BBW The Chocolate Princess

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Jul 14, 2013
The Chocolate Princess
by tomboy27​

Chapter 1

Addiction - Noun - The fact or condition of being addicted to a particular substance or activity.

It was funny to me that word; Addiction. So many seemed to be brought down by the concept an imagined illness that would force people to chain their lives to something. To me it just felt like a fictional dogma, a term created to describe a persons descent into excuse making and a failure by people to take responsibility for their lives. It's funny looking back at how how much I looked down upon those suffering such imagined slights. But how I would come to change my mind on such a stance, now that's a story fit for royalty indeed.

My name Alexa Beatitude and for twenty four years I lived a life of pure luxury. As the daughter of Raymond Beatitude, one of the richest Cruiseline owners in the world I was used to getting what I wanted. Growing up I was the eye of attention, the most beautiful young woman that could possibly be found in private education. I dominated dance, equestrian and Gymnastic sports while at high school. Was the envy of every young woman my age and had the perfect feminine physique that even Venus the Goddess of love rather possess.

I was the perfect young woman, my skin tone of half Latin descent from my mother and my hair as golden as a Nordic queen, inherited from my father. My washboard abs, toned legs and appropriately rounded breasts we're enough to drive any man insane. Of course there was the minor setback of my height, at only 5 foot 5 I could have done with a few added inches to emphasise my perfection but when you'd won the genetics draw as much as I had I still wasn't complaining.

And I owed it all to one thing - discipline. Always would I spend a monotonous array of hours each week planning out my diet, putting in copious time periods in the gym to craft my beautiful 117 lbs body and studying the world of fashion to such an extent that I could never leave the house without looking like a million dollars.

It was in my blood of course. My parents both natural winners. The only time my mother had ever looked like she'd eaten a proper meal was when she was pregnant with me, and even then it struggled to be noticeable. I'd never known the woman to gain a pound through her life, she'd have taken it as a personal insult if she ever did. Naturally her personality rubbed off on me to say the least. Of course she was always ever the gold digger, the crown jewel in her achievements being snagging my father and living a life of total luxury and bliss.

My father bought in the dough, she would in turn spend it on the most expensive luxuries. My father was the ultimate example of how a disciplined life would bring success. Starting out life as a dirt poor Scandinavian boy he fought and clawed for every penny he earned. Relentlessly hounding his business rivals and stabbing people in the back to become a proverbial King, dominating the business world to match my mothers queen sized ego. So there we were, the King and Queen and I was their little princess in the middle, to be waited on tentatively hand and foot.

That was my life, the "IT" girl, too good for everyone and everything. A belief that made me narcissistic allowing me to only see the flaws in others when they were held next to my perfection. My "friends", if you want to call them that were completely exposable, a series of kiss asses that meant nothing and could be tossed away like the high heels I constantly would wear to death and break to conceal the one inadequacy of my body. Relationships were equally superficial and meaningless, men were just trophies I would allow to cling onto my arm in order to show my superiority over other women. Occasionally I would take pleasure in breaking their hearts but mostly they resonated no fathom of emotion in my soul and nor did I have any interest in allowing them too. Though I would never have realised it the time, and if I had I'd have been far too prideful to admit such a shortcoming, it was perfectly clear that there was something missing for me to discover the woman I truly was.

As I sunbathed on the deck of daddy's most profitable cruise liner (a pastime were I spent much of my time) the most off of daydreams fluttered into my head. I contemplated were all of this was going. Were I would I be down the years, successful and rich no doubt, but that would be a given considering the circumstances. I then reassured myself that it wasn't particularly relevant as of now, my snobbish personality taking over once more as my disciplined lifestyle and clear superiority would lead me self fulfilment in ways others could only dream off - but then it happened.

It happened as I lay soaking in the sun minding my own business, when she finally arrived. Lydia, a working class girl who'd had to save all year to afford the trip oddly came to my attention as I sun-lounged that morning.

For some odd reason I felt compelled by her attempts to befriend me to play along. I have no doubt now that she had no doubt summarised who I was and was merely playing the act of a suck up to ease free stuff out of me but that day perhaps compelled by the odd Cocktail I had sipped, I was willing to befriend the rather innocent looking petit girl, even exchanging phone numbers with her.

That day (though stretching all the way to the next) I oddly gave into my inhibitions and journeyed into the land of drunkenness with Lydia, putting a real dent in the drinks cabinet of the cruise liner.

Fed up of drunken men leering at us, we retreated to the safe retreat of my rather lavish room were the drunken frolicking continued. We spent a good hour telling dirty jokes and dancing along to our favourite tracks before things settled down and we both lay tiredly over my bed.

Lydia then withdrew a magazine from her handbag titled "The Chocolate Princess". What an odd title I thought to myself.

Lydia revealed that she was a keen cook and had once worked as a Chocolatier for a Belgian confectionary shop titled "The Cocoa Devil". She told me her hopes and dreams are too one day open a confectionery shop and sell chocolate to the world, a proclamation I immediately rolled my eyes at.

This earned me a disparaging a look from Lydia who began a tirade defending herself claiming Chocolate the worlds favourite delicacy, and that the only people who don't like it have never tried it; a fact that I then admitted too with proud gusto.

Lydia then looked at me as if she had seen a ghost, her lifelong passion was something I had never once experienced.

I then launched my own tirade claiming then I would never succumb to enjoying confectionery in the way that others had. I complimented by toned physique and well disciplined restraint as a wry smile rose over Lydia's face.

Perplexed by her sudden change in demeanour I of course questioned her facial expression. She then uttered the immortal words,

"How do you know you don't like it if you have never tried it".

I noticed my own demeanour changed with the acquisition. Lydia was questioning the very validity of my way of life. She was claiming the only reason I was able to live a life of restraint was because I had never been tempted, that I didn't know what I was avoiding.

I let my ego get the better of me I admit it and I made her a challenge that would have consequences to be sure. I dared her to test my restraint. That I would take my first bite of chocolate.

Lydia's eyes lit up at the request and within seconds she pulled out a large bar of chocolate from her hand bag that she had made herself, wrapped delicately in red wrapping paper, guarded by the most pretty of red ribbons.

I ripped off the rapping paper, enraged at having my life philosophy questioned, snapped one black of the bar off and pushed it gently into my waiting mouth.

I would never have known it at the time, but this was the moment that would change my life forever.

I have to admit from the second I allowed the little delicacy to slither down my throat it felt like I was seeing the world in a whole new light. As its taste lingered in my mouth my eyes widened and it seemed like I was enduring an outer body experience. I imagined myself in a Chocolate Wonderland, a Land were every morsel and facet of the environment was pure chocolate. And I was surrounded by it completely nude.

I imagined myself being fed chocolate trickles from chocolate mermaids beside a chocolate river. Once they were done with the trickles they pulled a large bucket from the river and began allowing me to chug the chocolate contents from the bucket with my own hands.

Who knows as to why I was enduring this peculiar fantasy but I Knew I didn’t want it to stop. As I journeyed through the Land of chocolate enjoying and tasting my environment I soon stumbled upon an enormous Chocolate Palace.

"Welcome back, Your Highness”

My courtiers declared as I strode through a Palace that appeared to be in my possession. Suddenly I realised that Lydia was one of my courtiers.

“I suppose you’ll be enjoying the usual treatment, your Highness”.

Lydia politely chimed curtseying before me. I decided deliriously to play up my regality despite of not knowing what this “Treatment” would entail.

“I Shall, My Dear”.

I proclaimed with a mockish sense of pretention. She grabbed my hand and ran off with me to the private bath chambers, in spite of all that I had consumed there was still a lightness to my stomach that made my consumption all the easier. As bizarre as all this was, it all felt exceedingly natural, beyond the normal mystery of a dream.

We then arrived at a Chamber built from pure golden chocolate. Sitting in the middle of the chamber was an enormous golden both, its contents being filled with warmed hot chocolate. As I stood in awe of the lavish lagoon, Lydia had secretly stripped off all of her cloths and pushed me into the bath while I wasn’t looking.

I opened my mouth as swallowed the chick gooey and exquisite substance, allowing its warm texture to encase my entire body. I partook in guzzling down the chocolate, indulging in my fantasies. Lydia then swam to me beneath the surface and started caressing me delicately, as I willingly obliged and returned the favour.

She stuck her tongue in my mouth, the taste of her chocolate flavoured tongue tingling my senses. Are tongues wrestled for a few minutes before we both relented and seized the opportunity to continue drinking, before Lydia placed her hand in the warm space between my legs.

Wave after wave of joy came over me, Id never felt happier and more fulfilled in my entire life as I moaned in abundant pleasure. I couldn’t believe how I could have gone so long in my life without tasting this little joy, the produce of cocoa beans.

After what seemed like hours of this pure ecstasy I suddenly awoke, back in my room.

“Ummm, Alexa, are you okay” Lydia asked flummoxed by my behaviour.

I was struggling to catch my bearings before I could suddenly mumble a clueless response.

“Ummm, yeah why” I asked unsure attempting to compose myself, still not willing to admit defeat to Lydia’s little game.

‘It’s just you seemed as if you were in some sort of trance for a few seconds is all. I thought there was something wrong with you. I was getting worried”.

She enquired with a look of worry on her face.

“Oh no, I’m Fine…just ummm….was in deep thougt that’s all…yeah deep thought”.

