or, enter your birth date.*
“Oh, come on, fatass. You can do better than this,” said Fleur. One of her hands tightly cupped the gigantic, wobbling ass of the woman in front of her, the other wrapped around her waist and fondling the love handles that hung over the other woman’s skin-tight jeans.
The woman in question was bent over a box filled with notebooks, clothes, and framed photos. Her body was crammed into the corner of the room beside a large, king-size bed. She feebly swatted Fleur's hand away from her bulging gut and, with a deep grunt, heaved herself upwards. She tightly gripped a nearby shelf for support and heard it creak under her weight.
“Huff… huff… I think… huff… anywhere… huff… is better than this,” Jennifer said between labored breaths. “I’m just here to pick… pick up the last of my things.” She clutched the cardboard box full of her possessions and began extracting her bulk from Fleur’s embrace.
“Don't be like that, Jen.” Fleur expertly ran her delicate fingernails up and down the quivering mass of Jennifer’s belly. A strained tank top barely covered past her belly button and left a roll of flab hanging over the front of her jeans exposed. Fleur began to pick away at a small hole in the cloth, tugging at a loose strung. “We both know you came back for more than that.”
“Listen up, you manipulative little– Uuuurp!” Jennifer let out a forceful belch as Fleur rooted out that one sensitive spot in her gut and dug her nails down into the malleable flesh. Before she could say another word, Fleur’s piercing blue eyes were an inch away from hers and the overpowering scent of roses flooded her head. She felt fingers probing, massaging, coaxing her belly until it felt heavier and heavier and her legs screamed out from under the weight. An instant later her ass hit the bed and sent quivering shockwaves up her body like a mound of jello. Seams along her waistline popped and groaned, just barely holding back the cascading rolls of fat bundled up inside. Then the hands were at it again, sliding up each beanbag-sized ass cheek and aggressively fondling every inch of exposed belly. One drifted upwards to slide a square of rich chocolate past Jennifer’s lips; she readily accepted it. The other slid down, diving underneath the weight of her belly and probing her lower gut.
Frrrrpt! Fleur grinned as a loud fart trumpeted out from her captive’s quivering ass. Doubling down on her massaging of Jen’s belly, Fleur watched the enormous woman’s rear vibrate with each burst of flatulence. Soon, she could feel Jennifer’s muscles relaxing underneath layers of flab as the larger woman practically melted onto the bed, allowing her trunk-like arms to splay out and letting out a deep, desperate moan.
Of all the ways she had teased and tormented her feedees, Fleur admitted to herself that this was one of her favorites. There was something so primal, so animalistic, so sexy about seeing the other woman reduced to a whimpering pile of lard before her. She loved the soft, silky feeling of running her fingers over the bulging rolls of flab that hung off her plaything’s body; the skin was pale and delicate, it moulded and folded and gave way under the slightest touch. It covered every inch of the lean, scrawny girl Jennifer used to be, clothed her in a voluptuous gown of gluttony and quivering rolls while trapping her within the prison of her own body.
And what a body it was.
The woman on the bed was beyond obese. Short, faded red hair fell down messily to her shoulders and framed her swollen face. She strained to bring her head up but only succeeded in deepening the folds of her triple chin. She wheezed, out of breath and shaking with pleasure, causing her mammoth chest to heave up and down rhythmically. Once small and perky, Jennifer’s breasts had ballooned to the size of basketballs and jiggled with milk and fat after every breath. When upright, they hung down over her belly (she had given up on wearing a bra long ago), but lying down they were plump enough to press up against her face. Fleur made a motion to push them aside, then instead gripped one in each hand and groped them aggressively, pressing each globe up against her body and sending shockwaves of arousal down Jen’s ensnared body.
Jennifer’s lower body was just as bad. Each leg was composed of several cascading rolls of fat, her thighs squished so close together it was impossible for her to spread them apart. Her double belly spread like an apron of blubber over her thighs and was divided by a deep cleft down the middle. She took up nearly the entire bed in her current state, forcing Fleur to climb next to her to stroke her hair. The purple-haired woman admired the still purple-tinted fringes of Jennifer’s hair, a remnant of their relationship. Fleur noticed Jen still wore the single purple jewel earring on her left ear she had given her for their six month anniversary. She remembered how much Jen had resisted getting wearing the gem, saying it looked out of place and didn’t match her professional attire. It resulted in a fight between them, one of the only fights they had; in the end, Jen wore the earring and outgrew her outfit.
That was what Fleur did, what she lived for. She took things from people. To her, everyone was a complex, unique bundle of likes and dislikes and habits and personalities and all the things that made someone themselves. They were individuals, they had dreams and aspirations, and each and every person could find a way to fit all these pieces of themselves together to live up to their fullest potential. That was what it meant to be human. And for Fleur, nothing was more interesting, more thrilling, or gave her more exhilarating pleasure than stripping all that away. Every scrap of identity lost, every fiber of individuality bent to her will, and every spark of intelligence crushed was a shred of humanity that was lost forever to the world, but not to her.
She considered herself a curator of humanity; the only way she could truly know someone was by breaking them down and savoring the fragments of themselves they left behind. The rest of the world, and her objects of attention themselves, did not and could not appreciate the beauty of their humanity. It seemed like such a waste to Fleur, when she could satisfy her need to dominate then and turn them into something much happier in return. So she took, and took, and took until there was nothing left but the aching pleasure of stripping someone down to the core and the panting, farting mass of flesh and gluttony on the bed before her. It was mindless, it was in ecstasy, it was pure, and it belonged to her.
