Chapter 1 - in gertrude’s room in alice’s house

Gertrude was working the manuscript for one of Ernie’s stories arranged on the lamentably expansive dome of her duvet-covered torso. Her arms shoulders and upper chest were exposed but Gertrude had learned not to observe her body just because it was visible.

Gertrude’s room did not have a door. Instead one whole wall had been torn out and replaced with a double curtain. Five years ago Gertrude had slipped on the front steps and twisted her ankle and when it healed she found she wasn’t able to get out of bed. It wasn’t that she’d gotten too fat but she’d lost her muscle tone and that was enough.

Then Alice realized she had a captive audience for her cooking and now Gertrude was Gertrude was Gertrude all over. For the first two years they’d had her carried to the living room for salons and that was fun. Gertrude felt royal and served and Alice though she’d never admit it felt jealous when Gertrude was being manhandled by the brutes they hired for the purpose.

But now they have salons in Gertrude’s room. One day the brutes came in and tried and shook their heads. “It’s too dangerous,” they said and Gertrude liked to imagine how that could have gone they grab the edges of the canvas heave-ho and off they stagger. One man collapses and Gertrude rolls a helpless victim of gravity and he squeaks and disappears abracadabra. Possibly his legs stick out kicking frantically possibly a hand desperately reaching out for help but there isn’t anything anyone can do but they try anyway. They scream they push they pull their horrified desperate hands sink into her flesh over and over and and over as Gertrude weeps and apologizes but the mass of her obesity is absolutely and triumphantly immovable. They will have to tear off the roof of the house and use a crane to recover the pathetically flattened corpse.

Gertrude was aroused. She thought about calling Alice but when the knock on the wall outside her bedroom came she hated Alice. Alice’s knock was always so hesitant and nervous it made one insane. “What is it, Alice? I’m busy.”

Through the curtain came a mouse’s squeak a sparrow’s chirp. “It’s late so I brought you a snack. You haven’t had anything for hours.”

“I’m busy, Alice.”

Alice pushed through the curtains she was carrying a baking dish in both hands. “But I made it just for you. Can’t you just have a taste?” She set the dish on the bedside table used for food.

“Please, no. I’m still stuffed from dinner.” Which was true but Gertrude was always stuffed and Alice did not care. Alice still fed her.

Alice took a spoon a serving spoon almost too big for a mouth and poked it at the contents of the dish. There was a faint crunch and Alice lifted the spoon with just a tiny tiny dab on the tip of it. She held it to Gertrude’s mouth. “Just a taste, please don’t be a mean fatty, please, please, please be a sweet fatty.” Then singsong. “Pretty please pretty please pretty please?”

Gertrude was so angry but she opened her mouth. Alice had said please.

Alice spooned up a slightly larger bite. “Isn’t it good?”

It was a cream custard with a burnt sugar crust and brandy-soaked dried fruits and Gertrude nodded and opened her mouth again. The third bite was a little larger and so the next and so on until they both had lost control Alice cramming and Gertrude gulping.

When Gertrude started to chew again Alice handed her the dish and spoon and began to caress Gertrude’s pillowy upper arm fingertips dancing then she kissed dry then wet. Alice still liked to do things the old way even though Gertrude was so big but it was usually too much effort for Gertrude so they’d learned this kind of thing worked fine.

Gertrude ate more and more slowly distracted by the tingle of lips the tingle of tongue the white little teeth chewing so gently on soft flesh punctuated by the tingle of the vulgar intentionally erotic suction smack as Alice’s tiny mouth pulled away then returned over and over and over fingers kneading the dough they had made themselves until Gertrude’s spasm made the pages of Ernie’s manuscript scatter to the floor like fallen leaves.

Alice gathered the manuscript and Gertrude held out the dish. Alice looked at it shook her head. “That isn’t clean.”

When Gertrude had used her finger to get the last of the custard out of the dish Alice gave her a damp washcloth hands and face and after that the manuscript. Alice took the dish away and Gertrude got back to work.

But half an hour later there was another mouse knock. “What is it now, Alice? I have to get this done.”

“I just wanted you to try a cookie. It’s an experiment and I’m not sure.”

It was a platter of cookies. They were domes that looked like chocolate with little dents in the top filled with something pink Alice was holding one right in front of Gertrude’s mouth so Gertrude had to open it.

“Do you like it?”

It was soft and cake-like and the pink stuff was some kind of buttercream with a cherry flavor possibly kirsch. Gertrude nodded her head she was still chewing when Alice licked Gertrude’s round padded cheek and said soft and moist and oh! right in Gertrude’s ear. “That’s a good fatty.”