I stumbled over my words trying to not give my defeat away. However a cheeky smile was now smeared across Lydia’s face. Tasting blood, she decided to stick the knife in further.

“You like Chocolate, don’t you Alexa”

Chapter 2

Then, just like that she was gone. I’d spent the night trying to distract myself from my little revelation but had been unable to pry my thoughts away from the etherealness that Lydia had bestowed on me. After Lydia had retreated to the confines of her own cabin, I could find not but a trace of her the morning after.

As I dressed my self in whatever designer wear I could muster from my closet, I noticed Lydia had left something behind. She had left her issue of “The Chocolate Princess” behind and left it sitting temptingly on my bed. Wanting to overt my minds attention I wasted no time in throwing the silly little rag in the trashcan.

As I waltzed over to dispose of the infernal little rag I noticed however a small note fall from the contents of its pages. Surprised by the little message, I quickly realised the mischevious little note was from Lydia and addresses to me. Naturally I was intrigued and so read it with abundance.

“To My Little Princess,

I hope you enjoyed my handiwork last night, I could see from your guilty little face that the brown stuff had more of an effect on you than you cared to admit.

I’m sad to inform you that the cruise liner reached my stop on the Italian coast early this morning, so I must bid you farewell.

However before I do I thought I’d have a little fun with her Royal Highness. Inside this magazine is a list of the finest Chocolatier’s in the world. I surmised that you might enjoy paying these little “Heathens” as you might put it a visit, to I suppose test your restraint against the evils of confectionary, and your burgeoning sweet tooth.

You never know, you might even enjoy it.

Kind Regards,


Naturally I was appalled by Lydia’s belief that she had arrogantly pulled a fast one over my unwavering will power. How deluded could this girl have been, all I had done was temporarily lower my guard and allow myself to be caught out, just once. I’d had enough of her boastful attitude and did what I already had intended to do. I threw her precious “Chocolate Princess” and her note in the trashcan were it belonged, intent on throwing her and her beloved chocolate out of my life forever and returned to the ships deck, committed on putting last nights antic behind me and returning to my usual resplendent self.

I spent that day back in my old ways, not a care in the world upending my thoughts to anything but Lydia and her dreaded chocolate.

However that night while basking in the cosiness of my fireplace lit, lavish cabin, that unholy confectionary induced fantasy began to take hold of me once more.

I savagely dialled room service and practically bellowed at the poor staff to deliver a disgustingly indulgent and grotesquely expensive chocolate cake be delivered to my cabin. Bizarrely my sudden craving had eviscerated my will power, it had strangled my restraint like a Boa Constrictor and rendered me unable to resist my newly discovered weakness.

Upon his arrival I menacingly tore to the inordinately large cake from the room service attendant’s tray much to his awe and bewilderment and slammed the door on the penniless young boy with the force of Frankenstein’s Monster without even considering tipping the hapless young man.

My usual self tried to compose me and restrict my indulgence to a mere few forkfuls, but the new me indecently and piggishly devoured the Chocolate banquet with my bare hands.

I felt repulsed and humiliatingly bloated as my fork finally dropped on the empty plate, the remaining slabs of chocolate smeared across my guilty and traumatised face.

I looked down at my poor bloated tummy, poking out of my designer shirt and moaned a culpable groan. I then added to my sorrow as a thunderous belch escaped my lips for the first time in my life, tears rolling down my face as I did so due to the destruction of my seemingly watertight willpower.

I frighteningly then realised as I massaged my bloated gut, continuing my repulsive belching and undoing the ill-fated button on my jeans that Lydia had opened a Pandora’s Box inside of me. I cried myself to sleep as I realised I had tainted my designer cloths with the guilty chocolate fingerprints of my gluttony and realised that in my almost trance like eating I had withdrawn Lydia’s magazine from the Trashcan and placed the Chocolate Princess proudly on my desk.

The consequences of my burgeoning addiction would not become completely clear for some time yet, but looking back on it this was clearly the point in which I began my ascension to the Throne, of what I was seemingly destined to become,

The Chocolate Princess.


Jul 14, 2013
Chapter 3

As the weeks went by I never quite endured a night similar to that evening I gave into my indulgence. However I had proved unable to quell my new obsession and frequent dabbling in the chocolate arts became the norm. I was proving unable to resist the various Chocolate goodies that seemed to be in far greater supply than I had previously remembered, as they worked their way into my otherwise petite and healthy meals.

Conjuring up the courage I decided for the first time in several weeks to visit the ships Jacuzzi. To my irritancies I found my bathing suit to have gained a newfound snugness, and I detected a hint of developing roundness to my perfect physique.

As I languished in my relaxing bathing experience, my mind began to threat over my incompetence in curbing my chocolate consumption. Nonetheless I found myself ordering a Chocolate milkshake from one of the Cruise attendants.

As my mind boiled warmer than the Jacuzzi I was currently languishing in; A former acquaintance of mine Vanessa decided to grace, or rather curse me with her presence. She slowly and seductively lowered herself next to me in her usual svelte and snake like manner in her black one piece and mockingly cozied up next to me.

“I thought Chocolate consumption was the most unpardonable of all crimes”, Vanessa snobbishly inquired, eyeing the Chocolate milkshake that I was relentlessly slurping down.

Vanessa was I suppose the closest thing I had once had to a friend, though she was an opportunist, who came from an even richer family than me. Vanessa like me was a beautiful woman, though her dark hair and skin of Latin descent were capable of luring men under her grasp even more than my consummate appearance could. We had previously shared similar thoughts on our self-discipline and displayed similar egotistical attitudes. Hence why we had become friends, turned bitter rivals.

“Not much like you though is it, more a pastime of the commoners”, She declared in her usual ostentatious demeanour.

I tried to hide my discomfort at my new Achilles Heel being pressured like this, but Vanessa had the vision of a hawk and I knew she was scouring me as I desperately fraught over weather or not she could notice whatever new poundage had accumulated on my physique from my binging.

I simply gave her a sheepish grin unable to compose myself, sensing she could see my defences crumbling.

“A little birdie told me that her Royal Highness has been picking at the dreaded Chocolate luxuries on-board, naughty, naughty. Still there’s no real shame in it, I mean we don’t all possess the strength of will to reject our desires do we”, She enquired mischievously sticking the knife in were it hurt.

“Ooops look at the time I’ve a workout session in five, so best be off, I’m sure I’ll be seeing more of you soon” She sniggered as she exited the Jacuzzi, ensuring I bore witness to her breath-taking body by hypnotically swaying her hips back and forth as she waltzed away.

I was seething with contempt for that little *****, but worryingly I was seething more with a desire to be given a refill on my Chocolate Milkshake, which I had subconsciously washed down as the encounter had rattled on.

The new me bristled with hatred for the obsessive Vanessa, I pondered why she was such a stuck up ***** who held herself in such boastful regard. While ironically I wasn’t fathoming that a few weeks ago I’d have done the same thing to anyone else. Nevertheless I worried over this new fixation I was developing and found my every thought being slowly consumed by it.

Conversely it was also beginning to integrate itself into my own sick little fantasies.

I found myself each night considering Lydia’s challenge. I considered that perhaps the only way to extinguish these multiplying and intensifying thoughts would indeed be to allow them to unfold. It was simple I would use my tremendous resources to visit each the Chocolatiers listed in Lydia’s magazine and ware out my sweet tooth to the point were I would just become sick to death of this silly little confectionary.

I’d ensure through a rigorous training regime that I avoided adding any unneeded expenditure to my shape. What could possibly go wrong?

Ludicrously I had failed to notice the space between my legs becoming more aroused by the prospect of these trips, and I excruciatingly found myself ordering another Chocolate milkshake to add to my troubles.


Well-Known Member
Jun 26, 2007
Auto correct is terrible sometimes.
This is great writing .But you have "Were" literally Ten times or more when it is obvious you meant "Where".
This is unusual on Dimensions.


Jul 14, 2013
Chapter 4

Using a coordinated plan designed by the cruise liners destination locations, I began to plan out my trip. The first of my stops proved close to home, at the Allurement Chocolate Makers Incorporation in California. It proved to be little more than an enormous factory with bountiful shopping and eating areas serving nothing more than the factory’s own produce.

I glided into the factory that day as part of a tour with a dozen other visitors; though of course due to my pompous nature I came dressed as if I were an A list star wearing the latest designer wear, which to my monumental dissatisfaction were becoming increasingly snug as my chocolate craze continued to persist.

Much to my contempt, my attempts to curtail this consumption and planning out this journey had eroded both my time and will power to even plan out a workout regime. As I even thought about leaping back into the gym and reigniting my burning passion for fitness, that dreaded brown demon would intervene and litter my fantasies with tantalizing imagery that would no doubt await me on this trip.

So here I was standing at the back of a line of rather bovine commoners waiting to stuff my face with sugar and fat in a wrapper; how embarrassing. My mind seemed to die as I realized I might never be able to end this obsession and return to my fitness queen like self. A tear began to formulate in my eye as the perfect me seemed to dissolve in my minds eye.

As I endured this harrowing thought, the old me began to raise my confidence. As I stood with the cattle like attendees in the foyer I began to look at the exit.

This was it; this was the moment I sensed my spirit returning, incensed by the dissolvent of my will power, refusing to allow myself to be resigned to a globular future.

