Veruca's Revenge
•	by zobstories, Nov 30, 2013, 7:12:25 PM
•	Literature / Prose / Fiction / Romance / Erotic / Short Stories
It didn’t take much to addict Violet Beuregard to something. After her bizarre accident at Wonka Industries, she was sent to chewing gum rehab, but post-release she still itched for the squirt of a good Juicy Fruit between her lips. Or anything, really. She was painfully thin after being juice-squeezed during “The Incident” but had been eating relentlessly to salve her chewing gum withdrawal. Softened and matured, with a muffin top and a pert chest, the still occasionally blue-cheeked Violet was a new girl.

She was on her way to Chewers Anonymous one fateful day when she saw a piece of gum tied to a string leading into an alley. Her years of obsessive chewing took over, and she reached to grab it. She was promptly dragged into an alley and bludgeoned into unconsciousness.

She awoke naked in a room full of fine satin and pillows, her hands and feet bound with silk ropes. A massive mechanical antennae hung over her. Lounging on a loveseat in front of her was none other than Veruca Salt, in a mink robe, munching on a Wonka candy bar. Dozens of wrappers littered the floor around her, and Veruca’s smug face was smeared with chocolate.

“V-Veruca? What’s going on? Where is my track suit?” Ever since the “incident” Violet had always blushed blue, and now her cheeks were a brilliant azure as she struggled to escape her bonds.

“A little ‘hello’ would be nice when addressing your superiors,” Veruca sniffed, gobbling down a chocolate bar and belching. She was heftier than Violet remembered, her robe bulging with soft spoiled flesh. Evidently her time in Wonka’s factory hadn’t made her any less greedy. . . or less arrogant. “I brought you here for two reasons, Beauregarde. One, I have been succumbing too much to my Golden Ticket’s unlimited supply of chocolate, and I need a lacky to pick up the slack. Two. . . I need a new pet.” She smiled like the Cheshire cat, slipping a hand inside her robe. “I’ve been so. . . lonely lately. Boys only want my money. I’m sure you can understand, a girl of my status has more exotic needs than you common folk.” She belched again, reaching for a large red button next to her couch.

“P-please, let me go. I’m in recovery! This is very damaging to my psychological identity!” Violet’s attempts to struggle ceased as the antennae above her began humming.

“I don’t think so. I worked too hard getting Mr. Wonka’s TV device to work. I had to stand up and everything.” Veruca giggled as the machine powered up. “Smile, Beauregarde! You’re on TV!”

With a low ZAP the machine disassembled Violet and beamed her into a tiny aquarium enclosure. Just seven inches tall now, the reconstructed and still-nude Violet squeaked in terror as Veruca’s chubby form ambled over.

“You’re going to love your new home. I gave you a little next to live in, and lots of food to eat! You will have to eat it, of course. I love watching poor people eat.” Veruca heaved herself down into a sofa next to the aquarium. “Eat, lower-class slut. Amuse me.”

Violet looked around. In the tank there was nothing but a hamster feeder filled with liquid chocolate and a pile of immense Wonka candy bars in the corner. “Big-O-Bar,” she read off the label. “Wonka’s Solution to Hunger Crises. Gain weight for your country’s inevitable famine!” She gulped. You expect me to eat these?”

“Of course.”

“And what if I refuse?” Violet was not a particularly smart girl, but she was a proud one. After her indignity at the Wonka Factory, she thought she had seen it all, and she wasn’t going to cave to Veruca’s cruelty. She was mistaken in that.

Veruca snorted, grabbing a large fluffy pink feather from a nearby bowl. “As if I wouldn’t have plans for your stubbornness, you impoverished wretch.” She reached the feather into the aquarium and began to dust it across Violet’s tiny, naked body in gentle strokes. At Violet’s small size, the strands and fibers of the feather were torturously tickling.

“Ahh! Ah-ha-ha! S-stop, you ah-heehee, you bitch!” She ran around the cage but Veruca followed her, tickling her chubby ass, her breasts, the soles of her feet when she finally fell down.

“Eat, you giggly whore!” mocked Veruca. “Eat up, now, or I shall be cross!”

Finally, tears of combined laughter and fear streaming from her eyes, Violet obeyed. Unwrapping a candy bar as long as her body, she broke off a chunk and began to eat.

