The Big Sweet by Max Arden (SSSBW, Mystery, Mild sex. ~XWG)

Discussion in 'BBW Weight Fiction Archive' started by MaxArden, Jan 5, 2006.

  1. Jan 5, 2006 #1

    MaxArden

    MaxArden

    MaxArden

    Big, Bald, and Bright

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    SSSBW, Mystery, Mild sex. ~XWG - PI given job of finding out who fattened a femme fatale - and they fall for one another.

    The Big Sweet
    A Richard Christopher Mystery​
    by
    Maxwell Arden


    It was another hot, boring, lonely night in LA. I broke the seal on a new bottle of Scotch...It had an empty brother in my wastebasket. Had the brother been full I might have considered calling my AA sponsor, but since I had only taken the last shot I figured it could slide this time. I lit another Camel and stared at the phone but it didn't seem to be intimidated.

    On nights like these I wished I kept tropical fish. At least I'd have something to look at.

    I was about to lock up the office for the night when, she walked in.

    The skirt was a shade under 5' 5'', around 350 pounds and all of them worked. She was a moon-faced blonde with well-placed dimples and a thorough knowledge of how and when to use them. I decided not to lock up just then...

    '' My name is Candace Lavaricci. Are you Richard Christopher?'' She asked in a voice that precluded Viagra

    ''That's what it says on the door, sister,'' I replied "You can call me Dick." I was a little tipsy, and my manners are lousy when I'm sober

    ''Smart Guy...Well Colonel Sanders’ Picture's at all the KFC's but he isn't,'' she sneered, and even her sneer was sexy...

    ''You look like you may have done a lot of research into that,'' I smirked.

    She moved further into light. She was wearing a clingy white sleeveless number that highlighted her ampleness perfectly. She bent over to adjust the stocking on her large shapely calf, revealing a good 8 inches of cleavage. She looked up and said ''You’ve got something against Fat Girls?''

    ''Not yet '', I replied, “but give me time. I'm a slow worker''

    She sauntered over to my chair, dimples flashing, and said ''Maybe I can help speed things up.''

    ''I'm sure a girl like you could do anything she set her mind to. And speaking of minds, what's on yours?'' I said , making certain adjustments.

    “Do I look familiar to you at all?” she asked. I stared into the deep blue eyes, scanned the fullness of her ruby red lips, and traced the soft roundness of her chins.

    “Maybe around the eyes”, I said.

    “Do you ever go to the movies, Dick?” she asked with widening eyes.

    “I try not to. They make my brain hurt”

    “ So the name Candy Landon doesn’t ring a bell?”

    “Nary a tinkle. Is that you?”

    “It used to be”, she said, looking at the floor.

    “And why isn’t it you anymore?” I inquired.

    “There isn’t much call for 350 pound Sex Symbols “, she pouted. She had a very sexy pout.

    “More’s the pity”, I opined offering her a Camel, which she declined.

    “Don’t tease me!” she glared.

    “Who’s teasing? I stopped drawing stick figures when I was a kid,” I said meeting her stare head on.

    She pulled a lace hanky from her clutch, and dabbed at her nose.

    “I want you to find out who did this to me” she said finally.

    “Did what to you? You’re losing me sister”.

    Candace Lavaricci or Candy Landon looked me straight in the eye and said quite directly “Last Friday I was less than half this size. I’ve gained 240 pounds in a week.”

    In spite of myself I snorted derisively, but I could see from the hurt in her eyes that she was dead serious.

    “Sorry”, I said. It was my version of a profound apology. “Tell me about it”

    She sighed a little then began “ I’m not sure how…All I know that I went to bed on Saturday night weighing 110 pounds and when I got up I was 40 pounds heavier”

    “ That’s impossible” I muttered, surprised that I had actually verbalized what I was thinking.

    “So they tell me. Anyway the next day I was 190. The day after I was up to 230. I’ve been to every doctor in town. I’ve been pinched, poked, and calipered and the only thing they can all agree about is that I’m getting very fat, very fast. And unless I find some way to counteract this before my new picture starts shooting, I’ll be the world’s first 600 lb. Mata Hari ”

    I’d be lying if I said the idea of a larger version of Candy Landon in belly dancing drag didn’t appeal to me but this was supposed to be business. “You said you wanted me to find out who did this to you. Why do you think somebody would deliberately try to fatten you up?”

    “I don’t know”, She said, “but I suspect it has something to do with these.”

