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The Fall of Madame Bigger (~SSBBW, ~SSBHM, ~XWG, ~FFA, ~GAS)

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coyote wild

You'll love me, I swear.
Supporting Member
Sep 30, 2005
(Author's note: Here it is. The final installment of the "Madame Bigger Trilogy." This has been a long time coming and I'm so happy to finally get it out there. Thanks to everyone that asked for it and showed an interest in having it continue. It goes into some weird territory (maybe not, if you're a fan) but I do hope you enjoy and thanks again for sticking around. But most importantly, thanks for your patience.

Without further ado, I present to you the final installment in the "Madame Bigger Trilogy."



Her heels clacked against the hardwood gymnasium floor as she passed a small sign with magnetic letters spelling out: “Overeaters Anonymous - Noon to 3p.”

Her hips swayed past rows of chairs, peppered with attendees of varying size. Most were between chubby and fat, while a few were truly obese.

She approached the stage and ascended the steps. The podium almost seemed to come to her and her lips spread into a smile behind the microphone.

“Hello, Children of Abundance,” her voice flowed over the crowd. “I am glad you are all ready to connect with your truest self. Before we can know our soul, we have to nourish it. And in this way, it will come to us instead of being frightened off by the extravagance of our zeal.”

That’s when she had them. She saw the flash in their eyes; the sign that their inner selves had awoken at the promise of shining forth. No longer hiding. Presenting themselves to the world.

That’s how she baited them.

She motioned to the back of the room, and as if she had power over reality itself, the double doors swung open. Through each entryway marched a trail of waitresses and waiters; modelesque in appearance, pushing serving carts of meals. Burgers, pizzas, bowls of pastas, even grilled and fried veggies. Towards the end of each convoy were the pastries and cakes. Donuts, eclairs, balls of chocolate coated in hardened candy shells with dustings of powdered sugar.

Eyes shifted, waiting for someone else to take the lead. Chairs creaked as each body squirmed uncomfortably, fighting the urge to approach any of the serving carts.

The woman at the podium smiled, her arms open, gesturing to the feast. She could say no more. The fatties must decide on their own.

Maura Pounder’s tongue slid over her plump lips as she eyed an entire roasted turkey. She wiggled her fingers as she fantasized about ripping a drumstick from the dome-shaped bird and sinking her teeth into its savory, juicy flesh, ripping it from the bone. She pursed her lips and shimmied in her seat a little before rising to her feet.

And that was that. The other attendees followed suit.

It was mesmerizing to see the sea of bulbous flesh shifting and rising like a suddenly turbulent ocean.

The last to rise was a man of at least 500 pounds that appeared like he may have graced magazine covers once upon a smaller size. He bounded towards the pizza cart, huffing with every step.

The woman at the podium lowered her arms and kept her gaze on her subjects as she descended the stairs of the stage. She made her way around the edge of the crowd which was now elbow deep in the most rich and filling foods imaginable, and sauntered towards the exit.

On her way out, she passed by a waitress standing by the door.

“No one leaves till it’s gone, understand?” the woman ordered.

“Yes, Madame,” the waitress replied, closing the door behind her boss.

by Coyote Wild

Four. Hundred. Pounds.

That’s how fat I had become. The dreaded four-zero-zero. In following Kate - I mean, The Madame’s exploits, I saw patterns. And of those patterns, one of the most consistent seemed to be that 400 pounds was the barrier. The point of no return.

Little known fact, but some of her victims actually lost weight and escaped her influence. But never anyone under 400 pounds. Once they hit 400 pounds...they were hers.

So I guess I’m hers. Or rather: theirs.

See, it turns out that Kate had accumulated quite a following. The Madame’s changing appearance in the various reports, I had always attributed to her adjusting her style and look to appeal to her targets. But the truth is: there were many Madames.

Kate assures me, however, that she’s the original. And I have no reason to doubt her. The others all follow her lead and obey her commands without question. In fact, since falling to her devices, I had seen one of her slightly thicker followers balloon by at least fifty pounds. She had been caring for me during the day while Kate did whatever it was she did. But when a much thinner lady took her place, they would only tell me my former carer had been reassigned.