She felt the effects almost immediately. Engineered to save the starving hordes of central Africa, Wonka’s Big-O-Bars were a wonder in caloric density. One bite and Violet’s belly wiggled, bounced, and stretched out, turning into a pot-belly and making her look like she’d been gorging herself for weeks. Of course, the Big-O’s were only a prototype which Veruca had stolen, so they carried an unusual side effect: gas.

A deep trumpeting noise blasted out of Violet’s back end. Blushing bright blue, she wiped her lips even as chocolate-smeared saliva dribbled down onto her breasts. “You’ve got to be URRP, to be kidding. You expect me to eat all of these?” She had to admit they tasted great, and it was practically orgasmic to chew something again after her liquid diets, but she didn’t want to play into the rich brat’s hands.

“Every. Single. One,” Veruca chortled, tickling Violet’s new gut. “You’re going to be my sweet, adorable, fat-assed little housepet. Now eat some more, or I’ll tickle you so hard you puke!”

Surrendering, Violet ate. The trouble was, while the candy was delicious and made her feel satisfied, she could never seemingly get full enough to be uncomfortable. It was some trick of Wonka chemistry, she was sure.

She blazed through about a bar and a half before her guts really started to churn. Swollen up like a plump, tiny Venus, Violet clutched at her now-doughy belly as her insides vented gas from her top and bottom.

“Veruca, URRRP, it says ‘lab prototype’ on the wrapper! BLARRP! I don’t think this is, frrrt excuse me, safe!” She bit her lip as another rank rumble of stank gurgled out of her increasingly soft and bouncy rear.

The snotty princess turned up her nose, munching on a Big-O bar of her own. “So, Mommy Veruca’s treats aren’t good enough for you, hmm? Perhaps you’d like a meal a little more well-rounded?”

“Yes!” Violet squealed, as another groan of gut-gas rattled from her jiggling cheeks. “Anything, please!”

Veruca cackled, stuffing down the rest of her candy bar and sucking on her chocolate-splattered fingers. “Alright, piggy. You asked for it.” Violet scowled at the name-calling, but it wasn’t far off. The effects of the bars had ballooned her tiny hips out to almost six inches across, her stomach puffed out and dangled down the size of an apple—enormous for her—and her blushing blue cheeks had grown round and stuffed with fat.

But when Veruca dangled a shiny flat strip of chewing gum into the enclosure, Violet shrank back against the wall. “Is. . . is that Wonka gum? Get it away! I can’t be near that stuff!” She farted nervously, misting the glass of her cage.

“You know you want it,” purred Veruca. “Here, I’ll even unwrap it for you.” She removed the foil and placed the gum in front of Violet.

For a little while the Beauregarde girl even resisted. But even though she’d stuffed herself with chocolate, her mouth started watering, her tongue tingled. It had been so long since she’d had a stick of gum, so very long, and this one was so BIG. She just needed a little taste, one fix to help her relax. Throwing herself at the gum, Violet jammed it into her mouth, struggling to fit it into her cheeks but eventually succeeding.

It was heaven. Every squishy inch of the stick was just like the one she’d had at Wonka’s factory. Dozens of flavors flowed over her tongue, gushing the satisfaction of multiple meals into her gassy body. Roast chicken, pulled pork, peas and mashed potatoes. . . Tiny Violet sank onto her knees, her loins warm with the fulfillment of her drug of choice. “Fucgk yesh,” she slurred around the gum. But the Wonka formula had never been perfected, and the side effects still had plenty of kick.

With a sense of dread overshadowed by her gum-chewing, crotch-fondling ecstasy, Violet felt herself swelling up again. Not with fat this time, but with a deep, cool rushing sensation in her belly, in her breasts, in her ass. Gas blasted out of her as her insides swelled with sloshing, sugary blue fluids.

“BREEALLLEARPT! Aw, not again. . .” she mumbled around the gum. Her nipples turned a deep, rich shade of blue, followed closely by her groin and her face. She slobbered and chomped on the gum nevertheless, refusing to give up what she’d waited so long for.

And like her adventure in Wonka’s factory, she got what was coming to her. Veruca giggled and clapped her hands as Violet bulged, and bulged, and bulged. Belching and farting, her skin growing slick and shiny as juice leaked out of her pores, the tiny girl flopped onto her stomach when she tried to stand up. Struggling to move, to escape, she could only whine pathetically as she expanded into a hilarious parody of her already absurd tiny self.