    She removed a medium sized heart shaped box from her purse and tossed it on my desk.”They started arriving daily at my house starting last Friday”.

    “Why not just not eat them?” I asked

    “They are very addictive,” she sighed.

    It was , from all outward appearances, your standard candy box. Embossed on the top lid was the name Bergman Bros Bon Bons. I took the lid off and inside were 2 round, rich dark brown pieces of chocolate , the fragrance from which seemed to suddenly envelope the room.

    And just as suddenly Candy was out of her chair, eyes wide with desire staring at the confections as if she were a strung out junkie and the chocolates were a fix. I quickly replaced the lid to the box and she calmed down in short order. She leaned on the desk and hit me with both blues.

    “Thank you… Something happens to me when I smell those chocolates. I lose control…”

    ''Aww and here I was getting all worked up thinking it was me,'' I replied , only half kidding. Something about her got my hydraulics suddenly working overtime.

    '' I can see that,” she mewed. ”With a Pup tent like that, you must have been a Boy Scout.''

    She slowly approached my chair as she let down her blonde mane and purred ''Now me, I've always liked Boy Scouts, but they were a bit too young for me...But you don't have that problem. Do you, Dick?''

    ''Wanna see my driver's licence?'' I offered

    '' Uh uh,'' she said straddling me, '' I want to see you drive''

    Now normally at this point somebody uses my head for batting practice and I dive into the old reliable black pool. But for some reason, call it karma or luck, it didn't happen that night. Instead I dove into waves of soft flesh and never wanted to stop swimming.

    When we finished I thanked her for the use of the vehicle.

    Candy Landon suddenly looked as if she had been doused with a bucket of ice water. She stared at me like she was trying to figure out who I was, then remembered and gingerly climbed off of me.

    “I’m sorry…We shouldn’t have done that”, she said, barely above a whisper.

    “I realize that may not have been my best,” I said, “But trust me, I improve with practice”.

    I was trying to joke, but she wasn’t in the mood. She adjusted her dress and her stockings in a much less suggestive manor. It was as if Salma Hayek had turned into Julie Andrews in a flash.

    “ Will you take the case?” She asked, primly, “Time is of the essence, I’ve been keeping a very low profile. But if someone from the tabloids should find out what’s happened and gets a picture of me at this size, my career will be over. I need to know. Will you do this?”

    Against my better judgement. I agreed.

    * * *​


    Bergman Brother Bon Bons had been around since the Oil Boom. It
    specialized in custom made confections for the well heeled chocolate junkie. No Hershey Bars here.

    I drove to the address she gave me but when I tried to enter, I was
    stopped in my tracks by a doorman the size of Mount Rushmore, and just about as soft.

    ''We're closed,'' he said in a voice vaguely reminiscent of the Northridge Earthquake.

    ''If you're closed what are you doing here, Kong?'' I asked, searching
    for logic in spite its absence.

    ''I am here to tell people we are closed. You got a problem with that?'' he queried. As Popeye always said 'Ask a stupid question and you'll get one back.'

    '' No, I have no problem with that. In fact I think you're doing a fine job. You told me good and properly that you were closed. Now I wonder if you might tell me why are you closed?'' I tried again.

    The man mountain thought about for a moment then said ''Nah, that ain't
    in my job description”.

    He then hit me with a fist the size of a Buick, and the lights went out...

    When someone turned on the switch, it was like a splash of cold water. In fact, it was a splash of cold water. Cold salty water. I’d been dumped off the Santa Monica Pier. I’m pretty sure the fall was meant to kill me and under normal circumstances it would have. But I’ve always been obstinate, and when people try to kill me it makes me even more so. The first order of business was to get the hell out of Santa Monica, which was going to be tad difficult at 3:00 a.m. on a Tuesday. Not quite as hard as dragging my ass out of the Pacific after the involuntary swan dive I’d just taken, granted, but considering the way I probably looked at the moment it wasn’t going to be easy getting a lift into town. I only hoped the water hadn’t turned my bus pass to mush.

    When I got home just after 7:00 a.m. the place looked like it had been hit by a tornado. Nobody had been searching it, I’m just a lousy housekeeper. I checked out my face in the hall mirror. What King Kong had started, the Pacific had finished. I stuck my face in the refrigerator freezer, for a half an hour, took about 5 Advil and went to bed. When I awoke it was dark again, and the now 400 lb. Candy Landon was hovering over me.