I was kept in bed most of the day, moved to the couch in the evening, then returned to the bed late at night. The only exercise I got was walking between the couch and bed with restroom stops in between. And that’s exactly what they wanted. I knew that if this kept up, I would lose my mobility relatively early in the fattening process.

To be honest, it wasn’t difficult to succumb. I had shelter, food, a bed, entertainment. I was set for life. All I had to do was surrender my body to her and let her shape it as she wished. And dare I say, she was doing a marvelous job.

Complete lethargy had left me soft and rounded at all edges. I was a marshmallow, a cloud, a comfy bed at the end of a long day.

My ass was nearly planetary in scope. Two celestial bodies crashing into each other, fighting for dominance whenever I walked. My belly barely kissed the top of my thighs, even while standing. Eventually, it would smother them. I sat in bed, kneading my belly as I considered this. As if asking it to show kindness in its unrestricted expansion.

It gurgled in mockery, groaning in annoyance. It twisted my insides to remind me who’s boss and I began to whimper. The pressure bubbled against my lungs and pelvis and struggled to find an escape. I slowly pushed into my lower belly and released a rumbling expulsion of gas into the room.

I panted, exhausted from the exertion. I had tired myself out by farting. This was my life now.

This was the downside of my intense diet: A constant flow of food entering my stomach and before my body knows what to do with it all, the next countless-calorie-course is brought to me. The only way my body can make room is to dispel the gas such a dietary regimen produces.

There was a quick rap at the door before my evening caretaker, Laurie, entered carrying a tray of doughnuts stacked upon each other in a pyramid and balancing a thick, off-white shake. Must’ve been 5:00pm.

“How are we doing today?” she asked, cheerfully, with a sweet, British accent.

“Great,” I replied, sarcastically, grabbing and jiggling my belly for emphasis.

Laurie sniffed the air, then fanned her nose. “Oh my! Someone’s been eating well!” she said, proud. “Smells like you’re ready for more.”

She set the tray down beside my bed and plucked a doughnut off the top of the pyramid. She moved it to my lips and I didn’t hesitate to bite into it. I’d probably weigh a lot less by this point if I didn’t have a history of trying to resist. There were consequences for resisting, and I had suffered them all. Besides, the food was delicious. Now that it was out of my control, I wasn’t so hesitant to embrace it. I only played coy so the Madame’s waitresses (as I had taken to calling them) wouldn’t know just how much fatter they could make me if they wanted.

While chewing the first bite of the first doughnut, another fart tumbled from my ass cheeks, reverberating against the bed and mixing with the air of the room.

“Good girl!” Laurie shouted, knowing that I had just made more room for the remaining doughnuts. “Let’s get these down so we can start moving you to the couch!”

A few minutes later, I was slurping puddles from an empty cup through an empty straw, finally releasing the tip with my lips. All the doughnuts were inside of me, floating in nearly a liter of shake. I whimpered from the fullness. It was a feeling I associated with getting fatter. I had come to enjoy the pain. It meant my body was changing, adding new acres and avenues to explore. I was growing to occupy more space. I was becoming unignorable.

“Are you ready?” Laurie asked.

My eyes still closed, I nodded and held out my hands. We locked fingers and I began to shimmy to the edge. I was able to let go once I was in a seated position on the side of the bed. I took a moment to catch my breath and heaved myself to my feet. I began the arduous journey from the bed to the couch and Laurie followed behind.

I entered the hall and saw a couple of waitresses hustling about. They stopped when they saw me and pressed their backs to the walls, as if we were on a ship and the captain had just come on deck. I leaned a little sideways to squeeze past them and felt my entire fattened form press hard and brush against both ladies. I nearly popped out from between them and continued my waddle down the hall.

Some days, I took this opportunity for a bathroom break to clear my stomach and prepare for the onslaught of food in store for the remainder of the evening, but with Laurie and the two waitresses watching me, I was too embarrassed and kept walking on by. There was a growl in the pit of my belly, as if it was telling me how much I’d later regret not taking the opportunity. But it didn’t have to remind me. My brow was stinging with sweat because I already knew.

I positioned my bulk in front of the couch and lowered myself like a helicopter to a landing pad. The weight of my ass pushed deep into the cushions and I leaned back, settling into the groove my growing body had carved out.

