James Duke
patreon
Caroline's Offer
🕑 Added 2024-11-24 20:51:03 +0000 UTCTags: extreme weight gain, corruption, bimbofication, hints at sexual themes, copious descriptions of sweat.
The second PudgyProse original story for this month! Sorry it took me so long to get out. It's a little nerve-wracking doing stories that aren't commissions or for other people. I hope you guys like this. I envision a little world that could easily spring from this, if people are interested! Also, part 1 of a Lucoa corruption story coming Monday or Tuesday!
--- Place In The World ---
I walked into Rayleigh’s office clutching the reports from the morning. Tucked securely in a manilla envelope, the various charts and graphs track the progress the company has been making over the past quarter. At the time, I could not understand them, all the more embarrassing because I was the one that created them. My head was lost and scrambled within a thicket of numbers and dates. An endless string of numbers spiral from one ear to the other. That string was pushed along by the nervousness of failure. I wanted to succeed, wanted to provide what Rayleigh had asked for, but doubted I accomplished that. As I passed through the open door, my colorless nails tapped the envelope. I cradled the reports as if they had been my children, as if safekeeping would somehow adjust the mess of numbers and charts. Though I tried to walk confidently, I could see that my face betrayed me as Rayleigh looked up from her own work. She seemed to instantly sniff out my failure.
Rayleigh’s office was small and enclosed. It seemed the perfect mark of middle management for such a large company; more suffocating than liberating. It would have been more accurate to call the office an alcove or study room. Her desk was outlined by stacks of papers, weighted down with metallic hearts or other kitsch. Rayleigh herself was like a version of me that had found success within the company. We were similarly tall, though she was a couple inches taller. She and I possessed a similar shade of blonde, though hers had a hint of curl to it. Lastly, we were both skinny. Though, as I have noted in past recollections, at the time she was a little softer than I. Being seven years older than myself, she had wisdom and slight confidence that I lacked at the time. That was how things stood at the time, though much has changed.
“Caroline.” Rayleigh was polite but not at all friendly. Rather than speak, I handed over the envelope. However much I wanted to connect with my boss, I knew that this would not help anything. The time for pleasantries was gone and dead, ruined by a string of increasing misses. Rayleigh took the envelope. For a moment I saw hope cross her face. She wanted things to be better, different. It took only a couple glances at the charts for Rayleigh to understand things would not be different. The older woman sighed, looking at what I had handed her. Though she said nothing, I could hear the criticisms. From charts not using proper branding to calculations being incorrect. All the mistakes that I had made remained hidden, until the watchful eye of a superior had been turned to them. There was a heavy silence in the room, neither of us wanting to speak. Finally, prompted by experience, Rayleigh addressed me.
“Caroline. . .” Rayleigh set the charts aside, not even bothering to bring specific issues up to me. “When it comes to a job, I like to think of it like a triangle.” She grabbed a pen and drew one, dotting where the lines met. “There’s what you want to do,” She said as she labeled one of the points. “What you are good at.” Another point was labeled. “And what makes you money.” The final part of the diagram was filled in. “Ideally, you want all of those things to be in harmony.” She looked down at the triangle. For a second I wondered how her own personal triangle worked out. She drew another couple, each looking misaligned. “When things are out of balance, it doesn’t work for anybody. . .especially yourself.” She sighed, wavering between saying more and stopping with what had been said already.
“I understand. . .” I said, knowing that my upper lip was probably trembling. A talk like this has been coming for a while. Little issues had turned into big ones. It was always hard to judge how much rope was left, but undeniably, mine was short. I was not long for the company.
“It might be good for you to consider your time so far at the company.” Rayleigh tapped a pen on the desk. She offered the charts back to me. I took them and turned away. It was a slow walk to the elevator. My chest thumped and my eyes watered. The envelope that I had clutched so tightly minutes before now was barely in my fingers. I floated like a ghost through the office, thoughts running in painful circles. The elevator was before me, ready to carry me back a floor lower. It felt as if I was going to descend into hell. I pushed the button and walked in. I could only think and pray for someone to give me another chance. I wouldn’t squander it. I might have ruined things with Rayleigh, but the next person would be different. I begged the universe for another chance.
“Oh! I’m so sorry!” A resolute but feminine voice said. I hadn’t even realized that I had run into the other woman. My papers scattered over the elevator. Though she had been getting off, she backed up and began to gather them. “I should have been more. . .” She looked up at me, seeing tears now streaming down my face. “Are you alright?” She straightened. The woman was very tall, had jet black hair, and a defined face. She was old, but not quite beyond middle age. I tried to explain myself, but ended up crying even more. She put her arm around me and ducked further back into the elevator. It was less of a hug and more of a supportive arm, just to keep me from falling. I poured out all the stress on my mind to her and she listened. That was how I met the owner of the company.
