Double the trouble, double the fun

chapter 22 part 3

* *
Part of the thrill for several of them was how seriously inconvenient it was to live in such hugely fat bodies of their specific configurations. This too led to significant life changes.

Every single one of the four Mercer/Pelvig/Bloom/Patussi family members were far too fat to drive anything other than perhaps some profoundly-modified heavy-duty vehicle they didn’t currently have. So was Linda Lick, with Lou being close if not there. Sheila Portola wasn’t far away, even though husband Don was unlikely to ever have this problem, thus it wasn’t entirely an issue for them.

Doorways which had been widened in John’s and Tara’s homes generally remained suitable, with those which had not—mainly ones John never expected his then-dream *** pear lover to need to use, and some lesser-used utility-type ones at Tara’s—ranged from difficult to impassable. With John now in or soon to be in the USBHM realm, neither house truly had enough furniture to hold them all in their magnificent corpulence, other than the double California King bed set at legally-still John’s house, which still held them all with no room to spare… no room for the growth which was still happening.

Lou and Linda Lick hadn’t ever gotten around to widening most of their doorways other than a few essential ones through which Linda needed to pass every day. The Portolas had been getting into a similar situation as Sheila grew after the dosing.


Then there was work. The nature of Tara’s position allowed her to keep on working, almost no matter how huge she got, as long as she could get there and get home. John, nearly a generation older, was very near traditional retirement age. He *could* still do *some* of the work, but other things such as crawling around in tight spaces for building maintenance were completely off the table. Through all these changes, Tara and John still loved one another with a love like no other, and even after so very many years rarely spending more than an hour apart and usually not even a few minutes, they still wanted to be with each other every possible moment.

The Licks had it easier: they were both close enough to retirement age at their respective jobs to take early retirement, and did so.

Sheila Portola had been having trouble reaching around herself for awhile as she fattened. There came a point where between that and some members of senior management not appreciating her body size, shape, and consistency, they negotiated for her to take a very early pro-rated retirement, to get her out of there.


Barb and Gretchen’s work situation was the most complicated of all.

Even with her body becoming ever-more distracting as she fattened, Gretchen had no physical impediments to continuing to work (and she mostly worked in the lab with Barb anyway, not generally seen all that much nor all that long by others). Barb’s impediments were severe enough that she basically *couldn’t* work, once her breasts and upper arms fattened past where she could see in front of her and reach past herself. Unlike John and Tara, their work fates were in no way tied to one another: Gretchen could keep working even if Barb had to quit or try to retire unbelievably early.

Except their fates *were* tied together, by the very experiment that made Gretchen stare-worthy and Barb unable to work. There had been suspicion amongst several employees—but no proof—that something wasn’t entirely on the up-and-up in the lab where Gretchen and Barb worked. Testing errors happened, sometimes requiring additional materials under test, so initially no one noticed an issue. Bioteronimo had been doing well, and in pursuit of knowledge on a rapid time scale, staff sometimes played fast and loose. An audit a couple of years after the big dosing event related to an impending IPO revealed the aberrant consumption of under-development materials under test, A On especially. Reported as errors or spills in the materials log, there were no matching notations in the test log of these errors or spills.

Before Barb had fattened to where she absolutely could not work or drive herself to and from work, the day came where the internal auditors blindsided her and Gretchen with their findings, demanding answers. Neither of them had expected to be caught, so they hadn’t worked out any sort of plan for such a contingency.

Brash bravado came naturally to Barb. Along with her instantaneous decision being that honesty was the best policy, she straight-out told the auditors that after an accident where she and Gretchen each got some residue of the variant of A On being tested at the time, they noticed intriguing results on their bodies: fat deposits evenly throughout a body organ, even when only part of that organ had been contacted by the A On. They then chose to continue limited experiments on their own bodies, gathering additional data.

The auditors were legal and bean-counter types, not scientists. The legal ones nearly went berserk that they’d been doing unauthorized medical testing on themselves, in flagrant violation of company policies and federal laws.

