(What's in this: booty expansion)
“Good evening, Ma’am. Do you have a reservation?”
The woman in the sparkling red dress and white gloves tried to summon more disgust than she naturally felt, but it was hard. When you spent all the time openly contemptuous of those around you it was a challenge to go even further.
But how else was Denise Asher supposed to respond when this no-butt nobody was asking HER if she had a reservation? Was this fool blind? Could she not see the ten-foot wide, perfectly proportioned ass Denise was sporting? She didn’t make reservations, she just showed up somewhere and got what she wanted.
Though Denise was here for something more than just a night out. Pulling out the embossed card for the maitre’d to see, she said
“I got this, like, invitation? Some special shindig is being thrown?”
“Oh! I see, ma’am. Right this way.”
The maitre’d stepped out from behind the podium and led Denise across the dining floor. The snooty blonde scoffed when she saw the barely three-feet wide bubble the woman was sporting. Even the six or seven-feet wide butt the average diner had failed to impress her. In a society were ass size was status the assembled patrons of this restaurant were distinctly upper class, but Denise was a one-percenter. She existed on a plane too high for them to even see.
“You’re the last to arrive. The others were starting to get impatient,” the tiny woman commented as she opened a pair of extra-wide doors to admit the socialite.
Aside from the curious lack of tables, the scene inside the exclusive room was more appropriate to Denise’s expectations, though it actually rankled her more than she would be had she been seated with the plebes outside.
Every woman here was an elite, just like her. There was Chandra Pavra, with a nine-foot wide booty filling her blue tights and spreading her skirt like a tablecloth. The Worthington twins were sitting on opposite sides of the room, their 11-foot butts doing less to separate them than their own hatred for one another.
And back in the far corner was Mrs. Katerina Jurno, resting on her 15-foot wide behind like a personal throne. She rarely allowed herself to be seen walking or standing; it ruined the impression that she was so large in the rear that her mobility was impaired.
Denise knew all of these women. There were over a dozen in all, each of them at best a rival to her for space in the social pages and at worst an opposing force she yearned to outgrow.
“Young Miss Asher,” a melodiously knife-like voice sang out, “I’m surprised to see you here. Though I guess there is room for you. You can squeeze over there between Missy and Lori.”
Denise turned to face Bella Moreau, she of the fiery red hair and the 16-foot wide ass. Her green dress rolled back and fell down the slope of her cheeks, measured to hold an inch above the floor, obscuring the wheeled platform she rested her booty on. Denise wasn’t convinced she needed the platform; Bella probably just wanted the sound of the rolling wheels to emphasize her girth.
Denise was trying to think of something snide enough to match Bella’s comments when another voice rang out.
“Thank you all, ladies, for answering your summons.” The maitre’d had closed the doors behind her – and locked them, to the awareness of nobody – and now she was walking to the center of the room. “It is a privilege and an honor to see so many excessively endowed women gathered in one place. We pride ourselves on catering to the most exclusive clientele, but never have we had so many esteemed individuals at once.”
“Yes, yes,” a black woman with an ass spreading 14 feet wide and six feet behind her cut in, “We’re all fabulous. We know. Tell us why we’re here.”
The maitre’d chuckled.
“Oh, so forthright. Or should I say arrogant? I guess when you’re as wide as three or four regular women your ego tends to get huge as well.” As she spoke she reached up to pull out a necklace from behind her button-down shirt. She fingered the charm at the end a bit, then said in a lower voice, “I wonder how much my own attitude will change.”
“What did you say?” Denise asked, her irritation growing. “We can’t hear you.”
“Oh, you’ll see soon enough.” Still talking in a quiet voice.
Before any of the women could get so impatient they considered leaving, the maitre’d’s charm went to work. An envy green glow flared up around the charm, mimicked shortly thereafter by the skinny woman’s eyes.
“I would have been happy if just two or three of you showed up,” she said, speaking up again so everyone could hear her. There was an added reverb to her voice now. “But I guess none of you could stand to think that you would miss out on a shindig everyone else was showing up at. You can’t say ‘no’ to the spotlight, can you?
“Now the spotlight’s going to say ‘no’ to you. There’s only going to be room for one woman in center stage now.”
The irritation in the room was turning to confusion, but as the maitre’d finished her little monologue all the permutations of ‘What’s she talking about?’ going through everyone’s minds were answered.
The maitre’d began to grow, and everyone else began to shrink.