I could just leave now with this newfound enthusiasm and return to my old ways and regard this as my ultimate triumph. I would have overcome this burgeoning, rancid desire within me, I would have overcome and refused to succumb to Lydia’s petty challenge and would hold up this day as the most essential victory of my ideology.

I would overcome addiction and prove my superiority to all those others like Lydia and Vanessa who’d doubted me.

However as I began to victoriously march to the exit in my triumphant and empowered condition, the doors to the factory inevitably opened.

As if by the act of a supernatural force my body forebodingly froze once my nose detected a sense of the dreaded force that was beginning to manipulate my entire life.

It was a foreboding and haunting moment, were my body seemed to turn against my mind. I tried to force my legs towards the exit.

Then the damned tour guide bristled in through those wretched doors.

“If you’ll just follow me everyone we can start the tour”

The spotty teenage girl's words seemed to echo through my mind for what felt like hours but were actually mere moments. As the bovine commoners made their way through gullibly I made one last attempt to make for the exit.

Suddenly my legs began to move frantically as I focused my eyes to my harrying feet. I was elated; I had finally conquered this brewing infatuation and was on the road to returning to my old self.

Yet, to my abhorrence I realised as I looked up that my feet were moving in the wrong direction. My extremities seemed to wince as the unwavering metal doors closed behind my assemblage leaving me imprisoned inside the accursed factory with my most formidable of temptations.

I tried protesting, I tried to leave but my lips would not separate and my body stood transfixed as the prosperous demon inside of me made me succumb to the awe of the mouth-watering capacity being sculpted within the factories walls.

I stood in wonderment at the heavy machinery jostling and whistling away as the chocolate was mass-produced with assembly line whimsy. Envied the countless jubilant workers preparing each sample with a magical touch and most importantly hungered for each gram of chocolate being prepared for mass-consumption by the public.

The thoughts of my old self-attempting to recapture some sense of rationality in my mind-set now seemed buried deep within my psyche, as the new me took over the reigns of control once more.

I again became engrossed in another divine fantasy. This time however I took the role of an 18th Century Explorer, perilously slashing my way through a thick, tropical, unexplored land. Cutting my way through an abundance of thick vines in desperate search for something hidden within the mystical jungle.

My adventure was proving to be deeply exciting, but the true cause for exploration seemed to be a desperate attempt to satisfy my ravenous and unending hunger.

My trek soon led me to a hidden human civilisation, seemingly untouched by the developed world. As I positioned myself in astonishment at my new discovery villagers outpouring from their huts and tree houses soon greeted me. Armed with sharp spears, and covered by mere loincloth, while coated in ceremonial paint.

While I initially experienced great fear at the villagers and their seeming blood thirst, my fears were quickly quelled when the warriors dropped to their knees and began worshipping me as some sort of deity. Of course I had no complaints and allowed the adulation to continue in excess.

However there worship seemed to conclude when they attacked me and tied to me to a poll, leading me to a ceremonial alter at the heart of their village. In spite of my rush of fear I noticed ancient paintings displayed across the altar, which had no doubt stood for thousands of years.

On display across the altar was the image of a beautiful nude Goddess entering their village. The Goddess seemed to hold some sort of status over the jungles supply of Cocoa Beans and from what I could make out; her appearance seemed to bring about a prosperous and indulgent Harvest.

I concluded in that moment that the villagers had anointed me this Goddess of the Cocoa Beans and in my flattery and indeed arousal, I decided to play along. I voluntarily after being untied removed my garish clothing and allowed them to bask in amazement at my nudity.

They prepared me a throne, which I took up in tremendous approval and watched as they prepared a decadent and enriching feast from their Cocoa Bean produce.

I sat in an orgasmic state as they poured and painted the running chocolate produce around my naval and breasts and then tilted my head back as they poured a basin of the same produce down my throat, allowing me to loose myself in pure ecstasy.

I soon awoke in a confused and blissful state; looks of repellent disgust and mockery awaited me upon my awakening. As my awareness began to recalibrate I realised I was squeezed compactly into a tight brown booth at the factory’s shop and eating area.

I languished in a state of almost intoxication trying to parse out what had actually happened as I pushed the painfully close table away from my gut that was painfully engorged and in a state of bloated, quezzy discomfort.

I realised I had ostensibly ravaged a tirade of Chocolate goodies from the stacks of plates and wrappers that littered my sitting area. My midsection throbbed in torment from my decadence and a mischievous roll of flesh jutted out from my designer garb that refused to relent until I humiliatingly unhooked the button trying to restrain my snowballing appetite. I then burped in unison to solidify this chronicle of death foretold.

“Well you’ve finally stopped eating your highness” the puckish tour guide chimed as she noticed I had re-joined the Land Of The Living.

To my embarrassment I could only utter, “What happened” in a meek and sheepish voice.

I still remember her mockish tone, as she seemed to chastise me as if a teacher at school.

“You went hog-wild on the tour, almost like you were possessed. We had to restrain you after you told the other guests to bow down to you. Then you retreated to the sanctuary of the shopping area and made up the biggest credit card bill I’ve ever seen here and then you ate more than I’ve ever seen anyone eat here”, she declared, marvelling at my consumption.

I soon retreated back to my car in dire need of make up, in dire need of new cloths and in dire need of a new direction in life as I belched the entire length of the ride back home.


Jul 14, 2013
Chapter 5

So there I was left to wallow in my self-pity as my bellowing appetite refused time and time again to curtail my new fix. I had no other choice but to admit a humiliating defeat. I went months before I could admit to such a failure and spent thousands on psychiatric treatment in a final desperate attempt to foil this flight of imagination, but it all was in vein.

I still remember the embarrassing appointments with psychiatrists in which I was subjected to the Rorschach Ink Test, were I embarrassingly answered that every example shown resembled some form of chocolate product. The psychiatrists weren’t sympathetic to my plight and seemed to think my addiction was some sort of joke and laughed me out of the room upon declaring my addiction.

So there I was finally getting a taste of my own medicine. I’d gone years pressuring and mocking others for their “Imagined Slights”, yet here I was very much a victim, I the same way they were.

It was beginning to show it’s effects on my splendid body too, through my incessant chocolate binging I’d seen my body expand to what I would have once regarded as unforeseeable and grotesque.

I had become so accustomed to humiliation, that I was growing numb to the experience. I dreaded being seen by any former associates and despite my ill-fated attempts to work out as well as somewhat managing to decrease my chocolate consumption at home, except for the odd gluttonous feast on chocolate ice cream – my weight had none the less risen to 142lbs. The new me begrudgingly accepted this, in spite of a lonesome tear spiralling down my face as I stood on the weighing scales and learnt the consequences of my indulgence.

My designer cloths were positively fit to bursting and I wrestled with the idea of finally hammering the final nail into my old self’s belief system and buying larger cloths. I still remember the rather torturous ordeal of having to strain my way into my old pants each morning as they bullyingly constricted my fattening self as I dejectedly pried them over fattening ass and thighs.

I had also taken to avoiding seeing myself in the mirror, convincing myself I would feel nothing but disgust and self-loathing was I to place my eyes on the burgeoning hog I was surely becoming.

Soon fate would however claim me once more as I soon stumbled across the sight of myself naked in the mirror in the back of my closet as I desperately scavenged for fitting cloths among my elaborate collection.

The sight of my swelling physique and plumper features guided me into yet another elaborate fantasy and outer body experience that I was oddly starting to anticipate.

This fantasy proved to share many similarities to the first fantasy I had experienced months prior when Lydia had bestowed that evil little block of chocolate upon me and birthed this obsession within me.

I found myself at the same palace were I had previously visited waltzing my nude self over to that grand golden chocolate bathing chambers. However unlike my prior fantasies this seemed different. As I took each step, salivating as I marched royally across the golden bathing chamber I felt each step becoming heavier and more strained.

To my horror I realised as I stepped towards the chocolate bath my body was expanding with each step I took. The 142lbs of me began expanding at an exponential rate and I was powerless to stop myself continuing my march to luxury as I licked my fattening lips in ravenous, hungry anticipation.

Before I was able to dip my toe into the bubbling chocolate lagoon I must have weighed around 400lbs. My body was encased and imprisoned in gelatinous fat, my body an obese behemoth of a woman, intent only on adding to my girth. Fat jiggled tumultuously around my corpulent form and the whole lagoon seemed to shake in awe as I lowered my globular body into its awaiting beauty and started devouring its excessive contents.

Suddenly I returned to Earth from my foreboding nightmare shuddering at the recollection of what I’d seen. I made myself a promise never to even think about chocolate again but soon my belly began to rumble and the vision must have become suppressed in my memory, for it was yet another night in which I enjoyed the thrill of Ben & Jerry’s chocolate ice cream before bed.

The princess was still yet to begin her ascension to her royal throne and I still needed to find beauty in my growing form. Progress had seemingly been made with my acceptance that I had become lost in my addiction and a way out seemed implausible by this point. I never would have considered it at the time but I realise now there was never any going back from my enduring fantasies but destiny would soon fully encapsulate me and I would find my true self.

The Coronation was due to begin.


Long Time Member
Oct 3, 2005
Thank you for trusting your audience with this detailed and realistic pace. I for one am really enjoying it.


