The Case of the Perilous Potluck - by Marlow

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Active Member
Sep 9, 2006
I went to check what their starting weights were and it was in chapter 6 or 7 so here's a bump for it.

Hesper: 130
Roxie: 170


Well-Known Member
Feb 5, 2013
Chapter 20

The pantry, to Hesper’s surprise and dismay, was largely empty. Very little remained save for a few basic baking goods, another box of toaster pastries, and some insubstantial odds and ends. Hesper frowned and grabbed the pastries.

The refrigerator was even more disappointing, offering her only condiments, salad dressings, and a can of cat food. The freezer, at least, contained a couple of frozen pot pies and a box of popsicles.

Hesper opened the can of cat food and set it on the floor. She plugged in the old microwave and munched on the toaster pastries while her pot pies cooked. Once they were ready and steaming, she set them on the kitchen table and pulled up a chair, fork in hand.

She looked down at her tummy, poking it. “You ready for this? I reckon there ain’t no coming back from what we’re about to do.”

It rumbled. Hesper took a deep breath and jabbed her fork into the tender, flaky crust of the first pie.

The cat leapt to the table as she ate, following the scent of chicken. Hesper shooed it back to the floor, where it continued to beg.

Hesper stared at the empty pantry, chewing thoughtfully. “So your owners—I’ll just assume they’re taking part in the festivities—looks like they brought all the food in the house, just about.” She noticed a pile of dishes in the sink. “And pre-gamed with what was left.”

The cat mewled.

“I saw a lot of pretty sizable bellies in that circle, even for a country town…new bellies, from the looks of it. They couldn’t have emptied the whole damn town, could they?”

“We pretty much emptied the whole damn town,” boasted the cook.

Dag looked up from his dishes, wiping suds from his apron. The cook was sliding a tray of whole chickens into the oven.

“We asked Leila how much food they’d need for this party,” he continued, “and she just laughed and said ‘all of it.’ You shoulda seen Jody’s face!”

“But why?” asked Dag.

“Why? ‘Cause he was taken aback—”

Dag shook his head. “Nah. Why do it? This…this stuff doesn’t seem weird to you at all? You’re on board with…summoning a demon, or whatever?”

“Sure, it’s not the direction we expected the church to go. But you bet yer ass we’re on board. Leila’s the greatest…we’d do anything for her.” He closed the oven and began preparing another tray. “She’s shown us things. Amazing things. Her magic is real, hoss—I’ve seen it.”

Dag turned back to the dishes.

“Hell, man, you’ve seen her. Not two days ago, she were just the skinniest little thing. Could break her in half with yer thumb.”

“Not so little anymore.”

“Damn right. Ain’t seen nothing like that nowhere else. She’s got magic and she’s got herself a grand plan for Renaeville.” He pointed his tongs at Dag. “So if Leila Jones says to feed her and her girls all the food in town, we’ll sure as shootin’ feed them all the food in town.”

One of the other cooks appeared in the doorway. “Hey, chef, they’re eating faster than we can serve them. You spare us a hand up here?”

“Jody, man, I’m elbow-deep in raw chicken. Shit. Here, take the dish-boy. Big feller like that can carry anything you need.”

Jody eyed Dag. “That safe?”

“Sure,” the cook chuckled. “He won’t try nothing. He knows the consequences if he does. Don’t you, hoss?”

Dag stared at him. “Yeah.”

“Good man. Go on, then. Handcuff key’s hanging on the wall yonder.”

Once they’d unshackled him, Dag draped his apron over the side of the wash basin and dried his hands. He removed the bandage from his head, gingerly tapping his wound. He washed the blood from his forehead and, looking a little more presentable, sullenly followed Jody upstairs.

He heard the sanctuary before he reached it. As the door opened, a flood of new sounds joined the chorus: women’s voices, giggling, dishes and silverware clattering, liquids pouring, lips smacking, belches, hiccups, and satisfied moans.

Dag stared as he entered. The cold, meticulously arranged sanctuary was now warmed by a flurry of back and forth activity, so frenetic that it seemed chaotic at first glance but also so efficient it must have been choreographed.

Many of the women had paired up or settled into small cliques. They took turns feeding and being bed, preparing plates and cleaning up scraps, massaging bellies and having their bellies massaged. Some had brought lotions and oils and their bloated paunches gleamed in the firelight.

Carts circled the room, pushed about by the men. The groups of women waited patiently for each visit, watching the cart approach with brightening faces and widening eyes. Plates were distributed and methodically picked clean.

Jody presented Dag with a cart and pointed him in the direction of three women across the room. Dag nodded slowly and set his hands on the cart, looking it over.

There were three shelves on the cart, each laden with a variety of brunch plates. Bacon, sausage, a pile of croissants, a couple of enormous omelettes, and a pitcher of orange juice. Each shelf of the cart held the same extravagant spread, elegantly arranged.

Dag reached the trio of women. They were sitting in a row against the wall, reclining lazily with their hands on each other’s stomachs. The one in the middle was the largest, with a richly tanned belly that creased several times over and jutted out over her lap. She had probably been rather large before the magic had even taken hold. The woman to her right nursed a smaller but doughier belly that did more spilling than jutting. She sat on a much thicker rear end that flattened out over the floor. On the left sat a generally slender woman with a newly-developed beer belly and a pair of uncommonly large breasts.

She fingered them lightly as Dag approached, smiling at him in delight. “Brunch is here, ladies,” she purred.

The others woke from the haze of their food comas and grinned. “My, that looks just spectacular. Oh, and it’s a new guy…I don’t recognize you, mister.”

“Dag,” he sighed. “Look, I’m not really…here by choice. So just, uh, let’s get this over with.”

The big-bosomed woman stretched her arms. “Don’t worry, baby, we’ll be gentle,” she lilted, touching her lips.

“Right. So, pick what you want, I guess. There’s all sorts of shit…just grab a plate and I’ll get out of your hair.

“Honey, I don’t think you understand,” said the bottom-heavy woman, twirling her hair. “We get all the plates.”

Dag looked down at the cart. Each shelf had the same arrangement, including a full juice pitcher, and he suddenly realized why. “Ah. Okay. I…see. And I suppose you aren’t gonna grab them yourselves, either.”

The larger woman chuckled. “Nope. Unloading is your job. But don’t worry…” She leaned back. The other two woman nestled against her, rubbing her gut. “…we can take care of the rest.”

Dag nodded. He spent the next several minutes emptying the cart, laying the plates and bowls at the women’s feet. He poured three glasses of juice, set them on the floor, and then, frowning uncertainly, set the pitchers next to them.

The women watched with playful fascination as he arranged their meals. The cart finally emptied, Dag backed away, eying them. The busty woman blew him a kiss, then tore into a croissant. The others followed suit and Dag turned away in a huff.

He stared across the sanctuary. Up on the dais, practically supine in her throne, Leila rested her hands on her paunch while the twins took turns placing fruit slices in her mouth. She looked bigger already, somehow, straining the seams of her closed robe. Her cleavage was squeezed up enough that it nearly met her wobbling chins.

Off to the side, Ms. Nott leaned against the podium, shoveling egg down her gullet. She’d let her hair down and her thick glasses were askew. Her rear end swayed to and fro.

The brazier blazed away in the center of the room. A handful of women danced arm in arm around it, their bellies bouncing, swinging, and shimmying in a bizarre and mesmerizing display.

Tearing himself away, Dag’s eyes landed on the far end of one of the banquet tables. He squinted and moved around the fire to see more clearly.

There they were: three frozen pizzas, courtesy of Amluth Frozen Foods. He could recognize that swirly lettering anywhere.

“Hesper’s insurance,” he whispered. He turned his cart and made a beeline for the table, ducking under the outstretched hand of one of the dancers.

He pulled the cart alongside and sidled up to the pizza boxes. They were unopened and sitting beneath a tray of cookies. He reached to move the tray.

“Don’t worry about those,” said Jody, grabbing his wrist. “They’ve got to thaw for a bit longer. We’ll probably do them mid-afternoon, with the other Italian courses.”

Dag opened and closed his mouth. “I just thought…I thought somebody might want…some. Sorry. Cart was empty and I didn’t…know what to do.”

Jody steered him away from the table. “My bad. I should have explained…you just have to bring the cart back to the dumbwaiter and we’ll load it up for you again. You don’t have to pick stuff out for yourself; no need for that.”

“Oh,” said Dag, casting an eye back to the pizzas.

“We’re aiming to keep to the schedule. Chef put a lot of effort into his menu, mm hmm.”

“I guess so.” He rapped his knuckles on the cart handle. “So what is next, then?”

Jody glanced around. “They’ll work their way through brunch, then we’ll give ‘em a half hour or so to digest…then I think we’re on to lunch number one.” He pulled a notepad from his pocket and flipped through it. “That’d make it, ooh, deli stuff. You oughta see how long them sub sandwiches get, big guy.”

“Can’t wait.”

“You just remember to stick to the menu.” Jody clapped him on the shoulder. “You leave the rest of it alone. Don’t need you wandering off.”


Feb 21, 2010
I hope that the food will stick to “Ms. Nott-so-small’s” pear-shaped figure. :eat2:


Well-Known Member
Feb 5, 2013
Chapter 21

Hesper waved goodbye to the cat and closed the front door. Sucking on the end of a popsicle, she set off up the street.

The floodwaters continued to rise from the creek and Hesper’s boots kicked up a loud splash with each step. The next house over, built in a lower bowl, was already surrounded by a knee-deep pond. Hesper stood at the edge for a moment, but decided to follow the road uphill instead.

Her stomach gurgled. Despite the pair of pot pies she'd inhaled, she still felt famished and her food baby seemed so slight her stomach may well have been empty.

She came to a more modern looking house, full of weirdly shaped windows and painted a variety of clashing colors. Even the mailbox had an artsy flair. The front door was locked, but the corrugated back door opened straight into the kitchen.

There was even less in this refrigerator and nothing but ice in the freezer.

“Hesper, this ain’t looking good,” she muttered to herself. “Leila has a two hundred pound lead and you’re trying to get fat hunting for scraps.” She headed over to the pantry. “Seems like a pretty lopsided race…ah, hello.”

The pantry only sported one shelf that wasn’t empty, but that shelf was stacked full of ramen noodle cups.

Hesper dropped her bag. “College all over again.”

“Starting to sound like a frat party out there,” said Roxie, cocking her head to the sanctuary door. A spoonful of potato salad appeared in front of her face and she sullenly opened her mouth to accept it.

Her latest feeder, a tall, winsome redhead, chuckled as she scraped up what remained in the bowl. She was still wearing her robe and it hung open around a stretchmarked double-belly. “The barbeque lunch came with a couple rounds of beer. I imagine the sisters are loosening up a little.”

“How come my cart just has the iced tea, then?” Roxie wondered. She opened her mouth to wonder more, but another spoonful of potato salad interrupted her.

“You ain’t here to have fun. Leila says you lost that privilege.” She dropped the spoon into the empty bowl and began stacking the used-up dishes. “Means more for me now that my shift is done, too.”

Roxie stifled a burp and looked down. Two beer bottles clinked against each other in the woman’s robe pocket.

The woman wiped Roxie’s face with a napkin. It was the nicest thing any of her feeders had done so far. She gave Roxie a pat on the stomach and pushed the cart toward the door.

“What’s up next?” Roxie called. “Just so I can…mentally prepare.” A pang of fullness in her stomach made her wince. The last thing she wanted to think about was more food, but it was the only way she knew to keep the cultists talking.

“Some lovely desserts,” the woman replied, eyes brightening. “I hear we each get a whole apple pie.”

“D-dessert? So does that mean we’re almost done?”

“Oh, goodness, no. Maybe ‘dessert’ isn’t the right word. It’s more like a…sugary interlude between lunches.”


“Don’t you worry, hon. There’s lots more food.”

Hesper stared at the microwave, waiting for a cup of water to boil. The first ramen cup, lid peeled, waited patiently at her side. She glanced back to the shelf and all the cups there, then at the clock.

“This is gonna take forever,” she concluded.

Raiding a utility closet, she picked out a chewed-up extension cord and a permanent marker. She wandered through the house, locating the master bathroom, then returned to the kitchen and dug through the pockets of her bag for a small book. She flipped through the pages, nodding to herself.

Fifteen minutes later, she found herself kneeling next to the bathtub. The house was as weirdly furnished inside as it was outside and the tub turned out to be an antique metal basin on ornately molded legs.

She filled the tub with a few inches of water and dipped a finger in to test the warmth. Unimpressed, she uncoiled the extension cord. Humming softly, she tied one end around the tubes of a nearby radiator and the other end around one of the tub’s legs.

That done, she pulled the marker from her bra and traced a line up from the leg. She extended this into a wide circle around the base of the tub, whispering, “revered metal, remember thy forge…”

The marker line began to glow a dull red. Within a minute steam was rising from the bathwater and bubbles were forming. Hesper sat back and tore open a ramen cup.

Dag leaned back from his wash basin. He’d just refilled it with fresh hot water, filling the air with suds and steam.

The head cook sidled up next to him and dumped an enormous pile of trays and mixing bowls into the basin. He clapped Dag on the back and gave him a thumbs-up.

“Gosh, thanks,” sighed the trucker.

“Aw, don’t get pouty. You’re keeping up real good.”

Dag shuffled his feet. “Hard work, though…don’t suppose we get to eat at some point? Keep up our energy?”

“Us? Eat?” the cook scoffed. “All the food’s spoken for, hoss. I planned this menu down to the letter. There ain’t extra and you and me don’t need none. It’s them gals upstairs that matter.”

“Yeah, I get that, but what about, like, food that wasn’t part of your menu?”

“It’s all on the menu. I even organized all the potluck dishes.”

