Bursting at the Seams

It had been a long time since Coraline had vanquished the Other Mother in the depths of her family’s new house. She’d grown up, and out, moving from a gangly blue-haired child to a full-figured eighteen-year-old sleuth. While the neighborhood had acquired new residents, and all seemed peaceful, Coraline didn’t rest. Because where her beldam monster had failed, others were succeeding.

Bogarts, oni and even a good old-fashioned Baba Yaga lookalike had infested Coraline’s town, luring children away from their parents with sweets and promises. Coraline had gone after them one by one, slipping under beds, into closets and wriggling through crawl spaces to vanquish them all.

Of all the witches, hags and monsters under the bed Coraline had slain, the newest one on her to-slay list seemed like the sneakiest of all. The street this creature called home was plagued by an obesity crisis, with children swelling up like balloons apparently for no reason. Someone was fattening them up, and it wasn’t their parents. The kids that had disappeared had been the fattest in the neighborhood, over two hundred pounds each, by the time they vanished.

Pretending to be a local university journalist studying urban crime, Coraline interviewed the neighbors and family of the vanished girls. Everyone had similar things to say: that the girls had seemed lazier and lazier before their disappearance, that they had gained weight at an incredible rate, and that they seemed dazed or stupefied somehow. Their grades had plummeted and they had become obsessive binge eaters.

Determined to save these kids if she could from whatever monster had taken them, Coraline searched the town with a flashlight by night to locate the creature’s hiding spot. Eventually, out of options, she had to get a more intimate investigation going. The family of one of the kids had just moved out, stricken with grief, so Coraline broke in.

Technically, picking a lock wasn’t “breaking” and entering. But the sneaky teen wasn’t splitting hairs. Prowling through the eerily empty house, Coraline quickly found that all the furniture and possessions had been moved out. . . except for the refrigerator.

It was a huge old model, looking like it hailed from the 1950s. It ran just fine, though. When Coraline opened it, she found to her astonishment that it was stuffed full of food. Cakes, ice cream, meat pies and cookies decorated its insides. Disturbed by the misplaced junk food in the empty house, the blue-haired detective rapidly realized she was making progress when she saw that the fridge wasn’t plugged in. Yet the light inside worked, and the food was all as fresh and cool as if it had just been placed inside.

Feeling around the back of it, Coraline had trouble locating any secret passages or supernatural tunnels inside the thing. She got an idea when she nearly knocked over the plate of cookies.

Lifting one to her mouth, she bit into it. It was so gooey and freshly baked she was immediately reminded of her Other Mother’s sinister home, where there was always more food than you could eat and where she had stuffed herself silly several times. Lost in that nostalgic daze of past gluttony, Coraline almost didn’t notice the fridge shelves sliding back and to the sides to allow her to walk into the fridge just like a door.

“So that’s how you get them,” Coraline said, grinning. “You sneaky bitch.”Levelling her flashlight, she stepped into the fridge, continuing to chew on the chocolate chip cookie. She knew it probably wasn’t a good idea—the cookie was probably cursed or something—but she was walking right into the monster’s lair anyway. How much worse could things get?

She quickly found out how much worse. The shelves of the fridge “tunnel” grew higher and higher, stacked with decadent chilled delicacies like cheesecake and fruit tart pie. There were clear signs of struggle here and there, like torn-open food containers and chubby chocolate-stained hand prints on the wall. She was getting closer.

She was also getting colder, and as the glow from the back of the fridge intensified the cool air caused Coraline’s nipples to stand to attention under her sweater. It was difficult to ignore. Ever since she’d grown up and out, her ample hips and large bosom rubbed and shoved against her clothes, creating an awkward but sensual feeling. Now was no exception, and despite herself Coraline began to get excited as she rubbed her chest in the chilly tunnel. Being a full-time monster hunter, she didn’t really have any time to attend to her own “needs” at all, and these days every little thing seemed to set her off, getting her flushed and slippery.