In a way, Fleur was almost jealous. They say ignorance is bliss, after all. She remembered when she first discovered the instinctive flame of desire that burned away at the back of every person’s mind. She had gone on a class field trip, back in second grade, to a farm located half an hour outside the city. It was a beautiful day, with clear blue skies and the flowers in bloom for the spring. She couldn't remember much about the farm itself, though, save for part of a tour through the livestock facilities. The moment she laid eyes on the rows and rows of fattened pigs, something deep within her snapped awake. These animals were caged, wallowed in their own filth, and were being raised for nothing more than slaughter, and yet they did nothing but gorge themselves on slop. It felt instinctively right, somehow, and it would occupy her dreams for years.
Now, she knew the truth behind her feelings; buried deep within each person was only the desire for gluttony and pleasure, sustenance and sloth. The more she took away, the more someone would revert to these instincts, and the more she satisfied those instincts, the more she owned them. Her experiments stretched from toppling athletes and social queens in her high school years to seducing and fattening impressionable freshmen in college, but nothing serious, nothing permanent. That is, until a year ago, when she met the energetic and high-achieving Jennifer. They clicked immediately, Fleur the wild art major and Jen the savvy business major.
Within a month, Jen’s grades had fallen from A’s to B’s while her dress size had nearly doubled.
Three months in, and they were inseparable; Fleur was joined at the hip to Jen’s expanding waist, and Jen grasped nervously for Fleur’s hand any moment they were apart.
After six months, straight C’s and a bathroom incident drove Jen out of college and into the welcoming arms of her girlfriend. The move to Fleur’s apartment happened quickly, and Jen’s withdrawal from her friends and family occurred soon after.
Nine months after they met, and Jen was accused at an airport of using a fake passport. She was 300 pounds heavier, had dyed her hair purple, and set off metal detectors with an array of navel piercings. The experience ended after she was grounded for being too wide for a single seat.
Fleur had been so close with Jen. She was almost there, almost at the point of no return, but she had pushed her a little too far and a little too fast. One week ago, Jen declared that enough was enough.
One day ago, Fleur met a cute girl in her microbiology class. She was innocent and gorgeous and just the perfect body type.
A whiff of her victim’s flatulence brought Fleur back to reality. The seductress waved her hand playfully over her nose. “Oh, Jen. Excuse you,” she punctuated her remark with a final squeeze. Jennifer stifled a moan, her chubby fingers clawing uselessly at the bedsheets. “Admit it, Jen. You can’t give this up. You can’t give me up. You need this.”
“I never- Uuuurp- needed this.” Jen finally managed to push herself upright. Her arms shook with the effort, sweat glistening alongside stretch marks. She spat back at Fleur, “ -you were the one who… who made me into this. You made me this way, and I’m sick and tired of it.”
Jennifer heaved herself to a standing position, her belly swinging like a pendulum down over her thighs. Fleur refused to lend a hand, instead opting to watch her ex-feedee struggle to keep her balance. Once she was sure of her footing, Jennifer lifted her box of possessions off of the bed and began the arduous process of waddling out the bedroom door.
Fleur caught up to her in the hallway, darting in front of the lumbering woman before she could reach the front door of the apartment. Blue eyes gleaming, she pinched Jennifer’s underbelly and giggled.
“Me? Look at yourself, babe. This is you. This is all you. No one forced you to take that extra slice of cake whenever we went out to eat. No one said you had to quit your ‘diet’ two days after you started.” The grin dropped from Fleur’s face, and her eyes grew hard. “Oh, sure, I wasn’t the best influence. I didn’t encourage you to work out. I was willing to accept you, whatever shape you were in. Who could blame you for letting go a little when there was a beautiful woman waiting back home who gave you belly rubs when you had your ‘little’ binges?”
Fleur’s eyes took on a dangerous edge, and Jennifer found that she had both her hands buried in the flesh of her belly. “I certainly didn’t blame you. I didn’t mind. But don’t you dare for a moment say that I did this to you, because it wasn’t my job to pry your fat ass off the couch when you wouldn’t even walk ten feet to the goddamn kitchen. I’m not the one who ate a gallon tub of ice cream before bed every night.” Jen squeezed her eyes shut and tried to block out Fleur’s words. “That was you, lardass. You stuffed your little piggy snout day and night, you cried your heart out and chugged a tub of chocolate fondue when you saw yourself in the mirror, and you came groveling to me when your fucking gut got so big you couldn’t even reach yourself down there.”
“You can’t go back to your old life. You can’t live alone. I’d bet my life that you can’t lose a single fucking pound. I’m the only one who will feed you and fuck your fat ass in this entire city. But if you turn around and sit down on that bed right now, I can stuff you and screw you until curling your toes is the only thing your feet are able to do.” Finishing her tirade, Fleur quickly switched tactics once again. Jennifer was almost swayed by Fleur’s open, beckoning eyes and the now-gentle coaxes of her feeder’s palms across her belly. “Come on, sweetie. This could be so easy…”
“Shut up!” Jen yelled, pushing Fleur away. She held her box defensively between her body and Fleur’s. “I’m not going back, and I’m not listening to you anymore. I am taking my things, and my body, and leaving. Oh,” Jennifer said as she fumbled awkwardly with her ear, “You can have this back too.” Fleur gracefully caught the object lobbed at her. It was the purple earring.
“Hmm.” Fleur pursed her lips in disapproval, forming a thin purple line. “Fine. I don’t need to offer you my help if you won’t take it. In fact, I think my time would be much better spent with Emily.” Seeing Jennifer’s confused glance back from the doorway, Fleur elaborated. “A girl I met the other day. None of your concern, now.”Jen frowned. “You’re right, it is none of my concern. But God help whatever poor girl you’re luring in now,” Jen said as she squeezed past the doorframe and lumbered down the hall, “And I hope she catches on while she can still fit through your bedroom door!”
or, enter your birth date.*
“...I've got a bad feeling about this.”