“Not all of them.” Dag raised a finger. “I brought a few frozen pizzas with me. They aren’t part of your menu…we could just bring them down here to share with the cooks. Pizza’s…good for morale.”

The cook eyed him. “Dedication to the cause is even better for morale. If you’ve got pizzas up there, I’ll make sure they end up in stomachs that deserve them. The only thing your stomach deserves is a bullet, so you quit worrying about what ain’t your business and get your hands back on that sponge.”

Hesper slumped back against the tub and slurped up the last mouthful of noodles.

“Now that’s a food baby,” she said with a belch, setting her hands atop her distended belly. The noodles had warmed her considerably and the sheer quantity she’d sucked down had finally quieted her hunger.

She reached back and opened pulled the tub’s plug, letting the ramen broth drain away.

“Alright,” she moaned, “that’s too houses down. Much fuller, but not really any…urrp…heavier.”

Leaving the bathroom, she walked over to a picture window in the living room and stared at her reflection in the glass. Her tube top had ridden up an inch, showing her midriff up to the bottom of her navel. It was starting to look a little softer and a good deal smoother. Her skirt, already snug on her hips, now showed off the contours of her upper thighs. Hesper pressed herself up against the glass and looked out.

The back yard opened up on the wooded hill behind town. Under the dreary, rain-filled sky, she could see most of the town square, all its windows darkened.

“Can’t be the whole town,” she mused. “Has to be a holdout somewhere…somebody who didn’t get the memo, or who didn’t want to play along…”

Her eyes widened and she turned her gaze up the hill, following the road into the woods. There was the curve that had defeated Dag’s truck and there, tucked into the trees a few hundred yards further up, was a large house with a faint light in one of the windows.

“That’s more like it,” said Hesper. “And there are even a few homes to stop in on the way up to tide me over.”

She found her way into four more houses on the way up, in fact. None of them had much to offer, but it was enough to keep her stomach from whining too loudly as she slogged along.

In the first she found a few boxes of Chinese take-out, which she inhaled in less time than it took to heat them up. At the second house the refrigerator provided her with a bucket of cold fried chicken. She skipped warming it and simply picked her way through it on the way to the next house. The third house had a cupboard full of canned soups, which she dumped unceremoniously into a large pot. The fourth house was stocked with pretzels and home-brewed beer and she spent a longer time there than intended.

Bloated and staggering, her skirt unbuttoned and her footsteps unsteady, the uphill hike stretched into an arduous and time-consuming journey. By the time she reached the driveway of the hillside house, she was sober again and blindingly hungry.

She found the front door hanging open; someone had left in a hurry. Hesper strutted in, belly-first.

It was the fanciest house she’d seen in town so far. It must have belonged to Renaeville’s wealthiest residents, lording over their little country town from a hillside chateau.

A living room with a vaulted ceiling and massive bay windows overlooked the woods below. Hesper wandered around, poking at the ritzy couches and frowning at what seemed to be too many mirrors for one room. They too readily reminded her of the pillow of flesh jutting out from beneath her tube top.

She slinked out into a dining room, just as lavishly decorated. To her delight, it connected to the kitchen, but a second doorway caught her curiosity. She pushed the door open tentatively and slid inside, fumbling for a lightswitch.

A looming cabinet greeted her. Frosted glass concealed a dark interior; Hesper presumed it to be a wine cooler, perhaps, and sidled flirtatiously up to it. She rolled her fingers along the doorhandle and pulled.

She froze. The shelves of the cabinet were stocked floor to ceiling with cartons of ice cream. A small sound escaped Hesper’s lips as a gleeful shiver ran up her spine.


Well-Known Member
Feb 5, 2013
Chapter 22

Hesper stared at the ceiling. It was made of reflective copper or brass panels and showed in dull, golden tones the decadent mess she had created.

The ice cream—rich, sweet, fluffy, and full of fat—was having the desired effect upon Hesper’s body. Her stomach had expanded before her eyes from a beer gut to a pronounced pot belly, her navel deepening and widening. The poor snake tattoo had stretched to new lengths and his head had begun to turn downward, hungry eyes fixing up on her dessert-spattered lap.

Her tube top had ridden so far up it now served as little more than a bandeau. Fortunately, the lacy bra beneath needed all the help it could get as Hesper’s breasts filled out. They’d grown much less than the lower half of her body, but like her cheeks and chin they’d developed a new, more noticeable roundness.

She was surrounded by emptied ice cream cartons. They represented a little under half of what was in the freezer and Hesper had begun to wonder if brain freeze could be permanent or fatal.

Without looking, she reached for the latest carton she’d been working on, a Neapolitan, but succeeded only in swatting it further away.

“Damn it,” she burbled, looking over. The turned toward the carton and reached across her body for it.

A rending tear echoed through the house. Hesper’s skirt ripped cleanly down the side of her thigh and flapped open. Evidently only a handful of brave threads had been holding it together and they’d all surrendered at once.

Freed, her butt spilled out onto the hardwood floor with an audible slap. Hesper rocked side to side on it for a moment, surprised by how wide she had become and impressed at how long the skirt had labored to restrain so much.

She patted her gut. “Wow. Yep, that is definitely more quintessence, Hesper. A lot more.” She gave it a soothing rub and hiccupped. “At least that half of the plan is working.”

Scooting over, she grabbed the carton and set it on her lap. She’d dawdled too long, though, and what remained of the ice cream was largely melted. Taking a deep breath, she put the corner of the carton to her lips and opened her throat, steadily gulping the rest down. Excess cream dribbled from her mouth and ran down her face, chest, and stomach, but that was nothing new. She sucked it down and when it was finally gone she hurled the carton away in triumph.

It landed by the doorway, at the feet of a thin, disheveled young woman brandishing a golf club. Hesper froze, gaping, and belched.

The girl was hunched over with weariness, bedraggled hair falling over a harrowed but beautiful face. “You’re not one of them,” she panted, lowering the club. “Who are you? What are you doing in here?”

Hesper eyed her. “You…you’re the one who ran away. I was in that police car…you were all red, though.”

“Orange,” she stammered. “They painted me orange. You’re…police?”

“Not me, no. Not exactly. We’re working together. I’m more like, uh, magic police.” She belched again. “Excuse me. My name’s Hesper.”

The young woman softened. “So you know what they’re doing down at the church…you’re here to stop them.”

“I’m gonna try.”

“By eating ice cream?”

Hesper grimaced. “Er…well, yes. I tried the usual approach, but that already got me killed.” She tugged at the bandana. “What about you? What’s your deal?”

“I’m…Lilith. If you met the, um, coven, then you probably met my sister. Dark hair, looks like a librarian. Huge ass.”

“Oh, sure. She’s the one who stabbed me in the neck.”

Lilith winced. “That sounds like her. She had me tied up last night. They were gonna cut me open after their party today. Kept talking about demons and curses…I got out and ran….spent all night hiding.”


“This is her place. I came back this morning. Figured she’d be at the church all day, so I’d have time to work out how to get the fuck out of this town.”

Hesper wiped her mouth. “Probably a smart move. As for me, I’m gonna do whatever’s gotta be done here.” She gestured to her midsection. “Whatever it takes, as you can see. But I could use your help.”

“What do you need?”

Hesper grunted. She put a hand to the wall and began to stand up. Her thong promptly snapped.

Lilith stared, opening and closing her mouth.

“Well, for starters,” Hesper wheezed, “I don’t suppose y’all got any spare drawers?”

With a plaid parochial-school skirt wrapped around her waist and fresh carton of ice cream tucked under her arm, Hesper plopped herself into a chair at the kitchen table. The waistband of the skirt covered the bottom roll of her belly but did little to conceal its shape.

Lilith sat opposite her with a mug of tea, looking frail and exhausted.

“Just tell me what you know,” Hesper offered, opening the ice cream.

“Not much. I’ve been upstate for seminary the last few years. Haven’t been back to town in a long while…not many escape the Renaeville life here, so once I got out I didn’t look back.” She sipped at her tea. “It’s not a bad town, but there isn’t much here for young people. They tend to just get stuck and get old.”

“I know the feeling. Left a similar place back in Kentucky.”

“Yeah. Well, a week ago my sister called…just out of the blue. We barely talked even when I still lived here. But she called and said things have been turning around for her since she got involved in the church.”

Hesper chomped down on a spoonful of ice cream. “Skeptical?”

“Surprised. Growing up, she wouldn’t have been caught dead showing interest in anything I cared about. Plus, the church here was as sleepy as the town. They almost closed it up a couple times.”

“Seems pretty lively now.”

Lilith looked away and nodded. “Yeah, and she was all excited about that. Said they got this new worship leader in who was changing everything, turning people’s lives around. Went on and on about how amazing this ‘Leila’ was and how she was re-energizing the whole town. Even got the local fellas to renovate the old chapel…they were having a big celebration to unveil the new sanctuary and I was invited.”

“So you came home. I’m gonna go out on a limb and assume you weren’t thrilled with the renovations.”

“Yeah, nope. She’d said they’d gotten more progressive—or ‘contemporary,’ she called it—but I didn’t figure they’d switched to…demon worship.” She shook her head. “I try to be open minded and supportive but I ended up, uh, expressing some disappointment. Which I regret.”

“How’d she take that?”

“Not well. She had these two big fellas grab me and tie me to a chair…some church, hm. They made me wait there till this Leila person could come talk to me. And I tell you, that woman scares the hell out of me.”

“Yeah, I met her…briefly. Quite the presence.”

“And so skinny. Skin and bones.”

Hesper cocked an eyebrow. “Not anymore. What did she say?”

“Well, she gave me this long stare and asked me if I was hungry. Told me she sure was. Said she was the hungriest person who ever lived, that she could feel the hunger of all her sisters. I can still hear her in my head: ‘I’ve found a way to satisfy us all.’ And my sister hangs on her every word, even though this chick’s holding a knife to my throat.”

“Leila mention how she planned to satisfy everyone?”

“She…how did it go? ‘Why should we scrape for earth’s scraps when we can feast on the food of gods?’ Didn’t say which gods, though…”

“Power,” Hesper offered, setting down her spoon. “Arcane energy. Quintessence. The food of gods.”

“She told me I was gonna be a…vessel.”

“Vessel for what?”

Lilith squinted into the distance, remembering. “She said I would be a cup—yeah, a cup—from which she’d ‘drink the fires of the underworld.’ Who talks like that?”

“Somebody who’s been reading books that should never have been written.” She dug into the ice cream. “We already know she’s trying to raise a demon. They made an invocation this morning.”

“But I got away. I slipped the ropes and ran away. The way they were talking, it sounded like they couldn’t do the ritual without a vessel.”

“They found a new one. The cop that tried to talk to you.”

Lilith shrank. “I’m so sorry…I didn’t know. I was so scared.”

“It’s not your fault. These folks are bad news all around.” She tapped the spoon to her lips, thinking. “The summoning ritual doesn’t involve a vessel, though. Just the circle and the fire.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means there’s more to the plan than just raising a demon and asking it for a favor. Ilta’s a big deal down there, but this amount of ceremony is excessive for the usual chat-and-bargain affair. A vessel wouldn’t be involved. Vessels are for containment…oh.” She dropped the spoon.


Hesper stood up. Her stomach hit the table, shoving it a few inches and nearly spilling Lilith’s tea. “It’s a trap. Leila wants to bind Ilta to a mortal body.” She ran her hands through her hair. “She’d have her own pet demon to either order around, or kill, or trade to a rival demon for…I don’t even want to think of the ramifications. She pulls this off, every outcome is bad for our plane.”

“She couldn’t really do any of that, could she?”

“It would take power like we’ve never seen.” She walked to the window overlooking the town and gazed down at the church, her stomach squishing against the glass. “But it’s a power she’s figured out how to get. If she really does have a way to tap into corporeal quintessence, then the power amassed by sixty people feasting nonstop for twelve hours on the vernal equinox under an infinite appetite curse and a calorie storage acceleration enchantment…” She paused, out of breath. “…could be just enough to make it work.”

Lilith gaped, mouth opening and closing uselessly.

Hesper pounded her fist against the window. “And I have no clue how to stop her.”

“Maybe we should just run. There has to be a way to get out of town—didn’t you say you had magic, too?”

“I do,” Hesper agreed, “but I can’t run from this. I’ve been taking the easy way out my whole career, cutting corners and burning bridges at every chance to get ahead. It’s only dragged me further behind.” She turned back to the window. “There are two people down there who trusted me, who chose to help me with a fight they didn’t understand. I don’t know if I can beat Leila, but I at least have to get my friends out of there.”


Well-Known Member
Feb 5, 2013
Chapter 23

Dag followed the assistant cook back upstairs. A cart was rolled into his hands, laden with bowls of pasta. Dag frowned at the cart and nodded, wiping his brow. Behind his scraggled beard he had grown pallid and shadows hung beneath his eyes. His hulking frame sagged with weariness.

He looked up and tried to plot his route across the sanctuary. The once cold room had grown uncomfortably warm and the booming rhythm of a too-loud song from the soundsystem oppressed all thought.

What had been a flurry of back and forth activity, as organized as it was frenetic, had devolved into sluggish, uncoordinated muddle. All sense of order and choreography to the festivities had vanished in favor of shambling decadence.

The women remained in their cliques, though several groups had begun to merge as floorspace became a premium. Their bodies lay draped across each other, heads lolling in drunken bliss and mouths chewing on the latest course. Their clothing, much of it outgrown, torn, snapped, or burst, had been abandoned to the fire in the center of the room.

There was not an empty belly in sight. Many sagged and spilled onto the floor; many were so thoroughly stuffed they jutted straight and smooth into the air. Quaggy, gelatinous fat spread throughout the sanctuary.

