Status: Part 6 (Patreon)

“It’s not fucking fair!” Lucille pouted, stomping around the servant’s house indignantly.

Carl couldn’t help but notice the pronounced wobble in the young mistress’s thick thigh each time her wooden wedges clopped onto the ground. It wasn’t a wonder to him that what had happened to her had happened. It was a wonder that she seemed to be in some kind of high heeled shoe every time he saw her.

“And like she’s just constantly trying to show me up. She acts like it’s not even happening and like, I’m super fucking tired of being gaslighted by her. Gaslit? Which one is it? They both sound wrong in my head now.” Lucille continued before tripping over her own words.

“It’s gaslit.” Carl said, smiling.

Lucille barely acknowledged his contribution before continuing. “Yeah, she’s gaslighting me. So like now she’s strutting around showing off her new fake body while yelling at me to lose weight because I’m ‘embarrassing’ her and my dad when we go out.”

Given her pampered lifestyle and her insistence on always having the finest, most luxurious things in life whenever she wanted them, it was only a matter of time before it began to show on her figure. Since he’d become the Ashford’s head gardener, Carl had watched the only daughter of his rich employers slowly thicken up day after day. Her dad didn’t seem to care in the least, but her mom was giddily enjoying the show. Mrs. Ashford was intensely competitive towards her daughter’s natural beauty and her holier-than-thou approach to keeping herself fit. While Lucille *DID* exercise frequently, she still drank and ate constantly throughout the day, replacing any calories she’d burned working out. Incidentally, the combination of fitness and overeating had given her a plump, but curvaceous and perky figure that neither he nor the other workers were upset about. Some openly enjoyed watching the skinny princess fatten up, taking very vocal pleasure in seeing her toned curves swell into the tits and ass of a plus size model.

(1)

“I just can’t stand her. I hate how she treats me. I hate how I look. I don’t want to be fat, but if I go begging my dad for weight loss surgery, I’ll basically be just like her. I work to be who I am. I’m not gonna be one of those wealthy bitch billionaires who just buys herself a new fucking body whenever she gets a wrinkle or gains a pound. It’s gross. And she’s such a fucking slut too like seriously, I swear you’re like the only guy I know who hasn’t tried to fuck her. UGH.” Lucille griped.

Carl smiled and nodded. He didn’t really care about the woes of a chubby rich girl’s spiteful beauty contest with her mother, but when she was venting to him, Lucille would sometimes have an emotional breakdown that ended in sex. It wasn’t fair to her and he didn’t necessarily feel good about using her emotional state to get laid, but she was gorgeous and the one who initiated it every single time. He was hoping that this might be one of those instances but before he could give her the “Well I think you’re beautiful” speech, she brightened up and looked at her phone.

She sighed deeply before smiling optimistically, a fondness in her eyes as she looked at him. “You know what? It’s just a matter of willpower. I am *Lucille* Ashford, not Arabella. Not my mom’s little doll, not an extension of my dad. I’m me. If I wanna be a certain way, then it’s up to ME to make it happen. I have the means, I just need to take action.”

She paused momentarily to give Carl a big, squishy hug, her fat boobs squishing against him tenderly.

“Thank you. You’re always so nice to me when I need someone to talk to. Care to walk me back to the house on your way to do the roses?”

“Sure.” Carl said, smiling kindly.

Carl strode across the lawn with a minor irritation weighing on his shoulders. He genuinely liked Lucille, but her propensity for complaining and inability to understand what life is actually like for less wealthy people made her a bit irritating to be around. Every moment with her was like living in a modern day soap opera where she battled her wicked, also smoking hot mother for love and dominance of the household, complete with wild, torrid sexcapades with the staff. Most pointedly, him. As nice as it was for him to be able to spend time with her, he didn’t get any action out of it, and that was only barely worth it considering their romantic involvement with each other was strictly limited to friendship hugs or emotional, impassioned sex that ALWAYS began with Lucille Ashford in tears.

