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Patronage and Pierogi - by Madeline Maple (SSBBW, Romance, Imagery, ~XWG )

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Madeline Maple

Active Member
Jun 16, 2009
SSBBW, Romance, Imagery, ~XWG - A young woman grows into a new family and a new lifestyle while under the patronage of an eccentric admirer.

By Madeline Maple

A short story in 10 chapters and an epilogue.


Victoria Berger sat on her worn, faded, couch with a yellow floral print and looked around at the dusty living room of her first floor apartment in Brooklyn.

“This isn’t much of a home,” she said aloud, thinking of how it appeared gray and bleak, especially with the low light of the winter sun. She moved toward the edge of her seat and rose from the couch. She stood for a moment and noticed that she felt a bit winded just by standing up.

“Oh…man…I know that feeling,” she thought to herself as she walked around the couch, down the hallway toward her bedroom.

She stood in front of her second least favorite possession: her full-length mirror. Vicki took stock of herself. She was a young woman in her late twenties, with smooth, milky skin, and dark brown hair that fell in loose, natural curls on her shoulders. She had big, brown eyes and a small, button nose above a pale pink mouth. Her cheeks were more than a little chubby, as they were surrounding by a rather substantial second chin.

She wore a burgundy, wool sweater with a rolled collar that came up to the bottom of her chins. The sweater hugged her abundant curves rather tightly, as she saw her bulbous breasts above a bulging belly. Along her sides, she saw that the sweater was caught in a couple places by the soft folds of fat on her sides.

The largest part of her body was her hips, and the sweater rolled up a bit, not able to stretch across their width. She wore a heavy, black cotton skirt underneath the sweater, and Vicki turned to her side to see that the skirt was very tight around her bottom, which jutted out away from the small of her back in a steep curve. She turned back to face the mirror.

“I have got to get back to the gym tomorrow,” she said aloud, knowing that she’d be needing a new skirt if she didn’t curb her recent weight gain.

After her bout with the mirror, she then left the living room to do battle with her least favorite possession: the bathroom scale. She pulled the rectangular contraption out from under the sink, and she heard it clang as she set it down in the middle of the floor. Vicki stepped on the scale, hearing the dial spin as she pressed her weight down.

She looked up at the ceiling, scrunching up her face as she braced herself for the results. It had been a few weeks since she weighed herself, and she hadn’t been back to the gym in that time. She final got the courage to look down, and she gave a little shriek as she read the dial: 275. That was 5 pounds more than the last time, and Vicki figured she’d be a bit heavier, but that much of a gain she didn’t expect.

“Whoa, that's another jump!” She exclaimed to herself as she stepped off the scale. She silently cursed herself for getting rid of her fat clothes. But she had made a pact with herself. If she got under 250 pounds, she would treat herself to a new wardrobe. And the thrill of achieving that goal, along with the joy of having new outfits, made her want to forget the past. So she threw out all her old clothes to make a fresh start.

About a year and a half ago, in a moment of particular self-loathing, Vicki stepped on her dreaded nemesis only to find that she weighed only three pounds. At least that’s what her scale told her, but in fact, the dial spun all the way around, past the 350 upper limit, to begin again at the starting point. There was some blank space between the 350 and the zero, and it was impossible for Vicki to weigh herself precisely. All she knew at the time was that her weight was probably a little bit above the maximum weight for the scale.

Right then and there, Vicki resolved to lose weight. She joined a gym, starting eating fewer carbohydrates and more vegetables. Pretty soon she could get an accurate weight from the scale, and she watched her weight go down, until a few months ago, she was thrilled to see her weight reach 248. She immediately went out to get her new wardrobe and get rid of the past.

But here was the past repeating itself. After the joy of the new clothes faded, her enthusiasm for the gym, which was never very strong to begin with, lapsed entirely. She started getting reacquainted with carbohydrates, and she saw her weight start to climb until today, when she saw the figure of 275.