Dag pushed the cart toward his usual trio of women in the corner. They had moved out from the wall and were encircled by empty platters and bottles. The larger woman lay supine on the floor, her belly so bloated it defied gravity. Her companions reclined lazily against it, their heads meeting just below her navel.

The bottom-heavy woman’s hips spread the length of the bigger woman’s torso. Her midsection creased into several deep rolls, like a staircase leading down to her lap. On the other side, the busty woman’s breasts had grown so large and now hung so low she had to tuck her hand under them to massage the glutted dome of her gut.

“Hey, he’s back,” she slurred, seeing Dag approach.

“More pasta?” asked her pear-shaped counterpart.

Dag sighed. “Fresh bowls for everyone. Linguini, I think.”

Their hands shot into the air, open and waiting, like the beaks of baby birds. Dag carefully lowered a heaping, steaming bowl into each woman’s eager grasp. They began eating before he could reach for the silverware, stuffing handfuls of noodle into their own and each other’s mouths.

Dag reached down to the bottom shelf of the cart. He gave each of the three a basket of breadsticks and a bottle of wine, then scooted the cart away before they could ask him for anything else.

Heading up the room, he could see Leila on the dais. She was gargantuan, as obese as anyone Dag had seen in person. Having outgrown her chair, she’d spilled down onto the floor and rested against it in a position that nearly hid her face behind the mountain range of her breasts and belly.

Her robe lay behind her like a cape, unable to reach even around her lovehandles. A discarded bra hung over the armrest of the chair. Its cups looked scarcely large enough to cover her nipples.

Leila’s feast had not paused since it began. While her followers rested between courses to breathe and digest, Leila had pressed on without cease, doubling or tripling their intake. She was incoherently inebriated, but her mouth was open and showed no inability to continue chewing and swallowing as the twins kept up her endless supply of food and drink.

Ms. Nott lay next to the office door, face down, butt bulging up. She shoveled pasta into her mouth from a pair of bowls in front of her.

“Hey, trucker,” said the assistant cook, slapping Dag on the back. “Give me a hand with this.”

He loaded a number of bowls and baskets onto Dag’s cart. His own cart had several other servings, along with a shelf of small dessert plates.

“The girls are a little too drunk to take care of their prisoner,” the man explained. “Chef says that makes it our turn. You’re just gonna help me bring stuff in there, though. You’re not allowed to go anywhere near her. Got it?”

Dag glared, but nodded. They moved to the edge of the dais. The cook watched Dag heft his carts up the pair of steps, then led him to the office door.

As the cook drove cart through the doorway, though, Ms. Nott reached out a clumsy hand and seized the corner leg.

“Ssseconds,” she moaned.

“What?” The cook looked down, but it was too late. The cart twisted, rolled, and overturned, spilling its contents onto the office floor with a mighty crash.

Dag looked around. There were a couple giggles, but nobody seemed to have noticed the crash over the noise of the music. He glanced at the end of the banquet table: his pizza boxes were still there, untouched.

“Hey,” growled the cook, “get your ass in here.”

“Sssorry,” groaned Ms. Nott.

Dag squeezed past her into the office. He turned to look for Roxie, but the cook grabbed him and pulled him over to the capsized cart.

“Change of plans. You’re gonna clean this up while I go back for a new round. And I’m chaining you to this desk here, so don’t get any ideas. Clear?”

Dag winced as the man yanked his shackles behind him. “Uh, clear.”

“Good. Be quick about it.” The cook bustled out of the room, opening and closing his fists. He managed a polite greeting for Ms. Nott before slamming the door shut.

Dag watched him go, then turned. Roxie stood against the wall on the far side of the room, arms tied overhead, head hanging sleepily.

“Roxie?” he whispered.

Her eyes fluttered open. She looked around, blinking. “Dag?” she moaned, seeing him in the corner.

“Yeah. It’s me. Are you okay? Are they taking care of you? How do you feel?” He stopped himself, realizing how childish he sounded.

“Oof, they’re…they’re definitely taking care of me. How do I feel?” She belched and looked down. “I feel…fat.”

Dag swallowed. Roxie had definitely grown since he’d last seen her, though perhaps not as much as some of the women in the sanctuary.

Her chunky midsection had filled out into a thick, heavy spare tire. Her lovehandles flowed further out to each side than her plush paunch pushed forward. Everything about her, rather than rounding out, seemed to have simply widened; her thighs, her ankles, her arms, her cheeks, her chin, her waist, and even her breasts. They spilled out beyond the straps of her tank top. Her panties cut into the flesh around her hips.

“What about you?” she asked wearily. “You okay? You look exhausted.”

“I’m…okay. They’re just making me do lots of work.”

“Maybe I don’t have it so bad after all. They’re just making me eat lots of food.” She frowned. “Although I’m supposed to die when they’re done in there…so there’s that.”

Dag slowly righted the cart. “You asked me, last night, if I believed in magic.”

“I assume you do, now.”

“I did then, too. I had always thought—hoped—that some power like that was out there, even if I hadn’t found it yet.” He shook his head.

“Guess you found it.”

“Guess so. You didn’t believe, though. You didn’t want to.”

“I barely have a grasp on the world as it is…throw magic in there and I’m totally lost. It’s the last thing I wanted.”

“I always wanted to believe. I thought if magic existed, it could make things better. Help people do good.”

“Too much risk, though. Too much to be scared of.” She stared at the ceiling. “My kid brother believed in it. Back when we were little, he thought he could read minds and walk around in other people’s dreams and stuff. I’m sure none of it was real, but it scared the shit out of him. And unlike everything else a big sister can help with, I couldn’t protect him from stuff like that. I was so happy when he finally grew out of it.”

Dag shoved a pile of pasta back into its bowl.

“Isn’t this proof? Whatever those people are doing in there is terrifying and I’m…I’m chained up in here where I can’t protect anyone from it. Not myself, not you, not…” Her voice cracked. “…not Hesper.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, setting the bowl down.

Roxie rattled her chains. “She at least knew what was going on…what she was doing. I’m only here because I fucked up.”

“What do you mean?”

“The fact that I got this call at all…I’m on this shift because I fucked up. I got sloppy on a drug bust a while back. Overstepped my bounds trying to shut these guys down. Ended up with a busted leg…could have been worse, and not just for me. I got to land a punch before they all got away, but it almost…” She shook her head. “Soon as I got back from the injury, the department stuck me on graveyard shift on the world’s dullest stretch of highway. Thought it would keep me out of trouble.”

Dag grunted. “Same here, actually. I stopped to help a stranded driver last month, ended up late for a delivery. It was kind of my third strike, so they shifted me to this new overnight route to nowhere.” He rubbed his eyes. “Driving all night…I’m getting used to it, but you never really feel alive.”

“I hear that.”

He snorted. “I wasn’t even that low on gas when I stopped here. Still had half a tank, probably. I was just trying to play it safe.”

She shook her head.

“Anyway, Roxie…screw-ups happen. And there are consequences. But that’s not, you know, who you are.” He spread his hands. “You went out of your way to remind a criminal that there’s at least one person who cares about the law…who will stand up for it. That counts for something.”

She smiled at him. “You’re a good man, Dag. Looks like stopping to do a good deed is gonna make you late for this delivery, too.”

“And short, too. I’m down like six or seven pizzas.” He got to his feet, staring at the door. “Speaking of which…”


“This could be our chance.” He tugged at his chain. “Hesper put something in the pizzas she brought in. Called it her ‘insurance policy.’ I’ve been trying to get to it all day.”

“The sugar packets she mentioned,” Roxie remembered. “What’s in them?”

“I’m not sure. I think it was more magic stuff. But if we can get a hold of them…”

“We at least have to try,” she agreed. “Put up some kind of fight. You know where they are, then?”

“The pizzas are right outside the door, down on the table. I just need thirty seconds without that asshole breathing down my neck.”

Roxie nodded, looking down. “Okay. Yeah. I’ll…I’ll think of something.”


Well-Known Member
Feb 5, 2013
Chapter 24

A black sportscar sent up a spray of water as it rounded the corner. Most of the lower roads were flooded now and as Hesper looked out the window she saw that several of the houses she’d visited earlier were now awash.

The burger joint’s parking lot was on just enough of a rise to be comparatively dry, but the car had to plow through a veritable moat to reach it. Lilith held her breath the whole way, exhaling only once she’d parked and shut off the engine.

“Nice work,” said Hesper.

“Thanks. But I’m still confused. I thought you wanted to get to the church…why stop here?”

Hesper kicked open the door and hefted herself out of the car. “Because you ran out of ice cream and I’m still hungry. Plus, according to your scale, I’m only at two hundred pounds and I need a much fatter ass if this is gonna work. Oh, and grab my bag.”

“If what’s gonna work?” asked Lilith, slinging the bag over her shoulder. “You have a plan?”

“I don’t have a plan yet, no. But I have an idea.” She adjusted the skirt and headed for the restaurant. “…and an appetite.”

The skirt’s plaid widened and rounded across her backside, highlighting her heavy curves. The grid shifted up and down as she trudged across the lot. As high as the skirt sat on her waist, little rolls of backfat still curled over the waistband, bouncing with each step.

She threw open the door and flounced inside, rubbing her hands together. Lilith snuck in behind her with the bag. A small young man appeared behind the counter, horror and confusion on his face.

“We’re closed,” he stammered. “Special event. Er, oh, are you with the sisterhood? I haven’t met everyone yet…why, uh, what’s going on?”

Hesper breathed deeply of the greasy aroma. “Reckon I could ask you the same. Every other place in town sent all the food they could muster up to the church for today…” She sashayed up to the counter. “…but y’all are back there cooking up a storm, like you’re still expecting the dinner rush.”

The man sputtered. “Leila said to have things ready for the afterparty…said she was having a group in from, uh, another town, or something.”

“Try ‘another plane of existence,’ or something,” Hesper replied, beckoning Lilith over. “Your afterparty is for an army of darkness.”


Hesper reached into her bag. She pulled out a spoon and set it on the counter. “There’s gonna be a change of plans, okay?”

“I…I don’t think I should,” he protested. “I follow what Leila says. She…I mean, she’s got magic.”

“Magic? Funny you should mention that.” Hesper winked and snapped her fingers.

The spoon launched itself up and planted its concave surface on the tip of the boy’s nose. He gaped at it, eyes crossing. Lilith looked back and forth from him to Hesper.

“If I snap my fingers again,” Hesper said calmly, “you will experience a significant amount of pain. Alternatively, if you decide to cooperate, I will put the spoon back in my bag.” She strode away and sat herself at a large table. “So, like I said, there’s been a change of plans: I’m your dinner rush.”

“Oh,” he wheezed. “Um. What can I, uh, what can I start you with?”

Hesper smiled. The spoon fell from his nose and clattered to the countertop. “Burgers. Like…several of them. With fries.” She tapped her lips. “Supersize me.”

He hesitated, trembling, but hurried to the back. Lilith collected the spoon and joined Hesper at the table.

“What would it have done?”

Hesper looked up. “What?”

“The spoon.”

“Oh, nothing. I didn’t have time to add in anything fancy beyond the nose trick.” She snapped her fingers and the spoon leapt from Lilith’s hand to her nose.


Hesper eyed her. “You said they painted you?”

“What? Oh, yeah. Orange. All over. Took over an hour to wash it all off this morning.”

“That orange?” Hesper asked, pointing up.

Lilith looked. The heptagram was painted on the ceiling above their table, tacky and glistening. “Yep. Exact same.”

“Doesn’t look like run of the mill paint. But they sure seem to have a lot of it.” She stared up at the star. “Any chance you saw where they had it? Must have taken a lot to drench you.”

“There’s a big—what’s it called—cistern, or urn, or whatever…it’s behind the pulpit.”

Hesper nodded. “I think I saw that. Looks Grecian? Red-figure pottery?”

“I guess so. They’d pour water into it and scoop out the paint.”

“Might be the artifact Ilta mentioned,” Hesper wondered. “Something I can work with, at least. Ah, and here’s my new best friend with a tray full of food.”

He set a pile of burgers in front of her. “I’ll be right back with…with your fries.”

“Good man.” She watched him bustle off. “Alright, then, Lilith…pop those toys up on the table. We’ll see if I can eat and prepare spells at the same time.”

Dag looked up from behind his cart. He had finished wiping spaghetti sauce from the floor and reached for a fresh rag to clean his hands.

Across the room, Roxie belched. The assistant cook chuckled at her and set down his fork.

“Well, deputy, looks like you’re all done with that bowl,” he sneered. “That’s two in one session—I’m proud of you. Of us.”

She glared at him. Her eyes bulged, though that was due more to the pressure of her fullness. Her stomach, bloated taut, gurgled unhappily.

“That was…a lot of pasta,” she agreed.

“Sir, I’m done with the cleanup,” Dag reported, standing.

“Thanks, hoss. Alright, deputy, we’ll give you a few minutes to let that course sink in. I’ll be back in a bit and we can finish the rest.” He stalked over to Dag and unchained him from the desk.

Roxie stifled another burp. She looked fit to burst. “No,” she wheezed. “Still hungry. Plenty of room for…for more.”

“You serious? You barely made it through that second bowl.”

“I’m fine. I’m ready. I want you…” She took a deep breath, looking him up and down. “…to feed me that last bowl.”

He puffed out his chest. “Alright, darlin’. You wanna get fed, you’ll get fed, heh.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” she purred. “All I ask is that I get something to wash it down with this time. Those ladies out there hog all the drinks.” She leaned as close to him as the chain would allow.

He glanced at the door, hand on his cart.

“Better get started before I lose my…appetite.”