Lucille turned to wave at him as she walked into the house, leaving the disappointed gardener to his rosebush duties. Again, he smiled as best he could, brushing the hair from his eyes and sighing. He was glad he could help make her feel better, truly. At the same time however, he felt that she’d blueballed him a bit after leading him to believe that they were going to have some level of intimacy by the end of it. All he could do if he ever had a chance to really be with someone like her was do his best to look unbothered.

(2)

Carl was hit with a sudden flash of light from the sun as he looked up suddenly, still clipping the rose stems when his phone began vibrating in his pocket. He wiped the sweat from his brow and took off his work gloves in a hurry, hoping to be able to answer the call before the caller got tired of waiting. Pulling out his phone, Carl felt his stomach drop and he let out a long, cheek-puffing sigh as he saw “Arabella Ashford” light up on the screen.

“Good afternoon Mrs. Ashford, this is Carl speaking.” He said professionally, trying his best to disguise his nervousness.

“Carl, I’d like you to come to my study please.” Came the husky, sultry voice of Mrs. Ashford before the line went dead.

It was common behavior for Arabella to hang up after she’d said what she wanted, but that also meant that whatever she wanted came first. Carl threw his gloves and shears down onto the ground and ran to the main house.

When he arrived, Arabella was already seated in her study wearing an extravagantly beautiful dress for someone just walking around the house. She sat on a luxurious sofa lined with a sort of lollipop purple silk lining, watching with scrutinizing eyes as he entered the room.

“Lock the door please.” She said as she curled her hand against her cheek pushing her plastic-enhanced chest forward as she did.

“So Mr. Lazaro…” Arabella began. “How have you been enjoying fucking my daughter?”

Carl’s heart fell straight out of his chest and dropped onto the floor.

“Uhm-excuse me?” He stammered.

“Surprised? You really shouldn’t be. You know there’s nothing that goes on in this house without my knowledge. Did you really think that didn’t apply to the servant’s quarters too? My little Lucy runs to you whenever she’s sad, you listen to her cry about how she’s fat and her mommy’s mean to her, and then you take that as an opportunity to manipulate her into spreading her legs for you. Isn’t that right? Carl?” Arabella asked sweetly, malice glowing in her eyes like hot coals.

(3)

For a moment Carl thought about lying but soon pushed the idea from his mind. He was stupid enough to think he could get away with sleeping with his boss’ daughter without getting caught. There was no way he was going to be stupid enough to try and lie about it.

“Yes ma’am. That’s….about right.” He said solemnly.

Arabella smiled evilly. “Well, I certainly don’t blame you if you’re worried about that. It’s not like I haven’t sought you out for a little ‘comfort’ now and again. Of course I’m terribly sorry for the recent drop in quality. Lucille is still in her high and mighty phase about being all-natural but the poor thing’s never worked a day in her life. Not really. That being said, her standards in regards to her health and fitness seem to have…slipped a little.”

“I uh…I don’t really mind, ma’am.” Carl said sheepishly in defense of the younger woman.

Arabella merely seemed amused.

“Oh! How chivalrous of you.

Well that’s all fine and good, but I’ve been wondering if her recent backslide has made her a bit more appealing to you? Do prefer fat women, Carl?”

Carl didn’t know what to say. Nothing he could think of sounded like the right thing.

“No ma’am. I prefer….um..

I prefer thinner women. Curvy, but…not fat. Ma’am.” He said with guilty resignation.

“Ahh, I see. So someone…more like me then?” She smiled, her pristine teeth almost gleaming in the light.

“Er…Well. Yes.” He lied.

The truth was that Carl DID prefer Lucille over her mother, but found them both ragingly attractive. The problem with having any sort of relationship with Arabella was her blatant toxicity and arrogance, not to mention her rich, powerful husband always lurking just nearby. Lucille was sweet and though also stupidly rich, lacked the plastic, evil fakeness of her mother. She hadn’t sold out to her wealth and though naïve with expensive taste and hideously low frustration tolerance, still had her soul.

…But that wasn’t the question.

“I *see..*” Purred Arabella.

She adjusted her sitting position on the couch, resting her hand in her lap and twisting sideways while she looked at him. It was subtle, but he could see her gently kneading between her legs as she spoke.