--- Corporate Restructuring ---
“Uuuuuhhhm. . .like. . .Miss Caroline?” Jenni stood in front of my desk, blank look crossing her face. She rocked back and forth on heels that were far too large to be considered professional. In truth, there was nothing about Jenni’s look that could be even slightly considered professional. Her hair was platinum and pulled into a high ponytail, it fell upon delicate shoulders which only helped to make her breasts look all the more voluptuous and awe inspiring. They were true boulders, pinned to her by the softest bits of God’s modeling clay. Well, God and a series of cosmetic surgeon’s finest clay. That was beside the point. Jenni was blonde, busty, dumb, and paid very well for the work she did. What little work she did anyway. Already she was unbuttoning the top of her blouse. “Liiiiiiike, I sent that message to Miss Rayleigh. . .she is. . .uuuhm. . .aaah. . .coming!” A favorite word of both Jenni’s and mine, it helped bring her back into the conversation. She licked her lips. “Can I. . .aaahhhm. . .do anything else? Miss Caroline?”
I rubbed my stomach, feeling the thick girth underneath shake. It was a pit of indulgence and blubber, so heavy that even the jiggles were slow and ponderous. “First. . .bbbbeerllluuurup. . .it’s President LaBelle.” The emphasis on my title is as thick and ponderous as my fat. I speak through plump lips which sink into puffy cheeks which in turn rest on a rolled carpet of chins. Jenni rolls her eyes. Her problem with authority is as hot as it is frustrating. She wouldn’t even look at me without the money I am paying her. Few relationships are as mutually beneficial as ours. “HOOOORRRLLUUUUUUP!” I belch and finish with a lick of my lips. After a brief pause filled with wheezing and ragged breathing, I drive the point home again. “President.” I say with an indulgent nod of my head. Sausage fingers tug at a black shirt that somehow manages to cover my blobbish body. Only well paid tailors can clothe a body like mine. The fabric is silken and drenched in the richest sweat a woman can produce.
“Uuuuuggghh. . .fine!” Jenni pouted and stomped her foot. Her ego had ballooned with the most recent pay raise, making that authority problem all the worse. It had been present when her supervisor reported her to me, but I had made it all the worse. Perhaps the only thing I haven’t ruined is her body and checkbook. Those two things have improved in tandem since I shifted her to being my personal assistant. “I’m dumb. . .so you better be ready to make me remember.” She was sucking up to me, but I didn’t mind. It is staggering how much money it takes to make a woman forget she had two master’s degrees. “Anything else. . .or should I wait for Miss Rayleigh.” The bimbo played her own word game, but I didn’t mind that. Rayleigh wasn’t president and possessed a title far below mine. I didn’t give a fuck what my bambi secretary referred to her as.
“Hmmm. . .do I look presentable?” I lick my lips again, knowing the answer. Pits of sweat dot my flab, ruining the shirt and dark pants I’m wearing. Food and grease stains cover even more. I had been indulging more than usual that day, eager for my meeting with my former supervisor. My corpulence has grown even more as the years have rolled on. I have settled into and grown out of as many pairs of pants as I have job titles. My bulk now spreads across a triple wide chair, again the sort of thing reserved for corporate higher ups with deep pockets. Sweat drips from under breasts bigger than watermelons, rolling around barrel sized lovehandles, and between buttcheeks that could swamp any seat in a small car. Yet, my fat is felt further than just a chair begging for relief. I hover over the entire building, drowning it in my presence and influence. President Caroline LaBelle, profit pig. I level playful but sleepy eyes at Jenni, who had given her answer nonverbally. “Fix me then?” My shoulders and arms slumped backwards. I wouldn’t lift a finger on my own behalf. That’s what my team is for.
“Of course!” Jenni bounced, eager to complete her job duties. Whatever bad blood there was in our discussion of title etiquette is washed away in a flood of perverse lust. She trotted around my large desk, wiggling her breast and butt. I felt a pulse between my thighs. Jenni had adapted to her job duties and new life with ease. It was hard to call up memories of her as a tech intern, but so sweet when they eventually came. A little coaching had gone a long way, turning her from a mousey geek into a sultry secretary. Her hands ran through my own, excessively long nails tickling my black hair. My hair is jet black now, finely lacquered with sweat and grease. I cannot recall dying it. “A nice. . .OH. . .presidential. . .AH. . .ponytail!” Jenni was interrupted as she spoke and worked. Having shoved her breasts into my face, I took a sample of the fruits on offer. My mouth worked over the large breasts, sucking and toying with the perfectly pointed nipples. As she weaved her way through my hair with long, expertly crafted fake nails, I bobbed between her cantaloupe sized breasts.