“Hoss,” growled the cook, his eyes fixed on Roxie’s, “go grab the lady something to drink.” He slid the handcuff keys across the floor.

Dag pounced on the keys. “I think there was a pitcher right at the end of the first table.”

“You got thirty seconds. No funny business.” He tapped the gun in his holster.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Dag stormed out into the sanctuary, nearly tripping over a passed out Ms. Nott.

He hurried down from the dais and weaved his way to the banquet table. The stack of pizzas was still there, surrounded by the detritus of the feast. He cleared them off and grabbed the top box.

Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, he seized the cardboard and tore it open. Taped to the inside of the box was a yellow sugar packet. Dag pulled it out and checked it—a small rune was scrawled faintly on one side.

Palming the packet, he stuffed the box between the other two and stepped back from the table. He glanced around the piles of women around him, stole a carton of milk from one of them, and shuffled back into the office.

“Felt like more than thirty seconds, hoss,” said the cook, his fork in Roxie’s mouth.

“The pitcher was gone,” Dag explained, holding up the carton. “Had to find something else.”

“Uh huh. Deputy, you alright? Lookin’ a little green there.”

She swallowed. “Might have…overestimated my tummy. Sorry to disappoint, but we’d better stop.”

He patted her stomach. It was too full to jiggle. “Heh, I told you. Good try, though. Nothing wrong with taking some time to digest. Alright, hoss, let’s get you back downstairs. With things starting to wind up, I figure your work’s about over.”

“Over?” Dag echoed.

“That’s right. So you may, heh, may want to say buh-bye to the deputy here. Probably won’t see her for a while.”

Dag gaped at him, then looked to Roxie. She hung her head. The cook snickered and pushed his cart toward the door.

The trucker stepped forward and grabbed Roxie for a sudden, spirited kiss. His hand slipped into her tank top and tucked the sugar packet into the cup of her overtaxed bra. She shuddered and returned the kiss.

“That’s enough, hoss,” called the cook. “I didn’t say you could cop a feel. Heh…on the cop, heh.”

Dag pulled his lips back. Roxie smiled at him. He ducked his head next to hers and whispered, “Hesper said it’s a one-time use. Good luck.”

He felt her gasp faintly. She craned her head up. “You too,” she breathed.

Dag backed away. He grabbed his cart, put his head down, and followed the cook back into the sanctuary.


Well-Known Member
Jul 3, 2007
Deep below, in some much used level of hell space, a cadre of demons spawned from whence the earth and the realm of gluttony (and perhaps outworld) silently readied themselves for more news from that their own fantasies may be fulfilled...

and an old wizard in grey with a funny hat two dimensions over cocked an eyebrow and spoke "Now This seems interesting..."

Good writing mate.


Well-Known Member
Feb 5, 2013
Glad you're enjoying!

Chapter 25

Roxie squinted. The sun was sinking below the horizon outside. Its dying light reflected off the windshield of Roxie’s squad car, through the office window, and bathed her stretch of the wall in an orange glow.

She hung limply from her manacles, gently twisting from side to side. Pinching pains throbbed from the sides of her chest. The tank top had been able to ride up from her inflated midsection, but her bra had been designed for a woman half her size. Her panties had long since torn and fallen away, but her fat stomach hung low enough to cover what the underwear had abandoned. Roxie couldn’t see past her paunch to read the scale, but she had to be double what she’d been when she’d arrived in town. Her body felt as though it simply had no more room for itself.

The door swung open and the assistant cook sidled back in, carrying only a small tray.

“Well, we’re losing the sun,” he remarked, heading over to her, “and things are winding down out there. Not a course too soon…chef was starting to have trouble keeping up. But congratulations, deputy; you made it.”

She belched in reply.

He set the tray on the floor and glanced down at the scale. “Just a hair over three-thirty. Nice work, officer. That’s a gain to be proud of.” He patted her stomach, watching it wobble. “Would you like some tea? Helps calm the tummy.”

“That would be perfect, actually,” Roxie realized. She took a deep breath and winced. “But could you do something for me, first?”

“Depends…you have been much more cooperative, recently.”

She gave him a sheepish smirk. “Look, I was a few sizes smaller around the, uh, chest when you brought me in here. The ladies have probably taken the least of all this new weight, but...that hasn’t stopped this bra from trying to strangle me. I mean, look at this…”

He did.

“Could you maybe unsnap me?”

“Oh, um…I think I could do that, sure. Just let me swing around here…wow, yeah, that is hanging on for dear life. Down to just one little hook.”

Roxie rolled her eyes as he fumbled. “I bet. So just…you have to…oh. Holy shit.” She breathed deeper than she had in hours. “So, so much better. Wow.”

The cook paused, watching something fall to the floor. “Was that…a sugar packet?”

She forced a laugh. “Wow, yeah, I totally forgot about that. It’s been there since, er, that coffee break we had before lunch. That was back when I was...less cooperative. One of the ladies didn’t…”

“Must have have been uncomfortable.”

“I just gained a hundred and seventy pounds. Everything’s uncomfortable.”

“Huh.” He eyed it.

“You want to just put it in the tea? Poor little guy’s been waiting all day, after all.” She stared at him. “And I could use something sweet.”

He blushed, but bent down and opened the packet. Roxie’s stomach gurgled.

“Wh…what’s happening?” Leila gurgled, on the other side of the wall. “Why’d you stop?”

Ms. Nott leaned over Leila’s mountainous bulk. “You made it, mistress. Six hundred and sixty-six pounds…with time to spare.”

Leila looked blearily back and forth at the twins, who nodded. With only her head and shoulders propped up against the chair, she was all but lying down on the floor between them, yet her body rose past their knees like a well-endowed jello-mold.

Much of her flab spilled out across the floor around her, but her belly, stuffed as it was, stretched defiantly upward in a pale, stretchmarked dome. Her titanic breasts, each heavier, rounder, and seemingly more bloated than some of her congregation’s bellies. Her upper arms had expanded into jiggling wings and, topheavy though she was, her ankles were thicker around than Ms. Nott’s own thunder-thighs.

The congregation was largely quiet, either dozing or half-heartedly starting to clean up. Ms. Nott and the twins waited obediently for Leila’s debauched mind to formulate instructions.

“Then I propose—hic!—propose we take…a little break,” her puffy face eventually slurred. “Half hour to…sober up and get shtuff in—hic!—in order.”

“Of course, mistress,” Ms. Nott replied with a bow.

Leila waved vaguely at the office door. “Go get the vessel ready. We’ll make sure nobody inter…interr…” She interrupted herself with a heaving belch. “I’ll sssend Tommy in to get you when it’s—hic!—when it’sh time.”

On the other end of town, Hesper stepped down from the little glass scale. She shot out a hand, grabbing Lilith for support.

“276,” she gasped.

Lilith stared. “Amazing. So your plan..?”

“I don’t know if it’s enough, but we’re about out of daylight.” She glanced out the restaurant’s window. “I’ve pretty much doubled my weight, so it’s a start. Just depends on how well I can bluff.”

“If you can bluff half as well as you can eat, I think you’ll be just fine.”

Hesper laughed. “Yeah, never realized I had such a natural talent for it. Just imagine what I’ll be able to do with some practice.” She rubbed her gut and turned around.

The plaid skirt had fallen off forty pounds ago and she now displayed her plush lower half in all its quaggy glory. Her thighs were thick with cellulite, her butt cheeks hung from her backside like a pair of bean bag chairs, and her belly drooped out like putty. The snake tattoo’s head was questing its way around to her under-belly and would probably be buried by the next few pounds. Her unrestrained hips had flowed out even further and now, short as she was, she seemed to be as wide as she was tall.

“I tell you what, though,” she breathed, sitting. “The next time I need to gain seventy pounds in one sitting, I’m going someplace a little more upscale. I feel like I’m sweating fryer grease.”

Lilith slunk into the chair next to her. “The next time? Do you have to do this often in your…line of work?”

“Well, no. This is definitely a first.” She leaned back and rubbed her gut. “To be honest, though, I might not be completely opposed to trying it again sometime. Can't believe I spent all those years agonizing over my figure. Wonder if I can work this into my next case...”

Lilith shook her head.

Hesper eyed her. “You’re seriously not hungry? You’ve been in the enchanted area this whole time, subject to all this appetite magic, and you haven’t eaten a thing? Remind me to analyze your aura when this is all over.”

“More magic?” she scoffed, rising. “Let’s take a rain-check on that one.”

Roxie’s eyes fluttered. The tea had quieted her indigestion, as promised, and warmed her stomach noticeably. The warmth spread from there, filling her chest, flowing into her limbs and extremities. She felt her heart rate begin to quicken. Her fingers twitched.

The cook packed up his tray and stood. He leered at Roxie, hands on his hips. “You know, my friend always used to say cops were pigs.”

She glared at him, double chin creasing. Her hands writhed in their cuffs and she suddenly felt a shuddering crack from the beam above.

The door swung open. Roxie forced herself to relax, slowing her breathing, but the energy surging through her was difficult to resist.

Ms. Nott waddled into the room, carrying an enormous wooden bowl.

“Ma’am,” reported the cook, “she’s reached her threshold weight.”

“Excellent. And our mistress has just reached hers. You may head back downstairs—thank you for your help. And remember that I am not to be disturbed while I prepare the vessel.”

He nodded and scurried from the room. Ms. Nott latched the door behind him and sauntered up to Roxie.

“Looks like you were able to catch up, after all,” said Roxie, hands quivering.

Ms. Nott twirled around, cocking her thick hips to one side. Her butt bounced accordingly. “I almost made it to three hundred. Would’ve made it if…what are you…are you okay, deputy? You’re…”

“I’m great,” Roxie grunted. “Just a little sugar rush.”

She wrenched her hands down with a sudden, superhuman strength. The chain ripped through its section of the beam, showering her with splinters. With a choked cry she spread her arms, snapping her handcuffs.

Hunched over, she settled her unsupported new weight on her feet and worked to find her balance. She looked up at Ms. Nott.

The bottom-heavy woman swallowed. “Oh, hell—”

Roxie tackled her with all her bulk, slamming her to the floor and spilling the paint in a wide swath. Ms. Nott wheezed and slapped uselessly, but Roxie seized the wooden bowl and bashed her over the head.

The bowl cracked; the woman went limp.

Roxie rolled off of her and slumped back against a desk. Panting, she slipped her bra the rest of the way off around her flabby arms. She tugged down on her tank top, but it could cover very little and it was so stretched to transparency that it scarcely concealed what it covered.

She sighed, kicking the bowl away, and glared at the unconscious Ms. Nott. “That’s for Hesper.”


Well-Known Member
Dec 21, 2007
Amazing writing!

Is it bad that I'm also wondering what the aftermath will be like? How would these women readjust to life at these sizes once (if) this is all get sorted out?


Well-Known Member
Feb 5, 2013
Chapter 26

Roxie gathered up her discarded clothes and piled them atop her hat. The whole bundle tucked under her arm, she tossed the hair from her eyes and strode to the exit door.

She glanced back at the sanctuary door. It remained shut. The sanctuary seemed much quieter, now, with only the faint chords of Jethro Tull's ‘Locomotive Breath’ drifting through the walls. Ms. Nott lay unmoving on the floor nearby.

"In the shuffling madness..." the song opened.

Taking a deep breath, Roxie reared up and gave the door a kick. It failed to budge, however, and she toppled back onto her plump backside.

The warmth of the tea was receding rapidly and the sensation of invincible strength had begun to fade. “I guess the packet really was a one-time use,” she grunted, clambering awkwardly back to her feet.

The door was locked and Ms. Nott had no keys on her. Roxie sucked in a long breath and glared at the window.

It was growing dark enough outside to show her a transparent reflection and she beheld herself standing slouched in nothing but a thin tank top. Her belly hung down over her lap and her breasts sagged under the tank.

She knelt down, set her clothing bundle aside, and sized up Ms. Nott. The woman’s skirt had split fifty pounds ago, but she was wearing a pair of black spandex undershorts. They were holding on for dear life around over fifty inches of hips.

Roxie glanced to make sure she was still out cold, then peeled the shorts off. Ms. Nott’s rump snapped back and rippled free and Roxie tumbled back, shorts in hand. She held them up and as they shrank back to their original size she marveled at how far they’d been able to stretch.

Once she’d squeezed herself into them, she gathered up her things once more and turned to the window. She swallowed, hesitated, and pried it open. Sucking in as much as her girth would allow, she poked her head and hands through.

The rain had lessened, but a steady drizzle still fell and Roxie could hear the sound of running water from all directions. Her shoulders fit through the windowframe and she reached out to brace herself. Her breasts slid over the sill without much difficulty, but there her ease ceased as her midsection filled the frame from edge to edge.

She cursed and tried to suck in more. Twisting around, she pushed in on one side of her gut and tried to wrangle a separate handful of flesh through. After a few minutes of shimmying and sloshing herself around, she managed to pour enough of her mass from the inside to the outside and she flopped forward with an audible pop.

She splashed unceremoniously into a foot of water. The flood was rushing through the parking lot, swirling around the streetlights and gurgling along a guardrail.

Roxie picked herself up and shook out her hair. Her soaked tank top clung to what little skin it still covered. She reached back through the window, snatched up her bundle of clothing, and waded across the parking lot to her car.

It was slow going. Her legs were already unaccustomed to carrying all her new weight and now had to navigate a torrent of knee-deep water. She made it, however, and collapsed into the passenger seat with a huff.

Sliding the seat back to accommodate her bulk, she set her bundle down and checked the radio—still no service for any of her devices.

“Yeah, it’s probably way too late to do this one by the book,” she sighed, twisting around.

She experimented briefly with her uniform shirt, but quickly abandoned it. Her arms had grown too thick for the sleeves and there was clearly no hope of it reaching around her midriff. She found her badge and clipped it to the strap of her tank top.