Violet’s fingers grew thicker, her face going completely blue. She felt juice bubble up in her throat, and belched frantically to keep the pressure down. Her arms and legs were quickly overtaken by the growing girth of her flabby blue body, which rapidly lifted her off the ground. She floated on the sea of juice that was her belly, a noise like liquid filling a water balloon coming out of her. Whimpering, she farted uncontrollably, her guts constricted by the overloading pressure of so much blueberry mush in her body.

“That’s a good girl! Get nice and ripe for Mommy!” Veruca had slipped a hand inside her robe and was happily fondling herself, her cruel eyes fixed on the humiliated Violet. Giggling, she licked her lips as Violet’s fleshy, wobbly blueberry shape grew tighter and more defined.

Finally, Violet’s swelling slowed, at least a little. Gasping and hiccupping, the blue girl managed to spit out the gum just in time, before she exploded. Wheezing, she looked up miserably at Veruca. “P-please URRRRRP, I’m so f-full. . . of chocolate and j-juice. FRRT. C-can you please juice me? Please?” One side effect of the gum was the extreme lubrication of the chewer’s genitals with blueberry-flavored oozings. Violet was feeling “under pressure” in more ways than one!

“Why of course, slut-pet!” grinned Veruca, reaching a chubby finger down to fiddle with Violet’s swollen, dripping blue berry-cunt. Wet, juicy bursts of flatulence escaped the miniaturized gum addict as she jiggled, moaned, and swelled even further.

Veruca licked her fingers before plunging them in again, stretching Violet’s fat cunt as more juice poured out. “Uh oh. Be careful, slut-fruit! You might pop!”

Violet groaned with fear at the prospect, but her loins thrilled at the prospect of pushing her limits even further. Humiliated and gasping with arousal, she tried in vain to rock her flabby body against Veruca’s stroking fingers. She was simply too fat and ripe to move, however, and was rapidly outgrowing her tank as the fat blue flesh of her sides brushed up and pressed against the glass.

For a moment, Violet’s chubby blue face was smooshed against the inside of the tank, her bloated cheeks flattened as the glass creaked dangerously. “H-help me!” she whined, wet farts blasting out of her body. “I’m g-going to be crushed! BLURGRRRP!”

Veruca sighed, rolling her eyes. “Don’t be dramatic, you fat lard.” She reached both arms into the tank and scooped out the freakishly distorted Violet. It took a lot of effort. The shrunken girl was so morbidly bloated with juice and her own pulpy flesh that she was almost as wide now as she once had been tall. Grunting, out of shape herself, Veruca heaved the oozing, farting and squirting Violet into an empty kiddie pool. “Here’s your new home. Now who’s hungry?”

“N. . . n. . . No more f-food,” Violet gurgled, a trumpeting blast echoing from her fruity ass. Her face was stretched beyond recognition now, slab-like blue cheeks dangling off a fat-smothered raspberry of a face. “BREARARLPCH. C-can’t take it.” She farted again, sobbing as Veruca got out a plate of cookies. As fat as she was, she couldn’t resist the freshly baked treats and Veruca shoved them one by one into her fat-stretched lips.

Three plates of cookies, one lasagna, a gallon of milk and five bottles of high-calorie beer later, Violet was obscene. Her hands and feet had been so thoroughly buried in juice-soaked fat that all that remained were four dimples or clefts in her heaving, sloshing frame. Her head had receded into a navel-like pit of flesh, her voice echoing weakly from inside. She filled the kiddie pool completely and she was painfully, deliciously, wonderfully, orgasmically full.

“Aw, is my wittle fatty pet stuffed?” Veruca was a merciless tormenter, even as she herself grew fuller and fatter. “URRRP. Ugh, hauling your fat ass around gave me gas. Stupid slut.” She tickled Violet’s huge flanks, slick with juice and nearly bursting with fat. Violet squealed and thrashed inside her cocoon of obesity, barely able to breathe.

“Oh, you don’t like that? Too bad.” The spoiled rich girl loved tormenting things weaker than her, and it showed: Even as she shoved slices of meatloaf into Violet’s overflowing face, the porky wealth queen kept tickling and tickling her helpless new pet.

Her oversensitive skin stretched to the max by juice and gluttony, Violet was oversensitive, and the severe tickling made her squirt even more juice and gasp for tiny breaths. She was dizzy and delirious with overconsumption. “Please. . . stoPLURRRP, I’m FRRRTpl gonna puke! Or explode! Or. . . Nnh. . . MMMmmBLARRRP. M-more. . .”

And happily, Veruca obliged her.