    * * *​


    Her face was rounder, but most of the new gain was concentrated on her lower body, Her legs were larger but still shapely. Her rear end had ballooned appreciably, as had her belly. She was beautiful.

    “ Nice to see you’re back among the living,” She said. She gently stroked my swollen face.” I was afraid you weren’t going to make it “
    .
    “The thought of seeing you again kept me going” I said, quietly. I meant it too.

    “ Well there’s a lot more of me to see”

    “I noticed. I like what I see.” I replied.

    “I figured that out. It occurs to me that even if you find out who’s doing this to me and are able to stop it, I’m betting I won’t be able to lose the weight as fast as I gained it. I think my career is pretty much done, at least for the time being. Maybe if I disappear for a while they’ll give me Kirstie Alley’s old gig as a comeback. Except I suspect I won’t be making any Jenny Craig Deals.”

    She stroked my forehead “ At least while you’re in the picture.”

    “ Get used to me” I dragged her down, and felt her full weight press down on me. I unbuttoned her blouse and saw her breasts cascade out. Her skin was like silk under my hand. I went swimming in those soft waves of flesh of flesh again. I ended up going down so many times, I thought I might drown. Eventually I came up for air, but it was reluctantly.

    This time she didn’t freeze up on me afterward, instead we held each other for a long time. Finally I broke the silence. “How many of those chocolates, did you eat yesterday?”

    “Five. I usually eat Five. That’s how many I get sent everyday” she answered. “ I try not to, but ever since the first batch, I can’t stop”

    “ How do they get delivered?”

    “The UPS truck delivers them at 10:00 a.m. sharp.” She shifted closer to me shaking the bed so much I thought it might be an earthquake.

    “ Are you sure it’s a UPS truck ?”

    “Well it’s brown, but now that you mention it , I’m not sure if I saw the logo or not.” Candy looked at me with those piercing blue eyes.

    “ We’ve got 7 hours til the delivery. What do you want to do in the meantime?”

    She smiled and rolled over on top of me. I gasped.
     
  2. Jan 5, 2006 #2

    MaxArden

    MaxArden

    MaxArden

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    I was parked outside the Landon Estate by 9:30 a.m. I had left the sleeping movie goddess in my bed. It was a hard place to leave, let me tell you. I was in danger of becoming smitten. Oh come on, I was long past smitten, and I knew it.

    Like clockwork the brown van arrived at 10 sharp. It was not a UPS van, but meant to look like one. A twitchy little man in a mock delivery uniform, shorts and all, emerged from the vehicle bearing a small paper wrapped package and approached the door. He rang the bell and waited, then repeated the routine. After the 3rd attempt, he looked around the area. I ducked before he spotted me and looked up in time to see Twitchy testing the front door. It opened and he went in.

    I took the opportunity to get out of my beat up Volkswagen Bug and edge over to the faux van, being careful to stay out of the eye line of the mansion windows. I didn’t know what Twitchy was doing inside of Candy’s house, and I didn’t much care. I was far more interested in what else he was carrying.

    Once at the open driver’s side door, I peered in the back. On the floor were another hundred or so of the plain wrapped boxes. I retrieved one of them and tore off the paper. Inside was a duplicate of the one Candy had shown me that first day in the office. I opened the lid and was immediately overwhelmed by the scent of chocolate. It took all my will not to pop one of the bon bons into my mouth and close the box. Whatever was in the candy was immediately addictive. Like chocolate crack, with a special bonus prize. I scanned the cab of the van and found a clipboard beside the driver’s seat. I looked at the delivery schedule.

    Candy’s name and address were at the top of the list, but it was not the only one. Below it were some names I did recognize. “A” List celebrities. All women. The TV star ex- wife of a big box office movie type, and the woman he had left her for. 2 actresses with much hyped weight loss stories. A Disney Teen Queen, an Oscar winning willowy blonde, all the Desperate Housewives, and a hard rock diva with a penchant for bicycle racers. It was a pretty wide ranging list. Beside Candy’s name was the numeral 9 and a check mark. Beside the others was the number 1 without the checkmark. It was beginning to look like Candy was a guinea pig in a much grander scheme, and the grander scheme was about to start in earnest.

