The lady wot lunched a little too much - Chapter 10.5 preview (Patreon)

James didn't need to be asked twice. Rolling out from beneath the table like a commando, he scrabbled to his feet, tugging at his jacket and glancing around nervously.

He needn't have worried. All eyes in the hall were on Abby.

And for once, not for a reason she wanted.

'Bleurch!' the dazed diva spluttered, spitting out strands of sodden hair as she struggled to push herself up. It wasn't easy. Abby's head was spinning and her soaked clothes were squeezing her like a strait jacket, squashing her thighs together so tightly that it hurt.

All those extra helpings of ice cream weren't helping either. Abby was no stranger to a weighty feeling around the midriff after meals, but this was something else. Lying on her back, she felt pinned down, as if someone had placed a cannonball on her waist. Her belly felt so unnaturally big and heavy that she instinctively rocked from side to side, as if it was a foreign object that could be made to roll off.

Like a fat turtle stranded on its shell, Seth murmured to himself, watching Abby's gut slosh back and forth, all that deliciously plump flesh quivering. Just waiting for the eagle to swoop.

The rocking ceased, and amidst much wheezing and grunting Abby's face rose into view above the dome of her belly, as she pushed herself up on her elbows.

She stayed there for several moments, panting like a boxer trying to beat a ten count, bosom heaving and soap-stung eyes blinking around blearily.

They stopped blinking when they landed on James.

And suddenly became so cold that he felt his sweat freeze.

Abby's glare was broken by a cool dampness, tickling her right ankle. Looking down she found a small stream of water trickling from the overturned bucket, gradually forming a puddle around her foot.

She stared at the bucket for a few moments, still breathing heavily. Then, with a horrible slowness, her eyes panned back up to look at James again.

The scowl that formed as Abby bared her gums was so wolf-like that the young waiter instinctively took a step backwards, and when her teeth parted he wasn't sure whether to expect a low growl or a howl of rage.

What emerged was a gurgling belch, followed by several soap bubbles.

'Uuuuggh,' Abby's cheeks drooped, all the ferocity sliding off her suddenly slack face. Her head began to sway in wide, uneven circles, eyeballs rolling upwards.

Two pairs of hands caught her just in time to stop the back of her head from hitting the floor. Kneeling down, Seth slung Abby's limp, wobbling left arm over his shoulder. He nodded at James, who'd done the same on the other side.  'On three, kid. One... Two... Thrrrrrrrr-'

With much grimacing and grinding of teeth they hauled the sodden diva to her feet. She rose dripping and gurgling, like some bloated sea creature being dredged up from the depths.

At least that was the impression she gave Aimi, who couldn't stop the corner of her lip from twitching at the sight of the woman who'd run her ragged all evening being served a heavy dose of karma - a meal Aimi suspeected her raven-haired nemesis would find even harder to digest than all that food.

For it was an astonishing transformation. Abby's salon-glossy raven hair had become a sodden mass of black, falling in twisted straggles down her cheeks so that she looked as if she was staring out from behind vines. Her blusher was smudged unevenly and one false eyelash had been knocked skew-whiff by the splash of water.

As for her dress.... well, here Aimi felt a pang of genuine regret. Abby's gorgeous Versace was ruined. Soaked through down the front: the once-brilliant gold now a dismal muddy yellow. It clung to the slope of her meaty paunch, clearly outlining the contours of shapewear beneath.

The only disappointing thing, from Aimi's perspective, was that Abby herself didn't seem to be aware of any of this. The fat diva had been drunk and slurring at the table, but now, after her fall, she looked like she'd been drugged. Her eyeballs were swinging like pendulums and her toes scraped along the floor as Seth and James dragged her limp, dripping bulk towards the elevators.

There's another pair who got what they deserved, Aimi thought. Still, watching James grimace and wince beneath his weighty load, it was hard not to feel sorry for the lad. His back was bent forward and his pale twig neck looked ready to snap beneath the tanned blubber of Abby's arm. It would be a miracle if he made it through this without slipping a disc.

And it wasn't just James. After a few more steps, Seth pulled to a halt, cheeks swelling like balloons. 'Shit... ' he muttered to himself, breathing heavily. 'I wasn't... supposed to be the one doing the... blowing this evening.' He glanced up at the elevators, a golden mirage shimmering in the distance.

This must be how Shackleton felt at the Pole, Seth thought, trying to work some air back into his lungs. He glanced over his shoulder, back towards their table, half-hoping that Ryan had made a miracle recovery and could take over from James. The kid was giving it his all but he qas just far too scrawny, and the bulk of the strain was falling, quite literally, on Seth's shoulders.

But the absinthe and sleeping pills had done their work too well. Seth watched Ryan groggily try to push himself up against the leg of a table, only to flop back down again with a bump. He was clearly in no fit state to stand, let along do any heavy lifting.