Emily shook her head lightly as she stared up at the brightly lit sign. Above her were the words Bella Porcellino, hung from a sign above an elegant doorway. Well-dressed patrons walked around her to exit and enter the building, and she could hear the sound of a piano drifting out from past the open door. A sudden gust of wind blew chills across her arms, prompting her to begin walking forward.
“What am I doing… this is insane… she probably won't even show up…” Emily mumbled off a litany of complaints to no one in particular. She entered the restaurant lobby and cast a quick look around while fiddling with her dress. The mystery date was nowhere to be seen, although Emily spotted several tables concealed by the elegant columns throughout the dining area where her date could be hiding. Straightening her dress once more and taking a deep breath, she turned towards the wait staff at the front of the lobby.
Sarah had picked out an outfit for her friend which, in her own words, would “guarantee some action on the first date”. Emily wore a slim, form-fitting, low-cut dress which fell down to her ankles with slits cut out to expose a good deal of her legs. The shimmering blue fabric shone even in the dim light of the restaurant, and paired with heels and a dazzling necklace, even Emily admitted she felt as impressive as Sarah said she looked. Reaching the front of the lobby in a few steps, Emily shook back her hair and cleared her throat.
“Er- excuse me, but I'm supposed to meet someone? They, uh, might have a reservation, I don't really know.” At the waitress' confused look, Emily elaborated. “Oh! Her name is Fleur, I think?”
“Right this way, miss.” The waitress nodded and led the way out into the sea of tables. Emily hurried to keep up but repeatedly stopped to discreetly examine the dishes on each table. The dining area was a storm of mingling scents and delicious aromas, with wait staff rushing from table to kitchen bringing out food and clearing away plates. After nearly bumping into one of the waiters, Emily navigated her way to a table on the far side of the room where the waitress was waiting. A moment later, Emily felt a hand rest against her arm.
“Emily! I'm so glad you made it. I was worried for a minute you weren't coming…” Fleur’s silky voice came across as a whisper into Emily’s ear. The blonde spun around in response, jerking her arm away from the other woman’s hand.
“Oh! Um. Yes. I made it! Got here in one piece. Not that I would get here any other way, heh…” Emily’s vocabulary crumbled at the sight of the stunning beauty standing next to her. She rubbed her arm anxiously where Fleur had touched her and let out a forced chuckle. “You, uh, you look great! Wait, not great, I'm sorry I know I already said that word this morning but I don’t mean that you’re not great just that I need a better word and–”
Fleur silenced Emily by holding up a finger to the other girl’s lips. A jolt of electric feeling ran through Emily’s body from the contact, and Fleur gave her partner a small grin.
“Relax.” She sat down on one side of the table and gestured to Emily to take the opposite seat. “And thank you. You look… magnificent… as well.” Her smile grew at her word choice, playfully teasing Emily’s awkwardness.
Emily quickly slid into her chair and hid her face behind the menu. “Thanks,” she mumbled quietly while her face turned beet red. When she heard Fleur pick up her menu as well, she took the opportunity to steal another glance at her date.
Fleur was breathtaking, to say the absolute least. She wore a flowing purple dress which seemed to cling to every curve on her body while hanging loosely from her shoulders in an elegant fashion. Her outfit accentuated the pronounced swell of her hips and chest, appearing to flow off of her body like a second skin. She wore her hair down, like before, openly displaying the colorful streak of purple strands running alongside her face. Her plump lips were a brighter and darker tone of purple than before, giving her a look of mystique and deadly charm. However, Emily’s eyes were drawn to the low cut of Fleur’s dress, which exposed so much skin it was barely respectable for the type of place they were in. Her fixation was only broken when a purple fingernail began to trace the contours of Fleur’s ample cleavage, leaving soft impressions in the pale skin. Emily snapped her head up to meet the Fleur’s bemused look.
“You know, I don't recall there being a list of entrees written down there.” Fleur lifted her fingertip from her bosom and gently tapped Emily’s menu. “Also, your menu is upside down.”
Emily tossed her menu gently to the side and placed her head onto the table to hide her blush. “I… I don't…” she mumbled through her embarrassment, “I'm so sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me, I swear I'm not this awkward or creepy normally.”
Fleur giggled and shook her head. “No, no, it's fine, really! I've gone out with guys who try to grab my boobs on the first date. Against that standard, you're doing just fine,” she said with a smile, trying to lighten the mood. “Besides, I know I tend to draw a lot of attention - trust me, I'm used to it.”
Emily perked up slightly at this, her face slowly returning to normal. “Well. Regardless, I'm sorry for being so awkward. Can we… start over?” She stuck out her hand and Fleur took it in hers. “My name is Emily, I'm a creative writing major, I'm also part of the University dance team, and I'm no good at first dates.”
Fleur shook her hand gently. “I'm Fleur, I'm an art major, I’m the president of the gourmet cooking club, and…” She placed her elbows on the table and leaned over, causing her breasts to sway seductively and practically burst out of her dress. “...I think you're adorable when you blush like that.”
Emily stammered as she felt warmth seeping throughout her body. Thankfully, the waitress arrived to take their orders and provided an opportunity for Emily to avert her eyes and organize her thoughts.
“Are you two ready to order?”
Fleur snapped her menu shut. Emily reached for the menu at her side, but instead found it already neatly folded in Fleur’s hand.