She’d recovered her belt with the uniform, but could only drape it uselessly across her paunch. She experimented with fastening it around her ribcage and one of her thighs before simply slinging it across her chest like a bandolier. Her pistol and taser nestled in atop her lovehandle.

The last of the sun, already barely visible through the cloudcover, disappeared behind the hill. Roxie reached over and pulled the shotgun from its rack.

The squadcar creaked and lurched as she stepped out. Standing in the torrent of water, Roxie shoved her hat back onto her head, slid a pair of aviator sunglasses onto her face, and rested the shotgun against her shoulder.

She drew her face into a grimace of unwavering purpose. Her chest heaved. Her stomach grumbled. She set off on her long slog back toward the church.

Hesper stood on the other side of the building, glaring at the front doors.

She reached down and tried to wrap the old plaid skirt around her waist, but couldn’t make the ends meet. No matter how she squeezed, one of her legs remained exposed. Surrendering, she tied it there with a strip of leather, leaving her left leg out and allowing the head of her snake tattoo to peek out from under her wobbling midsection.

Her tube top was hanging in there, though it served as little more than a bra. She’d managed to get her leather jacket on, but only by hacking off the sleeves. She felt like a bloated, overgrown mess, but she couldn’t stop thinking about all the power she now contained and licked her lips at the prospect of accessing it.

She slung her tote bag over her shoulder, sucked down the last dregs of an extra-large pop, and headed up toward the door.

Dag found himself alone in the kitchen. Their task apparently complete, the cooks had chained him to the wash basin, smacked him around a little more, and then headed upstairs.

He watched the door shut and waited a few moments. Confident they were gone, he contorted himself enough to reach his handcuffed hand into his back pocket.

His fingers found the other sugar packet. His mouth stretched into a mad, vengeful grin.

“The train, it won’t stop going,” the song upstairs wailed. “No way to slow down…”


Well-Known Member
Feb 5, 2013
Chapter 27

Roxie checked the handcuffs she’d slapped on Ms. Nott. The woman was still heavily unconscious, but Roxie had cuffed her to a desk to be safe.

A mild commotion echoed from the sanctuary. Cradling her shotgun, Roxie tiptoed to the door and slowly unlatched it. She pushed it open, just slightly, and peered through the crack. Her girth squeezed uncomfortably against the doorframe. It was nothing compared, however, to how Laila’s girth had been squeezed into her wooden throne up on the dais.

She was more on the chair than in it and spilled out resplendently in all directions. Her apron belly hung nearly to the floor between her fattened calves. Her breasts slumped down beside it onto the throne’s armrests; her arms hung limply to the side behind them, too short and too flabby to achieve much else.

Her robe, torn at the seams, had been peeled from her shoulders and summarily discarded, leaving her a naked mass of jiggling flesh. The twins had cleaned off the crumbs and dribbles of a twelve-hour feast and painted upon her overflowing abdomen the coven’s signature orange heptagram.

The congregation stood circled around the burning brazier. Their circles were significantly wider now, though, as the women were each significantly wider themselves. None had experienced the exponential expansion their leader had, but none had added fewer than a hundred pounds to their frames.

Any who had been fit that morning were now flabby; any who had been overweight were now obese. Some had packed away more than others, but on the whole the congregation had nearly doubled its collective weight and now presented themselves proudly to their benefactor.

They came as apples and pears and melons: many with breasts too big for their bras, many with posteriors too ponderous for their panties, many with waists too wide to walk without waddling, and all with stomachs too stuffed to stand steadily. They shifted and swayed, bloated bellies jutting, hanging, and rolling happily from their midsections, anointed with orange paint.

A line of men—the cooks, Roxie surmised—knelt in a line at the back of the sanctuary, heads down. Roxie stared and searched, but Dag was not with them.

“Sisters,” announced Leila, bulk quaking with the effort of speech, “the last tendrils of daylight have faded from view. The sun has fallen and we seize now our opportunity to rise!”

The crowd ululated with glee. Roxie tightened her grip on the shotgun.

“We have invoked our matron; we have filled this day with fullness in her honor; we have accumulated arcane energies in amounts ere unknown on our earth. We peer now over the edge of our mortal world and reach into the depths of the nether.” She held up her pudgy arms. “Stewards of the breach, attend to our portal!”

The brazier coughed and its fire rose to a towering plume. Arcs of flame lashed out and seven blazing orbs floated out from the fire. They began to orbit the brazier, pulsing with an unearthly spectrum of color.

A voice boomed from within the flames, one voice containing many. “The stewards of the breach attend.”

Leila grinned hungrily. “I would commune with the nether, seeking the invoked, who has acknowledged with fire.”

The orbs swirled. “Forget not that thou art oft fallible, mortal,” the voice continued. “A singular lapse shall deny thee thy portal.”

“My rite is prepared.”

“We remind thee the taste of but one interruption shall be answered most swift with destruction; corruption.”

“I heed your warning, stewards. Sisters, I exhort you to heed them as well.” She glared down at her congregation, many of whom were trembling or glancing uncertainly back and forth. “We’re dealing with the boundary of two planes of existence. It’s very fragile and its integrity is fiercely defended. Once we start the rites, the tiniest slip-up could cost us everything. There’s an army of spirits ready to jump out and punish us for any error in protocol.”

They swallowed and took some shaky breaths, but nodded their understanding.

“Once we begin, we’re committed to the finish. If anyone has anything to say, say it now.”

Roxie grabbed the doorhandle and steeled herself.

“I have something to say,” said a husky voice.

Leila craned her head over her bulk to look. Roxie froze, eyes widening.

Hesper sashayed into the circle, bootheels clicking on the stone floor. Her plaid skirt could no longer reach around her waist and left her jiggling left leg exposed. She stopped in front of the brazier, just out of the reach of the orbs, silhouetted in the flames. Her bag hung from her shoulder and the bandana pinched the softness of her neck as she grimaced up at Leila. A cheap plastic ring sparkled on her finger.

Roxie stepped back from the door, gasping. An uncontrollable smile broke over her face at the sight of Hesper and she mouthed her name in relief.

The twins started down from the dais. Hesper reached a hand into her bag, holding up her other hand in parley.

“Leila, I reckon that a gal as big as you’ve gotten can do a lot with corporeal quintessence,” she offered hurriedly. “Probably put me down without much effort. But I also reckon y’all would prefer not to have to use any of that energy. You’ve been storing it up for something more important. So just hear me out for a minute. Don’t like my offer; I’ll go away.”

“Go away; I have no interest in your offers.”

“You might gain a great deal.” She cleared her throat. "Er, a great deal more."

Leila eyed her. “What deal could we possibly make? I see you’ve been enjoying the local cuisine, or what’s left of it. If you think I’m sharing the secrets of corporeal quintessence with the likes of you, you’re dead wrong.”

Hesper chuckled and patted her belly roll. “You’ve got me all wrong, Leila. This gut here is a gift…a gift for you. I spent all day…urrp…making it for you.”

“You’re offering to join the sisterhood.”

“Better.” She nodded to the empty chair next to Leila’s. “If I have my detective work right, y’all are planning to channel your new demon-friend into a mortal vessel. Y’all want to contain her and command her power. I got that about right?” She grinned. “I thought so. And you’ve got the deputy back there as your vessel.”

Leila shifted in her throne. Her body rippled.

Hesper swallowed. “Roxie’s my friend. And she doesn’t deserve this. Let me take her place.”

Roxie flushed. “No,” she murmured.

“Let the cop and our trucker friend go free. I’ll willingly submit to the rites.” She dropped her bag to the floor and stepped toward the pulpit, hands raised. Her plastic ring gleamed in the firelight. “You need a righteous vessel, yeah? I’m not perfect by any means, but I’ve got a good enough heart that I couldn’t give in to death without at least coming up here and making the offer.”

“That sure is sweet,” Leila yawned. “Not sure what I stand to gain, though.”

Hesper cocked her eyebrow. “You gain any more and you won’t be able to stand. Look at it this way: I’m a practitioner. Magic’s been flowing through me since I was born. Y’all use me as a vessel…imagine how much more I could magnify the power being channeled compared to a…vanilla body unconnected to magic.”

She walked across the dais and dipped her finger in the cistern of paint. Puffing out her belly and tugging down on the skirt, she traced an orange circle around her deep navel.

“I’ll add my stored energy to the pool. You get that boost and you get a more efficient vessel for better channeling. You get it from a willing participant instead of a resistant prisoner. You get a prodigy who's been manipulating arcana since childhood.” Hesper set herself in the empty chair, stomach creasing. “You get all that. I get the satisfaction of having done at least one good thing for someone else before I die. That’s all I’m asking.”

Leila stared at her for a moment, then turned to one of the twins.

“Tommy, go tell Ms. Nott to come out and prep our new vessel.” She turned back to Hesper. “And release the deputy. She and the truck driver are free to go.”

He nodded and headed to the office door. His brother looked down at Hesper’s hand, suddenly missing its ring.

“I’m not going anywhere,” shouted Roxie. She shoved the door the rest of the way open, pointing her shotgun at the twin’s face. Her badge gleamed in the firelight and her stomach heaved with each adrenaline-fueled breath.

Hesper shot up from the chair. “Roxie? No, you’ve got to get out of here!”

The deputy shook her head. “I’ve got a community to protect. If that means protecting it from demons and the crazy bitches trying to summon them, then I’m right where I need to be. Hands up, all of you.”

The twin stared her down. She cocked the gun.

“Roxie,” Hesper begged, “just run. Find Dag and run. I’ve made my choice.”

A splashing sound interrupted them.

Leila craned her neck. “Tommy?”

Everyone turned to look. The other twin was standing next to the cistern, holding up the plastic ring he’d fished from within.

“Damnation,” hissed Hesper.

Leila rounded on her. “Trying to steal my secret after all?” She clicked her tongue. “Sorry, officer, but it looks like your ‘friend’ didn’t come to sacrifice herself for you…this is just a ruse to buy time. Let me guess, Hesper: you thought if you could copy my quintessence conduit, your little starter-belly there might give you just enough power to delay my rites and foil my plans. I got that about right?” She grinned. “Thought so.”

Hesper glared, gritting her teeth. The orbs pulsated impatiently around the brazier.

Leila straightened. Her belly poured over the side of the chair as she turned. One of her breasts flopped off the armrest and swung free.

“I’d say you ‘reckoned’ wrong, Hesper. Your meager store of power would achieve nothing. And you’ve run out of time for schemes.”

She began to rise from her throne. She rose not to her feet, however, but into the air, the heptagram on her massive belly glowing.

The congregation lifted their hands. The circles painted on their stomachs began to glow with hers. Their heads tilted back and they commenced a droning incantation. Leila’s fat began to float and lose its heaviness, as though gravity had released her from its bonds.

The seven orbs rose from their orbit around the brazier. They drifted up toward the vaulted ceiling of the sanctuary, where they began to spin around one another in a frenzy.

“No,” said Hesper, stepping back. “Oh, no.”

“I have begun the rite,” Leila declared, shutting her eyes. “If either of you plan on surviving, someone needs to get in that chair.”

Roxie aimed the shotgun up at her. “Not happening. Get down.”

“Leila, listen to me—” Hesper pleaded.

“Get in the fucking chair,” she growled, tilting her head back. “I’m out of patience and you’re out of time. Either receive my blessing or be destroyed.”

“Screw this,” Roxie hissed, storming down from the dais. “How about I just mess up your circle again?”

Hesper blanched. “Roxie, no!”

Leila’s eyes shot open. “Get your lapdog in line before she kills everyone, Hesper.”

“Roxie,” Hesper panted, grabbing her arm. “This isn’t like earlier. The breach is open. If we…look, the only thing worse than Leila succeeding would be to disrupt the breach mid-channel.”


Hesper frowned. She gestured to the orbs spinning overhead. “The stewards weren’t kidding about the fragility of the breach. Once the channel opens, it has to be maintained and closed correctly. Otherwise, interruption means the breach cracks and chaos can flow freely. An army of corruption fiends will come pouring out and unleash all kinds of hell.”

They stared up at the orbs. A heptagram had formed between them from tendrils of flaming light. The center of the star swirled and the air within seemed to open, showing the black void of the realm beyond.

Hesper pointed at Leila. “We have to get her to shut it. It’s the only safe option.”

The massive floating woman resumed chanting, her voice ringing off the stones. The congregation stood with their hands aloft, oblivious to the intruders.

“Well, I hope you have a plan,” Roxie murmured. “I doubt she’s gonna just give up.”

The twins began to stride down toward them.

Hesper swallowed. “Most of one. But I’ll need a little diversion—”


Well-Known Member
Feb 5, 2013
Chapter 28

An engine roared outside. The east wall of the sanctuary exploded inward, sending debris flying and the congregation scrambling as Dag’s semi plowed its way into the church. It skidded, twisted, and came to a halt, its cab crumpled and smoking.

Floodwater gushed in through the ruptured wall. The brazier, overturned in the crash, was quickly submerged and its flames extinguished. Leila’s eyes flashed open and she fell out of the air. Her weight cracked the platform of the dais and she found herself in a crater of broken floorboards.

Dag emerged from what remained of the truck’s cab, outfitted in a bike helmet and brandishing his sledgehammer. His bearded face beamed with a triumphant grin.

“Crashed the hell out of this party!” He cheered. “Roxie, Hesper! Come on, let’s get…what’s wrong?”

Everyone was staring in horror at the ceiling. The orbs had stopped moving. The black void at the center of the heptagram remained open, but it began to flicker and lightning was crackling about it.

“That was not the diversion I had in mind,” sighed Hesper.