As for Fatima... Seth snorted at even the thought of it. He doubted the flabby Indian businesswoman had never been in a "fit state" in her entire life, or lifted anything heavier than a cake-laden spoon. Not that she would have helped, even if she could. And it was obvious that she couldn't. Slumped in her chair, with her hips wedged beneath the armrests, Fatima was staring into the distance with such a motionless glassy look in her eyes that for one heart-stopping second Seth thought she was dead - expired from overeating - until he spotted it: the soft rise and fall of that monstrously bloated paunch beneath Fatima's stiletto-nailed fingers. Seth breathed again. She was still alive. Just sleeping with her eyes open, with a kind of dull grimace on her face, like an anaconda struggling to digest a hippo.

I'll come back for her later, Seth decided. If I don't die from exhaustion myself, hauling this wide load.

Reaching into his mental wank bank, Seth pulled up that image of himself lying in bed between Fatima and Abby. Even with this for motivation it was hard going. Seth realised he'd seriously underestimated just how much ice cream weighed. It didn't help that Abby's hips were so wide either, forcing the two men to bend their torsos awkwardly towards her. Between them the trio were shuffling along like a six-legged monster whose middle legs had stopped working.

But they were getting there. Slowly but surely. Dragging her a few steps. Pausing to catch their breath. Dragging her another few steps. Pausing. Dra-

The monster shuddered to a halt.

Suddenly Abby had planted her feet.

'M-Urghh,' she grunted, head lolling in the direction of the nearest table like a broken jack-in-the-box. 'M-mine.'

Shoving off her escorts, who collapsed in relief, the soggy diva staggered forward, her great backside pitching with a huge lopsided wobble as she forgot about her broken heel. By some miracle she made the few short steps without falling, clenching the edge of the table with both hands.

For a few moments she stood there, catching her breath. Then to the bafflement of everyone watching, she kicked off her shoes and began to bend forward, stretching her free hand down towards the bottom of a chair leg.

And the trophy that had rolled up against it.

Aimi, Seth and James watched with bulging eyes as Abby's enormous bottom rose before them -  wider and wider and higher and higher - like a great golden fruit ripening in a time-lapse. 'Hughes was wrong,' Seth murmured, leaning towards James. 'She does need both tickets. No way is arse that huge squeezing into a single plane seat. Not even business class.'

Nor was it just Abby's bum that looked too big. As she bent lower, the overfed estate agent's whole body bulged and strained, like a fat sausage trying to burst a crisp golden casing. She grunted as bolts of pain sheared down her flanks. Ugh, she was definitely getting a refund on this shapewear! Absorbing all that water must have made it shrink around her. It was crushing her lungs!

Perhaps it was the lack of oxygen getting to her brain that impelled Abby to keep on bending, lower and lower. Her seams screamed, sequins popped from her dress, and her girdle clenched so tightly that the lake of ice cream within her began to rise back up her throat. But even as she began to choke, Abby kept going, stretching and stretching until at last her straining fingertips grazed the trophy's bronze plaque.

The effect of the touch was magical. Suddenly Abby felt as if she could breathe again! Leaning the final inch, she closed her hand around the glass stem with a gasp of triumph.

Which was echoed by a gasp from the surrounding tables.

A very different kind of gasp.

A chill of fear shot down Abby's spine - all the way down to her bottom.

Where it became a very real kind of chill.

Abby froze, irises shrinking in horror. Trophy forgotten, her hands moved slowly behind her, fingers quivering as if in fear of what they might find. When they reached the tear Abby released a dry hissing wheeze, like the air escaping from a long-closed sarcophagus. Her palms and fingers spread wide, desperately trying to cover her exposed bottom.

For a normal-sized girl the attempt would have been pointless. For Abby, it was comical. Months of doubling down on Michelin-star lunches piled upon years of overindulgence and an almost total absence of exercise had left the lazy estate agent with a rear end so vast that she could barely reach around the sides of her buttocks, let alone cover the pale bulge of flesh that now protruded through the great rift in her dress and shapewear.

Abby could only blink dumbly as Seth and James guided her away, shock numbing her emotions. The ripping of her dress had freed her legs, but she was so stunned that the two men still had to half-carry her, and it was with a mighty sigh of relief that they finally stepped into the elevator.

Seth slipped a £50 note into James's top pocket. 'I'll take it from here, kid,' he said. Leaning around Abby he punched the button for the top floor And then, unable to resist, and feeling that he'd earned it, he squeezed a warm, soft palmful of her bare rump, pressing his thumb down hard and closing his eyes in ecstasy.

So that the first thing Ryan saw as he was blinking back to consciousness was the elevator doors closing around Seth and Abby - and Seth's hand closing around Abby's bottom.

His eyes narrowed like chipped ice.