Dark Collaboration Part 8
Miri awoke up with Gabi in her arms. It was dark out. She couldn’t say how long they’d been together in the cottage/restaurant, as she’d started to think of it - although she was fairly certain this place wasn’t really either. Outside it was still Halloween night, but it had gotten late. The streets were cleared of families, only a few drunk revelers streamed by in slow motion outside the window. By the look of it, it could be nearing midnight.
Gabi stirred, pulled Miris arm tighter around her, sighed contentedly. Miri’s heart swelled; this moment was perfect. But then her hand moved. It stroked down Gabi’s chest, pinching and poking over the thick fatty padding over her ribs and tummy, and so Miri realized she wasn’t alone. The Witch was here as well, and apparently in control.
“My my my…” her voice was cold as ice, but Gabi stretched and smiled, basking in it. “What a fat little piggy you’ve become”
Gabi awoke to the feeling of Miri’s arms around her. She smiled, pulled them tighter. She wanted to doze like this forever. Maybe they could, neither of them truly knew the rules of this place. But then she felt a pinch, and then a poke, Miri’s hand was prodding at her, hefting her, sizing up all the unwelcome fat that had piled up on her breasts and gut. Her mouth dropped open, but instead of an releasing an indignant protest she gasped with delight, her body warmed with pleasure. And so she knew she wasn’t alone either. Gretel was here as well.
And there was someone else there with them as well. The girl’s couldn’t see it, not this time, but they felt it’s cold presence. It whispered something, and then was gone.
“Wake up my little Gretel”
“Mmm…. its early” Gretel rubbed her eyes sleepily. The witch rolled her onto her back and looked down at her hungrily.
“Well we have a big day ahead of us!” Internally, Gabi and Miri’s hearts sank. These were the worst days. When Gretel and the Witch were free to play with each other without restraint. Gabi watching with dread as her body fattened up, Miri horrified but unable to look away as the Witch sized her up, feeling all the hunger and giddy cruelty of the Witch inside herself.
“Oh?” Gretel sat up, the sleepiness on her face slowly fading into a greedy smile, like a child expecting a treat.
“Yes, my little piggy, today you’re going into the oven!” The jolt of horror from Gabi and Miri was enough to stun Gretel and the Witch, but only for a fraction of a moment. Their eyes widened, went glassy, goosebumps prickled, but then they relaxed again, the Witch’s smile returned, Gretel wore a nervous pout but offered no protest.
“Get out of bed my little suckling piglet, it’s a lot of work getting a fat roast like you prepared, it’ll take all morning!”
Gretel’s face twisted up with worry, but she obediently pulled back the covers, swung her plump legs to the floor, and took the Witch’s hand as she led her to the kitchen.
They walked through the hall and into the kitchen where everything was prepared for them. The oven was warm, on the counter sat a massive roasting pan, and all around it cooking implements and ingredients.
The witch looked back at Gretel and saw the fear on her chubby face. She hesitated for a moment. Inside, an earthquake was raging. Miri was screaming, thrashing, her fury deafening. She WOULD NOT let this happen. The witch’s smile broadened.
“Aww, my little piglet, don’t worry, I’ll get you something to snack on while I get ready.”
Gretel hopped up onto the counter, sitting herself with her plump legs dangling off the side and her tummy resting heavily in her lap like a soft round pillow, in between the roasting pan and a bowl filled with an amber liquid. The witch handed her a plate of cookies and she began at once eating them, her nervousness making her pudgy hands shake as she lifted them to her lips.
“If I finish all of these can we go back to bed?” Gretel asked hopefully “I can please you, the way you like. Or I could even eat more!” The witch laughed.
“No no my little piglet. We’re done fattening you up” She stepped closer and gripped the fat girl on both sides of her midriff. “You’ve become a nice well-fed roaster, and now it’s time for you to cook in the oven, and for me to have my meal. And that will please me very well.”
Gretel could see the pleasure on the Witch’s face, and her feelings stirred, a swell of pride beating back the fear. She nodded obediently. Inside Gabi was panicking. Screaming, sobbing, sick with terror. Her lover was laying her back now on the counter. The soft strong hands that had held her, loved her, that she had yearned for so long, they were spreading a honey baste over her swollen body.
“I think a honey glaze goes well with ham, don’t you?” the Witch asked. She smeared the baste up and down Gretel with her bare hands. Using the rub down as a chance to tenderize the meat as well, her fingers pressing deep into the pillowy girl, kneading and probing, leaving tracks of pink flush in the buttermilk pale skin across Gretel’s belly, hips, and thighs.
It was obscene. Miri couldn’t stand it. Gabi laying there helplessly. The woman she loved, happily submitting to this, a fattened sow laying on her back for the butcher. And her own hands… her own hands basting her like meat. Her stomach rumbled. The pale skin pinkened as she rubbed it, then glistened as she smeared it with the thin honey glaze. Her mouth was dry, or was it watering? Her heart was pounding in her chest. She rubbed her hands over Gretel’s wobbling dome of a belly, over the plush dimpled expanse of her hips, her stocky legs, reaching deep to smear every crease and crevice, even over the fatty swell of her pussy almost hidden between two plush thighs and the crest of her tummy. Lastly, she basted her fatty perky breasts, even over her round cheeks. She begged her to sit up, to scream in horror, to swat her away, to do ANYTHING.
She didn’t. She lay flat and watched nervously as she was basted like a pig. And Miri… loved it. Despite herself. Despite her raging, her terror, her protests, she felt the Witch’s hunger and lust, and she loved it. Smart, capable, silly lovely Gabi, fat as a hog, lying flat on her fattened ass, just letting Miri prep her for the oven. It was perfect. She was perfect.