My gigantic body alternated between heaving and sagging as excitement built within me. Even though this was a pleasure I had been gifted many times before, I unwrapped the present of Jenni’s body eagerly. A wall of flabby gut pushed against my pants. Heavy rolls and a deeper buried fupa strained at buttons infused with the strength of god. My flabby, wobbly butt moved in spasmodic motions as I thrust my heavy arms up and around Jenni’s curvaceous, flowing torso. She giggled, not the least bit perturbed that I was about to get sweat and grease all over her thousand dollar skirt and jacket. It would take another bonus to pay for a new one. The money saved from the most recent round of layoffs was about to be recognized. Time for my direct, subordinate staff to get bonuses. Provided the money went to their bodies or clothes, my girls were about to be richly rewarded. Thus, I felt little trouble corrupting Jenni’s outfit with my touch. As has been proven time and time again, I have a corrosive touch on all but profit margins.
“Madame President!” Jenni squealed as thick hands reached down past her belt and cupped thick but blemish free buttocks. I bounced them, playing with them like a child trying to bounce two basketballs at the same time. Jenni squealed and hugged my shoulders. Once they had been small and concave. Now, as fat poured outward from every conceivable shelf or landing place, they had become broad and bold. Her skinny body slithered over my morass of gut fat and between my breasts. The ponytail had been somewhat forgotten, replaced instead with her gyrating upon the various platforms of blubber. “You have. . .aaah. . .work to do! No time for. . .mmmhm. . .playing grabass with secretaries!” Jenni cooed in my ear, practically licking it. I retorted by squeezing her butt harder and sloppily kissing her breasts. Employee or lover, to fall under my direct attention is no easy thing. Under the yoke of my weight, lusts, and needs people are ground down. Jenni was one such, but I had built her up again. After my guiding hand, she had boundless energy for my particular brand of tasks.
“Consider this. . .mmmhhh-sscchlook. . .a professional. . .review.” I said, my kisses turning from licks to whispers back to kisses in an endless cycle. Things would have escalated from there, had not heard a door open.
“President LaBelleeeeee!” Vicki sang as she entered my office. Both the doors to my office and the collar of her shirt were tossed open wide. Vicki, my VP of events, might as well have been topless for all the good her jacket and shirt did. Breasts bigger than Jenni’s bobbed with such heaviness that I was surprised that they were not accompanied by sound effects. Vicki clopped into the room on heels on par with Jenni’s; which is to say that they were stilts to normal people. Once Victoria, I had snatched the woman up from her position as a call center flunkie. With several trips to a recommended plastic surgeon and some time in pole dancing classes, Vicki the VP had been born. Her breasts had grown each year since, as had my lust for the tanned orbs. “You have. . .uuuhmm. . .aaah. . .a visitor!” Vicki playfully stumbled over her words, balancing better on heels than on sentences. Freed from rote call center scripts, she had adopted a lax approach to speaking. “Miiiiiissssss. . .aaaahm. . .Rayleigh is here!” Vicki finished strong, bursting another button off her shirt in the process.
“Gooooood,” I moaned, burbling out of thick lips. Sweat trickled down my face, catching in my chins. My voice resounded deep within my blubber, issuing more from my corrupted heart than anywhere else. This was a meeting I had been looking forward to for a long time. “Send. . .Rayleigh in.” I smiled, sinking back into my folds. I smacked Jenni’s ass giving both the universal signal to be gone as well as to speed up. She chose the former, though I might have preferred the latter. Jenni trotted across the floor, bouncing her breasts for Vicki and her butt for me. She stopped to give the other woman a peck on the lips. Jenni returned with her own. I grunted, appreciating the deep and trusting work culture I had created on my team. With my sweat riddled hair halfway in a ponytail, my shirt coming untucked, and a lusty gleam in my eyes I bid Rayleigh enter.