There were already plates of calzones and sliders on the coffee table, but waitresses were adding more dishes to the fray while I rubbed my belly nervously. Truth be told, I was excited for the evening meal, but I knew exactly what it meant. It meant that I’d be going to sleep even fatter than I was when I woke up that morning. I was conflicted. I was excited. I was terrified.

I was hungry.

With my thumb and index finger, I pinched a fried mozzarella ball from a mountain of fried mozzarella balls and popped it into my mouth, moaning as my teeth tore it apart, my tongue dancing with ribbons of melted cheese. I had popped another two into my mouth before I realized I was chewing three of them and was about to toss in a fourth.

The waitresses continued to remove and replace dishes with little interaction. I assumed these were newer recruits, instructed not to communicate or make eye contact with the boss’s prized hog. Just keep her fed.

It helped not to think of them as equals. Whether I considered them above or below me, I honestly couldn’t tell you. However you looked at it, being on separate levels made it easier for me to vent the pressure in my belly when I needed to. If they were above me, it was expected. If they were below me, then it wouldn’t matter anyway.

Though I couldn’t help but blush when I noticed one or both of them grimace from the smell when approaching me. It’s a kneejerk reaction and I can’t truly blame them for such a response. By the time they’ll have proven themselves to The Madame, they’ll be completely accustomed to the aroma of fatties.

Speaking of The Madame, not long into the evening meal is when Kate usually comes home. And this night was no exception.

I heard the door open, the security system giving off a couple of beeps, and the steady, deliberate steps of an approaching predator.

“Mmmm,” she moaned. “Smells like a pig in here.”

I swallowed my current bite and watched her enter with anger in my eyes.

“Aww don’t look at me like that, kiddo. You wouldn’t be as fat as you are if, on some level, you didn’t want it.”

I returned my gaze to the meal before me and continued to eat.

“Why even take the case?” she prodded. “You had been waiting for someone like me to come along. Someone to remove personal responsibility from the equation. Someone to take away your choice in gaining weight. Someone you can point to and say: ‘She. She is the reason I am so fat.’ Admit it. You’ve been after me for a few years, but you’ve been looking for me your whole life.”

I once again made eye contact with her and leaned forward. Without breaking our stare, I farted loud and deeply.

Kate smiled her devious smile. “Good girl,” she said, barely above a whisper.

“Ladies!” Kate announced and three waitresses approached. Two went to either end of the coffee table and lifted it to set it aside. The third dropped to the floor in front of me and got on her back. I watched her slide beneath me and the couch with some sort of device in her hand.

“What are you doing?” I asked nervously, trying to look around the clothes-stretching rolling hills of my enormous body then looking up at Kate, the mastermind of it all.

“We’re going on a little ride!” Kate explained.

I then felt something rising through the couch cushion and barely tickling my ass cheeks. The waitress beneath the couch was cutting into the seat of my pants and underwear! What was she-oh!

I felt something thick and cylindrical sliding into my ass and breaching my anus. I gritted my teeth and squeezed my fists. The device stopped pushing deeper into me and I felt something disconnect below me.

The waitress had pulled out whatever she had been using to push the plug deep into my ass. But something was definitely left behind.

“What did you do to me?” I asked, panting from the discomfort.

“Not to fret, dear. All in due time,” The Madame consoled me. “Get her up, and get her to the bus,” The Madame commanded. I was seized by my pillowy upper arms and cushioned elbows and heaved to my feet. They tugged on me and we were waddling out of the house.

“Wait,” I began, barely putting up a fight but realizing I hadn't been out in the world in many months and many weigh-ins ago. I was wearing stretchy leggings and a t-shirt under a zipped-up hoodie, which I guess passed as acceptable in public. But was the world even built for someone my size? I mean, it used to be. But now I’m not so sure.

We exited out the double doors, into the blinding light of day. Awaiting us outside, in the oversized, roundabout driveway, was a bus. The door was open and I was guided to board it. I needed help taking the few steps into the cab. But to be fair, it was an enormous bus, designed for long-distance travel. Comfy seats, wide aisles...what was this?