“Yes, we're ready. We’d like the stuffed peppers for an appetizer, and an order of breadsticks, of course. I'll have the house specialty lasagna, and she'll have the three-cheese stuffed ravioli. Oh, and a bottle of the house white wine, as well.” Fleur rattled off the order and handed the menus to the waitress in one fluid motion. The waitress nodded once and quickly left with their orders. Meanwhile, Emily was left overwhelmed and could only open and close her mouth in apparent confusion.
Fleur reached over and clasped Emily’s hand in both of hers. “Trust me, the stuffed pasta here is the best thing you'll ever taste. The cheese’s flavor just explodes in your mouth and… Mmmm.” Fleur moaned quietly for emphasis, then saw Emily’s look of surprise. “Oh, I'm so sorry; did you want to order something else? I guess I just got so carried away that I forgot to ask you.” Her eyebrows creased into a worried expression as she squeezed Emily’s hand gently.
The feel of Fleur’s soft hands curled around her own sent chills up Emily’s arm and froze all rational thought. “Uh… No, yeah, that's fine. It sounds fantastic.” She was actually a little concerned about all the carbs in their meal with dance competition season starting soon, but she figured this was a night for experimentation.
“Oh, good. You will love it, I promise.” Fleur gave the blonde another sly grin. “So… Other than drifting off during lectures and ogling gorgeous women, what do you do in your free time?”
“Well, I already mentioned that I'm part of the dance team. State champions for two years running!” Emily flashed a grin in return, becoming used to the other girl’s constant flirting. “Other than that, I spend a lot of time writing for fun, studying, and… I guess that's it.”
“Really? No time for partying it up? Sounds like you could use a little more excitement in your life.”
“Trust me, I have plenty enough excitement in my life already. A crazy roommate, my European History professor who hates me…”
Fleur pouted, her purple streak of hair falling over one side of her face. “Aw, this is no good at all, then.” Emily became acutely aware of Fleur’s hand on hers as Fleur began to stroke her palm with the tips of her nails.
“No good at all?”
“No!” Fleur exclaimed, fake sadness dripping in her voice. “It sounds to me like you're a nice, shy, innocent girl,” she said as she leaned forward again. Emily subconsciously leaned in as well, drowning in the deep blue of Fleur’s eyes. Fleur turned her head slightly and closed the distance, pressing her supple cheek against Emily’s and bringing her lips mere millimeters away from her partner’s ear. Emily felt a trickle of baited breath flutter across her neck and light her nerves on fire as Fleur whispered to her.
“...and I would absolutely corrupt the fuck out of you.”
Emily could feel the other woman’s lips sound out every word against her skin. Fleur punctuated each syllable with a shake of her head, her silky skin sliding slowly over Emily’s cheek. Emily felt her nerves go haywire, fires burning across the surface of her body and her senses overwhelmed with the whispers of the seductress. Fleur pulled back to face Emily, their noses almost touching. She tilted her head down and subtly bit her lower lip as she gauged Emily’s reaction with wide, eager eyes.
“I'd be so, so bad for you. I can tell this is your first time going out with another woman.“ Her voice dropped an octave, now a barely audible whisper. “Are you a virgin, then? You've never been–” Her nails curled into Emily’s palm and elicited a soft gasp as she punctuated the word. “–fucked by anyone before? Would I be your first?”
She still held the blonde’s limp hand in her own. Slowly, she lifted it up and ran the tip of Emily’s finger across her breast, leaving ripples in the fabric of her dress. Teeth bit down on purple lips to stifle her low moan at the touch. “Naughty girl. You're already copping a feel?” One finger became two, and three, and four, until Emily’s entire hand began to mash itself into Fleur’s melon-sized flesh. “I'm going to make you so, so–”
“Oh, good, our appetizer is here!” In the time it took for Emily to blink, Fleur retracted her hand and slouched back into her seat. She stared into Emily’s eyes, licked her glistening purple lips once, and winked before turning to face the approaching waitress. Emily glanced around wildly, but no one around their secluded table had seemed to notice what was happening. A massive platter of stuffed peppers was placed in the center of the table, along with a large basket of bread and two plates. A second waiter came to the table a moment later to pour two glasses of wine for the women.
Emily barely registered any of it. Her vision felt cloudy and the rest of the room seemed subdued and muted. All her attention and focus was narrowed in on the girl in front of her, those purple lips burned into her retinas. Every slight touch against her skin felt red hot.
“Miss, are you uncomfortable? Would you like us to turn down the temperature?” the waitress asked after noticing Emily’s reddened face.
“N-No, I think I-I’m fine.” Emily replied, sending the waitress away. She quickly grabbed her glass of wine and downed half of it, relishing the cool relief it gave her. She took a few deep breaths and finally turned to face Fleur once again.
“W-What was that?”
“These? They're stuffed peppers, I'm not sure what they've got in them…” Fleur feigned innocence until she saw Emily’s stunned look. “Oh, that? I told you, you look adorable when you blush!” She winked at the blonde and stabbed a pepper with her fork.
Emily felt herself beginning to calm down again. Myriad emotions still ran through her mind, but they were almost all drowned out by a mental voice screaming ‘This girl is hot!’ She had never come close to experiencing anything like this in her life, but she knew some part of her deep down craved more of it. Pushing those thoughts out of her head for the moment, Emily instead tried to focus on eating. She followed Fleur’s lead and stabbed a single pepper with her fork, then popped it into her mouth. She took a moment to chew the lump of fried vegetable and dough before swallowing.
“Mmm! Alright, I admit, that is really good.” Emily pointed her fork at the plate and nodded in appreciation. Part of her was just glad to return to normal conversation.