Rayleigh was by no means unattractive, though compared to the other women under my direct employ she seemed drab. Years of corporate middle management had begun to wear on her. Once vibrant hair was dulling and in sore need of several treatments. Her stomach pouched out, symptomatic of processed meals eaten routinely. She had bags under her eyes, doubtless from waking up early to make it into the office. It was hard to believe that I was ever concerned with her approval. I had never seen a woman so deflated. She walked in, trying not to make contact with either of my girls or my own corpulence. I took the opportunity to readjust my bulk, spreading my legs wide and letting my gut fall as far between as possible. The hefty, indulgent grunt which bellowed up from by chest seemed to wake Rayleigh up. She cast a wary eye at me, seeing what unending success had brought. Neither of us spoke. Rayleigh was either too disgusted or too nervous. I, meanwhile, was too busy soaking up the thickening tensions. My breasts heaved, nipples tightening as I sucked in the heavy air. My seething lust over the imbalance of fortunes mixed with Rayleigh’s nervousness and barely hidden resentment. Thunderclouds of tension were forming. I could hear Vicki and Jenni giggling, using the tension as a means of touching one another.
It was Rayleigh who blinked first. “It’s good to see you Caro-” She adjusted quickly. “President LaBelle. It has been a while.”
“Too. . .mmmmm-bbbluuuurrrrp. . .long.” I could not help to stifle the belch. It shook my gut and breasts, making one of my buttons pop off. I snapped a finger and summoned Jenni in to fix it. She came with an obnoxiously pink bag, a surgeon’s kit for women of certain kind. Thread, needle, and another button were dawn out and she went to work. As much as I have tricks of persuasion and business acumen, Jenni had her own tricks. How she could sew with her ass sticking so far out was a true mystery. She threaded the new button on, swinging her plump hips back and forth as she worked. I continued on with my own joyous labor. “I just wish it could. . .whew. . .be under. . .bbblleerup. . .better circumstances.” I squeezed a thick fold, teasing what I had to say out. It was a fine meal to be sampled. Jenni toyed with my belly as she worked, playing with the thick platter of blubber on display. The sweat pooling around me only grew worse. I sucked in air before speaking, wanting to look as grand and bloated as possible. “We’re downsizing again.” I said, gushing with joy and released air. However much the company might downsize, I never would. “For reasons out. . .HHHLLOORRRUUP. . .out of my control.”
Rayleigh flinched, though it was hard to tell if it was because of the news or my general appearance. To her I must have appeared a molded idol of greed, with only the hint of a woman she had once known. My face held glimmers of resemblance to the despondent woman that had once left Rayleigh’s office. My frown had drooped low that day, almost as low as my thick jowls droop now. My former boss’ face also fell as the news washed over her. “I’m sorry to hear that.” She was careful, as if asking would manifest the truth into reality. She knew what was going to be said next, but did not want to invite it. I made her. Rather than speak, I sat in my sweat and glee as Jenni stitched my button back on. The tension grew, a sweltering heat accompanying it. I controlled the temperature of the room in more ways than one, my body venting heat. Rayleigh broke eventually. “How will my department be affected?”
I gave a chuckle so resonant that it sent tidal waves through my bulk. Jenni floated up and down, having to save the final few stitches on my clothes. She slapped my breast playfully, humming as she tried to keep the stitching together. I grunted before smacking her ass. She gasped, mouth dropping open with playful silliness. I could expect a bill for that later, I’d give a little extra as long as it went to plumping up her lips. As the ripples faded back into my fat I returned to Rayleigh. “Department? We’ll. . .UUUUGGGGGGHH. . .” I started to move, groaning as my inhumanely fat body was forced up. Jenni pouted as the button burst again, fat leaking out. Another button snapped off soon after, the wall of advancing fat claiming ever more territory. I sat up, giving Rayleigh a wondrous look at my own sweat drenched curves. I wanted her to marvel at the woman I had become. Further, I wanted to see what I offered. My thick fingers smacked Jenni again, getting her to stand upright. She caressed me, placing kisses on hair that had darkened along with my soul. “. . .have to. . .fold your team in.” I patted my gut. I would devour yet more positions, as I would food.
“I see. . .” Rayleigh looked as if she might faint. The true breadth of my bulk made her go white. My calves ripped through my pants, whilst my thighs burst through the seams along the side. A gigantic ass, big enough to make three people, bubbled up behind me. Rayleigh clasped her hands defensively, afraid that she might be sucked into my blubber. “Who will I report to?” She asked quietly, almost whispering. I did not answer promptly. Instead I pulled Jenni into a series of sloppy kisses. The moment was too perfect. My cheeks and lips devoured her slim and angelic face. Surgeons had labored long hours giving her refined cheek bones and smoothing away all of her imperfections. Paychecks, surpluses, embezzlements, and bonuses had all been funneled into her form and personality. Though Rayleigh could not know the half of what had been done to Jenni, Vicki, or the other women on my team; she at least needed to see the rewards that would be bestowed for good behavior. Jenni’s long, manicured nails squeezed my breasts and exposed stomach fat, remaining even after I finished slopping my face upon her body.