In most of the seats were men and women, all ethnicities, all enormous, groaning and rubbing their bellies. They squirmed in their seats, as much as their bulk would allow.

It was the first time in a long time I felt thinner than anyone. These people looked barely mobile. A collection of fatties. It occurred to me that I recognized each of them. Cases I had been assigned. Missing persons. Breadcrumbs left behind by The Madame. I had seen their progress through Kate's records. I couldn't believe they had gotten as fat as they were. They were no longer breadcrumbs, but entire loaves.

I was ushered to the back of the bus, getting my own set of seats to spread out on, like the others. Squeezing against the seat in front of me, I slid into position and lowered my ass into the chair. My entire body wobbled and I began taking deep breaths to calm myself after the journey. I started to fan myself when I realized the plug in my butt was preventing me from releasing any gas to dispel any pressure. I tried to push, flexing what was left of my stomach muscles, hoping the force was enough to eject the plug, but it wouldn’t budge.

The gas roared within me, angered it couldn’t escape. I suddenly realized why the other fatties on the bus were writhing in discomfort...they’d all been plugged up too. A cruel thing to do to a growing pig. Without the relief, there’s no telling what could happen.

I barely noticed as Kate leapt onto the bus and the door hissed shut behind her. The engine hummed and we began to roll forward. Kate moved down the aisle, personally checking on each fatty, whispering encouragement, patting shoulders and bellies. Eventually, her attention fell upon me, and her bright, friendly smile seamlessly morphed into something more sinister.

“Where are you taking us?” I asked, breathing heavily.

The Madame rolled her eyes in ponderance and shrugged. “Yeah, what the hell. Now’s as good a time as any,” seeming to signal she was ready to reveal her plan.

She placed her hands on the high-backed seats for balance and positioned herself over me. She stood, straddling my knees. She looked down on me happily, confident in her dominance over someone several times larger than herself. Especially someone she had personally made so large.

She looked at me as if analyzing a work of art in progress. I could feel her mentally adding fat to various parts of my body.

“As you clearly know,” she began, poking my belly, pressing it deeper than I think even she meant to. “The shakes I provide to you and all of my piggies is based on a compound derived from the milk of mother seals that live in arctic environments. In order to survive the merciless cold, seal pups must put on an extraordinary amount of fat in a very brief window of time.”

A gurgle from my belly interrupted her and her eyebrows momentarily jumped in excitement. She continued.

“Well I’ve been tweaking the formula all these years, perfecting it, making it so calorie-dense that you could literally see someone swell with fat while they drank it. However, there have been some...setbacks.”

The gas demanded a way out, beating its fists against my insides, growling to be set free.

“The rapid processing of so many calories can create pockets of air which then escape from your magnificent rear.” Kate mimed a round ass filling her hands. “Well, it turns out, the gas produced from digesting the milk is itself, fattening somehow. Being exposed to it for extended periods can lead to exceptional increases in weight. You’ve seen this yourself with some of my maidens that forget to take precautions.” She rattled a bottle of pills in the air, which I took to be the “precaution” she spoke of. She popped a couple of pills while my mind connected all the pieces.

My mind suddenly flashed to the waitress I last saw when she was a little over 200 pounds.

“Yes, poor Elsie,” The Madame said, shaking her head in regret, as if she could see into my thoughts. “She’s a little bigger than you, now.”

My eyes went wide. The Madame changed her tone and cracked a smile.

“Oh, she’s fine, don’t be so dramatic. We’ve set her up in her own room somewhere. She has plenty of room to grow. Of which, she’ll be doing plenty.”

“What do you mean?” I breathed.

“Well it turns out, being exposed to the gas can be even more fattening than drinking the shake itself. So we have a little experiment we’re going to try!” The Madame explained, clapping her hands once then locking them together before rubbing them furiously, as if preparing to tackle a monumental task.

I looked out the window and saw that we were pulling into the parking lot of a recently-opened, high-end buffet: The Grand Cornucopia.

While us pigs waited on the bus, desperately wishing for relief, groaning in anticipation at the meals to come, some of the waitresses got off the bus to prepare extra wide wheelchairs.

“Dinner awaits!” Kate sang as she marched down the bus, the happiest I had ever seen her.