Chapter 17 operatic maneuvers in the dark
If I wanted to stay in one piece, I had to work fast to get Queen Philippa before she got me.
The inspiration came to me one morning as I was reversing myself into Bonzo, my faithful
artificial shlubber butt. I was thinking about the endless petty intrigues of the Palace,
definitely the fat queens' favourite pastime while being stuffed. Remembering Floppy
Filluppa's susceptibility for scheming, and how she plotted my liquidation ambush, why not
turn her favourite weapon on herself?
And so I worked on my Countersplurge scenario: I had to devise an absurd series of stealthy
midnight assignations and mistaken identities in the Palace garden, like a crap opera plot. I
dispatched notelets with Palace crests to the Prince Regent, Floppy Filluppy and, crucially, to
two different Gut Busters units. The only thing I varied was the timing, one set said a quarter
to midnight, the other, quarter past. I chose as my stage for the drama, the bridge over the
Queens Canal. Its name translated, ran roughly Bridge of Plenty, Fat Bridge, or even Bridge
of Fulfilled Dreams. It arched gently across the 30 foot Canal, its walkway made of silvery
stout timber slats.
Later in the day, after the usual evening post prandial stupefaction (I've always wanted to
write that) had given way to a thousand happy sonorous slumbers rumbling throughout the
Palace, I silently hauled myself away out to the water gardens like a giant slug. I struggled
onto the bridge, dragging Bonzo up after me, and waited in the dark. Presently the Prince
Regent loomed, the bridge creaking as he crossed to my side.
"Alone at last! I'm dying to be together with you," I murmured.
"And I'm risking a lot to be here too," he said.
He took my hand. I moved closer and held the real me, my breasts and belly, close against
him for protection, exposing only my great Shlubber butt. I lay against him and waited, my
heart pounding. It was as if he held me ready, carefully aimed at the end of the bridge, a
sitting duck.
I heard them coming only a moment or so before the hiss of the spray bounced across my
ass cheeks. I squealed as I thought I ought. The Prince held me tight, saying something
urgently to the guys: I guess it was keep it low, for Chrissake, don't splash me. I turned to
see the two figures recede into the dark.
"Oh Wow! My ass is just soaking." I chirped in my best cartoon voice-over Virginian, "Now
who would play a prank like that in Dolores Town? Why, I bet it is those awful Gut Buster
boys."
"Yes. Yes. I expect so, now I've got to go. This is actually Good Bye Auntie Sam."
"What do you mean, Good Bye? We've only just started."
"You'll soon see what I mean", and he wrenched away from me back across the bridge.
Yeah, you bastard, damn right! I hadn't much time. I waited, slipped out of Bonzo, then
followed him across the bridge and ducked underneath to hide by the Canal edge. Not
wearing a watch, it seemed like forever that I sat there. Then I heard the swish of someone
else dragging a great fat ass along the Canal side. I pinched myself with delight, it was
working. I could make out the profile of Philippa struggling to maintain headway in spite of all
the ballooning flesh dancing around her. She heaved herself up onto the other end of the
bridge and settled down to wait, in turn, for her tryst, I could hear her panting after her
exertions.
It was quickly done: the two Gutsos arrived, sprayed and disappeared. She, like me,
squealed in surprise. Then the awful truth must have dawned on her. She let out a long wail
and broke into down into sobs. I walked out onto the bridge and crossed to her.
"Fucking Sam! You're the one supposed to be splurged she spluttered.
"Yeah, and it looks like you've been splurged too, Floppy!"
"Shit! Oh shit! How long have I got? Can you do something?"
"Not that I know of. Do you know of anything we can do?"
"There's fuck all anyone can do" she said, "It takes about twenty minutes. Already I can feel
my ass melting."
"So at least lets move out a bit, so you drip through into the Canal while we sit and talk"
I held her hand and at last we became friends of a sort.
"Thank you for moving me Sam. Now we will stay together, floating side by side in our
dreams." she whispered.
She told me of her childhood, her college days and Degree, and how she got interested in
politics. She hated Uncle Sam and all the great powers and dreamed of a United Polynesia.
