The Harem on the Hill (Part XLIV) (Patreon)

"How about I strap Tabitha down in the living room and force-feed her?  That would keep Officer Nosy's attention while you lower the boom."

Bathed in darkness and silk sheets, you slide your hand across the mattress and into the depression that leads to Tina's naked body.  You brush along her side.  What once was an undisturbed landscape of rolling hills and sloping valleys is now an over-developed mess of dimply potholes and fatty speed bumps.  Your finger follows a fissure between two folds until it disappears near the crest of her belly.  At least you think it's Tina's belly.  The fatter Tina grows, the more difficult it is to discern her various bits and pieces.

"Too risky," you reply, though the thought of Tina stuffing Tabitha while Officer Morgan watches breathes life into your recently spent member.  "If she's working with someone, a quick call on the radio and we'd be done for."

The mattress sags as Tina rolls closer to reciprocate your blind grope.  Although you can't see her ruined figure in the dark, you feel her bingo wings tickle your chest as her doughy hand slides down your torso.  Its journey ends in a meeting of the meats, as her sausage fingers link around your hard salami.  "Who else could she possibly be working with?"

You stiffen at Tina's probing, though it's due more to her question than the dance of her digits across your manhood.  You still haven't told her about Anastasia's authorized absence and subsequent disappearance.  "Probably no one," you say.  "But I still think we're better off jumping her as she hops the fence."

Tina rolls your balls in her hand like dice in a tumbler.  "Who is this 'we' to which you refer?  You got a mouse in your pocket?"

"No."  You slip your fingers into a moist crevasse below Tina's belly.  "But I do have my fingers in a pussy."

"Lower, asshole."  Tina yanks your hand from the sweaty fold and presses it to a wetter and deeper slit beneath.  Like everything else on Tina, her pussy has grown bigger and now accommodates another finger in your salute.   "That's better," she moans.

"I need your help capturing her," you say as you continue your massage.  You enjoy copping a feel, but are even more excited by the prospect of feeling a cop.

"I'm not sure if you've noticed," Tina grunts, "but I'm nearly 300 pounds."  As if to demonstrate, she rocks back and forth, causing the bed to creak and the fat of her belly to ebb and flow against your arm.  "My Action Jackson days are done."

"I just need an extra pair of...eyeballs."  Tina's grip intensifies as your fingers probe deeper.  "Will you help me?"

"Mmmm...yes," Tina moans softly.

"I didn't hear you.  Will you help?"

"Yes!"  Tina erupts.  "Yes!  Oh my God, yes!"

“Thanks.”

With you, Tina, and negotiations finished, you roll onto your back and drift into a deep and satisfying slumber.

                                                                                     ***

The next night, you both dress in black and hide near the base of the wall near where Officer Morgan makes her descent.  You're armed with stun guns and stand approximately 10' apart on either side of the border's lowest point.  The plan is simple: the second Morgan's feet hit the earth, whoever is closest will zap her before she recovers from the 10' drop.

They say black is slimming and Tina's ensemble, which includes an oversize turtleneck and stocking cap pulled low across her brow, has made her practically invisible.   All you can see is her pale moon face waxing and waning against the otherwise moonless sky.

She looks troubled.

"I think this is a trap," Tina finally whispers.

"What makes you say that?" you whisper back.

Tina scoots along the wall next to you.  "Morgan seems too smart not to vary her tactics.  I think she wants you to know she's watching you.  She's daring you to do something about it."

"That's a risky strategy if she's flying solo," you say.

Of course, it's not so risky if she's got back-up...especially a certain Russian spy.

Suddenly, there's scratching along the outside of the wall.  You both press flush against its interior as a shadowy figure emerges at the top. The intruder crouches like a cat atop the ledge and, for a few painful seconds, you suspect they heard you and are scouring for movement.  How long until their eyes adjust enough to see Tina's stomach rounding out from the wall like a Great Plains sunrise?

Fortunately, the shadows obscure Tina's titanic tummy, and the interloper dangles to drop.  Unfortunately, what would have been a landing spot next to you is now next to Tina.   As per the plan, Tina lunges towards them the instant they hit the ground...but misses as they roll into the fall like a trained stuntman.  You race to cut off escape, but Tina's lumbering gait forces a wide pursuit.  By the time you push past her, the invader is on their feet and sprinting up the hill.

With a desperate lunge, you clip their leg and send them sprawling headlong into Lantanas planted hillside.  Before they can gather their feet, you plunge the stun gun against the back of their calf like a knife, returning them to the flowerbed for a nap.

As you scramble beside the plainclothed figure planted face down in your garden, your pulse spikes. What if it’s not Morgan? What if it’s a certain foreign feme fatale, who’s supposed to be imprisoned deep in your harem’s basement, returning from her mission? That would be difficult to explain.

You roll your victim over—

Officer Morgan's sharp olive-skinned features glisten with sweat and blood from the scratches received during her faceplant. She looks peaceful despite the trauma.

Tina, on the other hand, looks miserable.  She collapses next to you with a huff as she struggles to keep her well-rounded figure from rolling back down the slope.

"Sorry," she wheezes, turtling onto her back.

"No worries."  You pat the crest of her belly as it lurches skyward.   "All's well that ends well."

"Morgan?  Morgan, are you alright?"  The whispered voice from outside the fence is thick, throaty, and unmistakable.  It's Anastasia.  As her R's roll up the hill their Russian trill is replaced by Tina's American shrill—

"Mother fucker!"

You began the day with hopes it would end with you on top of Officer Morgan.  And that's exactly what happens as Tina jabs her stun gun against your side.

Author’s note: Hope you enjoyed this extra-large chapter of "The Harem on the Hill."  Sorry no choices this time, but I wanted to leave things on a cliff-hanger :).