    I heard the door of the mansion close, and saw Twitchy making his way back. I hid in the back of the van and watched him. On closer inspection he didn’t look like a delivery man. He was too old, for one thing. Twitchy appeared to be in his sixties, with bottle bottom glasses, and enough ticks for a dog pack. He jerked his way into the driver’s seat without noticing me. So I decided to make my presence known. I gently placed the muzzle of my .45 just below his cap and said “ Hi!”

    Twitchy jumped out of his seat so high he nearly hit the roof of the van. When he landed he was overcome by a whole new series ticks and spasms.

    “Wh...wh..who are you?” he managed to stammer out.

    “I’m your new dispatcher,” I said, quite calmly “ and you’re going to do what I say, or I’ll dispatch you”

    “O...O...Okay!! J..J...Just d..d...don’t sh...shoot me !! P...P...Please!!” He looked like he was going to have a seizure.

    “I’ll take it under advisement. Now you’re going to drive.”

    “W...W...Where...?”

    “To the secret admirer. The one who’s sending the gifts that keep on giving”

    “ I...I..I..I c..c..can’t d...d...do...”

    “Click” said my gun.

    “Okay,” suddenly the stutter and twitches were gone and he keyed the ignition.

    * * *​


    I can’t say I was surprised when we didn’t head for Bergman Brothers, but instead went in the direction of the Hollywood Hills. This whole scenario had revenge and jealousy written all over it.

    After clicking a remote in the sun visor, the ominous wrought iron gates opened and we continued up a winding driveway badly in need of resurfacing. The house looked like a cross between something out of “Sunset Boulevard” or “Psycho”. Very homey and welcoming, in other words. All it was missing were gargoyles. We came to a stop in the empty roundabout in front of the massive front doors.

    “Th...the M..Mistress is n..not going t..to..b...be happy ab...b..bout th...this” Twitchy spurted out.

    “ From the looks of this joint, the mistress hasn’t been happy for a while” I muttered.

    He unlocked one of the doors and, with no little effort, shoved it open.

    Unlike the exterior, the inside of the house was grandiose and immaculate. The marble floors and columns gleamed. Ornate tapestries and original great works of art lined the walls. A grand staircase out of an old musical led to the second story and it was from the second story I heard a female voice call. “Is that you, Lamont?”

    I nodded my approval for Twitchy to respond, which he promptly did.

    “Y...Yes M..Ma’am” he finally spit out.

    “You’re stuttering again, Lamont. I told you to stop that” the unseen voice berated. “Why are you back so soon?”

    “ I ran into a little trouble, ma’am” He said with crystal clarity. Stark terror seemed to cure his stutter rather than aggravate it.

    “A little trouble? “ The voice queried. And then I heard approaching footsteps, the unmistakable sound of heels, emanating from where the voice’s location. “What do you mean, a little trouble?”

    This time I was the one who replied. “He means me. I’m a little trouble.”

    She appeared at the top of the staircase, emerging from the shadows into a beam from an overhead skylight. Her hair was long and done in a peekaboo style, and black as the night. She was wearing a black diaphanous gown slit to her gargantuan right hip, and a neckline opened to where I assumed her belly button was buried. It was hard to judge from this distance, but I estimated she was about 5' 8" tall and she weighed at least 600 lbs.

    As she slowly, carefully made her way down the stairs, teetering on what must have been steel reinforced 4" inch heels, every exposed inch of her pale white flesh quivered like gelatine with every step. The closer she got, the more accurate my estimates seemed, but her age was harder to gauge. She could be anywhere from 30 to 70, I just couldn’t tell. Whatever her age, she was a stunningly beautiful woman.

    Her voice was breathy in the manner of someone not used to so much exertion, but her words were clear enough. “Hello Mr. Christopher. Aren’t you supposed to be dead?”

    “You’d be surprised at how often I hear that” I replied.

    “Actually, no, I wouldn’t. “ Despite being out of breath, she took a long drag from her cigarette. Her pudgy fingers were encircled by gold and diamonds, all real from the look of them. Her nails were blood red talons. They matched her full lips perfectly.

    “ You have the advantage of me. You know who I am...”

    “And you should know who I am,” she interrupted “ But I can’t really blame you. It has been a long time since my last film, and the transformation is somewhat astonishing. I haven’t been out in public for nearly 20 years. I’m Serena Skye.”

    My jaw would have dropped had I let it. Serena Skye was a superstar in the late 70's and early 80's, on the level of Demi Moore, who at one point was known as ” the poor man’s Serena Skye”. But after a couple of dozen Box Office Smashes, she simply quit. There were rumors that she had been dating Alphonse “ Mama’s Boy” Pianissimo, but noone had been able to prove it.