Roxie shuddered. “Interrupting the circle was the worst possible outcome, huh?”


The seven orbs flared and flattened into fiery discs. The nearest one fluttered and a tongue of fire dropped down from it.

As the flame hit the water, it flashed and grew, stretching into a tall, glowing shape: a hulking, almost humanoid shape. The glow faded and suddenly a huge, orcish monster stood in the center of the room, snorting and glaring around. Oversized tusks bent up from its slobbering mouth and spikes ran down its back in varying lengths.

The other orbs sputtered and began to rain tongues of fire.

“Run!” screamed Hesper, gesturing to the congregation. “All y’all, get out of here!”

The sisterhood, shrieking and splashing, scrambled toward the doors. Fat as they’d grown, they couldn’t move with much speed or grace, but they fought past each other with reckless desperation.

As the flames slowly formed themselves into more monsters, the first fiend turned and stomped toward those on the dais. It roared and reared back with a clawed hand.

Its chest exploded with an ear-shattering blast. The monster toppled back into the flooded sanctuary. Roxie pumped her shotgun and let out a trembling breath.

“Oh hell,” she panted, watching the other monsters take shape. “Oh hell.”

“Pretty much,” sighed Hesper.

“What do we do?”

Hesper turned to Leila. “We fight. And you…you’re six hundred some pounds of quintessence. Time to put that stored up energy to some use if y’all want to survive this.”

“You idiots can pay the price for your interruption,” Leila screamed, trying to crawl up from the broken floor. One of the twins rushed over to help her. “I will see my dream to its fulfillment!”

The second twin seized Roxie’s gun by the barrel. Hesper lunged at him, but his other hand caught her by the throat.

“Kill them,” Leila howled.

Dag burst onto the dais, hammer flashing, and knocked the twin to the floor. Roxie stumbled back and found her balance in time to shoot the next fiend as it charged up the steps, her flab rippling with the gun’s recoil. Hesper toppled back onto her plush behind, catching herself on the empty throne.

Leila was on her feet, leaning on the remaining twin. Her hand was glowing.

Dag hurled the tote bag into Hesper’s lap. “Found this on the floor,” he grunted, picking up his hammer.

“You’re a saint,” she gasped, rifling through it.

Lightning flashed from Leila’s hand. It streaked across the dais in a sweeping arc but was suddenly caught up and absorbed by a coat hanger—Hesper had pulled it from her bag at the last second. The lightning dissipated and the coat hanger disintegrated in her hands.

“That was lucky,” she breathed.

A brutish fiend lurched onto the dais. Dag shoved it back with a kick.

“Got a plan?” he asked, helping her up.

“I had one,” she shouted. “But it, uh, went a little pear-shaped.” She looked out at the sanctuary, where there were now more than two dozen fiends taking shape and lurching toward them.

Roxie blasted one of the fiends and glanced at Leila, who was readying another spell. “How about a new plan?”

Hesper grimaced. “Well, hm…here: y’all hold off the uglies for a minute. I’ll deal with the lunatic.”

She dug a hand into her bag and rounded on Leila. The massive woman lifted her hand with a snarl, setting her bulk a-jiggle. The twin at her side was clearly struggling under her weight, but unsheathed a long knife and stared Hesper down.

Hesper plucked a cocktail umbrella from her bag, opening it toward her foes. With a hateful cry, Leila unleashed a ray of yellowish energy at her.

The beam struck an invisible force field in the air around the umbrella and dispersed. Leila pulled back her hand in a huff; the umbrella burst into flame and Hesper tossed it aside.

Before Leila could ready another spell, Hesper lunged forward and tackled the twin out from under her arm.

He was over a foot taller than Hesper and covered with muscle, but she had nearly a hundred pounds on him and her low center of mass bowled him over. They hit the floor together and rolled down the steps, splashing into the floodwaters.

Without her support, Leila staggered and fell back. She caught herself on the wall and struggled to stay upright, her pendulous breasts and belly pulling her off balance with every heaving swing.

Hesper drew a stapler from her bag and slammed it down on the twin’s forearm. No staple pierced him, but as he writhed around he discovered that the arm was pinned to the floor. While he strained against it, she pinned down his other arm and one of his legs. After the third staple, the stapler fell apart in her hands and she tossed it into the water.

A giant paw seized her by the hair and lifted her off her feet. One of the fiends had caught her, a hideous hunchback with three eyes and a pair of tiny, useless bat wings. It roared at her as she kicked uselessly at the air.

Dag’s sledgehammer caught it upside the head. It dropped Hesper and whirled around to face him. Roxie blew a hole in its chest and reloaded. She looked ridiculous in her hat, sunglasses, and underwear, but she and the burly trucker were keeping the brutes at bay for now.

“Whatever you’re gonna do, Hesper, do it quick!” shouted the deputy. Dag cracked another fiend with his hammer.

Hesper threw her bag aside and dropped to her knees. “I’m working on it.”

She pulled her cheap plastic ring from the twin’s pinned hand. Dipping it in the rush of water, she washed most of the paint from its fake gemstone and pressed it onto her finger.

“Okay, buddy,” she muttered, “if you’re ever actually going to work, now would be the time.”

She turned and looked up at Leila, who had finally managed to stand free of the wall. Hesper tugged on her bandana and held up her hand. It began to glow.

Roxie blasted another fiend. Out of shells, she cracked the next one’s face with the butt of the shotgun and reached for her pistol. Dag smashed his hammer into a monster’s stomach; it howled in pain but stood its ground and swiped a clawed hand at him.

Hesper took a deep breath and stood. “Dag, Roxie…try to keep those things here in the church. Can’t let this get out into the world.”

Leila’s eyes widened at Hesper’s glowing hand. “Your trinket worked, after all,” she sneered. “A replication spell…an artifact with a facsimile of my artifact’s power. Very clever.”

“I thought so,” Hesper replied, circling up to the dais.

“Congratulations, I suppose. You have your own second-hand corporeal quintessence conduit. You can use all the arcane energy you stuffed into your little tummy. But it won’t be enough.”

Hesper spread her fingers. “It’ll be plenty.”

Leila shook her head. Her chin wobbled and her whole body quaked. Her enormous breasts heaved with a pitying sigh. “Hesper, look at me. I’m more than twice as fat as you are. That makes me more than twice as powerful. Don’t you get how this works?”

“I do,” Hesper said coolly. “But you clearly don’t understand how my ‘trinket’ works. The ring didn’t copy your artifact’s essence…” Her hand flashed and little arcs of lightning began to jump between her fingertips. “…it stole it.”

Light flared from her hand. Orange energy rushed out, heaved Leila off her feet, and crushed her against the wall.

Lashes of fire and lightning shot forward and surrounded Leila, lifting her into the air and hauling her hands behind her back. Her torso arched forward, pushing her chest and belly out even further. The heptagram on her stomach lost its glow.

Hesper grunted with effort. “Means the access is mine now. And you’re weighed down by six hundred pounds of quintessence you can’t wield.” She dove her other hand into the cistern. “I was never any good at learning spells for myself. But I’ve always had a talent for putting other people’s work to good use.”

She pulled a large gemstone out of the cistern. Despite having been submerged in paint, it was uncovered—but bright orange in color on its own.

Leila wailed and writhed, but the magic bonds tightened. Hesper looked up and they began to rise together into the air, lifted by a platform of swirling fire.

The sanctuary was all but filled with fiends, crawling over each other and fighting for space. They clawed at the walls and shattered the windows, eager to get out and bring ruin. Energies of all colors snaked out from the portal and across the ceiling as the orbs danced in a spark-spitting frenzy. The whole building rumbled; debris crumbled from the broken stones and décor fell from the walls.

Hesper’s platform floated her and Leila to the ceiling and the swirling orbs. Straining to keep both spells in place, Hesper gazed up into the opening at the center of the star. The void gazed back.

“Ilta!” she called, voice growing hoarse. “Ilta, I know you can hear me…these portal rites began with your invocation…Ilta, your servant seeks your aid.”

A pair of glowing orange eyes blinked open in the void. Ilta’s sultry voice filtered out. “You succeeded in preventing the rites, darling Hesper. Our goal is achieved and thus our contract is concluded. I owe you no further aid.” A flash of teeth grinned somewhere in the darkness. “Though I must remind you that you owe me that artifact in your hand.”

Hesper narrowed her eyes. “We’re looking at a full breach collapse. That’ll affect more than just the mortal world, Ilta…you know that. And if y’all didn’t want Leila’s trouble, I’m willing to bet y’all don’t want this trouble.”

The eyes studied her.

She held up the gemstone. “Y’all want your artifact back, I suggest you get off your unknowably fat backside and simmer these stewards down!”

“I prefer not to expend my hard-earned energy on the affairs of others, dear Hesper. I will consider your offer, but I suggest you…sweeten the deal, as it were.”

Exasperated, Hesper threw back her head. She glanced down at the sanctuary below; Dag and Roxie were surrounded by fiends and wouldn’t last much longer.

A hand seized Hesper by the bandana. Leila had wriggled free and hauled down on it with all her incredible weight.

Pawing at her throat, Hesper fell back onto the larger woman. The bandana twisted and slipped around her neck and she worked to keep it spread over her wound.

“I know what’s under there,” Leila growled, “and I will rip it open if it’s the last thing I do.”


Well-Known Member
Feb 5, 2013
Chapter 29

The fiends swarmed over the truck, bashing at it and rocking it to and fro until with a metallic moan it teetered and fell over on its side. The resulting crash sent a wave through the flooded sanctuary that knocked Roxie off her feet. A cackling imp leapt onto the dome of her stomach and clawed off what remained of her tank top.

She sat up and swatted the fiend off. Climbing to her feet with a wincing grunt, she threw her shredded shirt away and glanced around, breasts banging against one another as she twisted back and forth.

The fiends had backed her into the corner, behind the overturned semi. Roxie waded cautiously backward until she felt the cold wall against her plush backside.

“Officer,” whimpered a voice, “help me. I’m sorry—help me, officer.”

Roxie turned. It was one of the sisterhood, cowering under the buffet table. She was one of the smaller cultists, but she still barely fit and as she sat clutching her knees her lovehandles spilled out to either side.

Across the sanctuary, Dag was wrestling with a pair of larger fiends. His face was bloodied and his flannel had been torn open, but the hammer was still in his hand. A handful of brutes left the main pack to help pick on him.

Roxie checked her pistol: it was empty. The shotgun lay broken on the pulpit and her taser seemed to have only mildly tickled the fiend it had hit. She fingered her nightstick and took a deep breath, then noticed that, just behind the approaching line of fiends, gas was spilling out from the truck.

“Sorry, Dag,” she murmured, reaching a hand along the table.

She seized one of the candelabras. Only a couple of the candles still burned. Roxie fiddled with them for a second, trying to pry them loose, but quickly gave up and with a muttered curse she hurled it at the truck.

The oil floating on the floodwater ignited immediately.

“Dag!” she screamed. “Get down!”

He struggled against the brutes, who had been trying to drown him. “What? And just let them—oh shit.”

The truck exploded, scattering the fiends and setting many alight.

Roxie hauled the cultist out from under the table. The woman clung to her immediately, squishing their exposed guts together, but Roxie shoved her off.

“Get out of here!” she shouted. “I don’t know how much time that’ll buy us!”

The woman scrambled toward the door. Roxie turned; it hadn’t bought them much time at all. The fuel fire blazed across the water and more new fiends were rising from its flames.

Dust and sparks rained down on the platform where Hesper and Leila fought. Hesper wheezed, engulfed by Leila’s girth and desperate to keep the bandana on her neck.

“Leila, enough!” Hesper choked. “It’s too late for your stupid plan.”

Leila wrapped her in her flabby arms. “You…will not…ruin…my dream…”

Hesper thrashed atop the woman’s gargantuan stomach. “The breach could destroy everything!” she begged. “There won’t be anything left for you to conquer! At least help me fix this!”

“I’ll be damned if I help you with anything!” Leila shrieked.

“Fine,” Hesper hissed. She reached a hand back and seized Leila’s face. The hand glowed, lashing out with tendrils of fire. Wailing, Leila released the bandana and clawed at her.

Hesper rolled off and lifted her hand. Sparks flashed under Leila and a wave of energy hurled her up and into the opening of the void.

“Go to hell,” she muttered, fixing the bandana.

Leila’s plump body didn’t quite fit through the opening and for a moment the portal was plugged by a massive paunch and a pair of colossal breasts. But Hesper thrust her other hand up and another wave of energy sucked Leila through with an audible pop.

Hesper glared into the portal. “Ilta, y’all don’t want to expend your energy, fine—use hers. A gift from me to you.” She jabbed a finger at the glowing eyes and held the ancient crystal at arm’s length. “Now un-fuck this breach before I shatter your precious artifact right here.”

The eyes drew nearer. Hesper could almost make out the silhouette of Ilta’s shadowy projection against the black of the void.

“Such initiative,” Ilta purred. “Such assertiveness. I knew I liked the way you taste. Mmm, I’m tempted.”

“Hesper!” cried Roxie’s voice from below.

Hesper swallowed. She blinked and the fiery platform flickered, but she caught herself. “Ilta, please.”

She held out the gemstone and threw it up into the portal. She could see it glowing for a moment in the void and the lightning around the breach surged with a new orange energy.

“I shall grant you this favor,” Ilta’s voice announced. “Your gift is welcome and our bargain is amended. I will heal the breach. Hmm…I haven’t had fiends in a while…not sure how best to season them…ah.”

The magic platform vanished and Hesper fell. She shot out a glowing hand and spun as she plummeted, but splashed down into the floodwater.

The portal widened. The seven orbs slowed their frenzied dance, then stopped and began spreading away from the breach.

