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The superhuman Bake sale (BBW (multiple) Xwg

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IrishBard

womble/leprechaun hybrid!
Joined
Nov 22, 2007
Messages
1,125
Location
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~BBW, Magic, ~XWG -Sometimes, you find strange things in cakes.

(Author's note: been on holiday for a while, so, hope you enjoy)

Superhuman Bake Sale
by Irish Bard

Chapter 1

“Come on, guys, open up.”

Kalla’s voice came from outside the door of the house, It was Matilda who went to answer it in the end. Did Kalla leave her keys every time she went out of the house? Matilda came down the stairs, holding onto the wall as there was no banister after the last group of students got a bit too wild with a party, and opened the door. Kalla came in, dark bangs obscuring her eyes, her large t-shirt stained from too many late night curry’s, sandals on her feet in march.

“Kalla, where were you, we have to get this place cleaned before Ingrid gets back.”

“I went to get some books for the English lecture tomorrow.”

“Yeah, that takes, what, half an hour, how come you’ve been gone for the past three quarters of one?”

“Well, there was a bake sale near the red brick clock tower, and they looked so good, and I though, you know, what would Ingrid like to have when she gets back home? So…” Kalla pulled out a paper bag. Matilda could tell from the smell what it was, freshly baked chocolate miniature muffins, probably with an extra topping of something, Ingrid couldn’t resist them.

“Good thinking, Kay, where did you get them again?”

“Near the red brick clock tower, there’s a trailer and a group of people are selling this stuff. you know, Neil, Richard, that lot.”

Matilda felt her heart fall.

“You brought stuff from the stoners? For heavens sake, Kalla, they’ve probably chocked it full of dope, that’s the last thing we need!”

“No, honest, I tried one, it felt alright to me.”

Matilda looked at Kalla with a disbelieving expression, a guarantee from her was like walking blindfold into a prank shop. Matilda had known Kalla for a while, she was the girl who everyone knew could eat loads and never gained weight, leaving her with a spritely figure that was swamped by her baggy fashion choice. She was, what Matilda had described in numerous group psychology sessions as Rhe Oddball, whose mannerisms and quaintities would have been lost on a less informal audience. Still, she was at least well meaning, and Matilda liked her, she was kind and well-intentioned, if infuriatingly ditsy and lacking in attention span length.

“I’d probably have to have one, for safety purposes, you understand.”

“Sure, no problem, I’ve got plenty, and trust me, they are worth breaking your diet over, Mattie.”

Matilda frowned at this point. Unlike Kalla, Rosemary, or Ingrid, Matilda had always been a bit on the chunky side, and didn’t liked to be reminded of that. It was a niggling fact that always got at her, the fact she had to by cloths two sizes up from her flat mates, or the fact that she had to have sugar substitute in her tea.

It wasn’t to say she was ugly, She was actually quite pretty, with vibrant red hair, a few black streaks dyed in, and glittering green eyes, but she felt elephantine compared to her flat mates. Taking a muffin out, she bit into it, expecting for it to be sweet, chocolaty and chocked full of weed.

What she got was beyond her imagining. She had expected sweet, but the potency of what hit her tastebuds was like a thousand sugary suns exploding in her mouth. She had expected chocolaty, but the creamy and richness of the chips were intoxicating beyond belief. She had expected it to be chocked full of weed, but instead a gooey, chocolaty centre was both unexpected and very nice at the same time.

“My Word, these are excellent! Oh, mm, they're like little bits of heaven! Ingrid is going to love these!”

“Yeah, Neil and the others have much more stuff, cakes, donuts, muffins, cookies, all sorts of stummf.”

Kalla had returned to stuffing her face with another muffin and Matilda took her long black coat and stepped out into the March morning of Birmingham university. She had gotten here by pure fluke, by and large, due to the person who was previously on the course in her place got deported back to Poland by immigration, and her application was full of enough interesting things that she had never done to warrant her a place on the course. It had not been easy after that, and she spent a lot of her time doing research and studying to try and stay up with the course, and even then she was behind a fair old bit.

The Trailer was a simple thing, stalls and tables set up with all manner of baked goodies on trays, with paper bags and boxes surrounding them. Neil, Richard and Mike were serving the gaggle of people around the stall, all of them looking, smelling and trying the various confectionary on display.

“It’s ok, try as many as you like,” Matilda heard Neil saying, “We don’t want massive profit, we’re not capitalists. Listen, our policy is that we half the price of every bag you take after two. Come on, come on, share the love.”

“How do we know they’re ok?” this came from Cassie, probably the smallest girl in the university, as well as the most tomboyish.

“Believe me, Cassie, we wouldn’t be selling these if we didn’t think them to be good, but if you want further proof.” Neil walked over to the trailer and opened the door “Ask Becs here.”

“They say” replied Rebecca, waddling out, enormous, a baggy t-shirt stretched to bursting point behind a comically small apron “that to never trust a thin chef.”

She was very large, probably twice Matilda’s size and then some. Containing most of her growth all over, she was all over fat, with large stomach, large breasts, a large ass and wide hips, the tied back dreadlocks making her round face look all the more fat. “and as you can see, I’m not a thin chef!”

“What’s the calorie intake!” this came from Suzie, who could only be described as a cheerleader without a squad or team, probably the most health and fashion conscience member of the university. “I don’t know whether you noticed, but some of us are trying to keep in shape, Lard arse!”

“I am in shape!” replied Rebecca, testily, “Round is a shape! If you’re that worried about your figure, then don’t have them, but you are missing out, Stick britches!”

“Yeah, anyway, Mattie, what can I do for you?” Neil said, as Matilda got her head over to him under the slagging match. Matilda looked around at the goodies on offer, tapping her chin.

“Oh… what to choose, what to choose? I think I’ll have a few muffins, a few cookies… a bit of everything, really.”

“Ok, we can do 4 each, would you like that?”

“erm, ok, I’m kinda pressed on my budget.”

“Don’t sweat it, we made these with student prices in mind. That will be £3.50my dear.”

“£3.50 for twenty pieces of confectionary?!”

“Too steep? Ok, I’ll throw in a piece of lemon drizzle cake in for free, how does that sound.”

“Erm… yeah, cool, cool… I hope you’re able to break even with this strategy.”

“Mattie, I’m sure business will be just fine. I’ll get you a bigger bag.”

Neil watched her go, and smiled. Taking out his mobile phone, he rang a number and waited for the pick up.

“Phase two in operation, let’s hope this works.”
 

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