She had enjoyed being smaller. She felt lighter on her feet. She was able to fit into clothes she could buy at retail stores. But being a bit smaller didn’t solve her problems. She still felt lonely and without direction, no matter what she weighed. And her love for fatty foods never subsided, and she found that at 248 pounds, her body always wanted more food. Even at 275 she often felt hungry, and she was afraid that in no time she would be back, maxing out her scale.

Vicki looked at the clock on the bathroom wall.

“Oh no!” she cried. She was going to be late for her appointment with the bankruptcy attorney in the city. Vicki rushed out of the bathroom, grabbed her purse, and left her apartment, moving as quickly as her 275 pound frame would allow.

On her way to the subway she passed a billboard for Zywiec beer, reminding her of the European flavor of her Brooklyn neighborhood. She hadn’t lived in Greenpoint for more than a couple of years, but she had come to enjoy living in a place with so many Polish immigrants. Vicki chose a Polish neighborhood thinking it might make her feel more at home, given her Polish ancestry.

She didn’t know a word of Polish, and her parents, before they passed away, were never very big on teaching her the old traditions. But since Vicki didn’t have a family of her own, just being near people who came from the same place made here feel more comfortable. Plus, it made her feel like she was living in a world capital, hearing languages other than English as she walked down the street.

While on the train, Vicki noted that there was nowhere to sit, and she remembered weighing over 300 pounds, and how embarrassed she would be when people would give up the priority seating for her, which is typically reserved for the elderly. She knew people were just trying to be kind, figuring that a woman her size wouldn’t mind taking her load off her feet. But since she was young and healthy, her pride was always stung a bit when that happened. In the mid-200s no one offered up their seat, but she wondered for how long that would last if she didn’t get back in touch with her inner reserve of discipline.

Vicki’s mind turned from the subject of her size to an even less desirable topic: her finances. She decided it was time to see about her options for bankruptcy. She had a car loan, student loans, and mounting credit card debt. Her freelance web design jobs didn’t quite make enough money to make ends meet, and with every passing month, she kept going deeper and deeper in the red. She was considering get a side job as a bartender to try and chip away at her debt, but she wanted to see if bankruptcy was a better option. She didn’t want to destroy her credit by declaring bankruptcy, but she wasn’t sure she could find another way to solve her financial difficulties.

The bankruptcy attorney was in the East Village, and Vicki got off the train and started walking toward his office. She was focused on her appointment, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched as she walked down Third Avenue. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a black shape, and she turned around and noticed a limousine slowing creeping along, just about five feet behind Vicki.

She stopped and turned to the car, watching its darkened windows as it continued on its way. Bit then the limo stopped in front of Vicki, and the power windows lowered in the back. A thin, elderly man then popped out his head. He had a crop of thick, white hair that seemed to stand almost straight up. His eyes were small and beady but also rather kind. He gave Vicki a warm smile, and said in a dignified, British accent,

“Hello, my dear. Would you be so kind as to direct me to Houston Street?”

Pointing in the direction of downtown, Vicki replied, “Oh…it’s just down that way about 10 blocks. You can’t miss it.”

“Thank you, my dear,” replied the man. “And may I say that you look radiant this afternoon.”

And with that he faced forward and raised the window.

Vicki didn’t think much of the interaction, and she headed to her appointment.

The next day, she was sitting on her couch, looking over the literature she received from the bankruptcy attorney. It all seemed so complicated, and she wasn’t entirely sure she trusted this attorney. She figured that it was in the lawyer’s best interest to get her to see the bright side of bankruptcy because he wouldn’t get paid if she didn’t declare. She knew her finances were in a sorry state, but she wasn’t sure if it warranted such a drastic move. Vicki was about to reread one of the many pamphlets when she heard a knock at the front door.

Vicki opened the door to see a stern, middle aged man in a finely-tailored, blue business suit with sunglasses and a professional demeanor. Her initial reaction is that the man must be from the law firm of the bankruptcy attorney, but then she rejected that idea because why would they visit her at her apartment? Vicki asked the man what he wanted, and he replied,

“I represent a man by the name of Dr. Pretorious. He has a proposition for you, and he has asked me to relay it.”