“Really? You're not just protecting my culinary feelings?” Fleur joked.
“Really! I'm kind of surprised, I don't usually go for heavier food like this but–”
Fleur cut Emily off. “Perfect! There's plenty more here, and I'm so glad I don't have to eat them by myself. Gotta watch that figure, ya know?” She wiggled in her seat as she grabbed hold of the platter. Tilting it, she began using her fork to slide half the peppers onto Emily’s plate.
“Oh, please, I don't need that many.” Emily picked up her plate and held it out to Fleur, trying to shuffle some of the peppers back onto the platter.
“Don't worry about it, I'm buying tonight. Oh, sorry! Let me get that for you.” Fleur took Emily’s plate, placed two buttery breadsticks onto it, and handed it back.
“Oh, no, I didn't want–”
Emily was silenced again by a moan from Fleur as she bit into her own breadstick. “You have got to try this, right now. It is so good!” She brushed her purple bangs behind her ears and bit off another chunk of bread.
Slowly, Emily followed suit. She picked up her own bread, inspected it, and tore off a chunk. It was covered with seasonings and had a greasy sheen, but still smelled delicious. A droplet of butter fell from the bread to Emily’s plate.
“I don't know… It looks a little too greasy for my tastes.”
“Don't be so picky, just eat it.” Fleur gave Emily her best puppy-dog eyes. “One bite? Just for me?”
Emily couldn't help but roll her eyes and giggle. “Alright. One.” She bit into the breadstick, eyes widening at the taste. She frantically chewed and swallowed the buttery bread before biting off another piece, and another. “Mmmph! Ok, you're right - this is really good.” Finishing the first one, she began to not-so-subtly eye the second.
Fleur caught the look. “Oh come on, don't just stare at it, eat it! Splurge a little, nerd girl!” Emily responded with a glare, but began giggling after a few seconds. She popped another stuffed pepper into her mouth and began nibbling the second breadstick on Fleur’s encouragement.
“Don't call me nerd girl! I'll have you know I'm watching my carbs to get ready for dance practice next week.” Finishing the second breadstick, Emily started on her third pepper.
“Pshhh. Look at you! You're in great shape. You can afford to eat some damn breadsticks if you want to.” Fleur placed her second one on her date’s plate and plucked another stuffed pepper for herself. “So, what kind of dances do you do?”
“Oh, all kinds!” Emily began to get lost in the conversation about one of her favorite passions. The remainder of the stuffed peppers on her plate, as well as the third breadstick, disappeared over the course of their talk.
“...mmph, and that's why they have to keep their left leg bent when they do those- urp- jumps. Excuse me!” Emily apologized as she finished explaining one of her more complicated moves to Fleur.
“Wow. I had no idea that's how they did it.” Fleur shook her head in astonishment and ignored the interruption. Before Emily could add anything to the explanation, Fleur nodded her head to the left. “Finally, our food is here. Took them long enough.”
A different waitress than before approached the table with a wide circular tray. She turned to Fleur.
“One house special lasagna?”
“That's mine, yes,” Fleur confirmed. The waitress set a wide plate heaped with lasagna in front of Fleur and shifted the appetizer plates. “Here, would you mind taking these plates away for us?” Fleur asked, holding up her own empty plate. Before Emily could comment, Fleur slid the remaining third of the stuffed peppers onto Emily’s plate and gave the larger platter to the server. “Making room,” was the only explanation she gave to Emily.
Next, the waitress set down a wide, steaming bowl in front of Emily, moving her appetizer plate to the side. Emily was stunned; it looked like someone had made a mountain of cheese in a bowl and fried it. The bowl contained multiple handfuls of large, cheese stuffed raviolis, which were then placed in an additional cheese sauce.
“Oh my god. There's no way I'm going to be able to eat all of this.” Emily told her date, eyeing her meal skeptically. She was already somewhat full from all the food from their first course, and couldn't imagine a normal human eating that much grease and cheese in one sitting. She prodded it experimentally with her fork. Gulping, she then stuck her fork entirely into the well of fondue and withdrew a large ravioli, strings of half-melted parmesan hanging off of it. She twirled it once to collect the stray cheese and thrust it into her mouth.
“Well? What do you think?” Fleur asked while chewing a mouthful of lasagna. “Good?”
“Better than good.” Emily replied with a full mouth.“Where has this been all my life?” Multiple flavors intermingled in her mouth, the warm packets of greasy cheese and dough practically melting on her tongue. However, when she swallowed the bite, it felt like a lump of material settling into her stomach.
“Oof. Ok, I'm already full.” Emily groaned, setting her fork on the edge of the bowl.
Fleur frowned at her.
“You're joking.” Emily shook her head in response. Fleur eyed the food with a gleam in her eye. “There’s no way I'm letting you waste some of the best Italian food in town.”
“Don't get me wrong, I love it, it's just too–”
“Stop.” Fleur held up a hand and pointed to Emily’s glass of wine. “Drink.”
“Trust me. Drink.”
“Um… Alright?” Emily took a sip of wine.
“Great. Now take a bite.” Fleur pointed to the cheesy pasta.
Emily sighed. “Yeah, alright, I get it.” She took a bite out of another ravioli square and glared at the woman opposite her. “You're worse than my mother,” Emily teased.
“It's only because I care about you!” Fleur teased back with a mock lecturing tone. Both girls descended into giggles at this. “Speaking of that, where are you from?”
Emily slurped up another spoonful of rich fondue. “I'm local. Both my parents were born and raised here.” Fleur reached over, stabbed a stuffed pepper with her fork, and held it out in front of Emily’s mouth. The blonde chuckled at the gesture but opened her mouth to accept it.