Long snakes of fire reached out from the orbs, slithering down from the ceiling. Seeing them, the fiends stopped and stared, tittering with sudden confusion and fear. Dag shoved his brute off and waded over to Roxie. She nodded and they made their way to where Hesper had fallen.

The flaming tentacles whipped around the fiends and lifted them up. One by one, the panicking fiends were tossed, pushed, or hurled into the open portal. The ceiling blared with orange light, sweeping from wall to wall. More tentacles appeared and the fiends began to flee, but they were snatched up before they could reach the doors and windows.

When the last fiend had been swallowed up by the portal, the tentacles coiled back up into the orbs. The orange light and the multicolored lightning on the ceiling began to spin and swirl and disappeared into the portal like water into a drain. The orbs, after a few moments of resistance, were sucked up in turn.

A wind howled through the sanctuary, extinguishing the fires. The heptagram around the portal throbbed with light, then the chamber fell silent.

A belch rocked the building, its magnitude nearly as violent as the exploding truck. A pleased sigh drifted out of the portal, followed by Ilta’s sensuous voice.

“Still not very filling,” she lamented, “but a rare and commendable flavor. Your efforts are pitiful, mortals, but I welcome and acknowledge them. Farewell, darlings, and stay forever hungry.”

The portal closed and the heptagram faded to the sound of smacking lips.

Dag lifted Hesper from the water. She coughed and sputtered.

“I’m alright,” she gasped, as surprised as the others, “I’m alright. Did some…magic.”

The trio stood quiet for a moment, catching what breath they could. Part of the east wall collapsed behind them.

Dag shrugged off his vest and handed it to Roxie. She gratefully draped it over her naked chest and smiled; it was the only thing she’d worn in the past day that hadn’t been too small for her. Hesper shifted the waistband of her skirt and retied the knot in her bandana.

“Is that the bandana they gagged me with?” asked the deputy.

“You kept that?” scoffed Dag.

Hesper nodded. “It’s more of a bandage than a bandana at this point. But, yeah…I reckon have to keep it on.”

Roxie tipped her cap. “Hesper, I’m sorry I doubted you. This was…it…are all your cases this…interesting?”

“Uh, no,” she laughed. “And certainly not this fattening. Usually I track lost wedding rings or talk idiot teenagers out of cursing their classmates. Sometimes I get to hunt snipes. But this one…this one takes the cake.” She stared off into the distance. “Cake sounds pretty good right about now, actually.”

Dag smiled. Roxie nodded absently.

Hesper clapped her hands. “What happened to the other priestess? The librarian-looking one? Didn’t see her at the pulpit.”

“I left her in the office,” Roxie recalled. “Thanks for the insurance, by the way.”

“That how you got out? Glad it went to good use.” She waded off toward the office. “Pretty good flavor, right?”

Roxie watched Hesper’s backside wobble up the steps. “I see you’ve lost your fear of sugar.”

Hesper smirked. “Reckon I developed a taste for it.”

Ms. Nott blinked and stared around groggily. She was handcuffed to a desk, looking at a bloodstained truck-driver, a plump, half-naked county cop, and a fat-bottomed, tattooed witch in black leather.

“Is that my old school skirt?” she asked Hesper, cocking an eyebrow. “Wait…what’s happened out there?”

Hesper sucked her teeth. “Leila got to meet Ilta after all. Just…not on her terms.”

Ms. Nott bowed her head. “It’s over, then.”

“Yup,” said Roxie.

“You should know—all those women out there, they really had no idea. Leila was in their heads…they really believed they were at a church potluck. They probably feel like they’re waking up from the weirdest dream…”

“And probably wondering why they’re a hundred pounds heavier.” Hesper eyed her. “You’re not claiming the same thing? Would be a pretty convenient way out of trouble.”

She arched her eyebrows. “Can’t hide what I did. What I helped her do.”

“So you were her apprentice?”

“She promised to grant me some of her new power.”

“Sure she did.” Hesper grimaced. “I’ll have to report this to the Council. She tell y’all about the council?”

She nodded.

“Then you know what’s coming. But tell you what…you help us clean up some of this mess—and, more importantly, help us keep this shit quiet—I’ll make sure the Council hears about your cooperation.”

Ms. Nott took a deep breath, staring at Hesper’s neck. “I understand. Thank you. And I’m so sorry.”

Hesper paced around, tapping her chins. “No reason to do anyone more harm.”

“So what happens now?” asked Roxie. “Can we get out of here? Can I call in some response teams?”

“Good question,” said Hesper. She turned back to the prisoner. “You helped with the enchantments. What’s the half-life?”

Ms. Nott twisted her face, thinking. “The barrier spell will begin to fade with the next dawn. Storm will dissipate tomorrow at first light. Phones and radio should work again by, uh, noon. The adipimancy will linger…a little longer.”

“So we hang out here one more night,” Hesper concluded, looking at the others. “Maybe even get some real sleep—I reckon we’ve earned it. Then tomorrow, Roxie, you radio in and we’ll chalk this all up to the storm.”

Roxie looked out at the ruined sanctuary. “They gonna believe that?”

“Might take a few minor glamors…we’ll just have to get creative.”

“And the adipi…the fattening spell, or whatever it was? She said it’ll take longer?”

Hesper shrugged. “So folks’ll get a little more out of their breakfast for a few days. Nothing sinister there.”

Roxie narrowed her eyes. “And the fact that the town’s entire female population has doubled their weight in twenty-four hours?” She waved a hand at her midsection. “How am I supposed to go back to the station like this?”

“…so maybe some major glamors, too. Like I said, we’ll have to get creative.”

They looked at each other for a moment, eyes relieved but weary. Floodwater lapped at their feet.

“That hotel bed does sound pretty good right now,” Dag mused, yawning.

“So does that cake you mentioned,” added Roxie. Her stomach growled—it hadn’t been fed in over half an hour.

Hesper laughed at it. Her own gut whined in response. “Not sure if there’s anything left in this town to eat.”

“Roxie did just bake the rest of my pizzas,” said Dag, looking out at the flaming wreckage of his truck.

“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” Roxie murmured. “How about a drink? Hesper, you got any of that bourbon left?” She pulled off her hat and sighed. “After all…this…I could use a stiff one.”

Hesper nodded, lips broadening into a smile. An image of the unopened bottles in her glove compartment jumped into her mind. “Yeah. Or three.”


Well-Known Member
Feb 5, 2013
Chapter 30

The streets continued to run with torrents of water, like so many criss-crossing canals. The flood had slowly begun to recede, but many of the houses in the lower town were still islands. Streetlights flickered and above them a handful of stars peered down as the stormclouds finally began to move on.

A middle-aged couple sat on their porch-swing, watching the water drain from their front yard. The swing listed awkwardly to one side, for the wife now outweighed her husband by a good hundred and fifty pounds. Owning nothing that fit her newly enormous figure, she was wrapped in an old bathrobe.

The robe did nothing to conceal her overflowing midsection, however, which creased into two thick rolls atop her lap. She hefted her belly up and watched it flop heavily back down. She took a long, shaky breath and gave her husband an exasperated, anxious look.

But the man laid his hand on her paunch and returned the look with a reassuring gaze. He shrugged, mouthed something with a smile, and gave her a kiss.

She nodded and bit her lip as he sat back. He raised an eyebrow. She gave her belly a more playful slap and giggled as it bounced, then leaned in to ask him something.

The man’s eyes widened. His smile broadened and after a few moments or realization he shot up and hurried inside. As the kitchen window lit up behind her, the woman leaned back, hands folded over her gut, and licked her lips.

Thunder rolled overhead, muffled and more distant now.

Lilith looked down at Renaeville from her attic window and popped a French fry into her mouth. From the Nott’s hillside home she could see the old motel: a police cruiser and an old cargo van were the only cars in the parking lot and only one second-floor window was aglow.

She turned back from her window and lit a pair of candles. She set them on either side of a long mirror and bowed.

The candles were snuffed out and the attic was plunged into darkness. A pair of orange eyes glowed in the mirror, illuminating the silhouette of a voluptuous woman.

“I thank you for your assistance, Lilith,” purred Ilta, stepping out from the mirror. “You have without question earned your reward.”

Lilith remained in her bow. “You honor me, mistress. My role in your grand scheme was minor at best.”

“But not without significance, darling. Rise.”

Lilith straightened. Ilta sashayed around her, draping a hand over her shoulder.

“Thanks to your very timely and very discreet interventions,” the demon continued, “we were able to turn the machinations of our rival to our ultimate benefit. The artifact has been returned to my possession. The schemes of this mortal Leila have been thwarted and the uncommon quantities of quintessence she amassed were…delectable indeed. The breach is healed and the vanguard of corruption made for a satisfying dessert. Though with their numbers thinned, we may see more crossover between worlds in the coming years…” She walked to the window and peered down at the motel. “Most significantly, I have gained a most intriguing and promising new ally. And you know, darling, how I do adore gaining.”

“Hesper Ashling? I would hardly call her a promising ally, mistress.”

Ilta pouted at her. “You are not impressed with our adorable occult detective?”

“For a detective, she isn’t very perceptive. She was with me for hours and never seemed to suspect my true allegiance. She never bothered to check for any.”

“Yes, I recognize that she’s rather narrow in her focus. Hence the corner-cutting and the spell-thieving. But it’s why I have taken such interest in her: her appetite. It’s an appetite that drives her beyond constraints and it’s an appetite she seems not to have realized she has.”

“But she’s no devotee of yours. She’s a lapdog for the Council. An ally who isn’t loyal to you is hardly an ally, mistress.”

“On the contrary, dear Lilith, think how strongly she will work for me if she but believes she is working against me.”

Lilith smiled and shook her head. “I think you’re growing soft.”

“That would hardly be new territory for me, darling.” The demon glanced around the attic. A pile of fast food cartons and bags had been hastily shoved into the trash can. She sauntered over and patted Lilith’s stomach, which had begun to pooch a little. “Ah, I knew you’d give in. And so will Hesper—she’s tasted true power and she’ll want more.”

“But that’s just it!” Hesper tittered. She gesticulated wildly with her bottle, knocking a plate off the dresser. “Ilta got her artifact back, sure, but I still have the power. I kept it, hee hee. Sucked it all…sucked it all up into my little ring here.”

She held up her hand for the others to see. The cheap plastic ring glinted in the light of the hotel room. Its little toy gemstone had turned a faint orange.

“Finally, after ten freaking years…” She took a drunken step back and paused for a hiccup. “…I finally got that damn spell to work. Same stealing spell that gets me kicked out of the academy now saves the—hic!—saves the whole damn world!”

Hesper threw up her hands in triumph. She staggered and fell back against the wall, but managed to keep any bourbon from spilling.

“But thank makes you a…thief!” said Roxie, a little too loudly. She was lounging on the bed with the second bottle perched on her stomach, steadied by a pudgy hand. “What if I arr…arrest you for ssstealing?”

“I’ll just tell the chief how you were drunk on duty,” Hesper teased. Her belly lurched with another wet hiccup.

Roxie belched. “I’ve had like…one drink,” she slurred, lifting the bottle for a swig.

“One bottle,” said Dag, who’d had none. It wasn’t for lack of trying—the girls had simply proven too voracious.

He sat down on the bed next to Roxie with a plate of pizza and set an empty glass on the nightstand. Roxie snuggled up against him, ducking her head under his arm, and stole the plate off his lap. He shook his head as she chomped into a fresh slice.

Hesper staggered over to the bed. “Roxie, Dag, I just…hulp! I wanna say what great partners we were tonight…today…whatever.” She took a pull from the bottle.

“Hear, hear,” replied Dag. He grabbed his glass and tilted it at Roxie, glancing at her bottle.

She smiled, filled the glass, and drank it down herself. Dag sighed.

“No, seriously,” Hesper continued, crawling onto the bed and standing unsteadily over them, “y’all are the…greatest. Your good hearts…you—hic!—you make me, like, a better person.” She put a hand to her gut and belched. “I feel like I’m a bigger woman than I was when I got here, you know what I mean?”

They stared at her, then burst out laughing. “Trussst me, I know what you mean,” Roxie teased, shaking her own fat stomach.

Hesper swayed and fell sideways onto the bed. She slid back to lounge under Dag’s other arm and tossed her voluminous hair back. “I was being meta—hic!—metaphorical.”

“An’ I was being face…facie…faaaa…” Roxie frowned.

“Facetious?” offered Dag.

She nodded and swallowed the last of the pizza. “That. Yeah. Shit…I haven’t been this drunk since…pff. Fuck it. Maybe if I get drunk enough, I’ll forget alla crazy shit that just…happened today. Urrp.”

“Everything?” gasped Hesper, leering at her across Dag’s chest. “Y’all don’t wanna forget me, do you?”

Roxie held up a hand, trying to order her thoughts. “Nonono. Jusht the…scary stuff. Not you. You’re…you’re bootiful.”

Hesper beamed. “Thank you kindly. Now, if I remem—hic!—remember correctly, somebody promised me a kiss if we…if we survived today.”

Roxie set her bottle down. “Oh! I think somebody promised you that, yeah.” She giggled. “An’ I’m an occifer…offficer who always keeps…her word.”

She twisted around and stretched herself over Dag, her belly smothering his. Hesper leaned to meet her halfway, her skirt falling open over one side of her butt. Their lips met in a long kiss that grew more and more aggressive until Dag looked at the ceiling and cleared his throat.

Hesper pulled back, but not before tugging at Roxie’s bottom lip with one last bite.

“Wow,” breathed Roxie. Hesper raised her brow, but the seductive look was interrupted by another hiccup.

“Get a room,” Dag chuckled, reaching for Roxie’s bottle.