“You have. . .a. . .mmmlllrruluuurup. . .choice.” I grinned, feeling more powerful than I ever had before. “Either a large severance package. . .” I sighed. Whatever I am now, I am fair and generous. Rayleigh had worked long and tirelessly, perhaps she was even more deserving of my job than I was. However, fate had intervened and set me on the most important elevator ride of my life. Rayleigh had not found herself a loving mentor and patron such as I had been given. So it was necessary that I balance out the cosmic unfairness how I could. Though my fat fingers are ever on the scales in our company, I will recognize good service paid. Our owner had taught me that much at least. “. . .or you may join MY little team.” I finished again patting Jenni on the butt. As I mashed and squeezed the artificially enhanced cheeks, I spoke of the rules and benefits of the team. “We are a. . .loving. . .bunch. You will be paid. . .bbbluuurruuup. . .far more handsomely than in your current position.”
I let my tongue fall out of my mouth. Jenni squeezed and toyed with my soft, sweaty facial folds. I needed her so much. Fat and gluttony may have intensified my lust and pleasure, but robbed me of getting off under my own power. “There will be. . .certain. . .mmmhmmm. . .requirements,” I looked Jenni up and down, undressing her with my eyes. I knew she was doing the same to myself and Rayleigh. “Of course. . .you will have. . .vastly expanded duties.” I slapped and then scratched the lowest point on my gut. Jenni got the hint. She giggled and skipped around my gut. Her nimble hands had but to tap my overstrained belt to make it pop off. The crack of leather shot through the office like a gunshot. I was freed from the restriction of clothing. Jenni wasted little time in lifting my gut and plunging her head under it. I moaned, eyes never breaking contact with Rayleigh. “Thoughts?” I asked, hardly able to think now that Jenni’s very experienced tongue was probing my nether regions.
Rayleigh looked at me, her face showing many emotions. Her fists clenched and unclenched. I knew she was weighing everything, plunging through a series of opposing thoughts. Serving me or freedom, a worn body or enhanced, painful morality or expedient immorality. Above all, she thought about an utter and complete remaking. It was largely the same with all the other women in my team. Pride and assumed morality buffeted up against fabulous wealth and obscene freedom, save for a couple clauses. I cannot say that everyone has taken my offer, but I will say it is a precious few that refuse. A weight heavier than any other crossed Rayleigh and I saw her slump. Her shoulders sagged, stomach puffed further out, and her hair dimmed. She walked forward, stepping up to my desk. Jenni laughed and went back to her playful kissing. The laugh was infinitely musical, a bird tittering on a branch behind a blue sky. Rayleigh stopped and the weight lifted. She stood straighter, years sloughing off of her shoulders. She put her hand out. “Caroline. . .President LaBelle, I would be honored to join your team.”
I laughed at her formality and professionalism. I doubt that would last. I was interested in the woman that Rayleigh would become. I direct very few things, only hinting at what I think would be best. My team defines what role they will play and the kind of woman each will morph into. I was certainly excited to see how Rayleigh would fit into the team, as well as between my thighs. “Accepted.” I stretched, gut and thighs swallowing Jenni whole. My arm dripped sweat but Rayleigh took it without fear. “You may have. . .ooooohhh fuuuucck. . .a week to. . .bbluurrup. . .consider fully.” I moaned, wiggling in the large chair. I then winked at Rayleigh. “Then the real. . .aaaah. . .aaah. . .work begins.”
She left and I made a mental note to call our owner, the only real authority I answer to anymore. I only hoped I would remember after Jenni was through with me.
Comments
James Duke
Thank you! I have some ideas for fleshing this weird little world out more.
Thiscantbereal
Great stuff! The President nearly has a "Jabba the Hutt" feel to her. I agree that a sequel would be fun.
PrivateXimmy
Self indulgent follow-ups are always a blast, don’t be ashamed!
James Duke
Thank you!! Haha I really have to stop forgetting that I like bimbo stuff 🤣 Might do a follow up to show how Rayleigh is adjusting to her new life
Ink-onceivable
That was amazing, the descriptions of how massive the president was and the effects that has on her were so good. Always a fan of big boobs and lesbians, this story almost featured my favorite thing by association The Immensely Fat Bimbo