“Tell me, Carl…Do you like your position here?” She asked.

“Well…Yes, ma’am.” Carl replied.

“And you admit to having sex with both myself AND Lucille?” Arabella continued.

“Yes.”

“So tell me, Carl. Which of us do you prefer to lay with? Me or my daughter?” The cruel woman asked.

This time Carl was certain that there was only one right answer. All he had to do to keep his job and life in order was tell the mean rich lady what she wanted to hear and be done with it. She might even allow him to have his fun a little more frequently or at least with less secrecy and concern.

“You, ma’am.” He said.

“Wonderful. Why?” Asked Arabella, clearly enjoying herself.

Carl didn’t quite know what to say to that. Before he knew it, he was calling her beautiful and stunning and sexy just to have a reason, but Arabella clearly wasn’t buying it.

“It *is* strange to me. I mean, I allow you to have me, but we never speak unless I need you. We’re less emotionally attached. I hear you and Lucille talk for hours at a time. Carl, I am going to ask you a very serious question and I’d rather you exert yourself to answer it honestly. Do you have romantic feelings for my daughter?”

The gulp was both as painful and audible as it was dry. Carl was cornered. She had been building to this. She had been leading him here with every question she asked. Worst of all, it was true. He’d always been fond of her, and though they’d had sex, nothing ever came of it despite his sincerest wishes. He had no choice but to fess up.

“I uh…..” He began.

“What, embarrassed?” She grinned.

“I do. Yeah. I have feelings, ma’am.” Carl confessed.

Arabella shifted again.

“Lovely. So….Why don’t you prefer her over me? What’s so wrong with Lucille that prevents you from just asking her out or trying to make it official? Don’t tell me it’s nerves. You’ve already fucked multiple times.”

The question threw him off, but once again Carl realized where this was going. Arabella was shallow and bitchy, but also competitive. She wanted to feel superior to her daughter despite being the older woman. And Carl knew how to cater to that.

“So what is it?” She asked.

Carl clapped his hands to his sides and shook his head.

“She’s…Well…She’s fat now. You have the better body so I prefer you.”

It was a lie, but it made her smile widen further.

“So her feelings aren’t what’s important to you then? A hot, sexy body matters more to you than a fat girl’s emotions?” Arabella pressed wickedly with a smile to match.

Carl shook his head and shrugged. “I guess so.”

“Do you want me now?” She asked, hiking up her dress to reveal lacy purple panties riding up into her plastic enhanced ass.

“Yes.” Carl said, unbuttoning his pants as his dick grew hard in his underwear.

“You like my hot, skinny, curvy body?” She teased, arching her back for him.

“Yes.” He half-growled, still mindful of his volume.

“You don’t wanna fatty, do you? You want a slutty plastic rich bitch don’t you? Tell me you wanna fuck a rich bitch, baby.” She growled in response, now pulling her damp panties off to the side. For him.

“I only want a skinny rich bitch. No fatties. No whining. Just you and your hot body.” Carl said. Granted he was playing it up a bit for her, but that didn’t mean that he was being forced wither. He still eagerly approached, his rock hard cock ready in his hand.

Just as he had knelt down onto the couch and entered her molten hot pussy, the back door to the private bathroom creaked open slowly to reveal both Lucille and Gideon standing in the doorway. Instantly, he tried to jump back even against Arabella’s clenched lips trying to keep him in place. Lucille’s eyes were red and swollen, but no tears ran down her already makeup smeared face and onto her clean, cute workout clothes.

Carl would have been too stunned to move had he not been desperate to shove his naked penis back into his pants.

“Ohh noo…Looks like somebody heard you, Carl…Whoopsie.” Arabella cooed sexually.

Lucille didn’t cry. She only stared. It looked already like she’d been bawling for a while, most likely since he’d left her alone earlier. He couldn’t tell if she’d just completely checked out or if she couldn’t tear her eyes away until she reached over and buried herself into Gideon’s arm.