Jul 14, 2013
The last march to the throne came about as if one of my indulgent fantasies became reality. It began with a solemn and introspective moment. I lay stuffed and corpulent from my nightly binging on my bed, a chocolate array displayed across my gluttonous lips, stemming from a box of chocolates which I had shamelessly devoured, leaving one lonesome coconut truffle laying alone in the ravaged box, taunting me with its sweetness.

I pondered intently at the sight at the little treasure as I salivated at the mere thought of cherishing its flavour within my mouth. Within my cocoon of thoughts the last bastion of my old self seemed to die a peaceful death. This relentless force that had consumed me had surely and irreversibly won and I became resigned if not accepting to allowing myself to indulge, to savour in my defeat and slowly accept the blossoming new me. I would indulge and at least adjust what I still delusionally hoped would be a rather insignificant widening in stature. I assured myself that my Chocolate addiction would tame itself in time and fall into a more reasonable, casual enjoyment.

I plopped the last remaining chocolate into my mouth and found the moistness within my mouth was rivalled only by the moistness between my legs. I then decided to celebrate this new birth with a night of hedonistic enjoyment on what I now regarded as my true birthday, following the night of my conception were Lydia seeded her chocolate gift into my stomach.

I slathered a garish amount of chocolate ice cream into a bowl and indulged in the warmth of my Jacuzzi. As I ate, while savouring the odd glass of champagne I mulled over the peculiar fixations I had developed over these recent goings on and recognised how happier I had become in my indulging in comparison to my rigorous more disciplined self.

I thought endlessly over that encounter with Lydia and how that chance moment seemed to have such a profound change on my life. Was I destined to always follow this path, or was it the product of a diseased psyche that was rebelling against my built extreme personality, either way I seemed increasingly resigned and elated to be on this journey. I began considering and questioning my previous life for the first time following what I now realised was my reincarnation. Did people like me intentionally isolate themselves out of a sense of loneliness, or because their hiding something.

As I rose from the Jacuzzi and basked in my new self I considered people like Vanessa and how she in her superior visage might never find peace and self fulfilment the way I was now finding it, truly I was finding merit and appreciation in what Lydia had done to me for the first time. I realised how superficial a woman like Vanessa really was, for she could only aspire to truly do what others considered beautiful and not find what it meant to herself.

I was sick of having to live in Vanessa’s world and was starting to see the goodness of the world Lydia was offering. I didn’t need to do it for a start, financially I was set for life and now I just needed to find what my life would be about.

I considered finally I more quiet and shared life. Perhaps it was time to find a man who loved me to share my life with and perhaps have children with and appreciate simpler things in life. In my whirl of imagination however I had failed to realise that I had moved on from caressing myself lovingly in the bathroom and was now piggishly sat nude in front of an open refrigerator, raiding its stalls for an obscene quantity of chocolate cake. Chocolate dribbles slithering from my baying lips and onto my rumbling, gaseous new potbelly.

My momentary disgust turned to extreme arousal. As I rose to my feet from my animalistic like trance I fell to my back with a gratuitous thud and started to pleasure myself. I rubbed my engorged stomach as I intensely fingered myself to the newfound Joy I was experiencing.

In my seemingly psychotic escapade I found myself getting dressed into what could laughingly be called fitting cloths and arranged for a cab to pick me up and escort me into the folds of L.A’S sleazy night life.

Within what felt like seconds I fond myself downing shots with the best of them at in one of my old nightclub stops. My dress was constricting tight over my form, as if a Boa Constrictor was strangling my very essence but by this point I found myself to drunk, too horny, too euphoric and mostly too stuffed to allow my former self’s perceptions to grasp my enjoyment.

My enjoyment and approval of my new body must have proved contagious as if o queue male admirers wasted no time in buying me drinks and pestering up the arrogance to begin a conversation with me.

As I revelled in my enjoyment and downed what must have been the shot that finally tallied into double digits for the night, Vanessa staggered into the club resembling her usual Greek Goddess like self, accompanied by her baying entourage of admirers and false friends. In her customary hawk like way her eyes seemed to aim themselves upon me and she wasted no time in parading her svelte, gazelle like physique over to me.

“Your Highness”, her slithering voice snickered “I humoured myself for a little in imagining you giving into your true piggy desires, but even I doubted you’d degrade yourself enough to abolishing your perfect body”. She snickered with unearned sense of superiority.

“Oh get lost, you uppity whore, its an upgrade if you haven’t noticed, if you were paying attention you’d notice I in fact have more male subjects than ever before” I lamented pointing to attractive hunks eyeing me across the bar.

“I thought they’d probably had their way with you already” She playfully retorted. She made a gesture to my rather engorged tummy before snidely uttering, “So when are you due?” with a witch like cackle.

I had to admit Vanessa’s game of cat and mouse was beginning to unnerve even my drunken, euphoric self. Had I been sober I’d certainly have backed down and allowed her taunts to compound my misery, but not tonight baby, hell no not tonight.

“The only thing that’s due is this you witch” I grabbed a glass and poured its contents over Vanessa’s head. Vanessa shrieked in hysteria, as her heavy dosage of make up poured blackly over face and what seemed to be her real crows face was revealed. She made a teary and shrieking exit from the club that night and much like the vanquished witch in a fairy tale, I would never see her again.

I on the other hand was left to revel in my victory. I choose to celebrate by allowing the most handsome of knights dwelling in the nightclub that I had rechristened my royal castle to have their way with me.

My knight in shining armour who I would dub Sir Lancelot, proved to be a six foot six, heavily muscular, muzzled ex Marine who took little time caressing me on the club…I mean Castle’s dance floor.

I practically squirmed with excitement as I rubbed my swelling tummy against his chiselled abs. The excitement of the contrast between his rigorous, trained physique and my devilishly let go figure proved to exciting to bear and I gave into my lust.


Jul 14, 2013
Later that evening, my dashing knight whisked me away on the back of a stead (also known as a cab for those without imagination), and back to my lavish palace. He swept me upstairs and prepared to have his way with his freshly padded princess.

The juxtaposition between his well chiselled physique and my expanded anatomy proved more delightful than I had even envisioned within my inner most thoughts when he made his first move in the club. He took use of my soon to blossom love handles and rode me like purebred through midnight.

I returned the favour by lowering myself onto his knighthood, using my enticing new chub to balance myself proudly upon his manhood. I rode him for hours, cherishing my belly and breasts flapping with glee, before I finally relented in exhaustion, I filled myself with a sense of pride for net letting my widened body tire quicker than I would usually be accustomed.

I must have been a vision of a bloated starfish, tummy rising like yeast as I clambered for breath, but Sir Lancelot looked on with only admiration in his eyes.

His lustful gaze filled me with a sense of anticipation once more but my tired physical self failed to react with the same gusto. I found myself improvising; I needed a way to channel his and my intents while resting my beaten physical resolve. It had been mere hours since my ice cream feast and yet I felt a sense of pride to build on my indulgence and revel once more in a chocolate rebirth.

I made small talk with Sir Lancelot over whether he had eaten and when he affirmed my questioning I pottered off to find what I had claimed was “My first snack of the day”. I returned with a tub of Ben & Jerry’s Chocolate Ice Cream, the sole surviving tub left from my earlier feeding frenzy. I playfully kept him at arms length as I rampantly salivated through my latest feast.

Sir Lancelot made no play at first but seemed to grow in curiosity once I returned once more with a chocolate mudslide.

I offered the kind sir a taste but he replied in in Jest, saying,

“Nah, I think I’m good I…”

“More for me then” I boastfully retorted between mouthfuls.

“I don’t know what it is but recently I’ve developed quite the taste for chocolate”.

I uttered while patting my portly paunch. With his eyes I detected a trace of what he might have been thinking in that moment.

“I can see that, sweetheart”, his eyes seemed to say.

“I know they say that chocolate is bad for you but some research says chocolate can increase brain functionality”, I added gesturing to my noggin.

He made an amused face but his eyes remained deviously on me, somewhat transfixed by my otherworldly ravenous display.

As I gorged I continued, albeit sparingly the conversation. I enquired as to his life, his origins, and his wants in life. All while his great blue eyes were incapable of turning away from my hog like consumption. I felt his initial repulsion had turned to an odd fascination, which was now evolving to a deep arousal. I felt renewed connection between us and refuelled from my late night buffet, I felt ready to return to our sexual escapade.

I took my last moment of grazing well and retreated to the warm comfort of my bed and consequently Sir Lancelot’s baying arms. I pounced on him like a lioness and stemmed my chocolate covered tongue down his throat once more. My ballooning belly felt ready to burst in the excitement, but I persevered on with sexual urgency I’d not felt before.

He played his part in the excitement for sure, but I saw him more as a tool to cement my own euphoria. As he was having his way with me my sole attention was given to massaging and caressing the chocolate extravaganza inside me, wistfully turning and rising with every thrust from Sir Lancelot.

I cooed with delight as he joined in with the fun and steadily caressed my middle along with me but I began to fear I would soon burst from my indulgence: and like royalty I ordered him to stop so I could reassess the situation. A feeling of celebration bled through my body and instinct soon took over as I clawed at the bewildered knight as we shared a night of passion neither of us would soon forget.

As the sun rose the next morning Sir Lancelot seemed as if to bow his head as in the presence of royalty as I anointed myself his princess. I told him he had fulfilled his duty, realising the true pleasure of the night had been born from my love of myself rather than anything he had done. My true love was the chocolate that had awoken a purpose in me like no other.