She told me of her part in planning the Ship Splurging and how she'd dreamt up the fat
mermaids, an elite group of woman GBs, as she styled them, who went after merchant
shipping in the high powered luxury cruisers and lured their crews into splurge orgies.
She had been brought into the Palace by the Prince because of her tactical brain. It never
ever had anything to do with sex. As a matter of fact she believed she preferred women to
men.
"So do I" I whispered.
"But you'reHey you're not melting! Its just me."
She hadn't realized before that it was just the sound of her plopping through the bridge into
the Canal.
"Yeah. I just got splurged on my fake shlubber butt. Didn't you know it was fake?"
I must say she saw the funny side of it; she smiled, last thing, before her face dissolved.
But the guys on those ships wouldn't have smiled while melting into jelly, I thought ,as I
pushed her through the slats of the bridge. With my toe I brushed her aureole in with the last
of the jelly.
"In your dreams Babe!" I muttered and moved off.
I felt at peace. I really rather relished the thought that, having elected to stay here in the
Palace, I would eventually end up dreaming in the Canal beside her.
Next day after Queen Philippa was found to have vanished, the Prince Regent left urgently
for the Island. Using the AFTERGLOW routine I contacted base for the last time.
Apparently they sent Navy dolphins into the cave next evening from a decoy merchantman.
The dolphins, trained to swim around tickling and arousing swimmers, caused mayhem. All
save one in the cave entered the water, not wanting to miss the novel frolicking. The dolphins
lured 20 occupants of the cave, out of their minds with pleasuring, across to a reception at
the waiting ship. Divers went in to tackle the cave installation. The Prince put up a defiant
last stand, splurge spray flying everywhere. While wet suits gave protection, the Prince was
caught by his own blowback so to speak and slowly settled into a puddle, watching helpless,
as the Navy dismantled the splurge distilling apparatus. To make sure it could never be
rebuilt, they staged a "strategic withdrawal".
All that Dolores ever knew about the operation was that the merchantman was found drifting
next day with twenty happily inert expanding blubberballs, nine female, the remainder male,
marinating in a sickly sweet thick fish oil across the bottom of the hold. They slid slowly
around one another as the ship moved in the swell. A nine day wonder in the Dolores media
as a mystery of the sea, the ship and its twenty pleasuring Jell-O lumps eventually became a
visitor attraction: "The Ship of Fools", with a Gut Buster as curator, dozing beside the
gangplank.
Chapter 18 underwater mingling
After the disappearance of the Prince Regent, the rule of the King was restored to Dolores.
But unlike his brother, the King always preferred a relaxed approach to the affairs of State
and conducted much of it from the shaded courtyards amongst the great contented Queens
he so loved.
After the
Restoration, Hiccu re-entered my
life, he'd
been
rounded up
with a
group of
street louts
and
brought to
me by a
genuine
GB (Guard
Brigade
officer) for
identification. Using a
Queen's
traditional
influence, I
managed
to get him
released
and assigned to me as a GB on probation. Everyone assumed I had earmarked him for a
Toyboy, so he was subjected to Palace "strengthening" until I noticed the changes in his
physique that were causing him difficulty in waddling. I had to order that he be kept mobile.
I learnt more about the Gut Busters from a grateful, and now very contrite Hiccu. The group
around the Palace Gate were the lowest of the low. They believed that by getting seriously
into (out of?) shape and training, they would eventually be recruited for the GBs. This was a
myth, none were ever accepted for the core Palace group of GBs, they were simply fodder
for the Prince Regent's gangs. Hiccu had been in one of these and, within a gang hierarchy
of fear and bullying, they had engaged in petty extortion, gluttonous feeds and the extraction
of protection payments from restaurants and business premises.
My butt gradually built back with the aid of the beautician and his shlubber rubbing. When it
became redundant, the fake butt went on show in Dolores Town museum, and I heard, how
disbelieving schoolchildren loved to stand in it, trying it for size. Strangely, at about the same
time, in the States it was announced that there had been a breakthrough in making re-placement bodyparts and support surgery for super sized Americans. I did wonder whether
the US Navy might also have developed splurge sprays as a secret weapon.