Gretchen’s upper-body sway along with saying, “You don’t think marketing a product capable of persistent bust enhancement is worth pursuing?” may have been ill-advised, given how the legal beagles went after her for squandering company resources for personal gain, beyond the other violations.


“What the eff are we going to do?” Gretchen asked Barb, once the auditors left (to work out what would happen).

“They may be holding kings and think they’re gonna win, but we’re holding *aces!*”

The high-stakes nature of what Barb had in mind gave Gretchen the willies. She had to admit it might just work, and that she sure had nothing even half as good.


* *
Barely an hour later, Barb and Gretchen were “invited” by security to head to the president’s office. As expected, H.R. was there, along with the audit team.

After the usual formalities, the president explained the charges against them, asking them to explain themselves. Barb again went with the truth: they’d been playing around, contaminated one another, found an interesting result, continued the experiment.

“You don’t deny any of the charges?!”

“No. That’s what happened.”

“Can you give me one reason why I should not fire you both immediately?”

Here is where Barb started laying down aces. The president of Bioteronimo, Mr. Will Imo, was a scientist and a businessman, not a lawyer nor accountant like the audit team. “Because if you fire either of us, you’ll never get the data from our experiment, delaying or possibly preventing the further development and refinements needed to allow Bioteronimo to offer market-disrupting innovative products.”

“All research and data gathered therefrom undertaken by employees of Bioteronimo are the uncontested property of Bioteronimo!”

“Yes, legally, that’s how it works. But *practically*, the data is not in the Bioteronimo IT system, nor in any other format on these premises besides fragments in my and Gretchen’s brains.”

“I’ll *sue!*”

“Sure… you can do that. Before you do, please consider the relative timing of my ability to transfer the knowledge to another party, possibly over the Internet, versus the speed of the legal system.”

“I’ll get a restraining order, right now!”

“What makes you sure that the data currently resides on equipment within the jurisdiction of the U.S. legal system?”

“This– this is **outrageous!**” he stammered. “*You’re looking at ****bankruptcy!***”

“If the legal system ever gets around to that.”

“*You’ll never work in this industry again!*”

“Maybe not. The real question, Will, is will **you?**”

“*What do you mean?!*”

“Remember all the brouhaha over at Uber, related to corporate sexism?”

Mr. Imo said nothing, looking first stone-faced then slightly ashen.

“Someone in the room with us who’s not you has been caught on video, groping several different female employees over several years.”

“**You have no proof!**” H.R. Director Grant Feelup shouted. At the very same moment, the security guard known as Rock spewed, “*It was only one time!*”

“Thanks for outing yourselves, guys!” Barb grinned. “And we do have proof, Grant.” She turned to the auditors, “Now how do you think that IPO is going to go if documented allegations of widespread sexual misconduct hit the news the same day, or before?”


She had Imo where she wanted him. The upshot was:



Barb and Gretchen were fired, for violation of policies.

A new contract between each of them as consultants and Bioteronimo was signed, whereby their consulting pay would be held in escrow during the course of their employ as consultants related to the experiment they’d conducted through two years afterwards. If either of them violated the contract, their pay would be released by the escrow company back to Bioteronimo. If Bioteronimo failed to live up to the terms of the contract, the escrow company would immediately release all accrued funds to either or both of them, as appropriate to the situation.

The auditors and others involved with the IPO who were not employed by Bioteronimo held top management’s feet to the fire to make them turn around the corporate culture in terms of sexual harassment.

Barb and Gretchen were paid a breathtaking amount of hush money then and there via direct deposit, to drop their aspects of any sexual harassment charges for a period of 5 years, and not confer with other employees on such matters during that time span.



* *
Around the same time as the audit at Bioteronimo was when some of the issues discussed above really started to become problems, in terms of ability to drive, fitting through doorways, and others’ ability or inability to work. A final disruptor was the death of John’s mother. She died quickly and peacefully, in her bed during the night. There was now *another* house of John’s—one with great sentimental and little practical value.