“I'm from out of town, but I live in an apartment nearby for the spring semester classes. Like you, I assume.” Emily nodded her head to confirm. “I was never really that close to my parents.”
After a while of small talk and introductions, Emily was completely stuffed. She felt ready to burst, and could practically feel the seams of her dress straining against her belly. She ran her fork along the side of the bowl to scoop up some of the cheesy residue and placed it onto the last stuffed pepper. She couldn't believe she had managed to eat every last one; she couldn't remember how many Fleur took, but it certainly didn't seem like half.
A low gurgle erupted from Emily’s gut as she tried to keep down the forkfuls of cheese she had eaten. Looking down, she saw that about half the pasta on her plate remained untouched. Fleur put her own fork down next to her half-finished lasagna and stared pointedly at Emily.
“What's the matter? You're not finished, are you?”
“Listen, Fleur, I’m being dead serious,” Emily said, “I don’t think I can physically keep any more of this down.”
“Of course you can! You just need a little motivation.” Fleur drummed her fingers on the table. “How about we play a little game?”
At the acceptance of her invitation, Fleur gave Emily a knowing smile. She gently picked up the bottle of wine sitting to the right of their meals and refilled Emily’s glass to the brim. Scooting her chair closer to the table, Fleur then arched her fingers together in contemplation.
“The rules are simple. When I say ‘drink’, take a sip,” she clinked a purple nail on the edge of Emily’s wine glass, “and when I say ‘eat’, take a nice, big bite.” She nodded her head towards Emily’s plate. “Now, drink.”
Emily raised her eyebrow at the other woman, but complied. She carefully brought the glass to her lips and took a small sip.
“Good. Now eat.”
“I told you, I'm way too full to even look at this right now!” Emily exclaimed.
Fleur frowned. “Let me clarify the rules. You eat–” She gave Emily a sly look and barely parted her lips. “–or else.”
Emily jumped slightly as a foreign touch drifted across her belly. Looking down, she saw Fleur’s leg extended under the table, the pointed tip of her black heels tracing circles around Emily’s belly button. Fleur's foot seemed to zero in on the side of her gut which ached with fullness and targeted it. With a lunge, Fleur jabbed her foot into Emily’s side.
“Ow! What the hell-” Emily stopped when she felt a sudden eruption of pressure in her gut. Her tormentor’s shoe dug deeper into her bloated belly, creating a surge of rising pressure and causing Emily to nearly hurl. “UUUUURRP.” Emily let out a loud belch.
“Good girl. Feel better now?” Blue eyes locked onto hazel from behind a veil of purple strands. “Do you think you can take just one more bite for me?”
Emily nodded dumbly and took a meek bite out of another pasta. A long string of gooey cheese was left hanging between her plate and her mouth.
Fleur reached over and twirled the stray cheese around her finger, then lifted it to Emily’s half-parted lips. She gently stuck it into Emily’s mouth, allowing her to slurp the food off before she withdrew her glistening finger. She ran it over Emily’s lips and left a greasy trail across them, then did the same to her own indigo lips. “Eat,” she whispered the command.
Emily was torn between half a dozen maddening sensations stimulating her body. Fleur’s seductive voice was all she could hear beyond the distant din of the restaurant, and each word sent chills down her spine. Her lips tingled from Fleur’s touch, while her mouth desperately craved the taste of both the greasy morsel Fleur had fed her and the other girl’s shimmering, plump lips. Fleur’s heel remained rested on her tiny belly, leaving a threat hanging over the air of the table. The blonde’s thoughts ran in circles as she desperately tried to clear the fog in her mind and focus, but she found herself returning time and time again to Fleur. The woman dominated her focus and invaded every thought, leaving her body flushed with suppressed heat. Embarrassed beyond belief at her own table manners and aroused past rational thought, Emily found that she could do little but follow Fleur’s suggestive commands.
Stabbing two thick, cheesy raviolis, Emily began to gorge herself on the pasta in front of her. She ladled forkfuls of grease and cheese to her face and greedily sucked them down, ignoring the building tension in her stomach and straining of her belly against her dress. Every time she began to slow, Fleur reapplied pressure to her gut and sent a wave of pressure and nausea up her body, prompting her to resume eating before she lost either her nerve or her dinner. Occasionally Fleur would lift her heel from Emily’s side, allowing her a brief respite to gulp down a mouthful of wine. It was a cycle of gluttony and punishment in which Fleur pulled all the strings, and as the meal went on Emily could feel the wine creating a buzzing in her head and a dulling of her senses. By the time she crammed the last doughy lump into her mouth, she felt filled with heavy grease and fat, her body slowly succumbing to the light buzz of the wine and lust for the woman across from her. She couldn’t fight it, couldn’t resist loving every second of it.
And no matter what every fiber of her common sense screamed at her, she craved more.
Her plate finally cleared, the stuffed girl leaned back in relief. However, Fleur gave her no respite. “Wow, you must have been hungrier than you thought! I’m actually feeling full myself. It’s too bad this stuff doesn’t keep well for leftovers… but if you feel up to it, I’d be glad to share.” Fleur used her fork to slide the remaining third of her lasagna onto Emily’s plate.
Emily groaned and shook her head. She offered feebly: “Ugh… not hungry.” She pushed the plate away from her.
Fleur’s hand shot out and grasped the other side of the plate, slowly forcing it back in front of her date. “No, please, I insist.” Before Emily could protest further Fleur shifted her leg and gently tapped her heel between Emily’s thighs, easily rooting out her most sensitive spot.