    And now here she was, 20 years later and bigger than life. She wasn’t kidding about the transformation being astonishing. What was even more surprising was that she hadn’t lost any of her allure. In fact she was even sexier now. Or maybe that was just me.

    “But where are my manners? I’ve usually offered people holding my butler at gunpoint a drink by this time. What would you like?” she smiled, brighter than her diamonds.

    “Scotch on the rocks, no mickey,” I put the gun back in its shoulder holster.

    “We’ll have drinks in the library, Lamont. This way Mr. Christopher.” She undulated ahead of me, every step an earthquake of jiggling skin. Her rear end swayed in a hypnotizing manner, and she seemed to be aware of my stare.

    “So, how long have you been a fat admirer?” she purred

    “Does it show?”

    “Probably if I were looking down there. I recognize the look. It’s the same look Alphonse used to get after a big dinner.” Serena sat in an overstuffed, oversized armchair opposite the antique sofa where I planted my keister.

    “So ‘Mama’s Boy’ made you this way?” It was obvious, but I thought I’d ask anyway.

    “Nobody would have dared call him that to his face, when he was alive. He was a dear, devoted man. And yes, he encouraged me. But I was a willing and eager participant. He even bought Bergman Brothers for me.”

    “ Which you’ve been putting to interesting use lately, haven’t you?” I stared into her cool grey eyes, which never flinched.

    “ Why Mr. Christopher, “ she began, then took another long drag from her cigarette “ I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

    Lamont interrupted by shakily bringing the drinks. After his painfully slow departure, I continued.

    “Somehow I have trouble buying that. Call me cynical.”

    “Why do you say that?” she inquired, while arching a carefully plucked eyebrow.

    “ A couple of minor things. When Twitch..er..Lamont returned you said you didn’t expect him back that soon. You have a faux UPS van parked in front of your mansion full of doctored bon bons from the chocolate factory you own, and a hit list of the major women in your former industry who don’t happen to be as robust as yourself. So when you say you know nothing about what’s going on, I can’t say I’m convinced.” I leaned back and lit my own cigarette.

    “Coincidence” she grinned.

    “I am curious as to how the candy works. I mean the scent alone had me wanting them and I don’t even like chocolate”

    Her eyes widened as though she were a 5 year old and I’d just told her there was no Santa, the thought was that inconceivable. She quickly recovered and began to run her well manicured nails along her second, and more prominent, chin.

    “Assuming I had the vaguest idea of what you were talking about, I suspect it might have something to do with hyper augmented aroma enhancers combined with super-strength pheromones. I’m just speculating of course.” She grinned, again.

    “ And the rapid weight gain?”

    “Hazarding a guess I would say it might be a newfangled version of accelerated gene therapy. Add to that certain narcotic elements to ensure continued ingestion and there you’d have it. But I’m just an aging actress, Mr. Christopher. I assure you I know nothing of such things” she said in a spot on Marilyn impression.

    “Something like that must have cost a pretty penny in research and development” I speculated out loud.

    “So I would imagine. But come now, Mr Christopher, assuming all this is true, preposterous as it is, why would I be going to all this trouble?” She examined one of her rings, while she waited for a response.

    “ To level the playing field, of course.”

    “Whatever do you mean?” Complete with batting eyelashes, no less.

    “Well if every major female celebrity suddenly balloons up to your size and beyond, it paves the way for your comeback. Doesn’t it?” I stared directly into her eyes. She didn’t blink.

    “ That’s insane.” She said, flatly

    “I never meant to imply that it was a rational plan. I just said that it was yours.”

    “Are you saying that I’m crazy?” Now it was her turn to stare at me.

    “You’ve been a recluse for 20 years. You’ve gone through a major change. Your also in mourning, and you live in a mausoleum. Anybody would go a little Norma Desmond under those conditions.”

    She said nothing for a long time, then finally fixed me with her most dazzling smile. “ I suppose it is a little silly, when you think about it. Sad really. Are you familiar with poker, Mr. Christopher?”

    “ I’ve lost my share, yes” I was a little thrown by the shift in topics.