Sir Lancelot would ride off into the sunset that evening but without the princess who had so beautifully stolen his heart. It seemed her love was destined to be in the hands of another.

Boy was I in love or what. Such a shame my newfound lover was so…well…FATTENING!

Oh well, guess you cant choose who you fall in love with and this love affair was only just getting started…as was likely my weight gain a fact I learned when I eviscerated my pants that morning.


Jul 14, 2013
I woke the next morning dealing the ramifications of my in-elegance. My tattered jeans seemed to die in vain at my exuberate attempt at fastening them over my expanded waist. My newly enthused potbelly jutted ominously as I pondered into the mirror that morning, as if to make a gleeful attempt at revelling in my gluttony. My breasts, always a keen asset of mine seemed to be loosing a perilous fight with gravity beginning to sag above my robust stomach and I speculated a budding roll would soon encompass my navel.

My belly languished in its newfound girth, when moths ago I had been the proud owner of washboard abs. Where had those abs gone? I toyed with a good inch or two of fab and marvelled both in mischief and fear at my unprecedented growth. I looked as if I was months into maternity and dwelled upon the scale I had forsaken month’s prior.

I let out a concerned breath as I stepped upon the accursed scale and tilted my head down after emitting a concerned sigh to see on display the residual affects my lover had had on me. “163 POUNDS!!!”. The condemnation emblazoned itself in my mind. That may well have been ten pounds from the previous day.

Much like the sacred night with Lydia months prior, I had let go entirely of my inhibitions. In that time I had managed to neglect and at times even embrace gaining forty ponds of excess. The growth seemed excessive for a woman who in the past would not be caught dead over 130lbs. Much of the newly accumulated mass seemed to generate upon my meaty belly and served to pad out my rounded booty.

As I gazed into my fattened reflection stifling a belch, my words to Lydia seemed to echo in my mind. How I had claimed I would never succumb to enjoying confectionary in the ways that other had and yet here I was fattening myself like a pig over the stuff.

The public had seen me like that last night and Sir Lancelot had seemed not undeterred but intrigued by the new me. I placed a hand over my rumbling stomach and contemplated the future. Continuous growth still seemed daunting and rather alien to me considering my past.

The Chocolate Princess magazine I had obtained months ago on that faithful night was now stood proudly upon my dressing table as I had been unable to convince myself to throw it away but considering its effects from that night, I had yet to ponder a look inside its contents again out of a sense of fear.

I remembered an earlier vow I had made to visit the locations documented in the magazine as a wow of understanding or perhaps subduing my new chocolaty fascination.

“The Cocoa Devil”; the name of the confectionary shop in Belgium that Lydia had spoken of that night. An appropriate name considering the temptations I had given into upon tasting my first divine experience of chocolate.

I read up on the charming little deli once I had summoned the strength of character to open the hallowed magazine once more. This was were Lydia had worked and presumably fell in love with chocolate and my psyche felt a longing to forebear the hallowed ground as the ultimate.

Perhaps if I visited there I would find the ultimate. I was attributing my obsession as a spiritual force and felt this little despot was calling to me from afar. There seemed to be poignancy to it all. Either my addiction would die there or be reborn and take on a new life.

I came to the conclusion that I would visit the Cocoa Devil and learn and indulge in what Lydia saw there, for it was destiny… Of course I would go after breakfast I acknowledged as my stomach growled and I stifled yet another belch.


Jul 14, 2013
So I had set off on my Adventure, feeling how Christopher Columbus must have felt as he set off to America and brought back Cocoa beans to Europe for the first time.

I managed to board one of Daddy’s cruises, set to tour around mainland Europe and inevitably would make a mouth watering stop upon the Belgian coastline. From there and following some awkward translation issues with Belgian cab drivers I made my way to the calling Cocoa Devil, as if I was an explorer searching uncharted lands for buried treasure.

Still I doubted many of the explorers of the old world were having issues fitting into their old cloths throughout their long tumultuous sea journeys, but I digress. As my cab drew closer travelling through a delightful Belgian Coastal town I opened a window to supplement the warm sea air, but instead found my senses tingling once my nostrils picked up the scent of chocolate in the air and I knew I was close.

The cab pulled in as if I were passing through the pearly white gates themselves. The Cocoa Devil or as locals called it “Diable du Cacao” now sat upon the coastline in my sights.

The small medieval building in the cobbled terraced street sat beautifully in the frame of my eyes and glaring upon its front window was like a lash of ecstasy coursing through my veins itself. For the first time in my life I felt home.

The shop windows were filled with all manner of Chocolate confectionaries imaginable. It seemed to present a vision in me until now confined to my dreams and images in a magazine. I nervously teetered inside pretending to be at all in control of my bearings.

“Bonjour” a friendly voice seemed to utter, awakening me from my dream like condition. The tall and slightly portly man declared himself as “Ambroise”, who I immediately recognised from his picture in the Chocolate Princess as the owner of the Cocoa Devil and a world renowned Chocolatier.

As I shook his hand, immeasurably star struck, his English proved far better than I could have imagined and with his confident European style he immediately complimented me on my appearance.

He apologised for being so forward (though it was completely unnecessary) and then asked if I would mind taking a few free samples of his work as a sort of apology.

I almost died in enthusiasm at the request, but played reluctant being slightly sef-conscious of my visible swelling belly beneath my dress.

He eyed me intently and told me I certainly did not need to express trepidation, especially as he knew I had walked into the shop as a customer and at some point would savour his work.

He then seductively detailed his craftsmanship of his entire stock and how he would feel offense should I not sample his works of art.

I beamed in delight as I instinctively rubbed my awaiting tummy and thanked him for being so courteous to a stranger.

Suspiciously he suggested I taste his entire collection and described it as an honour for a beautiful woman like me to indulge in his work.

Oh well, if he insisted. It would be a crime and a disservice to this artiste was I to reject his offer. Especially when in no uncertain terms he was complimenting me on my beauty. He proved so sincere and charming that I couldn’t help be taken in by his words when even I had assuaged doubts over my appearance at the start of all this.

Still he also didn’t present my ideal male body type. He while cute was overweight and seemed a good ten years older than me but nonetheless I found his advances alluring and was taken in by his bright blue eyes and cheery smile in ways I hadn’t with other men.

I decided to test what his kinks were and lamented on the drawbacks of chocolate and how in recent times I’d found my perfect body disintegrating and deteriorating into a much better rounded woman and that I should surely avoid consuming more chocolate at the risks of loosing my good looks and never getting my old figure back.

Ambroise merely laughed at the proclamation and kissed me there in the middle of the shop. “Why do women think all men want them to look like Stick-Insects”, he lamented and declared he likes women who would give him something to hold onto, before adding a cheeky wink.

I knew from what I’d read on him in the magazine that Ambroise was a wealthy man and after sampling his artful chocolate I could only sigh in both relief and exasperation.

I knew I had met my match. I had found my personal heaven and knew I could never leave and that it would be pointless to even try. Within a few months I had permanently moved in with Ambroise taking up residence in the Cocoa Devil’s upstairs living quarters. We were even engaged before I knew it.

I spent the coming months learning Ambroise’s abilities as a chocolatier and before long the Cocoa Devil was selling my own personal stock. My goodies were a big hit with local women but were renowned for their fattening nature. I would snicker a mischievous giggle at seeing thin girls soon bursting out of their cloths from my devilish goodies.
Cookies, bars, truffles, cakes, you name it if there was chocolate in it I could make it. Of course I wasn’t immune to my newfound abilities and myself and Ambroise frequently indulged in my works before bed in our luxurious baths.

Ambroise had certainly had an effect on me, as I found my own weight skyrocketing, goodbye 170, goodbye 180, hello 190lbs. By that point I was looking every bit a Chocolatiers bride to be. Ambroise loves every inch of me, he loves to rub my engorged belly late at night and loves to caress my ballooning breasts whenever we make love and the feeding sessions: OH BOY!!!

I’ve also found my ass fattening up to. My Latina heritage has always given me a good amount to work with but now its absolutely ridiculous. My rear seems to be inflating with fat and regular orders are delivered to the shop with new pants seem a regular occurrence.

Ambroise cant get enough of it and who am I too object his advances. He flicks my love handles during our love sessions and plays with new fat on my belly as I ride him. I’m completely accepting of my new figure and have never been happier. Every new roll, every newly acquired pound seems to be an act of my and Ambriose’s handwork and this is our greatest work of all.

I no longer attempt to hide my new body; bikinis at the beach and tight fitting dresses are a norm whenever we go out. I make sure to adjust each belt on my jeans to accommodate my luxurious new flab and I find myself playing with my newfound softness perpetually.

My wedding dress is also designed to fit all of me and I’ve made sure to have it a few sizes larger by the time the date rolls around. When I told my mother over the phone the size of the dress I’m sure she almost fainted; oh well seems there’s still that hurdle to get over.

I’ve also spoken to Ambriose about Lydia. He seems to hold warm memories of her and complimented her on her beauty. I often wonder what she’s up too now. My mind began racing as to weather Ambriose ever made a move for her. If so could she have become his bride to be, could she have been rewarded with the obese future I have surely been knighted with. If she had accepted his advances she’d have likely never have met me and introduced me to chocolate.