A jolt of heat, electricity, and shame burnt through Emily’s spine. Stars appeared in her vision as she tried to process the feeling. Arousal and a deep craving surged into every part of her body, lighting up her face and creating a deep ache in her core. Fleur observed all this and gracefully pressed the full wine glass to Emily’s lips. Emily drained it, savoring the cool relief it once again brought her. However, Fleur refilled it once again with the last drops of liquid from the bottle and pressed it to Emily’s lips again. She drank it more slowly this time, but still managed to finish the glass with a gasp.
Emily could barely hear the surrounding tables or notice anything but her own food and Fleur as her thoughts grew fuzzier. The only thing that cut through the fog were the feelings of her taut belly, the lasting touch of Fleur’s foot, and the intoxicating voice and beauty of the other woman.
She felt a fork slide into her hand. Fleur guided her hand over to the waiting pile of lasagna and applied more pressure to her heel with every inch closer her hand moved. The message was clear to Emily.
Fleur lifted her hand off of Emily’s, leaving the other girl shaking with indecision. Slowly, she brought her fork down to the plate, ignoring the protests of her stomach. When her utensil touched the pile of cheese, sauce, and dough, Emily felt Fleur lift her foot up and gently flick the tip of her shoe upwards. With a shudder, she scooped up a lump of lasagna and, steeling her nerves, shoved it into her mouth.
The instant the food was past her lips, Emily was rocked by a wave of heat and pleasure. Fleur dug her heel deep between Emily’s thighs and began grinding against it rhythmically. As Emily chewed and swallowed, forcing the calorie-stuffed bite down, Fleur slowed to a stop. When Emily looked up, her date merely stared back with half lidded eyes and a bemused smile. An outstretched finger tapped the plate impatiently, prompting Emily to continue.
Each bite was rewarded with the same reaction from Fleur. Emily scarfed down the pasta dish as quickly as she could, craving the growing fullness and desire building up in her core. Every hesitation brought the seductress’ attentions to a halt, leaving her feeling empty and desperate for more. Emily nearly sighed in disappointment when she saw that the plate was now empty and Fleur withdrew.
“What an appetite! I envy your metabolism,” Fleur said as their waitress approached to clear away the empty plates. “Personally, I’m saving room for dessert. My friend told me that I absolutely have to try this place’s chocolate cake.” She said this as she faced the waitress, giving her a small nod. A moment later she returned with a large slice of rich, decadent cake.
“Ah… I…” Emily searched for words. This was moving too fast. She couldn’t begin to process what had happened in the last half an hour, much less keep up with what seemed to be an endless array of meals ordered by her date. “I mean… I really don’t think I should… I can’t… carbs…” Emily mumbled unintelligibly, trying to find a reason to refuse.
“Aw, don’t you want to try just a little bite? A little sugar never hurt anyone.” Fleur assaulted Emily with a pair of pitiful, imploring eyes. This all seemed too familiar to Emily, but she was beyond questioning it now.
Emily’s head swam with alcohol and Fleur’s advances. She hesitated, letting the suggestion sink in, before meeting Fleur’s imploring gaze and giving in. She nodded and picked up a fork, but before she could stab the side of the cake, Fleur jerked the plate away.
“Oh, but you’re right. You ate so much tonight, you must be so full.” Fleur rested her palm on Emily’s empty hand and caressed it reassuringly. “Unless you really want some?”
Emily could feel her heart pounding, her face burning with desire and hunger. She nodded weakly. “Yeah, why not. Like you said, it’s just a little sugar…”
Fleur clasped Emily’s other hand, causing her to drop the fork. She leaned in once more, running her heel teasingly along Emily’s inner thigh. “Not good enough,” she whispered, lifting a hand to brush a strand of blonde hair aside, “I need you to say it for me. Tell me what you really want.”
Emily gulped. This wasn’t right. She wasn’t thinking right. She tried to pull away, but her lips moved against her will, responding to what her body demanded. “I… I don’t want to share it. I want the whole thing, it’s just... I- I’m so full, I don’t…” Emily felt dizzy, but every word she spoke brought Fleur’s wandering foot farther and farther up her thigh. “I need… I need you to help me…” She was rewarded with the sensation of Fleur’s heel pressing down between her legs.
Fleur already had a fork heaped with chocolate icing at the ready. When her date finished speaking, her face lit up in a wide smile. She immediately responded by rotating her foot slowly, sending shockwaves up and down Emily’s body and eliciting a panicked gasp. The forkful of cake was in the blonde’s mouth before she could recover. “Of course, sweetie. Whatever you need.”
Emily swallowed the cake eagerly and clutched the edges of the table for support. “More,” she whispered.
Fleur began to repeat the process, scooping up a large pile of sugary bread and frosting before grinding her heel into Emily’s crotch and stuffing the other girl’s open mouth when she reacted. As the slice of cake slowly disappeared, Fleur slid her foot lower and lower until it was nestled between Emily’s sensitive areas and her chair. She sped up her ministrations as she neared the final few chunks of dessert.
By the time Fleur ran her fork across the plate to catch the last few crumbs and dribbles of icing, Emily could barely move without sharp pains of fullness deep in her gut. She greedily sucked down the last forkful of frosting and gasped for breath, feeling her stomach churn in response. She could feel a building pressure in her gut, a combination of stuffed bloatedness and cascading waves of pleasure. Just as that pressure reached its peak, however, Fleur’s foot froze in place.
“I have your check, if you're ready?” The waitress’ voice cut through the haze of Emily’s thoughts. The woman stood beside the table, black book in hand and waiting expectantly. Her polite smile and professional look betrayed no indication that she was aware of what was happening at the table.