“A Dr. who?” Vicki asked, dazed and confused by this strange turn of events.

The man repeated, “I represent a man named Dr. Pretorious. He wants to invite you to tea. If you choose to accept his offer, he will compensate you for your time in the amount of ten thousand dollars.”

Vicki wasn’t sure what this was all about, but she understood the part about the ten thousand dollars.

“Are you saying that if I have tea with this Dr. Pretorious, he’ll pay me ten grand?”

“Yes,” the professional-looking gentleman replied. “That’s precisely what I’m saying.”

“Where does he want to have tea?”

“He wants you to visit him at his mansion in Long Island. If you choose to accept, he will send a car for you at 3 pm on Sunday.”

“Wait,” said Vicki, feeling a bit nervous about the prospect of being taken to some strange man’s home. “How am I to know that I’ll be safe? And what does he expect me to do for ten thousand dollars.”

Now starting to feel a little insulted, Vicki continued, “Just what kind a woman does this Dr. Pretorious think I am?”

“I assure you,” replied the man, “that his intentions are above the board, and all that he expects is for you to join him at his mansion and have tea and conversation. And as a symbol of his goodwill,” handing her a slip of paper, “he asked me to give you this check for five thousand dollars.”

Vicki took the check and held it up to the light. “You’ll receive the other five thousand when you arrive at his mansion.”

Vicki stood there, speechless, still holding a check for five thousand dollars.

“Here’s my card. Think about the offer, and call me by 5 pm tomorrow with you answer. Do you have any questions?”

“Uh…no,” Vicki said, finally. “Uh, thanks for stopping by.”

And she closed the door and went back to her couch. In one hand she held a check, and in the other hand, she held a bankruptcy pamphlet. She felt like she was sitting at a crossroads. Not being quite confident about traveling to a strange man’s house, she didn’t feel right going to have tea with this Pretorious. But she didn’t really trust the bankruptcy attorney, either. She figured, however, that a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, and looking at the check for five thousand dollars, she picked up the phone and dialed the number on the business card.


Vicki looked at the living room clock which read 2:59. She looked anxiously out the front window. The five thousand dollar check had cleared, so she had at least some reason to feel a bit more secure about her tea time. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was about to enter into a strange chapter in her life.

Just then a limousine pulled up in front of her apartment, and the driver exited the car and started up Vicki’s walkway. She left her front door, and met the driver halfway.

“Victoria Berger?” the man said.

“Are you from Dr. Pretorious?”

“That’s right, please come with me.” And he opened the door of the limo and gestured for you to climb aboard.

Vicki had never been inside a limousine before, and she got a kick out of imagining herself a celebrity on her way to the red carpet. The limo spead along the Long Island Expressway, and the bustling Brooklyn surroundings slowly turned to the more suburban Long Island, and then to more rural surroundings. She had been riding for almost an hour when they pulled into a long driveway. The limousine stopped in front of a massive home, built in an Edwardian style. The driver opened the door for her and motioned for her to exit the limo, while a man emerged from the front door of the mansion wearing a dark suit and tie.

“Please come with me, Ms. Berger.”

Vicki felt a little relieved that there were other people around, so if this Dr. Pretorious was going to murder her and chop her up into a million little pieces, at least there would be witnesses. Still feeling anxious, Vicki followed the man indoors.

The interior of the mansion matched, or even exceeded the opulence of the exterior. She marveled at a marble staircase, period furniture, and she wasn’t sure, but she might have even passed an authentic Degas hanging on one of the walls. She was being taken through a number of rooms until she was led to a sunlit room where an elderly man was seated. Vicki recognized him immediately as the man who asked for directions in the East Village the other day. And upon seeing her enter, the man opened his eyes wide and practically bounded up on his feet and rushed to greet her.

“My dear Victoria!” He exclaimed. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Dr. Pretorious.”

“Did you ever make it to Houston Street?” Vicki replied, dryly.

Laughing, Pretorious said, “Ah, you are such a delight, my dear. I apologize for the charade. I get so flustered when I see a beautiful woman that I sometimes put on airs.”