Taking a deep breath, the girl gradually removed her hand from her breast, where she’d gone from rubbing to actual squeezing and pinching in a matter of seconds. Panting a little, she resisted the urge to shove her hand down her pants and get off right there in the creature’s lair. “Easy, girl. We’ll have plenty of time to screw around later,” she sighed, licking her lips. “Mm, screw.” The chocolate still smeared on her lip gave her a tiny aphrodisiac rush and she shivered. Unless she could stay focused she would be easy prey for whatever lived in the back of the fridge.

Emerging from the chilly tunnel, she climbed out of an even bigger fridge in a strangely familiar kitchen. It was like the one she’d had back home, only even larger and overstocked to the point of bursting with every delicious food imaginable. Roast chicken, barbecued pork and candied apples littered the countertops, each freshly made and ready for consumption.

A huge table loaded down with fried foods and cakes also gave her pause. There was a sound coming from the living room: a wet smacking noise, interspersed with deep belches and slurping sounds. Coraline crept out of the kitchen to see what was happening.

On seeing her, Coraline barely recognized the missing girl, whose name from the posters was Ramona. She had been an athletic kid, a star on the local youth soccer team, but now she was grotesque. Stubby, round sausage-like fingers stuck out from her plump, pale hands. Arms weighted down with dangling flesh, she groped in the huge bowl of chili next to her and lifted a mouthful to her soft, drooling lips. Her chin bulged with several thick rolls of neck fat, nestling her round cheeks and lazy, half-lidded eyes. Mesmerized by psychedelic cartoons on the lopsided TV in front of her, the kidnapped girl was like a caricature of child obesity: rolls decked her sides, shoving her stained pink T-shit up into her armpits. A prematurely fattened double flapjack bosom sat comfortably on her obscene mound of a gut, its round and gurgling surface streaked and splattered with food debris. As Coraline watched, transfixed and uncannily a little excited, this mess of a human being pawed another steaming palmful of chili into her face and belched like an unrepentant slob.

Horrified and yet intrigued, Coraline made sure to take some pictures of the girl with her phone. She told herself it was to study the monster’s methods of grooming its victims, and not at all because the wet wheezing and gurgling noises the girl made excited her. . . Snapping out of it, she marched forward and put a hand on Ramona’s shoulder. “Ramona! Slow down on the chili, big girl. It’s time to go.”

Ramona looked around stupidly and smiled at Coraline. “Can I have some cake now? I want some cake.” She belched in Coraline’s face, the smell of half-digested ground beef washing over the sleuth. “I wanna mix the chili with cheesecake.”

Nauseated by this idea, but making a mental note to check that for a patent, Coraline heaved on the girl’s arm fat, trying to drag her out of a sitting position. “We can have all the cake you want when we get home, okay?”

“But she is home.” A sugary-sweet voice whispered behind Coraline. There was a rustling, like lots of pebbles sliding over each other. “And she’s so very happy. Aren’t you, Ramona dear?”

“Yes, Auntie.”Ramona’s huge, misshapen gut gurgled, and a blast of gas erupted from her rear, lifting her several inches off the couch before she settled back again. “And hungry. Hungry, Auntie! Hungry!”

The creature behind Coraline slithered up to Ramona. Clad in a long slinky blue dress coated in silver stars, the statuesque woman lifted the bowl of chili and started to simply pour it down Ramona’s throat. Coraline had two shocks at once as she saw the monster’s face: For one, it had bright colorful candy pieces for eyes. For another, it looked exactly like Coraline.

At least, an exaggerated future version of Coraline. The “Other Aunt” had huge fertile hips that swelled sensually under her dress, and a gigantic pair of swollen, jutting breasts that jiggled, shifted and slapped together under the loose blue fabric covering her.Coraline’s own striking blue hair brushed the woman’s narrow, soft shoulders and a familiar set of freckles dusted the monster’s cheek.