She snatched it from his hand. “We already got one,” she lilted, taking a swig, “an’ it looksss like you’re in here with us.”

Hesper craned her head up and kissed him on the cheek. He turned in surprise and she locked her lips with his, grabbing his hand and pressing it against her gut. She hiccupped mid-kiss and pulled away in a fit of giggles.

Roxie pulled his head around and went in for a deep, passionate kiss herself, venturing her hand between the buttons of his shirt. She rolled over and straddled his lap, her uncovered girth spilling everywhere. The vest he’d loaned her slid right off.

Hesper braced herself and stood up on the bed behind her. Swaying, she tilted her head back and drained what remained of the bottle. As she gulped, her free hand unfastened her jury-rigged skirt and flipped it away.

Dropping the empty bottle, she belched and knelt down to wrap her hands around Roxie’s plush midsection, kneading her lovehandles and cradling her belly. Dag reached out and grabbed a handful of Hesper’s wobbling derriere. Roxie leaned her head back against Hesper’s shoulder, losing herself in the conjuror’s endless, untamed strawberry curls.

Hesper nibbled on her ear. “So you never gave me an answer…you want your glamor to make everybody think you—hic!—you’ve always been this big, or should…should I read up on some rapid weight loss spells?”

Roxie rubbed her hands over her stomach. “You know, I…” she closed her eyes, drifting away into bliss. “I’m thinkin’ about keeping this. It…feels really good.” She stifled a belch. “How ‘bout you?”

“Me?” Hesper purred. “I’m still—hilp!—I’m still hungry.”

She dove forward, tackling the other two down onto the mattress. The bedframe creaked, groaned, and cracked. By morning it had been broken beyond repair.


Well-Known Member
Feb 5, 2013
Renaeville, IN—New details on flooding in the southern part of our state last weekend paint a frightening but inspiring picture.

Lavern County, along the Ohio River, received the brunt of the storm, with areas of Renaeville submerged under three to four feet of water as a local creek spilled over its banks.

Matters were made worse when the rushing floodwaters carried a parked semi-truck into the side of the Renaeville Chapel, endangering those who had taken shelter within the building. Local store clerk and community activist Leila Jones, 22, was reportedly washed away during the ensuing panic. She has been declared missing and is presumed deceased.

Many other lives were saved, however, by the efforts of Deputy Roxanne Page of the Lavern County Police. Deputy Page helped the congregation to safety and restored order until additional emergency services could arrive. As electrical interference from what is already being called “the storm of the century” had shut down all lines of communication, it wasn’t until the following afternoon that crews were able to reach the town.

“Roxie was a big hero down there,” said Police Chief Bailey. “She had a lot on her plate, dealing with a situation like that. But she’s always had an appetite for doing the right thing.”

When asked about her heroics, Deputy Page commented, “It felt at first like I’d bitten off more than I could chew…but I just followed my gut, you know?”

With the storm behind them, Renaeville residents have begun the long and bittersweet process of rebuilding. And Deputy Page has already been on hand to help.

“We can’t thank Roxie enough,” said one local. “First chance we get, the wife and I want to cook her a big dinner.” Overhearing our interview, his neighbor shouts, “Get in line!”

With so many thankful residents in her debt, it looks like Deputy Page can expect plenty of dinners in her future.

Council Emissary:

Miss Ashling,

We have received your report on the Renaeville case and wish to extend our gratitude and congratulations. Clearly you were able to diagnose the nature of the cult’s activities and address both the infractions and those responsible. It is our opinion that you have acted with honor and valor, representing the interests of this council and the laws of magic in a commendable manner. We salute you and, in light of your deeds, will be reviewing the transgressions which have heretofore blemished your record.

We acknowledge your request and hereby grant you leave to remain in the Ohio Valley Region until such time as you deem the cult and its influence satisfactorily expunged. We advise you to continue to liaise with your contact in local law enforcement. We will likewise keep you apprised of any future cases which may arise in the area.

We would ask, though, for some clarification in the matter of the ‘artifact’ your report mentioned. We find it surprising, improbable, and certainly concerning that its whereabouts should remain unknown. Please update us at your earliest convenience; we should be happy to commission a dousing crew.

We wish you luck with your investigations. With gratitude,

The Council of Magic
In session,
Regina, Saskatchewan

From: Amluth Frozen Foods fulfillment and logistics division
To: Dag Hemera
Subj: re: Incident report




Well-Known Member
Feb 5, 2013

Rain trickled down the windows of the all-night diner. Outside, a pair of headlights turned onto the old highway and swept away into the night. The diner’s lone customer craned her neck, squinting at the lights.

Turning back to her coffee mug, she shifted in her seat and tugged at her belt with a wincing grunt. Her gun holster was digging into the thick roll of flab around her midsection.

“Everything alright, deputy?” asked the old woman behind the counter.

“All good,” the young police officer replied, smiling. “Just breaking in the new uniform. Went up a size recently.”

“And up a rank soon, I hear. Congrats, hon. And I’d say you’d earned a little indulgence, so don’t fret your waistline.”

“It’s the last thing on my mind. And thanks.”

The server clucked approvingly. “You do great work out there. But they’ve still got you on the graveyard shift, those tyrants.”

The deputy sipped at her coffee. “Eh, I don’t mind it so much anymore.”

“Well, I for one don’t mind some company here in the witching hour.” The old woman folded her arms across her apron. “You want a couple doughnuts for the road? Best in the state.”

Roxie looked down at the bakery case and took a deep breath. “I’ll need more than a couple. They all look amazing…maybe a dozen?” She grinned up at the server, mouth watering. “Definitely need another slice of pie, too.”

The drizzle had grown to a full-on shower by the time the deputy waddled out of the diner, pastry box in hand. She tugged on her wide brimmed hat with a belch and played a little more with her uniform top—the grey-brown fabric refused to cooperate with the pot belly she’d developed. It was a new uniform, supposedly capable of containing the obese body she’d brought back from her night in Renaeville, but she’d only continued to grow since then. Another half a year sitting idle in a patrol car had been very kind indeed to her now nearly four hundred pound figure.

Half an hour later, she was sitting idle in her patrol car once again, staring through the rain at a roadside billboard. It showed the skyline of the big city, full of light and activity. A couple of tourists were superimposed over one side, laughing and enjoying the magic of cosmopolitan nightlife. They looked trapped, though, confined within the frame of the billboard and the grid of the city. Behind the billboard there was nothing but farmland, highway, and absolute freedom.

Roxie reached up to adjust her mirror. It was a real stretch, as her massive, bulbous belly tended to bunch up against the steering wheel. She often had to peer over her bosom to see the dashboard. Her lovehandles spilled out over the emergency brake and she’d had to extend her seatbelt.

Her gut seemed more swollen every night she came back here. She took a long pull from her two liter bottle of pop and wished she’d had more of the pie. The last two doughnuts called out to her from the box in the passenger seat, though, and she licked her lips.

Across the county, a parcel of bar patrons laughed at their bartender’s joke. They slapped their knees and tipped their trucker hats to him. Most of the remaining customers had gathered around him at the bar; it seemed they’d rather be there than anywhere near the strange woman who sat at the corner table.

She was a short, round, bottom-heavy woman, indulgently beautiful. She wore a contented, contemplative expression on her face and a bright orange bandana around her neck. Her flabby hips were wide enough to curl over the sides of the chair and her plump rear peeked half-out of her skirt, showing off the tail of an intricate lace thong. An inadequate bustier showed off a very large chest and an even larger midriff; looking closely, one could see the tail of a snake tattoo all but swallowed by her squished-up belly.

Heavy eyeshadow, black lipstick, and black fingernails hadn’t made her any more inviting in a bar full of good old boys, but she’d made a good friend of the waitress. She’d finished off two full entrees from the kitchen and an entire pitcher of beer, but showed no signs of having done so outside of some rosiness to her cheeks and the occasional stifled burp.

The patrons eventually elected to ignore her, not totally convinced she wouldn’t eat them. A little after midnight she took a call on her cell phone, nodded eagerly, and got up to waddle out the door.

They watched her go, paying rapt attention to how the bottom of her butt sagged out of the short leather skirt. Rolls of backfat bounced over the skirt’s overworked waistband.

She giggled into the phone as she squeezed through the door. “That you at the end of the lot? Hey, I like the new truck!”

She disappeared into the passenger seat of a shiny new frozen-foods truck, though not without some help from the burly man inside. The barflies shook their heads, whistled, and turned back to their beers.

Roxie’s radio crackled. The screen showed her personal frequency. She set down the now empty pop bottle and picked up the receiver. “Urrp.”

“Heya, very nice,” Dag’s voice buzzed. “Your favorite trucker here calling, en route to Renaeville. Figured I’d stop in at Bill’s Fuel Stop while I wait.”

Roxie lurched with a hiccup. “You won’t have to wait too long. My shift’ll be done in a bit.”

“Good to hear. And you’ll want to hurry, ‘cause I just picked up Hesper and she’s already got a head start on you.”

“Roxie!” sang Hesper’s voice in the background. “Don’t keep me waiting, now.”

Roxie smiled and folded her arms across her belly. “Wouldn’t dream of it. What’s this I hear about you getting started without me?”

“It’s a long way up here from where I had my last case, like...ugh, Dag, just give me the thing—” There was a scuffle, then her voice became much closer. “Reckoned I could rest a few minutes at my usual pit-stop.”

Dag cleared his throat. “It’s my fault, really. I offered to give her a ride.”

“Yeah. So then, since I wasn’t gonna have to drive, I stopped in at the bar while I waited. Had some beer.” She giggled. “And it turned out the bar had a kitchen. So…yeah. I have a head start, hee hee.”

“Some beer?” Roxie echoed. “How much is ‘some’?”

“Uh, a pitcher. Hee. Look, we all know I’m impulsive. And you can quit bellyaching about being behind—I hear y’all smacking your lips over there.”

Roxie froze mid-cruller. “It was only a box of doughnuts.” She opted to leave out the extensive list of offerings she’d enjoyed at the diner.

“Now don’t get mad at each other for eating,” Dag chuckled. “It’s not like you’re gonna spoil your appetites.”

“As if I mind being spoiled,” Roxie mused. “And as for my appetite—”

A car blew past her, roaring through the rain. Roxie nearly choked on the last bite of cruller, but managed to swallow it down.

“I’ll call you back in a few minutes, guys. Got an idiot out here.” She wiped crumbs from her bosom and flicked on her siren.

“Don’t take too long,” Hesper’s voice chimed. “I might not leave you any dessert.”

Roxie gunned the engine. Her cruiser lurched back onto the highway, listing noticeably to the driver’s side. Her flashing lights danced over the billboard and then over the cornfields beyond as she raced into the night.

Knuckles white on the wheels, windshield wipers swinging frantically against the downpour, she caught up with the speeding car in under a minute. As she approached, rather than slowing and pulling off, the car bounced with a hurried gear shift and accelerated.

“Please don’t,” Roxie sighed. “I have delicious food and sexy friends waiting for me. I’m not in the mood for your shit.”

She chased the car a few more miles down the highway, blaring her siren and every noise the patrol car could make.

Suddenly the fugitive car spun out on the rain-slicked road. Roxie braked, swung past it, and trundled into the emergency lane.

Checking her mirror, she saw that the speeder had spun its way off the highway and into the grassy median a few hundred feet behind her. It was still right side up and hadn’t hit anything, but had finally skidded to a stop.

Roxie reached under her gut to undo the seatbelt. She kicked open her door, tugged on her wide-brimmed hat, and stepped out into the rain.

She paused, sighed, and reached back into the car for the last doughnut.

Steam rose from the tires of the other car. The left turn signal blinked uselessly.

Roxie swallowed the last bite of her doughnut as she reached the car and leaned against its trunk for a moment—the walk wasn’t a long one, but it was enough to leave her four hundred pound body somewhat winded. Licking her lips, she waddled up to the driver’s window.

It rolled down. The driver was a young man, haggard and sallow. A beautiful woman sat at his side, looking equally shaken.

The veteran patrol officers often recommended wearing sunglasses at traffic stops to intimidate wrongdoers. Roxie had developed a new method: she simply filled the open window with her massive midsection and forced wrongdoers to reckon with it.

“You want to explain that stunt?” she asked, trying not to sound too out of breath.

The young man craned his neck, trying to peer past her paunch. “We’re in trouble.”

Roxie stifled a belch. “You got that right.”

“No, not…you don’t…” He stammered, wringing his hands.

The woman leaned over. “We had to get away, officer. As far away as possible, as fast as possible. There are…monsters coming for us.”

“Monsters,” Roxie echoed.

“For real,” said the man. “We’re not on drugs. Nothing. They were in our house.”

“Okay, then. What kind of monsters?”

The woman shook her head. “Like…my ex-boyfriend got into some weird cult shit lately. I didn’t think any of it was serious, much less real…”

Roxie bent over to stick her head in the window. “What kind of monsters?”

“Food. They were made of food. The pantry opened up and a big hulking dude walked out, made of food. Then the fridge…and the basement freezer…”

“Please, officer, you have to believe us. I know it sounds—”

“Stay here,” Roxie snapped. “You’re damned lucky I’m the one who pulled you over.” She stepped back, adjusted her cap, and began the long waddle back to her cruiser.

She squeezed back into her seat and grabbed the radio.

“Hesper, you still there?”

“Still here and still hungry,” chirped the radio.

Roxie sighed. “Good. Because I think I just pulled over your next case.”


Well-Known Member
Dec 21, 2007
Roxie sighed. “Good. Because I think I just pulled over your next case.”
Hoorah! Excellent work!! Please tell me there won't be another story with these guys...I can only imagine how they'd have to solve crimes at a barely-if-mobile size. Holy crap!

This was great, and thank you. :)

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