Fleur quickly slipped her credit card into the checkbook and handed it back. She dismissed the waitress with a casual wave. With a sensual sigh, she slid her foot back along Emily’s inner thigh and down to the floor. Giving her date a long look, she admired her handiwork.
“Nghhh…” Emily whimpered pitifully at the other girl’s movement. She was was a completely stuffed, flushed, turned-on emotional wreck, but she craved another second of Fleur’s touch more than anything in the world at that instant. Her mouth hung half-open, her breaths coming out in ragged gasps of desire and torturous denial. Fleur shook her head and cupped Emily’s cheek, then began gently murmuring to her.
“Breathe, baby. Relax… that’s it…” Fleur ran her fingers over heated pale skin and waited for the feel of Emily’s pulse to slow. When she felt the other girl had regained control over her emotions, she withdrew and rested her head in one hand. “Well, this was fun!”
Emily blinked once, then nodded. “Yeah. Fun,” Emily replied, slightly monotone. The entire experience still felt like a dream to her.
“What’s the matter? Was something wrong with the food?” Fleur caught on to the tone. “I hope I didn’t go too far with… you know, playing around? I’ve been told I’m not good with personal space.” She punctuated her comment with a sultry wink.
Emily took a moment to organize her thoughts. This was all wrong. Nothing had gone like she had expected. The night had ended with her eating a week’s worth of calories and nearly having sex with a stranger. She was pretty sure half the things Fleur had done could be considered sexual harassment, and she’d be insane for thinking any of this was ok. By all standards, it was a first date from hell.
But she really, really wanted to do it again.
“No,” Emily stuttered, “I mean, yes. Yes, this was fun, yes, I wasn’t expecting that level of… contact…” She blushed again and crossed her legs. “...but also yes, I didn’t, er, mind it? Except the stuff about corrupting, the, uh, you-know what out of me.”
Fleur’s eyebrows arched upwards and she let out a quiet ‘Eeeee!’ of excitement. “Oh my god, you’re so adorably awkward! Do you seriously not curse?” Emily continued to flounder around verbally before Fleur cut her off again. “It’s fine, I get it. You can’t help it if you’re an innocent nerd.”
Emily rolled her eyes, becoming more comfortable with her date’s light teasing. “Yeah, well, this nerd blames you for getting me all flustered. I swear I’m usually better with words than this.”
“Sure you are.” Fleur grinned at the glare she earned from across the table. “Maybe it’s time for you to quit while you’re behind. You good to go?”
Emily nodded and pushed her chair back. As she stood up to follow Fleur’s lead, she was struck by a wave of queasy fullness and strained fabric across her midsection. “Ugh, I’m so full. Let’s not do a restaurant next time.”
Fleur instantly replied with a curious hum. Emily instantly recognized her mistake. “I mean, if you want there to be a next time! Sorry, I didn’t mean to assume anything, but you said you had fun and I said I had fun and-” Emily backtracked desperately.
Fleur sighed again and put her hand on the other girl’s shoulder. “Emily. Please stop talking.” The blonde snapped her mouth shut. “Of course I’d like to have a ‘next time’. Preferably sooner than later.” A moment later, she adopted the sly and sultry face that Emily was beginning to recognize all too well. Twirling a loop of blonde hair around her finger, she slowly pulled Emily in close until they were an inch apart.
“Except… something tells me this sexy little nerd girl didn’t come up with those smooth texts from earlier. Could it be that someone else set you up?” Emily tried to avoid meeting Fleur’s piercing stare. “Maybe that roommate you mentioned?”
“I meant to text you myself! Eventually.”
“Well then, I suggest we schedule our little ‘next time’ right now.” Fleur licked her lips greedily. “I don’t think I can wait for ‘eventually’.”
Emily could feel each puff of sweet-scented breath against her face. “Um… Yeah. Let’s not do eventually. What, uh, what sounds good to you?”
“How about… tomorrow at noon, meet me at the theater over on the North side of campus.” Emily nodded eagerly at the idea. “Or we could just spend some time over at my place, and you could get what you really want… ”
“What… what I really want?”
Fleur tugged on her captive strand of Emily’s hair more aggressively. “Don’t make me spell it out.” She caressed Emily’s belly with her other hand once before reaching over to the table. She dabbed her finger onto the discarded cake plate and ran it across Emily’s exposed neck, leaving behind a smear of frosting. “I’ll text you my address. Show up with that cleaned off, and we’ll head over to the movies. If not… well, you can’t go out looking like that. We’ll have to find an alternative form of entertainment.” The last words were spoken at barely a whisper, as if she was sharing a lethal secret. At last she pulled away, waved goodbye, and quickly walked off into the now-packed restaurant. Emily blinked for a moment and lost her in the crowd.
Fleur quietly mouthed out a series of numbers to herself as she walked through the crowded dining area. After committing Emily’s dress size to memory, she made a mental note to go shopping tomorrow for the next size up.
Emily sat in silence for the taxi ride back to her apartment. The smear of frosting had begun to slowly melt and drip down the side of her pale skin, filling the air around her head with a sickeningly sweet odor. But no matter how many times she reached up, she couldn’t bring herself to wipe away Fleur’s mark.
or, enter your birth date.*
or, enter your birth date.*
|Hi! I'm just trying to write some fanfiction here, and I hope it's not too awful! Message me if you ever have any questions about my stories, and if you have any stories you'd like me to try writing, let me know! I don't feel like my poorly-edited stories are ever going to be good enough for me to do commissions like other good authors do, but I'll gladly take any ideas someone wants done and write something for them just as practice for me.|