“You’re. . . What are you?” Coraline gripped her flashlight tightly. She’d brought holy water, wolfsbane, and even a rabbit’s foot, but how could she fight—or even kill—something that looked just like her? “What are you doing to these kids?”

The tall woman tutted as she poured the last of the chili down Ramona’s greedy, yawning mouth. The hot stew overflowed the girl’s lips, oozing and smattering onto her gut and udders with a wet splopping noise. “One, I’m your Other Auntie. Two, it’s rude to ask questions. And three. . . I am here to give these lovely children what they want. Forever.” She smiled as she held out a lollipop to Coraline. “What do YOU want, dear? Tell me your desire.”

Unnerved by the monster’s affectionate smile, Coraline took a step back. “Oh no. I’m not falling for that again. You can’t bribe me with candy, you creep!” All the same, her mouth watered at the smell of the chili currently coating Ramona’s torso. She was getting hungry. . . and she really wanted another one of those cookies.

Cocking its head, the Other Auntie giggled. “Very well. You ARE all grown up now, after all. . .” Its candy eyes ogled Coraline up and down, lingering particularly long on her ample bust, which Coraline crossed her arms in front of. “Perhaps a more ‘mature’ offer is in order.” She withdrew a large bottle of fine wine from her dress and balanced it on one pointed finger. “Je voudrezl’savignonblanc, non?” she purred.

Pausing, Coraline reflected on how she’d beaten the last Beldam. “Only if we can make a game out of it,” she said, putting her hands on her sizeable hips. And so they did.

Hours later, Coraline had challenged the new Beldam to every game of wits she knew, from riddles to dice and even to checkers. Her enemy far outclassed her in all of these, and the bottle of wine was almost gone. Coraline had discovered she very much enjoyed wine. She enjoyed it so much, actually, that she couldn’t stand up.

“You tricksh me,” she slurred as she folded in their current game of poker. “I saidsh every time I loshe I taketh. . . tagesh a drink. I haven’t losh this one but I’m, I’m already drinking,” she said curiously, swilling her final glass of wine. “So, you’sh sheeting.Cheating.Cheat. . . ing. HICCUP!” The Other Auntie laughed and walked around the table, sliding a slender hand over Coraline’s shoulder and tracing a bony digit down the girl’s collarbone and into her cleavage. Coraline shivered, trying to pull away. . . but the Auntie’s other hand gripped her blue hair and pulled her head back, forcing her to gaze into her own candy-eyed face.

“It’s not my fault,” the supernatural being whispered, bringing her face inches from Coraline’s. Her breath smelled like gumdrops. “I didn’t MAKE you drink it. You just happen to be extremely, incredibly greedy.” Her impossibly long arm stretched like taffy, spindly fingers crawling down Coraline’s wine-filled belly to toy with the waistband of her pants. “Aren’t you, my little sugar fly?”

Gulping nervously, Coraline wished the kitchen wouldn’t spin so much. “Y-yes, ma’am.BURP!” She blushed. “Excuse me. URP!”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Just means you’ve still got room for the main course. . . Naughty girl, drinking before your meal’s been served.” Auntie-Coraline’s arm snaked out of the young woman’s pants, much to her disappointment, and grabbed a huge chocolate double layered fudge cake from the overloaded countertop. “And here it is. Remember to clean your plate, sweetie!”

Coraline blinked at the huge cake. The sweet smell of it was overwhelming, but it was easily three times as large as her head! “I can’t eat all that! HIC!”

“Oh, nonsense!Ramona finished eight of them just this morning.” Auntie pinched Coraline’scheek. . . and then pulled it, the flesh stretching like bubblegum before snapping back into place. “You’ll find in my world, dinner is much more fun. It’s all dessert. . . and it never stops!”

Angry at being so easily shanghaied into the monster’s schemes, Coraline tried to stand. But she was drunk as sin and only made it halfway before slumping back in her chair. “I guess I could have a bite. . . Or three. . .” The flush-faced girl reached out with her fork and stabbed a thick load of chocolate wadded fudge mess, shoveling it into her face. “Mmf! Oh, gawd that’s good!” She heaved it back with enormous GULP and took another forkful, and another. . .