He waved a hand toward an empty chair. “Won’t you join me?”

Pretorious pulled out the chair for Vicki, and she cautiously sat down.

“How do you like your tea?”

“Cream and two sugars, please,” answered Vicki.

“Lovely!” answered Pretorius, as if this simple answer just made his day.

Instead of having tea, Pretorious took a bottle from a counter behind him, and poured a small glass from its contents.

“You won’t mind if I have some Gin, do you? It’s my only weakness.”

“Uh, no,” replied Vicki. “Knock yourself out.”

For a minute or so, they sat in silence. Vicki sipped her tea and Pretorious sipped his gin. Then a person dressed as a butler appeared with a three-tiered serving tray, loaded with desserts.

“Won’t you indulge, my dear?” Pretorious asked. “You must be hungry after the long drive.”

Vicki was feeling a bit hungry, and she grabbed a small eclair and ate it in two bites. Then she had a couple of petit fours. And then she just loaded the small plate with a range of different mini desserts. This clearly pleased Pretorious, who just sat watching Vicki as she ate, until he said,

“I am an old man, Victoria.” He sipped his Gin, and then he continued, “I must indulge vicariously. Nothing gives me more pleasure than seeing a young woman relish the taste of a fine dessert. I must thank you for giving me a wonderful afternoon.”

“You’re welcome,” Victoria said, with her mouth full of another eclair.

“I must admit that I had an ulterior motive for inviting you here, today.”

Upon hearing this, Vicki stopped eating and looked at Pretorius suspiciously. He noticed the distrustful expression, and he quickly smiled and said,

“Oh, my dear, you needn’t be concerned. I just want to give you another proposition. I’m hoping that this tea is just the beginning of a mutually beneficial business relationship.” Pretorious said.

“I’m all ears,” Vicki said, already on her second plate of desserts.

“You see,” Pretorious continued, “I’m an old man with a strong stock portfolio and a weak libido. I must take pleasure in small things. Having tea with a lovely lady, for example.”

At that, Vicki raised her tea cup and toasted Pretorious, with her mouth full of cake.

“I consider myself a patron of the arts,” he said. “I like to give my money away to young women with a certain potential.”

“Potential?” she inquired.

“Yes,” answered Pretorious. “You see, some women are born with the ability to reach their full potential without any outside influence. Others need a little encouragement to be all they can be. I like to serve as a patron for women who need a little support. To…encourage their art, so to speak.”

“I’m afraid I’m a little lost here, doctor. Unless you count my web designs, I’m not really much of an artist.”

“Oh, but you are wrong, my dear, dead wrong.” He was getting excited again as he continued, “I see much potential in you.”

“Oh, yeah?” said Vicki, feeling rather amused by this eccentric old man.

“Oh, my, yes.” He said. “Please, consider accepting my role as patron.”

“And what would this entail?” She asked.

“I don’t get involved with the details, my dear. My associate will explain those to you.”

And with that he got up, raised Vicki’s hand and kissed it gently. “I must bid adieu, but I thank you for a wonderful tea, my lovely Victoria.”

Vicki sat for a moment, finishing the last eclair, surprised by how much she had eaten. Then another one of Pretorious’s attendants appeared, saying,

“May I guide you to the library, madame?”

Vicki got up, feeling her stomach full of rich pastries, and followed him into a room with dark wood and a sea of books lining the selves. She was directed to a plush leather chair, seated in front of a desk. Behind the desk was the same professional-looking man who came to her door inviting her to tea.

“Nice to see you again, Ms. Berger. Did you enjoy your tea?”

“It was okay,” she said.

“Let me introduce myself. I’m an attorney for Dr. Pretorious. As he explained, he is inviting you to become a recipient of his patronage. I am here to explain the terms of the patronage, and if you choose to accept, I will guide you through the contract. Before we begin, do you have any initial questions?”

“Well, I can think of a billion questions right now, but let’s start with an explanation of what he means by being a patron,” she said.