She would be living the life I now am, while I would still have my old life. Funny how fate turns out, Very funny indeed.


Jul 14, 2013
Looking back on it was hard not to see my newfound place in life as being as fantastical as some of the early fantasies to which I enjoyed at the beginning of my thriving addiction. Her I was riding the plump train to 200lbs and neither trying, nor wanting to get off anytime soon.

The train would soon lead me directly to my wedding day. I choose not to weigh myself that day as I awoke in our hotel on a tropical island in the Bahamas. To me I choose not to dwell on such trivial issues and wanted to focus on the beauty of the day. I was having the time of my life and Ambroise was too, as he couldn’t help himself that day and struggled to keep his hands off me, even at the altar. I considered my old life in that moment and how my thinner self would have never been able to embrace my current lifestyle; what a fool that silly girl was.

Everything felt like a sort of Harlequin Romance novel and nothing could possibly burst me from that illusion. Everything went by as perfectly as possible, not even the raised eyebrows of my parents who hadn’t seen me in such a long time could cast clouds in my blue-sky filled outlook.

I playfully picked at their discontent that day after a few drinks. I realised they were more than happy to lurk in the background for much of the day, no doubt slightly embarrassed by their perfect daughters portly new self. I hugged them both in drunken bliss, ensuring the swell of my belly bombarded them to rub the victory of my ideology over theirs had triumphed in the contest of my guiding life principles. The dress was so stretched over my fattened physique it was positively fit to bursting, made a greater worry by my devouring of the luscious three tier chocolate cake that Ambroise and I had hand crafted for the event.

By the early ours of the morning at the after party I was still going up for, seconds, thirds, fourths, fifths…maybe even sixths. A pastime that made my mother’s skin whiten with astonishment.

I still remember the wedding photos from the day, everyone else looking perfect, clean and dapper. My belly engorged and chocolate cake slathered across my face.

As I posed for the drunken after photos I remember my parents cringing with embarrassment. They eventually left early, eager to avoid judgemental eyes. Good riddance I thought and I’m happy to admit that as they left that day, they never appeared in my life again.

It felt like a rather seminal moment in my life. My parents were symbolic of my old life, a life I had grown out of, Hehehe. They still held onto the old thoughts I had long outgrown and I had now formed my own person. A person I was happy to share with Ambroise.

I no longer had need for them either. With Ambroise I had long outgrown need for them financially. Sure I would never be as rich as I would be were I too remain their perfect daughter but I had found something I never truly had not with them; Happiness.

I was asked to choose between them, their money, their diets, their world view and Ambroise, Chocolate, and my soul and I choose the one that I needed most. If they couldn’t understand that, then why have them at all and they certainly didn’t want me either any more.

They must have felt the same way too as they never once called after the wedding, nor did they make any attempt to write to or visit me after that. The fatty had won the day.

But never mind the Wedding, then came the Honeymoon. Fittingly we treated ourselves to an exotic cruise, using one of daddy’s rival cruise liners of course.
I think I can safely admit to making a rather piggish display of myself morning, day and night at the ships all inclusive buffet throughout the journey. I made sure to organise the trip in a way that allowed us to visit several of the places documented in the Chocolate Princess as well. Of course, wanting to make a good guest of myself, I made sure to sample every imaginable chocolate related delicacy on offer. I’m sure the poor staff would dread my arrival at the buffet each day like a Great White Shark swimming to their waters.

Our cruise was succeeded by a tour of some of the most romantic destinations South West Asia could concoct. There my excepting taste buds evaluated chocolate recipes and mixtures until now left to my wildest imaginations. I was in wonderland.

We eventually came to visit an Indian Prince by the name of Prince Pheedar, whom was unrelenting in his appraisal of my beauty. While the Prince entertained us as guests, I learned he himself was a remarkable chocolatier, and picked up a variety of his outstanding recipes.

Ambroise had originally arranged for us to stay no more than one week, but due to the Prince’s hospitality our short stay was extended to an entire month. A strong friendship formed between myself, Ambroise and the Prince and his opulent palace bore more than a few resemblances to the palace I had imagined in my initial chocolate related fantasy.

The Prince frequently compared me to the Goddess’ his people worshipped and his servants excelled in throwing grand banquets fit for royalty, devising new chocolate coated treats each night for me to partake in. His palace proved a vision of beauty itself and I spent long mornings gazing at his tropical and vast gardens from our bedroom window.

Adjustments however proved vital. As early as our first week the Prince made sure to gift me with new and unsurprisingly larger garments to wear, likely anticipating my growth, though who couldn’t. While I investigated my increasingly Zaftig figure the Prince made sure to label me the most beautiful woman to ever have entered his lands.

However our stay in the fairy-tale would soon reach its natural, if sad end and in spite of the Prince’s pleas, we returned to our normal lives. At home I stepped out of the fantasy and onto the scales, watching the patronising needle spin its way to 235lbs. Even I was aghast in seeing that in weeks I had gained in excess of forty pounds. Or to put it even more brutally, I had gained well over 100lbs in a year.

The New Me renounced the facts as mere numbers. I would struggle to care in the long run; I had been obviously fattened like a pig beyond the realm of return and felt happy and beautiful regardless. What did it even matter that each day invited new struggles to fit into the entirety of my wardrobe.

That morning’s nude mirror inspection added food for thought though. My gain had been so quick, a part of me still felt a stranger in this fat body and boy was I fat now. I validated my expansion by acknowledging how much sexier I felt and how much Ambroise adored each new pound.

Subconsciously I recognised my old svelte, it girl physique was a distant past. I even mused a smirk at the thought of fitting into my old jeans again. I knew my Wedding Dress required adjustment until the very day of the ceremony. I listened as the scales groaned in displeasure as the fat girl heavily boarded that morning. Yet I still recognised the New Me and my addiction was shielding these facts from their true implications.

The Prince’s Palace was admittedly a wondrous fantasy, but this felt like real life, with consequences and hardships.

The New Me had come to accept the first 50lbs I’d gained, but second seemed like it required a larger dereliction of responsibility, even by my standards. The new fat was too much to not present a greater challenge now. My minds eye of myself was changing. It seemed I could no longer pass of my addiction with a playful or mischievous smile at my binges, the odd gained pound, or another chocolate induced fantasy.

Now I was officially fat, obese by BMI standards and was being forced to bare the brunt of consequences for that. I looked down at my thick, beefy legs, that had once been so toned, my knees dimpled and beginning to disappear into my blubber. Marvelled at my ballooning belly, divided by two thick rolls. My naval proved a now hidden victim of this new development. My breasts had blown up with gelatinous fat and rested perilously on my belly each time I sat. This fattened up pig was now me it seemed.

I pondered, still somewhat aghast at my weights explosion, all I could utter was “Oh how could I have gotten so fat” in sheer disbelief. I knew that my addiction was leading me down a steep path, but this seemed extreme by even my early descent into fatness.

My hand made motions to feel the globular body I had fallen into to prove to myself that this was indeed I. I lifted my now great expanse of belly and placed it over the sink with an astonishing clap of jiggles and motion. This really was all me.

My moment of disbelief was ended upon realising my nipples were becoming increasingly aroused at my exploration.

Playing amorously with my breasts, my eyes now gazed intently at my reflection, amazed at my porky physique. Not a muscle could even be traced in my pondering. I caressed my breasts intoxicatingly, as visions of the chocolate treasures the Prince had bombarded me with echoed throughout my dirty little mind. I smacked my belly, nearly squealing with delight at the ripples and motions throughout my newfound fat from the impact.

Ambroise found me in my hedonistic trance and made it his personal business to revel alongside me in enjoyment of my fattened chocolatier body.

His hands made their way instinctively to my rumbling belly and filled me with love and admiration all night. Immediately killing of all my insecurities and doubts in one swift move.

Throughout or love making, I stared continuously at myself in the mirror, jiggling and gyrating my new body before letting out an official hearty fat girl laugh. I demanded Ambroise love me, the way I loved me too.

My impression of myself was indeed changing. I no longer would dare associate myself with the thin girl I once was. From now on this was me, the chocolatier’s fat wife the way everyone would know me from now on.

What a grand life it would be. The matronly bride of a man who loved her, the locals could perhaps come to know me as the nice old fat lady who makes delicious chocolate and brings a smile to the faces of anyone she meets.

It become intoxicating, the thought of entire generations not knowing I was once so slim, perhaps I could even name my new chocolate works after my new self.

“The Fat Lady’s truffles” or the “Fat Lady’s brownies” oh I how heavenly. There it would be decided, I would spend my life with Ambroise as the town’s kind fat lady and grow old.

“Look out world because the Fat Lady’s coming to fatten ya”, I sniggered with amusement at the very thought.


Jul 14, 2013
Ah what a blissful existence existence it was, I was firmly settled in my life as the “Fat Lady” or as the Belgian locals called me “Grosse Dame”. It was always a joy seeing the smiles of the community during my day time walks, a pleasure selling my latest batches to school children on their walk home and a delight to overhear so many compliment me from afar.

I made every effort to play up my cheery reputation and began dressing in a manner designed to flatter my latest curves. Flowing, wifely dresses, displaying my large expanse of cleavage were a must in my wardrobe. I wore my flowing blonde hair down to evoke a more traditional feminine appearance and would even occasionally curl the top half of my hair to present an increasingly matronly look. I looked every bit the classical fattened housewife, an image I revelled in.