The grieving process for the four live-togethers—especially John and Jenny, who’d been quite close to Mrs. Mercer—went along far better with all the ongoing loving support, and to be honest, the fattening, giving him (especially) hope for a brighter tomorrow.


* *
“Did you hear? Did you hear?” wide-eyed Edie exclaimed to the poly group as members continued to arrive for one of their usual monthly get togethers, her adorable already-nude belly and breasts bouncing up and down erotically.

“I hear many things” Barb teased, slipping her tent dress off over her head.

“The Woodmuntzy house next door caught on fire, burning out several rooms. I just asked the caretaker, and *they’re going to sell it!*”


This truly was big news! The house in question was a large 2-acre property immediately west of the two existing communal group homes. One of the first houses built in the area and nearly a century old, it had a great deal of floor space under its large single story bungalow-style roof.

The existing communal home residents didn’t truly need anywhere near that much extra space. More critically, they didn’t have the money for it. However, all the members who were close friends who’d participated in the fattening experiment and were each hitting critical points in their lives very much could make use of it! They wasted no time making plans to pool their resources to buy the property and remodel it as the third adjacent polyfidelity communal home for their needs, selling their existing properties to (eventually) pay for it.

Speaking of “pool”, an additional draw of the property was that it had a nice medium-sized in-ground pool in good condition. Neither of the existing communal homes had a swimming pool. Many was the time that a group resident or live-away member looked wistfully through gaps in the fence at the beautiful blue-green water of the extremely-seldom-used pool, thinking what a waste it was that they couldn’t make use of it. It wasn’t that the Woodmuntzys were mean people: it was that they were no longer healthy enough to live in the home, or when they still did, go outside to even say hello to the neighbors.


As interested as the Woodmuntzy estate executor was in earning top dollar for the property, the tangle of rules and regulations related to the fire damage and necessary upgrades during repairs plus a personal dislike of real estate people and finally a need for liquid cash motivated the executor to make a fair deal with the SquishLove limited liability corporation the group of would-be residents threw together to act as a unitary legal entity. Decently large portions of Barb’s and Gretchen’s breathtaking hush money payout provided the needed liquid assets to make it happen. The property never made it to the open market—*SquishLove owned it!*


Now it was a matter of getting the home remodeled to serve the present and future needs of its new residents. From the get-go, there were plans for a large, beautiful communal grand hall area, for both everyday living of the residents of this house plus visitors from the other two, and for group meetings.

The kitchen was designed to be quite large with lots of storage, for cranking out the mountains of food fat-via-eating ultrasized foodie people needed. An extension of the roofline over in the area where the core of the fire had been and the roof needed work anyway, it was *very* close to the kitchen of the existing communal house to the east, where Alain spent a good bit of her life. With a wide walkway between the kitchens, it wouldn’t be that difficult to work between them, or at least move ingredients, utensils, and so on between them.

Actual interior doorways were few, and only really for storage closets and the like. Everywhere else where there might have been a doorway were very large archways, allowing easy passage of usually two of the hugest bodies at the same time, in the same or opposite directions.

Closest to the grand room would be the truly gigantic master bedroom. Vaguely modeled after one of Hugh Hefner’s creations, it was a fat people’s and orgy lovers’ dream: an array of king-sized beds on a comfortable-height frame that really was as much an extension of the floor as anything else, raising the beds up to normal height and able to withstand truly huge forces from a houseful of rambunctious ultrasized sex fiends plus a whole bunch of their group lovers.

There were additional large bedrooms able to hold at least two if not 3 or 4 king-sized beds, for smaller groups, illnesses, privacy, etc.