    “ Despite the “Craziness” of the plan, in poker terms I’m what they call “Pot Committed”. I’ve gone too far to turn back now. And frankly Mr. Christopher, at this point, the life a low rent Philip Marlowe wannabe isn’t really much of an obstacle. When you come right down to it, you’re just another dick, Dick, and noone is going to miss you miss you.” She rose from her chair with surprising grace given her bulk. I was distracted enough by this that when she said “Now, Bruno” I was unprepared.

    The Man Mountain from the Candy Store grabbed me and lifted me face to face.

    “Hi” I said.

    “Hi” he replied. Then he introduced his forehead to mine. Things sort of went dark after that.
     
  3. Jan 5, 2006 #3

    MaxArden

    MaxArden

    MaxArden

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    Consciousness was a long time coming, and when it did it wasn’t welcome. My head throbbed and it took a while for my vision to clear. Vague shapes and shadows moved before me. My arms hurt. Probably because my wrists tied to overhead pipes and I was hanging from them, my feet barely touching the floor beneath me. But overpowering all of this sensory information was the smell. The scent of chocolate. So I didn’t need my eyes to tell me I was inside Bergman Brothers Bon Bons.

    When my vision finally cleared, I quickly assessed my situation only to discover that I was more or less screwed. My back was, literally, against a wall. The only way out was straight ahead, and that was not an option because Bruno, Lamont and Serena Skye were between me and the stairs that , presumably, led to the storefront and freedom.

    The supersized bombshell was directing her eclectic henchmen to load up a skid with what seemed like hundreds of the now familiar little brown boxes. I tried to shift my hands to see if there was any play in the bonds, but there was nothing happening there. The only shot I had was to get the pipe holding me up to give. I thought if I could lift myself up I might be able to get enough leverage to pull it loose. The pipe looked old enough, but in order to be able to that, my company would have to leave , or there was going to have to be some kind of distraction.

    When it came it was in a largely unexpected form. The door at the top of the stairs exploded open, and Candy Landon waddled in, all 500 pounds of her. She was wearing a tightly stretched black lycra catsuit, and wielding a pump action shotgun. She looked like a huge version of Anne Francis as Honey West. It was all I could do to tear my eyes away to try and execute my own escape plan. Sure enough the pipe gave way, but landing on the concrete knocked the rest of the wind out of me and I hadn’t been in that great shape to begin with.

    But I could still see.

    Candy carefully made her way down the stairs, keeping the gun trained on the trio. The latest gain had made her huge all over. Tree trunk legs on top of smallish, yet plump, feet. Every deliberate movement unleashed a ripple effect that made sure that nothing on Candy’s body in motion was ever coming completely to rest. Despite all this she moved with the grace of a Ninja. The only noise being that of the staircase groaning under her bulk.

    “Bitch, you’ve got a lot to answer for” Candy growled.

    “Why, Miss Landon! You’ve let yourself go, haven’t you?” Serena calmly replied, a trace of a smirk at the corners of her mouth.” Care for another chocolate?”

    Candy continued to advance. I had recovered sufficiently to rise unsteadily to my feet. Fortunately the bad guys were distracted by the big woman with the gun and I was able to flank them on the right. I picked up a large pipe wrench that was leaning against a nearby boiler. Then things started happening quickly.

    Lamont lurched toward Candy with a crowbar, swinging wildly. The bountiful blonde beauty deftly sidestepped the spastic senior and rewarded his aggression with a shotgun blast to his crotch.

    As Lamont twitched and writhed on the floor, I had worked my way behind Man Mountain Bruno and did my best Babe Ruth imitation on his skull. Unfortunately it was a lousy imitation and Bruno turned toward me grinning broadly, despite the blood trickling from his temple. This wasn’t a good sign.

    On the other side, as Candy was attempting to reload, Serena Skye heaved the whole of her bulk at the big blonde bombshell, bursting through the front of her dress in the process and knocking the gun away. The obese beauties rolled around on the floor in a mass of jiggles that would’ve made Jello jealous. The advantage switched back and forth. While Serena had the weight advantage by at least a hundred pounds, Candy was younger and more agile. They were going at it tooth and nail, neither holding anything back. It’s not often you get to see a super sized cat fight and under normal circumstances it would have been a major turn on, but I had troubles of my own.

    Bruno was coming after me, relentless as a shark pursuing a seal lunch. I managed to dodge a couple of swung haymakers, knowing with absolute certainty that, if he ever connected, I’d be a dead man. I backed away knowing I was running out of floor. I glanced back and saw a possible out, but it depended on how stupid Bruno was.