“So. You like rich girls, eh Carl?” Gideon asked nonchalantly . “It’s a shame that Lucille isn’t quite up to your standards. I guess you didn’t have that much faith in her methods after all. Not that I can blame you. My Arabella is quite the dream girl. She’s hot, she’s rich….And she’s getting greedy too. Aren’t you, babe?”

Arabella got up from the couch, clearly high from arousal and walked over to Gideon, immediately setting her chin in his hand and reaching out with her lips to suck his thumb for a moment.

“Mmhmmmm….” She moaned. “Only because you spoil me, baby. If you come over here I’ll show the kids here how mommy earns her keep.”

“MOM! EW! WHAT THE FUCK?!” Lucille screamed, suddenly awoken from her miserable numbness.

Gideon smiled. “But that’s just it. A woman of your status doesn’t need to earn her keep. The world belongs to you because you deserve it. You’re better than other people. All you need to focus on is getting more.”

His ring glinted wildly in the light, catching the eye of everyone in the room. One by one their minds muddied, and then their vision gave out.

Carl was hit with a flash of light from the sun as he looked up suddenly, still clipping the rose stems when his phone began vibrating in his pocket. He wiped the sweat from his brow and took off his work gloves in a hurry, hoping to be able to answer the call before the caller got tired of waiting. Pulling out his phone, Carl felt his stomach drop and he let out a long, cheek-puffing sigh as he saw “One Missed Call From: Lucille Ashford” light up on the screen. Seconds later, a text came through.

-Hey, I’m back. Come meet me by the side entrance

Carl sighed. Lucille had been yanking him around for a while now, leading him on and letting him hope that she was actually going to do more with him than fuck every now and then. She’d gone on vacation a few weeks earlier without saying a word and now she was calling on him to carry her shit up to the second floor for her. If it was any consolation, he figured he could at least get a chuckle out of how much weight she’d put on over yet another extravagant 3 week getaway to Cabo or Thailand or who knows where else. The prissy bitch had been porking up lately with the constant binges and luxurious daily meals and she was getting a decently fat ass to match her plump natural udders that had lately begun to droop onto her increasingly doughy belly to the delight of some of most of the staff for one reason or another.

Still, he would have to hurry if he didn’t want to be whined at and have the possibility of a secret fuck session rescinded for being slow. He threw down his gloves and shears and began to run to the side entrance of the main house.

(4)

As he arrived at the appointed location, Carl stopped to catch his breath. Previously such a run wouldn’t have been much of a problem, but as he entered his late 30’s he found that dashing around all the time was becoming more and more difficult.

Carl stood up just in time to see a stunning blonde in shiny pink lycra pants sauntering up with an exaggerated sway in her extra-wide hips. Surprised, he looked up to see Lucille’s newly thinner face looking back at him with a cocky smirk.

Her belly and arms showed no signs of fat and her face had slimmed considerably. Conversely, her hips and chest had both expanded due to what looked to be two sets of blatantly obvious implants to her hips and breasts. It was then that he realized that Lucille Ashford wasn’t just off on some pleasure cruise in the Bahamas. She had been off visiting her mother’s plastic surgeon for a full body makeover. She’d become every bit the plastic bimbo her mother was in such a short period of time. It was, in reality, less shocking than he thought it would be. Everyone knew that with how much she’d been begging for lipo that it was only a matter of time before the Ashfords gave their little bimbo doll the plastic treatment she’d always wanted.

(5)

Carl stood staring as she sashayed past him confidently.

“My luggage is in the car. Could you bring them up to my room on the second floor? Thanks babe.” She said with pronounced valley girl twang, kissing the older man on the cheek as she walked by, clearly enjoying her new body.

It steamed him to be dragged away from his regular duties just to haul her shit everywhere, but he had no choice. He may have only been head gardener, but the Ashfords loved relying on Carl for manual labor. Still, of all of them he hated Lucille least. She was terrible, sure, but she wasn’t cruel. That and she did still have a tendency to sleep around, so if given the right day, Carl could have a shot at fucking her new, upgraded bimbo body.

He walked out to the car and started unloading her bags.