In spite of my newfound jubilation, there was still something of a tinge of loneliness threading throughout my new life. Ambroise I found was making frequent visits abroad, so as to he put it, to seek out new business opportunities in emerging markets; whatever that meant. He claimed these ventures would likely bore me to tears and thus requested I stay home. I made little complaints, he was likely right and I was more than content to remain home as the waiting wife, baying for her man to return home to show him what he was missing, but still I was a lonely newlywed of sorts.

Soon however a ghost from the past would rear their pretty little face once more. There I was minding my own business, pottering around the shop baking and tasting my latest delicacies when the door would as if by fate open. Lydia in the flesh was stood in my presence.

She stood there, clearly with no earthly inkling as to who I was. It was funny, we’d known each other one night and she had completely changed my life, where as she had likely forgotten me shortly after our meeting and never contemplated me again. It felt like I was in awe, as if meeting a princess when I was but a mere commoner.

A feeling of nervousness consumed me. She still looked the same as the day we met, seemingly like she had stepped out of a photograph from that very night. I on the other hand seemed as if I could have eaten the girl Lydia had met fatefully on that cruise. My ballooning belly exhaled deeply, adjacent to what I imagined where her washboard abs and a warm bead of sweat slithered down from my forehead.

What was I to do, declare my identity and I suppose morbidly acknowledge what had transpired since our meeting, or feign ignorance and act as if she was a total stranger. After all the night had ended with her smugly outwitting me and perhaps she would take pleasure I gloating of her part in shall we say, expanding my horizons?

I decided to play along with the latter option to avoid the potential embarrassment.

“Is Ambroise here” she inquired, displaying no signs of recognising me.

“We’re old friends as I used to work her a while back, I just came to pay him a surprise visit.”

My cover was intact; I regained my bearings and stomached a reply “He’s away” I replied, faking a remarkable French accent.

“Oh well that’s a shame” she kindly retorted. “And you are”, she added.

“I’m…Uhhh…his…employee…Cocoa…is uhhh…my name….YEAH! YEAH! Cocoa is my name”, I lied desperately through my teeth.

I couldn’t very well go and tell her my name now could I. If I told her I was his wife she may uncover the true information and blow my cover, this ridiculous lie would have to do.

“Well Cocoa its lovely to meet you”, she replied slightly amused at my odd behaviour.

We continued to make small talk from there and I added to my cacophony of falsehoods by concocting elaborate lie, after elaborate lie as I desperately attempted to conjure a backstory that grew increasingly farcical and absurd with every new intimation.

I went with the idea that I was but a simple Belgian farm girl who had a soft spot for chocolate (understatement of the year) and that I had been working at the Cocoa Devil for six months.

After a period of mindless chatter and improvisation on my part, Lydia made way for her exit.

I felt compelled however to keep her around, after all I may not have gotten the opportunity to see her again should she make her leave. I simply had to keep her around; this encounter was proving too exhilarating and poignant to end in a meaningless goodbye, so I asked the question I simply couldn’t possibly miss my opportunity to ask. She walked towards the exit when I asked:

“Would you like to try some of my chocolate?”

She stopped in her tacks, as if frozen by fate itself and turned to reply to me.

“Sure” She replied, a renewed enthusiasm in her eyes.

My heart was a flutter, and my entire fat body quivered with anticipation, an action Lydia was again playfully amused by, complimenting my oddness, as her warmness put me at ease. I overcame my embarrassment and walked her to my personal stock. There were so many twisted little ironies to what I was about to do I could barely contain myself in excitement.

I broke off one lonesome block of a freshly prepared bar of chocolate, sculpted by myself and proudly declared:

“Chocolate truly is the World’s favourite delicacy” Lydia”s eyes seemed to altar for a brief moment before returning to their joyful innocent state, as I pushed the little brown jewel passed her waiting glossed lips and watched as she playfully chewed and swallowed the little sucker.

“Beautiful” she announced, “Your quite the Chocolatier”. A proclamation I beamed with glee at. My heart raced, I had recreated the seminal moment of my life with the person responsible for it and bestowed upon her the same pleasure she had so graciously bestowed on me; I’d even done it under the guise of a secret identity to add the erotic escapade, “The Fat Lady strikes again” I thought to myself, snickering with glee.

I awoke from the elation when Lydia suddenly asked:


I hadn’t prepared for that. I deftly broke off another piece and repeated the same ethereal action, only for Lydia to again add:


Again I did the same.

“More?”, Lydia again enquired. A theme was developing here. Every time I fed my ocean night Enchanter another piece she would always say “more”, “more”.

The experience was becoming intoxicating, until the bar was no more.

Lydia stifled a belch at her triumph and uttered:

“My were are my manners, how un-lady like,” she giggled. Her eyes were now staring intently into mine and I felt my pulse quickening.

“Chocolate really is my Achilles Heel” Lydia laughed. “You look like a fun girl so what’s say we both have a girl’s night and get drunk and I can sample each of your works of art.”

Before I could remotely come to terms with the Euphoria of the request I was already drinking and eating with Lydia to my hearts content.

This continued on through the night, Lydia eating my entire works and me drinking, my God that girl had a sweet tooth. As if by instinct our drunken conversations about our love and experiences as Chocolatiers grew increasingly sexual in nature.

Lydia collapsed on my bed unbuttoning her jeans as a jutting food baby popped out of her little tummy. A part of me was annoyed since her chocolate sweet tooth seemed comparable to my own, but she had retained her petite physique when I was beginning to resemble the Stay Puff Marshmallow man from Ghostbusters, but the other half of me was crazed driven in arousal.

I ripped off her shirt and marvelled at her food baby and sucked and caressed her perkish little breasts. My hands then made their way by sheer instinct to her chocolate food baby before making my way between her legs. It seemed euphoric to be with a woman whose body was comparable to mine of old and we both seemed to salivate at the contrast between us.

I soon began removing my Fat Lady garb and offered her the chance to return the favour. She complimented and seemed to envy my bodacious bod and sucked lovingly on my breasts. Here I was, The Fat Lady allowing the world to share in my abundance.

Feeling more daring, I traversed her hand down to my burgeoning, slovenly, rotund, obese belly. I began laughing in hedonistic joy, in my mind I was almost daring this skinny little girl to try and arouse the gluttonous ball my belly had become.

My laughter initially seemed to perturb her, but I assured the little girl the rumbling, monstrous mound that was once my waistline wouldn’t bite.

I then made efforts to encompass this puny thing in my fat, feeling like a mighty whale, ready to devour a lost sailor.

She grew aroused at the challenge I was presenting her with and she hugged my expansive body with a newfound glee. We began kissing more intently than before and she laid in awe looking at my vast body, certain in her desire to keep exploring and experimenting with it.

We were both nude now and more intimate than ever, more intimate than I could have foreseen even. We lay in exhaustion, as her bulging food baby exhaled into the air and my bulbous punch protruded towards the ceiling like a rising mountain.

What a favourable sight. She seemed to agree as she made frequent efforts to caress my own belly as I writhed in erotic glee. I smirked to myself as she continued to play away with the fat I had formulated between her skinny, little fingers.

She kept her rhythmic, sensual feeling going and we both began breathing deeper and deeper as our thoughts and inhibitions ran wild.

Our love making became more overtly intense and we both took special joy in jiggling my glorious belly and watching the pliable, bouncy flesh revert to its round, rotund form. This went on for hours before we climaxed in each other’s arms.

We lay quiet in solitude and I finally mustered the level of strength to force my gargantuan self to something resembling a sitting position.

“Incredible” she could only utter as a proud grin smeared itself across my chubby cheeks.

Her next words were those of which I could have never predicted however:

“If only Ambroise were here,” she whispered sleepily.

“Pardon” I inquired curious at her admission.

“Oh I just… see, we used to be lovers.

Her admission sent my mind cascading. Lydia had once been in love my husband, had she returned to possibly rekindle some sort of romance.

“He was such a romantic lover, a little like you”, she added mischievously.

I almost died in a shroud of emotions at her revelation. After all this and we were more connected than I could have possibly imagined. Who knows what I should have really thought in that moment but I knew and felt it was time to make a little revelation of my own.

“Oh I know, after all I am his wife” I retorted, with a cheeky wink.

Lydia questioned me in disbelief, but my greater reveal was still to come.

“And to think, all this was because you made me realise how much I like chocolate” I patted my belly to signify the sentiment, dropping my accent.

“Alexa” she murmured in disbelief “how could that be?” she mumbled in an increasingly weary state.

“Lets just say you were right, the only people who don’t like chocolate have never tried it”.


Jul 14, 2013
Awakening the next morning you can imagine no doubt that I was bombarded with inquisitive and disbelieving questions from Lydia.

“But you’re so fat now!”

“You were so thin before”

“What the hell could have happened to cause all this?”

“How could you have let yourself go”?

“Are you under some kind of curse to become the worlds fattest woman?”

Admittedly that one did get a hearty chuckle out of me.

“Listen” I retorted almost primed to boast of what I now regarded as an achievement.

I made it my attentive duty to caress my engorged belly to begin what I believed to be the address of my life.