Some time later, the King stood in the pool looking up at me sitting on the on the rim, my
belly and breasts floating on the water between my splayed out legs, and said "Sam, I've
decided, looking at you over the past few weeks, you have now got so big, it is time to keep
you in the water permanently."
My helpers and I were overjoyed at his decree; we had put so much effort into building up my
fatness. I nearly drowned the king as I threw myself on him.
I was
eventually
awarded a
Purple
Heart
for
my
part
in
crushing
the
Dolores
Pirates.
The
citation
read
"To a very great American lady who not only worked her butt off in the Service but gave
bravely of herself to defend the interests of her country and the well being of the Pacific
peoples."
This proved to be my last active Navy assignment, for of course I had now grown too big to
move on land. I sent my apologies and it was awarded in absentia.
Cosmo was delighted to find his mother an American hero, and swaggered around imitating
various Hollywood big shots. He spent a lot of time at the Center where Sis, the bountiful
aunt, spoilt him rotten. The last I saw of him, like Sis, he too looked on the verge of having
mobility problems. Clearly nothing changes, his role models, as ever, are the teenage Gut
Busters.
I got to share a pool with Jelia. In the aerial video shots I loved to watch of us both, I got to
see how eventually I swelled out to rival her in bulk (size has always mattered to true
Americans). In the course of time, like her, I also lost the power of speech. It seemed to me,
as I needed to speak less and less, that there were other better, more direct ways of
communicating. Perhaps that is how great trees or beautiful flowers feel. Gradually the
surface of my body grew less distinct and I realized that Jelia and I were mingling. I could
feel we thought as one.
When, inevitably, we outgrew the biggest of the courtyard pools, we were sluiced through
into the main Canal. Blending with the pee-arner io - the 'line of life', we were making our
contribution to the very essence of Dolorean spiritual heritage and belief. In the early
morning mists, women raise pitchers of our Schlue from the Canal, the basis of the national
drink Schlum and of Schlubber, the comfort furnishing. Now Jelia and I had become part of
the lineage, we were helping to shape and fill out Doloreans everywhere. I loved to drift and
dream about this. Who was drinking me at this moment? Probably Cosmo and certainly Sis!
Where was I being used as a couch or rubbed into one another by amorous lovers? It never
failed to arouse me. Jelia and I would dilate together for hours on end with the erotic
sensations.
Such activities would induce flows of water to sway the long fronds of underwater weeds. As
orgasm approached, the currents might become more violent and stir the surface. Finally
eddies and trains of bubbles would break out. The shoals of lazy fat goldfish were amusing to
watch. They would dart away as the bubbles started, only to scurry back into the action to
enjoy the vicarious sensations.
Philippa, of course, had dripped through into the Canal some while earlier, so she must still
be in here somewhere. It became our mission to find her, though it took a while to convince
Jelia. She played huffy and withdrawn until I pointed out that it was Filuppy that had
persuaded the Palace to accept and nurture Jelia into becoming Queen-sized in the first
place. We kept every sensory pore tuned as we slowly expanded, drifted and dilated through
the underwater tranquillity of the Queens' Canal. We became aware of her at last as a
frisson, a shiver of a tiny charge which excited our placidity. "That's her!" we thought and
immediately commenced dilating. We stirred the surface of the Canal for several days as our
arousal went the full course. Her response was to still try playing hard ball, but it was
impossible. Hide and seek was the most she could manage. Over time, despite her
resistance, we completely enfolded her, fusing the three of us. It was fun, each of our
personalities exactly complemented: Jelia's was the all embracing soft sweet envelope,
Philippa's the edge of sour bile like a twist of lemon, and mine, maybe the need to take
chances spiced with wit and irreverence. You can come and watch us twitch the surface of
the Queens' Canal any day.
From the look of her, continuing to stuff herself so avidly, it won't be long before little Sis is proclaimed Dolores first blonde Queen. And just as inevitably, after that, she'll end up in here with us, joining in the fun, dissolving gently.