“Alright piggy, hold out your hands” Miri’s hands trembled as she bound Gretel’s plump wrists together, pulling the butcher’s twine tight enough to indent slightly into the pudge on her arms.
“And now hop up into the pan”
Gabi’s mind churned. Her stomach roiled. Oh god, these are my last sensations?! She rose awkwardly, the counter and her skin slippery with glaze. She rolled onto her knees, her body wobbling, every curve of her form bulging, extra meat hanging and swaying with her motion as she padded her extra thick thighs over towards the pan, rolls of pudge laying firmly against the front of her thighs as she crawled, looking like an overfilled meat pie spilling out onto its crust. What did I let her do to me?!
She settled into the pan and internally began to sob. Outwardly Gretel maintained a nervous smile as the witch tied up her ankles as well, and then pulled her thighs apart and lifted her ankles up to tie them to her wrists, binding her up not unlike a turkey before Thanksgiving. Gabi wanted to scream, wanted to kick out at the witch, wanted to… but she didn’t. She didn’t move a muscle. She just trembled while she was tied up, and then it was too late, she was truly helpless. She was fat, and basted, and trussed like a hog in the bottom of a pan. She was going to roast…. and she loved it.
Miri’s touch. Her strong but gentle grip as she repositioned Gretel’s plush form, adjusting her pose, filling in the spaces around her with chopped potatoes and onions. The look of lust and hunger on Miri’s face. The feeling of helplessness, of giving herself up to Miri, of pleasing her… it was everything she wanted.
She let out a gasp in surprise as the witch pressed a long orange carrot between her thighs, and then up into her, wriggling and tensing for a moment as she adjusted to the sudden pressure. Before she could get comfortable again the pan was moving, the witch had slid it into a metal cart and was wheeling her over towards the oven.
The red filaments were already glowing inside. Gretel tugged listlessly on her bindings as the first wave of heat washed over her, pouring out of the door of the oven, prickling her skin. She was going to be in there soon. Inside that oven, roasting. Her thighs pulsed, her tummy twisting and tensing, the sensation of the carrot distracting her.
“I’m sorry Gabi” the tenderly spoken name surprised her, she looked up at the witch, opened her mouth to correct her - ‘Gretel’ - but the words didn’t come.
“I can’t fight her.” there were tears on the Witch’s face “You’re just too perfect. I told you that, right? That you’re perfect?” she bit her lip, her chest was heaving as if she was about to cry, or maybe like she was in the thrall of pure excitement. And then Gabi saw it, the shadow on her shoulder, whispering into her ear.
“So perfect that… I have to have you. I can’t resist, I love you my porky little roast” and then she pushed the pan off the cart, sliding her onto the tray of the oven.
Gabi’s heart swelled to bursting. At the same time the heat screamed over her, drowning out any protest, her skin instantly began to prickle, and then sting. Her body began to pour out sweat. Even the air in her lungs was hot, her breaths became heavy. This was it. She was going to cook. She was a Miri’s pig, and she was going to roast. She stared up at the witch, and her hunger was everything, her lust, her pleasure. She saw Miri there too, her kindness, her love. In that moment the two were almost indistinguishable, my Miri, my witch.
All those nights together, in college, as roommates, as lovers, Miri, the witch, Gretel. Had she wanted this? Hadn’t she teased Miri, complaining incessantly about every gained pound, calling in Miri to pout with her when her rear strained a dress, sticking with her all these years, watching the desire smolder in her eyes, that neither of them were willing to admit...
And then it dawned on her.
“Stop!” she meant to yell, but the air was too hot, it was a gasp, a croak. But nevertheless, the witch’s hand stopped, a gleaming red apple in her fingers, destined to be crammed into her piglet’s mouth.
“Why?” Miri’s voice was pleading
“Because...” Gabi’s heart was pounding in her chest. She couldn’t take much more of this heat, and her legs were beginning to burn and shake from her pose. “Because I don’t want tonight to be the last night you roast me!”
Miri looked down at her uncomprehending.
“Because I love letting you fatten me up. I love it when you drool over me, when you hold me down, when you call me your piglet and butter me up like a ham, when you… push me into the oven. But I don’t want it to end tonight! I know you don’t either. Because you love all of me, not just my meat. You love my smile, and how I make you laugh during movies, and how I feel in your arms while you fall asleep, and -” she trailed off because Miri was lowering her hand, pulling the apple away, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Hey Gabi” her voice cracked, half laughter, half sob.
“Hey Miri” Miri grasped the edges of the pan and pulled it back out of the oven, onto the cart, and then leaned down and kissed Gabi on the mouth. A long, slow kiss, flavored like honey and butter.
“I… I think I’ve figured out what this place is. It’s giving us what we want…” Gabi spoke slowly, taking deep cool breaths between sentences, lightheaded from the sudden shift in temperature.
“I think you’re right” Miri didn’t untie her, but she rolled her away from the oven.
“So… you don’t want to roast me anymore?”
“No…” Miri placed a hand on her cheek “Actually I really really do” she choked back a sob, half from lingering horror half from relief “But I realized… I’ll never be able to fight the witch, so I stopped trying. Instead I let her see why I loved you, how smart and brave you are… and why that makes you all the more delicious…. As play next time of course”
Both girls laughed weakly, their happiness real, but layered with exhaustion. Miri took a knife and snipped the twine on Gabi’s wrists, freeing them, and then her ankles next.
But as Gabi rubbed her sore wrists, she noticed the darkness gathering behind Miri again.