“To put it simply the day we met you awakened something within me, something I must have buried deep, something I didn’t think even existed. From that point forth I could never close the Pandora’s box you opened inside my very soul, for that I’m grateful. At first it did nothing but scare me in spite of the euphoric sexual urges it blossomed within me.”

With that I added a little flirtatious wink, a wink that made Lydia blush a little.

“I realise now that I found what makes me happy; chocolate. Fattening, sweet, delicious chocolate. Not a day goes by without me partaking in snacking on the tempting little brown stuff. I am the vessel of chocolate, my body is one sculpted by its very contents. If that makes me fat then so be it, that is my loves wish and Ambroise loves me for it.

Lydia’s eyes seemed to tell a story from that last proclamation.

Lydia seemed genuinely touched as Ibore my heart on the line, and after we said our goodbyes that afternoon, the travelling maiden would return to our humble little abode that Fall. However this time her stay was not to be temporary.

“Seeing how happy you were and how much I enjoyed seeing you again, I couldn’t stay away. I thought perhaps I could join your little business, for good this time.

Ambroise and myself were elated to be joined by the girl who’d left such a poignant afterglow on each of our loves, and we revelled in having Lydia entwine into our flourishing business.

Oh what happy times those months were, the three of us without a care in the world, making and selling our love to the masses to share in our happiness. The one gripe I had however was no matter how much of our own produce and feeding sessions we would partake in, Lydia never seemed to gain an ounce.

I must admit to holding an envious little grudge against my adversary turned friend for her vastly efficient metabolism, when I had ballooned like a sow these years. Ambroise and Lydia’s incessant feeding, combined with my inability to decline chocolate sent my weight skyrocketing to a walloping 275 lbs. I came to accept it.

Then happiness ended. I had taken to long walks in the afternoon to participate in the healthy breeze, as well as to see the cheery faces of those happy to be blessed with an appearance from their bountiful, local Fat Lady. It was also the only thing resembling exercise I dared muster at my rotund girth.

I was rudely awoken from my dream like bliss upon returning home early one afternoon due to developing yet another chocolate induced craving to discover Ambroise and Lydia in the midst of an intense love making session, of course involving chocolate related foreplay, not just any chocolate, chocolate I had hand crafted myself; An action that unsurprisingly felt like the most severe betrayal.

I was devastated, and my heart left in tatters. These blissful months, my husband and my best friend had both eroded my trust in them. Though I perhaps could recompense the affair considering Lydia and myself had both immersed ourselves in a sexual escapade upon her first visit, but the involvement of my beloved hand crafted chocolate in their deception was to much to bare.

I could no longer stand to live under the same ceiling as these backstabbers, and after putting my affairs in order, moved out of the Cocoa Devil and back to my old pad in LA. The divorce was soon finalised, and I received a large settlement from Ambroise. But I didn’t care, I was too heartbroken to savour in my legal victories over my traitor.

As the winter period approached that year my depression and despair seemed to ensnare every fibre of my being. I spent the holidays not leaving my pad, only interacting with another human being when a geeky delivery boy delivered Internet purchased groceries to my door. Unsurprisingly much of their contents involved chocolate. I simply languished around for days on end trying to fill the gaping chasm of loathing that had erupted within me; I had no alternative than to fill it with my addiction; My Chocolate.

No matter, were it old, no matter were it out of date, or mouldy, if it had chocolate in it, I was eating it. I had all but given up my culinary practices, as its very nature reminded me of the now tainted memories spent with Ambroise and Lydia. For I tasted nothing, but my addiction compelled me to eat, so that’s what I did, eat. Finally after the Christmas period my endless, drone like consumption would result in a more physical manifestation of my pain and suffering; A Heart Attack. It was hardly a surprise, I had spent months lethargically lounging around my sty devouring massive quantities of sugar and fat down my gullet, only moving to answer the door to, so I could once again devour greater quantities of sugar and fat down that very same gullet.

As I lay in the hospital bed I contemplated my life, and the despair it had fallen into. I had become a black hole, were chocolate was endlessly pulled into and never seen again. My only objective in life now seemed to be assuaging my addiction, to a more frightening extreme than ever before.

I stood facing the hospital staff those days bigger than ever. My cankles were now wider than my thighs had been once upon a time, and my thighs, in spite of their own gargantuan growth, were now thoroughly unqualified to support the globular mass that was once my cute potbelly. My mammoth sized breasts now lay perilously on that afore mentioned globular mass, they seemed to no longer resemble female breasts but rather more gelatinous rolls that had partaken to residing on my flesh. I struggled to see even were they began and my third chin ended.

I was having back pain, born from my sedentary lifestyle. Breathing came in heavy bursts, if even at all and was unable to even cross my legs at the request of the doctors. I scarcely managed to pry my leg from the floor, even at a seated position.

They asked me to touch my toes in what could laughingly be called a physical. My Toes, I tried to recall what they looked like on account of the poor things being thoroughly eclipsed by the planetary like structure that obscured them. Attempting physical activity bordered on comical as a lay, pathetically on the ground to regain any sense of breath.

I felt entombed, before my addiction had felt like a stimulating, beautiful trance, now it felt like a big fat curse. When I finally waddled my way to the doctor’s scales I had to be informed of my 328 lbs. mass, as there was no way in hell I could see it beneath my girth.

I was put in touch with a dietician soon after and placed into strict dietary conditions. I could no longer tcower to my addiction, as chocolate was a strict no-no, and my mind somehow adhered to that. I made strides in following the doctors prescribed exercise programmes and kept to my healthy eating. I did however remain famished, and my boisterous belly was less supportive to my healthy eating cause than my mind had adjusted too.

Upon the start of summer, I made efforts to get outside more. I had practically fallen off the face of the earth, fame wise. I found that after my parents had disowned me publically after a celebrity site had spread rumours that I had died in a hand-gliding accident in New Zealand, a rumour my parents seemed intent to confirm regardless of its integrity. Thanks Mom & Dad. I choose to allow that belief to continue, not wanting to be seen at my lowest ebb by the press, nor desiring the disdain that would likely filter my way from my old peers. The last thing I needed now was Vanessa on my back as I made efforts to restart my life. It seemed fitting anyway, the old me had died a metaphorical death long ago, and I now had the newspaper headlines to prove it. Still it was odd to walk, or rather waddle past old peers, possessing the same physique I once had, not even recognising me. Oddly it didn’t faze me, and despite only having human contact with my doctors, I felt less lonely than I had at times with Ambroise.

Still, I found it hard to muster the same enthusiasm I had to life in Belgium. It was hard to imagine my local Fat Lady act going down well in cynical, superficial L.A. But I was now far too fat to be considered anything in L.A, as I had in my previous life. I felt like a stranger again, I didn’t fit into my old life, nor my new one, which was perhaps dying itself.

The pounds were melting off however, I soon with some effort, worked my way down to 270 lbs. by the end of summer, around the same weight I was when I left Belgium. However upon a short walk I came across an unfamiliar chocolatier store on my way home. It hadn’t been there prior to my European Tragedy, and I wondered just how long such a despot had been in business for.

Against my inhibitions, I decided to venture inside and marvelled at the store’s contents, contents that had not so long ago been my life, lover, and friend. A Chocolate Brownie was all I ordered after wrestling the temptation, after all my addiction had seemed to cease, and what was one brownie upon months of clean eating.

The pleasant day, passed without incident, but my sweet tooth had for the first time in so long been adhered too. I managed to continue my exercise and dietary regime but not a day would pass were I would not duplicate that little brownie stop as a little reward for my efforts.

Of course, that led to more snacking, a hot fudge Sunday every Sunday, a tub of chocolate ice cream suddenly appearing in my grocery shopping, ordering a chocolate fountain every night and embracing its goodness on the stroke of midnight each duskness, was now rekindling my addiction. Soon my weight had raced to over 280 lbs., in spite of my adjustments. The aftermath of the Thanksgiving Desert as we entered the fall and winter proudly announced the spike in weight, as I examined my indulgence on the scale.

By New Years I could not deny that the festive period had brought me back over 300 lbs. Nevertheless I felt reasonably well. I had token up Zumba classes for plus size women and had began to make friends for what was perhaps the first time.

My best friend was a woman roughly my age named Priscilla; She like me was of Latina descent and weighed what was likely equal to me. Were we however differed was that she had been a big girl all her life. I resorted to not telling her of my real identity to avoid being bombarded with questions.

It became something a routine every Wednesday, I with many other big girls enjoyed shaking our stuff to the beat at our local dance studio. In spite of our size we really could move, and I found my renewed enthusiasm for exercise now allowed me to for that one weekly occurrence to embody the slim young girl I once was during the clubbing days of my past life.

However, were as then it felt robotic, and served only to stimulate my own ego. I now found joy in echoing those movements at my new size, encouraging big girls like Priscilla, to bust a move. I found it oddly emotional for the first time to be part of such a tight knit and brave group. Our newfound togetherness found us extending our friendships into plus size fashion shows, starting body positivity websites, and of course some fabulous nights out at nightclubs allowing entry only to women of a certain size. Of course I had fun with some male admirers.

I never would have appreciated that feeling of togetherness before. The old me would have looked down upon my new friends and me, and compared us to cattle, but I realised in the past I was but a sheep for complying so intently with society’s laws. Oddly, I seemed to merge my former loud mouth party girl attitude with my Belgian Fat Lady approach to life; a hybrid I was finding most intriguing.

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