In Other-Auntie’s world, dinner moved fast. So fast that in a few minutes Coraline had blazed through half the immense cake, her mysteriously stretchable stomach puffed out onto her lap and sprinkled with rich moist crumbs of chocolate. Her new Auntie cooed happily and patted her fresh victim’s gut, eliciting a warm belch from the stuffed and confused Coraline. “Oh my, such hunger! Such a deep throat! That could come in useful later. . . Here, darling, let me get you out of those uncomfortable things. I confess I’m a bit of a fashionista; I prefer ‘easy access’, oui?” She spun Coraline’s chair around, making the girl dizzy, and the glutted ex-sleuth found herself clad in lazy red lingerie, her impressive chest spilling out the top of it. The caboose she’d inherited from her mother bulged out the bottom in plump puffy round bubble-butt syndrome. And as she watched, her stomach shrank slightly and her hips grew. . . as did her thighs, tits and rear.

“Don’t stop there. Auntie wants to see what a big girl you’re getting. Have some more!” She got Coraline a bigger fork and broke out a bottle of massage oil to rub her “growing girl’s” shoulders. Privately and drunkenly pondering how she could escape, Coraline decided to continue going along with it for a while. Just to see the monster’s weaknesses, of course. She was sobering up enough to realize that she was truly turned on by her new outfit and the Other Aunt’s caressing touches. . . But of course she would get up soon and sprint for the fridge-tunnel. Any minute now.

Any minute now.

Then the Aunt pulled a titanic soufflé out of the oven. Easily three feet across, it steamed with warm scents. Coraline knew as she drooled at the sight of it, not even done with her cake, that escaping was a lost cause. The food was too good, and she was so horny she’d stay here forever for more caresses like the ones she was getting.

Hours later, she was regretting her decision to stay. Though her flesh stretched like rubber around the bulk of her enormous meals, piles of fat grew on her like dough in an oven, oozing over the thong strap of her lacy lingerie thong. The ruins of easily half a dozen full-course meals sat strewn across the table. Coraline happened to glance at Ramona while she ate, just to make sure the girl was alright, and shuddered at what she saw. Ramona’s head wasn’t visible, so low had she sunk on the couch, but a pale flood of flesh had spilled off the chair. Rolls upon rolls piled on the floor in front of the TV, the girl’s obesity bulging in misshapen blobs across the carpet. Rank smells emerged from the living room, smells that could only have come from Ramona’s overloaded digestive system.

Coraline herself was getting very gassy indeed. Her thin lips stretched frequently in rattling belches; her round, perky derriere rumbled and rippled with raunchy little bouts of flatulence. She mumbled an apology every time, but with each dirty belch or fart the candy-creature would tease and squeeze her breasts or ass. Belly bulging with meat and desserts, Coraline was panting and squirming with sexual delight as she ate, unable to stop herself.

Finally, thinking she had reached her limit, the blue-haired monster-slayer slumped back in her chair, newly minted back fat rolls squishing against her seat. A deep groaning fart blasted out of her body and she moaned, achieving a small climax simply due to all the pressures inside her. “Oh, I think I should. . . I think I should go,” she said weakly.

“Such silly talk. Your silly little head must be spinning from too much sugar. How about some barbecued ribs instead?” And the Beldam plucked the fattened girl from her seat, the Jones girl’s ass popping free from the armrests with considerable difficulty, and laid her on the messy table like a hog being dropped into a sty.

“Wh-what are you doing?”

“Greedy little girls need room to grow,” Auntie said, placing a cheesecake next to Coraline’s face. “And I will turn you into my favorite pet, my dear. My perfect little messy infant.My smelly, plump, stupid child, forever. All you have to do is eat.” She took Coraline’s face and shoved it into the cheesecake, smearing the bloated girl’s freckled face with dessert.“Why so wiggly, piglet? I said, EAT!” Her voice grew vicious with insanity, and Coraline farted nervously, realizing she was in WAY over her head!