Another masterful design and extremely large room was the bathroom. There only needed to be one, given the nature of this being a polyfidelity group. It far more resembled a dorm bathroom than a private home bathroom, with a ***huge*** tiled shower with many individual shower heads and controls, where one merely needed to walk in on the distant end over a small rise—no doors. Very open, very excellent for sexy group showers and very fat people helping clean each other off.

With amazingly giant asses still growing, it wasn’t just Tara who benefitted from specialty wide toilets. John finally had an opportunity to make use of the two spares he had in storage. As well, given the number of people, plumbing was specced to accept the unit in his house and the other design/other manufacturer unit older toilet in Tara’s house, once this remodel was far enough along for them to think about moving in and starting to ready the other houses for sale.


* *
Over time, the reality of the new communal house matched the plans. Construction had its usual delays and occasional hang-ups. The Licks did a lot of the overseeing of the construction work, having just executed their early retirement.


As with many major projects of this sort, there wasn’t a clean cutoff to say that it was done. The closest approximation was when the contractors were done and the city inspector signed off on the project.

That was the beginning of a sometimes-mad, disruptive rush to merge furnishings and other belongings from each of their homes that they wished to keep, and get their legacy homes on the market and sold, to recover as much money as possible. Directly related were the significant costs for their extreme bedding, and other new super heavy duty furnishings for the grand hall.

By design every one of the group purchasers had some space in the new group home for personal areas, able to hold at least a couple of pieces of furniture they liked which others might not. Even without taking these spaces into account, there were pretty close to zero conflicts regarding what furniture would come over. The soon-to-be residents all made group trips to each other’s homes, one per day or every other day or so, to all remind themselves what was there for the big furniture and make decisions.

Once the agreed-upon big items plus must-have-for-sure items of any size were moved to the new home, they started a round of yard sales, one home per weekend, to clear unwanted things out and make a little more money. There was always a private pre-sale day where all the other group members could come by to pick out things they wanted, almost always for free, else discounted well below what the general public would be asked to pay.

All this work would be exhausting for anyone. Having to squish into vehicles where the driver barely fit and could barely drive, having to stand with one’s 6- 7- 8-hundreds of pounds of mostly body fat, and having to get into places which for John at least would have been trivial only a couple years prior and were now well-nigh impossible all took their toll. Gretchen, Edie, and sometimes others amongst the group who weren’t so massively fat helped as they could with driving and getting into these tight spaces.


Pia, a decently-conventionally-attractive average-sized slightly curvy group member who lived in the communal home farthest east (farthest away from the new house), happened to be a real estate agent. She was delighted to list all the properties, and handle the majority of the work for staging and otherwise selling the homes. Each of them selling a home (two, in John’s case) were fine with her taking a normal commission, to not have to do For Sale By Owner and to have someone they trusted to be on their side. Rather intrigued by the whole fat thing and very impressed with what the group had done to buy the Woodmuntzy property before it ever came to market, Pia wanted to stay on their good sides.


* *
Everything in its time. The beds arrived, with the expensive super-custom mattress pads, sheets and whatnot either already there, or soon to arrive. Huge expenditure they’d all be using a very great deal of the time. Other new furniture which hadn’t yet arrived came soon.

Lots of fun fine-tuning the arrangement of the new and legacy-from-their-homes furniture.

The houses sold, starting with the Licks’, then the Portolas’. John’s family home was next. His personal adult home didn’t sell for as much as he’d hoped, related to work he’d meant to do and never got around to doing. The upside: the new owners were going to remodel the bathroom, so they didn’t care about there not being a toilet in there.

Tara’s home sold last. She didn’t realize how emotionally attached she remained to this house that she seldom visited until the sale was a done deal. The group of new residents made a fire in the revamped safe and relatively energy-efficient fireplace of their newly-remodeled home, then cuddled together nude with all kinds of tasty snacks as Tara let go via sharing her memories with them all, including residents of the other communal homes who dropped by to visit and listen. She naturally leaned back into John, feeling his protective loving field stronger than ever, at least some of it via his growing-plentiful soft warm fat.