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

You close the bedroom door and face the closed-circuit camera monitoring the kitchen.  "Where's Morgan's police uniform?"

"She wasn't wearing one.  She was off-duty, remember?"

"Shit, that's right."  You'd forgotten Morgan's unlawful surveillance of your property had been in street clothes.

"It's too bad," Tina says, her mind clearly headed in the same direction as yours.  "It'd be fun to watch her try to squeeze those ham hocks through the sleeves."

"Has she eaten recently?" you ask, pivoting towards the refrigerator.

"I fed her an hour ago.  I wanted her fat and happy for your visit."

You lean against the sink and strum your fingers across its metal surface.  You're running out of ideas on how to make the best of Morgan's bad situation.

"She's due for her exercise though if you'd like to put her through her paces."

"Exercise?"  Other than sunlight, the one thing Morgan didn't seem to be getting was exercise.  "What sort of exercise?"

"Once a week, I make her do as many push-ups and sit-ups as she can.  She could do thirty push-ups when we started.  And not the sissy girl kind either.  Good, on her toes, chest to the ground push-ups.  And sit-ups?  Jesus, she could go forever."

"How about now?"

"Three sit-ups, maybe, and she hasn't done a push-up in weeks.  I think she lacks motivation."

"Perhaps I can provide some?"

"Great idea."

                                                                                 ***

As you reenter Morgan's room, she hastily pulls a sheet over her naked body.  "What do you want now?"

"I thought I'd do a little undercover investigating of my own."  You walk your fingers along the edge of the mattress, then slide them beneath the linens until they tickle flesh.

Morgan lurches like a cattle prod just poked her bloated bovine body.   "Please don't."

"Don't fret, Morgan.  I know something that will make you feel better."

"What?"

"Exercise.  It's time for your fitness test.  Or is it a fatness test?  Either way, on your feet."

"I don't want to."

"Tina said you were a rock star.  I want to see."

"No."

"Tell you what--if you can do five push-ups I'll let you go."

"You won't."

"Officer Morgan, I'm sure you discovered a great deal about me during your rogue, unprovoked investigation, but I'm certain my being a liar wasn't one of them."

A flash of hope appears in Morgan's wistful eyes.  You know what she's thinking.  Five push-ups are easy.  It probably seems like yesterday she was dazzling the boys in blue with her fitness.  Coming off the gas, it still seems like yesterday to you, too.

Morgan tosses off the sheet and slides her saddlebag thighs off the mattress.  She slowly sits up, causing an adipose avalanche that buries her lap and turns her nether regions to never regions.  You offer a hand, but she ignores it, choosing to rise unassisted...until the lingering effects of the gas and two-hundred extra pounds, all of which shift southward, sends her stumbling.

"Easy Morgan."   You catch her spongy bicep before momentum carries her into the dresser.  She jerks away, nearly tumbling back into bed, before righting her overburdened ship.  She stands as proud as possible.  Shoulders back.  Chins up.  She even sucks in her sagging gut, but a tiny retraction in the drooping apron of flesh is all she can manage.

Morgan turns parallel to the bed and lowers to her knees, clutching the edge of the mattress for balance as she transitions to the ground.  Despite her deliberateness, she flops the final few inches onto her belly, oozing fat across the floor like pancake batter on a griddle.

After balancing on her teeter-totter tummy, she kicks her legs into a planking position.  Her dainty feet don’t touch--there’s far too much junk in her trunk-like ass and thighs to allow for that—but they push close and brace themselves like doomed soldiers.  Streaks of faded pink dot their toenails like warpaint, a cruel reminder of the attention they received before they were abandoned.

“Whenever you’re ready,” you say.

Morgan pushes against the floor and the fleshy tide around her waist begins to recede; however, as her arms straighten they start to shake. To compensate, she arches her back so her shoulders lift while the rest of her stays grounded.

"You're not fooling me, Morgan.  Get that belly up."

Morgan resets and tries again, but as with the first try, her arms begin to tremble before she can lift the doughy halo ringing her torso off the floor.  Within seconds, the shakes transition to full-blown tremors.

"If you can do just one, I'll turn the gas back on so at least you'll forget what a useless tub you've become."

The tremors spread down Morgan's back, hips, and legs until she's shaking as violently as you're certain she'd like to be shaking you.  It's as though she's suffering through an earthquake only she can feel.  That is until she finally collapses like a ruined building beside you.  You definitely feel that.

"It looks like you've let yourself go during this little vacation of yours," you say, looking down on the quivering lump.   "Don't worry though, I'm sure Tina will whip you into shape in no time."

"Absolutely.  How does round sound?"

With that, you turn the lights out on Officer Morgan and head for the stairs.  It's time to pay a visit to your partner in crime.

Author's Note: Hope you enjoyed this "super-sized" FIFTIETH chapter of The Harem on the Hill!  No choices this week as I'll be on vacation next week, but don't worry--Riptoryx has something special planned to feed your weight-gain fetish!  Stay tuned!

Maverick