“Put simply, Dr. Pretorious sponsors women to gain weight. He pays them if they reach the weight of 400 pounds.”

“You are kidding me?” said Vicki. “He pays people to gain weight?”

“That’s it precisely, Ms. Berger. If you chose to become his patron, and if you chose to grow to the weight of 400 pounds or more, he will pay you $100,000. You will call me at the number I gave you before when you reach the agreed upon weight. We will then arrange a day and time for you to come to the mansion, be weighed, and then have tea with the doctor much like you did today. The date when you come to the mansion will be the yearly day for you to check in to maintain your patronage status. For every year you arrive at the mansion on that date weighing 400 pounds or more, you will receive $100,000. If, for some reason, you arrive weighing less than 400 pounds, the contract is considered void. If you fail to arrive on a check in date, the contract is considered void. However, for each year you arrive on the check in date weighing 400 pounds or more, you will receive $100,000.”

Vicki sat stunned, and the lawyer just waited in silence until she finally said, “So if I weigh 400 pounds I’ll get 100 grand, and if I come back a year later weighing 400 pounds I get another 100 grand, and so on and so on?”

“Precisely,” he replied.

“And how long do I have to reach 400 pounds?”

“3 years,” he answered.

“And what if the old man kicks the bucket?”

“His will is set up to uphold the contract in perpetuity,” he said.

“And I don’t have to do anything else? Just gain weight and have tea with him once a year?”

“That’s it, precisely,” he said.

After a few moments pause, “I have just one question: Is he off his rocker or just totally insane?” said Vicki, hoping to extract some personality from this humorless bureaucrat.

“I’ve found him to be of sound mind and body, but to have eccentric tastes.”

Vicki and the lawyer went over the contract, and it was explained that by signing it, she wouldn’t have to gain the weight, but that she would have three years to arrive for a weigh in at 400 pounds or else the contract would expire. Vicki figured she might as well sign it, as it didn’t hold her to anything, and it made Pretorious give her tons of money, if she were to fulfill the bizarre conditions of the contract.

“Oh, but before you sign,” said the lawyer, “I want to call your attention to a clause in the contract.”

“A clause?” she asked.

“Yes. If you were to appear for a check in date weighing 100 pounds over the required weight, you would receive an extra $100,000. That continues for every 100 pounds you gain over 400 pounds.”

“Wait, okay, are you saying that if I ever show up weighing 500 pounds or more, I’d get 200 grand?”

“And,” the lawyer answered, “if you appear weighing 600 pounds or more, you would get $300,000, and so on.”

“Geez,” Vicki said, “this guy really has a thing for very big women, huh?”

“I wouldn’t think it professional to comment on such a matter,” he said.

Vicki was getting tired of this boring conversation, and she wanted to get the heck out of there. As she signed the contract, the lawyer said,

“There’s one more thing. My client likes to put prospective recipients of his patronage into communication with women already receiving his support. Before you make your final decision as to whether or not to gain the weight, Pretorious would like you to call this woman and arrange a meeting,” he said while handing Vicki a piece of paper. “She’ll be expecting you.”

Vicki unfolded the paper which read, “Jeanette Smith, 718-555-7218”


Vicki waited at a table outdoors at a coffee shop on the Upper East Side, sipping a cappuccino. It had been a few days since her trip to see Pretorious, and she was glad to have a chance to talk with someone else about this unusual man and his even more unusual offer of patronage. She was pretty sure she knew what she was looking for. This Jeanette Smith must obviously have some meat on her bones. If Pretorious is her patron, Vicki assumed she must weigh at least 400 pounds, so she kept an eye out for corpulent women, and soon Vicki saw a person who she assumed to be Jeanette coming down the sidewalk.

Jeanette was clearly a big woman. She had a little waddle to her step and long, black hair, and big blue eyes. She was wearing a long, pink scarf wrapped around a tight, black turtleneck that hugged her fleshy body. The first thing Vicki noticed about Jeanette was her large belly, which divided into two sections, with the lower section hanging down about two-thirds of the way down to her knees.