    Very, as it turned out. Bruno kept moving forward, but I suddenly stopped. This confused the giant for a moment, but he recovered quickly and continued his progress. I then held out the wrench to him. This really confused him. So I placed the wrench in his paw, stood back , closed my eyes and stuck my chin out. Finally he got the idea, and reached back to tee off on my cranium. At the last possible second I dropped to my butt, and watched Bruno swing the wrench in a beautiful arching motion into the open fuse box directly behind me. He twitched a lot more than Lamont ever did. I managed to roll out of the way before the Man Mountain collapsed in a smoking heap.

    Meanwhile the battling behemoths had struggled their way over the production area of the facility. By this point Serena’s dress was in shreds and was down to grappling in her overstuffed bra and theoretical panties. Candy’s unitard had torn in several places and pale white flesh flowed through. Both women were panting and sweating with the effort, yet the battle did nothing but intensify. And every movement, every impact caused ever expanding ripples through the bodies of both combatants. It seemed to on forever and I just stood there watching. The images were burned into my memory, yet I never wanted a video camera more in my life.

    Finally Candy reached back to New Jersey and clocked Serena in the jaw with both pudgy fists, knocking the Sumo Siren back to the edge of the catwalk overlooking a bubbling vat of Berman Brothers specialty chocolate. Serena teetered there and looked as though she would fall of her own bulk and gravity, but just as she was recovering her tentative balance Candy swooped in and ,with a side kick Bruce Lee would have been proud of, launched the moon shaped starlet into midair, and down into the awaiting cauldron.

    Candy, panting , her visible flesh gleaming with sweat, made her way slowly to the edge of the cat walk and looked over. Serena had disappeared into the bubbling brown ooze.

    “ Eat that, you has been” she sneered, then collapsed in exhaustion.

    * * *​


    She had gone to her house looking for a fix. Had left right after I did in fact. After eating the double helping Lamont had left for her, she changed and got out in time to see the brown van leaving and followed it. She’d have been to my rescue sooner, but the change overcame her and , of course, he had to buy the gun.

    Bergman Brothers Chocolates mysteriously burned down taking all evidence of Serena Skye and the plot to fatten Hollywood with it. The fire burned for days. Nobody could figure out why, but I had my suspicions.

    Candy Landon never did make that comeback. There were the usual rumors in the tabloids, all crapola of course. There was one sighting of her and Jim Morrison on some Pacific Island retreat for those who have tired of celebrity. Another with Elvis at a gas station in Mississippi. Only I knew the truth.

    I took a little time to wean her off the doctored bon bons, and it wasn’t always pretty, but we did it. I was right about being hooked on her as well, and now we spend all our time together, even though I'm still in the detective business. Don’t believe me? Ask my 600 pound blonde bombshell of a secretary...

    By the way I managed to grab a few boxes of Bergman Brother’s Special Bon Bons...Want some?




    The End
     
    CastingPearls likes this.
  4. Jan 5, 2006 #4

    Wilson Barbers

    Wilson Barbers

    Wilson Barbers

    Full-time Fanta-sizer

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    Definitely an entertaining tale - would love to see another Richard and Candy adventure sometime . . .
     
  5. Jun 27, 2009 #5

    Observer

    Observer

    Observer

    Editor/Writer/Commentator

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    OK - another reformatted oldie bumped for newer readers
     
  6. Jun 29, 2009 #6

    MaxArden

    MaxArden

    MaxArden

    Big, Bald, and Bright

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    Thanks for the kind words Master Wilson, and Mr. Observer. Just after I finished "The Big Sweet" I started on a follow up called " The Long Good Humor Man", but life happened. Maybe it's time to dust (and I DO mean Dust) that one off...

    We shall see

    Thanks again

    Mike "Max Arden" Hiller
     
  7. Dec 18, 2009 #7

    Bluestreak

    Bluestreak

    Bluestreak

    Well-Known Member

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    I'd love to read more from you. A cross between an FA's daydream, all the spoofed dick for hire films and Firesign Theatre. Awesome!
     
  8. May 2, 2010 #8

    Nutty

    Nutty

    Nutty

    Well-Known Member

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    You sure have writing talent Mr. Arden! Great story!
     
  9. Aug 9, 2010 #9

    CastingPearls

    CastingPearls

    CastingPearls

    Go Big Or Go Home In Remembrance

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    Bravo! There was nothing I didn't love about this, Max. You know your way around a word. ;)
     

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