It only took minutes, but to the women watching their own status and celebrity slip away from them, stolen by the brunette in the middle of the room, it felt like hours. More than one woman would later recount the events as if they had felt themselves weakening physically, though in reality their bodies still retained the muscles they had built up to carry around so much excess baggage. The weakness was purely emotional, the women unable to bear the thought that they were no longer elites; they were no longer even upper class. When all was said and done only a couple women were three feet wide.
There was no missing where it had all gone. The maitre’d exploded out of her pants and underwear in the first thirty seconds of the theft, her ass doubling in size and doubling again quicker than a balloon attached to a water hose. She was as big as Denise had been when she entered the restaurant before any of the women figured out what was fueling her growth. Everyone being so huge, and with so many women to draw curves from, it took much less to time to notice the maitre’d’s growth than it did the shrinkage of everyone else.
But it was only a matter of time before the women noticed that those around them were growing smaller, and then to realize the same thing was happening to themselves. The women who were sitting shrank, those who were standing felt their skirts or dresses fall to the floor and bunch up.
And the maitre’d continued to grow, laughing triumphantly as she had to sit back, her ass too big now for her to support. She was already bigger than the largest woman had once been; she was reaching global record proportions, and she had taken maybe a third of the collective booty, if that.
Those closest to the door tried to get out, those behind them shoving and hipchecking each other to get clear their own path, but the doors were locked tight. The maitre’d might have enjoyed the spectacle if she wasn’t engrossed in the sensation of her own booty spreading across the floor.
Before the halfway mark her ass rose higher than her standing height. There was a wall of flesh behind her, the deep canyon of her buttcrack climbing five and a half feet into the air. Then six feet, seven, eight. Her feet left the ground as she was pulled back and up by her still-swelling booty.
Her victims were starting to trip over their dresses or the skirts and leggings littering the ground, and this only made the fighting among them all worse. Being in the same boat, all of them victims of the same woman, had not brought them together. No, the same envy and contempt that had defined all their relationships still reigned; it was just that instead of thrusting their elephantine hips and butts at one another in demonstrations of superiority they were getting tangled up in wrestling matches, elbowing or grappling with each other as they still tried to get out of the room, or at least as far from the maitre’d as they could.
The noise they made covered up the sound of the maitre’d’s ass hitting the ceiling at first, but soon the protests of the floor and ceiling couldn’t be ignored. The groaning sound of wood and plaster bending under the force of the still growing woman’s badonkadonk slowly silenced the deflating rabble, until soon everyone was watching with wide eyes the pair of buttcheeks that filled all space from bottom to top and, soon, behind her, her butt colliding with the back wall.
Even when the growth reached its end, the last bits of excess booty flesh drained and transferred, the groaning sound continued, punctuated by the faint sound of floorboards snapping or pipes breaking.
The maitre’d was still laughing, one hand plunged between her thighs as the feeling of so much skin surface pressed into three sides of the room pummeled her with orgasms. It took almost as long for her to come down as it did for her to grow in the first place, the victims of her magic huddled on the far side of the room and waiting to see if there was some further sorcery about to take place.
But the woman in the center of the room, filling fully half of it with her ass, just reached into her jacket and pulled out a key.
“Here you go,” she said, tossing it at the women. Her voice had returned to normal. “I’m done with you.
“In fact, I’m done with this place entirely. Ohhhh, how wonderful would it be if I could still walk? I’d pull myself through that door, breaking the wall apart and announcing my arrival as the biggest booty on the planet.
“Do you ladies mind telling everyone in the dining floor about me? I want to get the pictures and videos of me onto the net as soon as possible, and there’s sure to be plenty of phones out there.”
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Very enjoyable! Butt size as status is a fun concept, and the theft of it leaving the thief the size of a ballroom is delightful!
Was this a commission or are the quickies just concepts given to you?
Was this a commission or are the quickies just concepts given to you?
That charm... if only I could become the Robin Hood of booty with it...
No reason there can’t be a sequel, someone using the charm to help other women.
I’m still accepting quickies, by the way.
I’m still accepting quickies, by the way.
I have an idea that involves the future, bucket-like robot suits, and heavyset girls. Specifically, a future world where inordinately heavy girls are poured into cumbersome bucket-like suits with arms and legs. I could imagine a bunch of girls getting together to hang out, maybe compare boob cleavage, and someone falling over thus spilling out of their bucket and having trouble getting up without help. This just enough to work with, too little, or too much?
I’m not sure what you mean by ‘bucket-like’ robot suits.
Imagine a bucket with robot legs and robot arms. Just a bucket with an open top. The girl's arms and legs are stuffed in with the rest of her naked body exposing her plump head and boob cleavage. Getting somewhere? Is this too much for a quickie?