Her dark, denim skirt wrapped around her stomach, coming in-between the two belly sections. She was a very pretty woman, Vicki thought, but she was surprised that she wasn’t pear shaped like Vicki. She had assumed that Pretorious had a preferred shape, but Jeanette was obviously more of an apple. She guessed that Pretorious was more open-minded than she originally thought.

The big-bellied woman identified Vicki immediately, and she came up, shook her hand, and smiled broadly. The two fat women exchanged greetings. Jeanette went inside the coffee shop and returned with a large mocha with extra whip cream and a very large slice of chocolate chip banana bread.

“Ooo, yum. I thought about getting that banana bread,” said Vicki.

“You can have a taste, but you better get it fast, because this sucker won’t be around for long.” Jeanette replied as she eyed the banana bread.

“I’ve been here before,” said Vicki. “The baked goods are to die for.”

“Well, thank you for saying so,” said Jeanette, a comment that caused Vicki to give a confused look.

“Oh, I run a bakery shop over on Amsterdam that distributes sweet breads, cakes, pastries, and muffins to little coffee shops like this.”

“Wow! That’s great,” said Vicki, noticeably impressed.

“Yeah, it’s a business I started a couple of years ago, thanks to the so-called patronage of our esteemed friend, Dr. Pretorious.”

“It sounds like you are putting his money to good use,” said Vicki.

“I sure have,” Jeanette explained. “I never could have started the business without the help of the good doctor. I know he’s a total weirdo, but he’s completely harmless. I’m really happy to have decided to accept his patronage. I haven’t regretted it a single day.”

Vicki squirmed a little in her seat, saying, “Uh, I don’t know how to ask this…but…how big are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Jeanette laughed a quiet, yet hearty laugh, “You aren’t embarrassing me, honey. I know you wouldn’t be here if you weren’t considering the offer of Pretorious, so we can talk turkey here, okay? So relax.”

Jeanette continued, “I’m at about 440 pounds. This is my fourth year getting money from the doctor.”

“And how big were you when he first approached you,” said Vicki, feeling more comfortable asking what would otherwise be inappropriate questions to ask a complete stranger.

“Well, I’d say I was just a little smaller than you. How much do you weigh? About 250, I’d guess.” Vicki was secretly pleased that Jeannette had low balled her weight, but she didn’t correct her.

Jeanette went on, “So I was about 230 when he saw me and asked me to the mansion. Believe me, at first, the idea of gaining 170 pounds seemed ridiculous to me. I’d always struggled and struggled to keep from getting bigger, and now I was considering not just gaining weight, but gaining a lot of weight. So I just thought I’d try to gain a little and see how it felt. And then a little became a little more, and a little more became a little more. And within a couple of years, I was knocking on the door of 400 pounds. Now it feels completely natural. Of course, I went into the wrong business to keep from gaining more weight. If I had started a vegetable distribution company, perhaps I would still be under 410. But I’ve sampled a lot of my own baked creations, and my weight has crept up a bit over the past few years. And, I should warn you, once you get used to gaining the weight to get to 400, you’ll find it difficult to stop, believe me, even if you don’t make cupcakes for a living.”

Vicki smiled at Jeanette’s little joke. She took an instant liking to her. At first, she had seemed quite large, but now, she looked at Jeanette, and she saw someone who wasn’t really that much bigger than she used to be. When Vicki was over 350 pounds, she was used to being a supersized woman. Would it be so bad to go back to that lifestyle for a few years so that she could get out of debt, she thought to herself? Maybe she could even start a cool business like Jeanette’s, or do something else exciting with the money.

Jeanette and Vicki chatted for a while longer. They joked about the strange quirks of Dr. Pretorious, and they compared notes on their favorite restaurants in the city. Vicki was sad to part with Jeanette, as she enjoyed her company. As she headed back to her dingy, Brooklyn apartment, she was feeling lonelier than ever. When she got home, she looked again at her bankruptcy materials, and she had to admit that she was seriously considering becoming a recipient of Dr. Pretorious's patronage.

(Continued in post 5 of this thread)

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