“Mmf! Grlmph! BLRCH!”Coraline fought at first, but found it was easier just to eat. . . so she ate. Soon she had inhaled three cheesecakes, an apple tart, a plate of Danishes and five pints of ice cream. Farts blasted out of her rear, strumming her thong’s string in the depths of her now-massive ass. Her gut spread across the table, the few freckles on it growing stretched and strained, their pigments tight over her gorged form.

“P-please. . . So BREALCH, full!”Coraline had never even dreamed of eating this much in her life. It was delicious, it was orgasmic, it was torturous, but she knew it wasn’t right and that she needed to get away. So she started holding in her gas for the only assault she could possibly make. . .

A complication arose in the form of a long, stroking presence around her inner thighs. Coraline flinched and then moaned as the prehensile, snakelike object grazed her fattened loins. “Aw, fuck,” she cussed, burping softly as whatever-it-was gently prodded her labia. She glanced behind her swelling balloon of a fat body, and wished she hadn’t: the Other Auntie’s mouth was open, and six tongues slithered and undulated across Coraline’s ass. One was a Twizzler, another a length of saltwater taffy; several were sour-candy ribbons and one was even a bumpy, knobbly rope of Nerd candies. Coraline, her mouth full of chocolate, gagged but then whined as the tongues began invading her dripping girlhood.

“Fuck, fuck, BRELLLCH, fuuuck!” she keened as the Other Auntie molested her with tentacles of invasive sugar. Finally she could hold it no longer, and decided to let loose her secret weapon before it was too late and she lost herself in absolute pleasure.


Releasing all the pent-up gas in her body through her rear, Coraline farted so hard the Other-thing was bowled over, and the fat girl herself shot off the table like an escaped balloon of flab rolls. She bounced and skidded across the kitchen, which was revealing its true form: a bloody butcher’s den with lengths of raw meat draped from the countertops and gharish green lights illuminating large bones protruding from the disposal.

Wishing she was drunk again, Coraline staggered to her feat, still farting. She had grown so fat so quickly she barely knew how to walk. Waddling like a prize turket to the fridge, she hauled it open, tearing off the shelves to get at the tunnel beyond. Finally, she saw it, but with one obstacle still sitting in her path: The plate of cookies she’d eaten from when she first arrived.

“Don’t touch them, don’t touch them, don’t. . . FUCK IT!” Coraline grabbed the plate and poured the cookies into her mouth, swallowing them in one massive gulp like a python. Her throat bulged, and then a thick meaty fart pumped out of her rear as she threw the plate aside, diving into the fridge.

Suddenly, Coraline realized she couldn’t move.

Those last few cookies had fattened her up so much that her immense belly, a rolling jiggling gurgling shelf of wrinkly pale pink flesh, had wedged her securely in the doorway of the fridge. She panicked and thrashed, grabbing at the walls, leaving fat greasy fingerprints all over the inside. Shelves tumbled down and bouncing off her fat, making her fart.Coraline whimpered, terrified as she realized just how deeply in trouble her cockiness and greed had gotten her. And even now, her belly told her to give in. To eat.To laze. Finally, tears in her eyes, she did just that.

She ate. She tore open boxes of eclairs, packages of donuts and gallons of milk, chugging and guzzling and gulping and chewing until her fat, stinking frame filled the entire doorway of the fridge. Her fat spilled over the sides like a pink balloon and her farts filled the room as she felt familiar bony fingers gripping her backside.

And then, still eating, still belching and farting, the light in her eyes fading as she gave in to her fate, Coraline was pulled back into the hellish kitchen. Back into the clouds of her own flatulence.Back into the arms of the Other Aunt.

The fridge door slammed shut with a bang, and that was that.