0 comments/ 13105 views/ 1 favorites Caroline and Marc By: Marc S77 For Caroline He'd spotted her for the first time in the town's quaint little marketplace, basket in hand, sorting through the local tropical fruit. There was something about her that struck him as different from the very beginning; something about her that set her apart from the local inhabitants and the other tourist visitors to that beautiful Caribbean island; something special that had caught his eye. To be sure, he found her extremely attractive. But it was more than just the pretty eyes and pleasant smile beneath the stylish sun hat. The way she carried herself, the way she moved, her clothing – she conveyed both a delicate femininity and a warm, intense sensuality. He often saw her in town, which was just a short walk from the nearby beach and its luxurious, oceanfront villas and condos. She was, he suspected, a tourist like himself: there for a few precious weeks of sun, white sand beach, aquamarine water, and relaxation. At first, those brief, silent encounters sustained him. He might be in a store in the main square, or walking along one of the few bona fide streets in the village, when he would spot her from afar: dressed as she usually was, with a tasteful blouse and an exotic-coloured sarong over her bikini, and that sun hat which shaded those pretty eyes and sometimes left him wondering if she'd ever noticed him staring. As discreetly as he dared, he admired the long, shapely legs below the hem of her short sarong; the erotic contour of her behind; the line of her bikini bottoms, just visible through the semi-sheer fabric of her sarong; and the arc of her delicate breasts with the tasteful amount of cleavage inside her unbuttoned blouse. It wasn't long though, before he longed to speak with her; to know her name; to hear the cadence of her voice; and to elicit that charming smile of hers firsthand. He judged her to be a woman in her mid forties, perhaps some twenty years his senior, but this only intensified his interest. He'd long nurtured the fantasy of an older woman. He felt ill-matched to women his own age; preferring the female companionship of women older than himself -- their maturity and depth of feeling were immensely attractive to him. Still, the added dimensions of romance and love-making had always eluded him in that respect. He had been on the island for several days, and his day-time regimen had been the same: a light breakfast in town, a leisurely walk, with the hope of spotting the woman who so dominated his thoughts, and then a swim in the warm, transparent waters of the gulf. Each afternoon, he would find a less crowded patch of white sand beach, lay down his towel and strip off his surfer trunks and t-shirt down to his brief bikini swimsuit. Relatively tall, he had a slim, swimmer's build; his short, dark brown hair cropped close. His skin was already nicely bronzed from several days under the Caribbean sun. Somewhat shy and introspective, he enjoyed the solitude and anonymity of his time on the island, and felt a secret thrill in throwing off some of his usual inhibitions. The daring men's bikini swimsuit was a manifestation of that; normally opting for the much more conservative surfer trunk-type swimwear. Since high school, and the days of communal showers with taunting male classmates, he'd come to understand that he'd been endowed with an exceptionally large penis. In practical terms, this had been a mixed blessing up to that point in his life. Although his size never failed to impress in visual terms, actual sex had proved to be a source of frustration. Though relatively inexperienced, instances of aborted sex – either because having been 'unveiled' to her, the woman was unwilling to proceed any further, or because try as they might, he just couldn't penetrate her – were all too uncommon. That said, the island's ambient hedonism was allowing a nascent exhibitionism to flourish in him. As he lay there on the beach, he would feel a small, private thrill at his newfound ability to throw caution to the wind. For, being some eight fleshy inches in length in a flaccid state, his penis conspicuously taxed the crotch of his skimpy, white lycra swimsuit. On display as it was and restrained by so little, his impossibly large endowment frequently garnered a number of stares from fellow sunbathers. One particular afternoon, he was applying sunscreen to his chest and surveying the beach from behind his aviator sunglasses, when someone about ten feet away entered his peripheral vision. He turned to see who it was and felt his face go flush – it was her. In his shyness, he quickly looked away, lest he be caught staring once again, and at such close range. But despite the quickness of his reaction, he had had just enough time to note that she had been staring at him! He felt his hands shake slightly as he finished applying the requisite amount of sunscreen. When he dared, he stole discreet glances in her direction. She was even lovelier up close: her short brown hair was stylish and chic; her eyes expressive and penetrating; the fine features of her face suggested kindness, tenderness, warmth. When she stood and stripped down to her sea foam-coloured bikini -- removing her blouse and unfastening her sarong – he could feel his heart beating in his chest and his formidable manhood begin to swell in his swimsuit. That latter caused him considerable anxiety since even the slightest excitement in that regard could have extremely embarrassing consequences given his size and his relative state of undress. Like two smitten teens, their eyes met several more times before she offered a modest, shy smile; a smile that momentarily both thrilled and immobilized him. Though only modest gestures, her repeated looks and smile emboldened him. "Hello, there – I'm Marc," he said, returning her smile in kind, a slight quiver in his voice. "Well, hello. I'm Caroline. Very nice to meet you, Marc" she replied. Despite being older, he sensed in her a nervousness that equalled or surpassed his own, and this, combined with the tender tenor of her voice, created in him an incredible urge to hold her. At last he knew her name; the sound of her voice. She was so much more than the sum of his fantasies. Rare is it that reality surpasses fantasy, yet for Marc that was the case. The two of them chatted amicably and he was struck by her genuine, earthy charm. Like him, she was there for two weeks; their timelines happily similar. She was from the American Midwest; he from the west coast of Canada. He felt his heart sink when he spotted a wedding ring on her finger, and only began to recover – and then only partially – when she disclosed that her husband had not been able to make the trip with her. Still, there was something in the way she spoke to him, something about her attentiveness and the way she focused her attentions on him that lifted his spirits. For him, their conversation seemed almost electric -- like the easy back and forth of a first date going very well -- and he hoped she felt the same. With pleasantries and initial impressions of their beautiful surroundings covered, their conversation turned to shared interests, of which there were many: art (her villa was equipped with a studio space, and she often spent the mornings happily sketching and painting), music, travel, books, films, even philosophies of love. Such was the immediate intensity of their connection, that Caroline politely asked if he wouldn't like to move his towel closer to hers. His heart leapt in his throat and he jumped at the offer. She reached into the wicker picnic basket she'd brought with her and poured two glasses of chilled sangria, offering one to him which he graciously accepted. Facing her and kneeling on his towel that was now aligned with hers -- his thighs parted -- he took the glass from her. As he did, he noticed that her eyes were unmistakably fixed on the huge bulge in the front of his swimsuit. He blushed, suddenly self-conscious of his revealing choice of swimwear. He thanked her again for the cool, delicious drink. "I love your swimsuit," she gushed, blushing herself. "Really?" he replied. "I'm not really sure I carry something like off, but it's nice for swimming and for a climate this tropical." She smiled a knowing, mischievous smile. "Oh, you carry it off very well. In fact -- and I think I can speak for the other women on this beach -- you take a girl's breath away!" Marc demurred, trying not to reveal how flattered he was by the attentions of the woman he found so attractive. "Actually," she continued with a soft giggle, "the only thing I'd be concerned about if I were you is bursting the seams in the front!" The sexualized candour of her comment, accompanied as it was by her disarming charm and sweetness, again caused his over-sized organ to stir. What was worse, when he scanned her beautiful, bikini-clad body – the high-cut, tie-sided bottoms and the exquisite delta between her legs; the crest of her breasts atop the sea foam top; the long, beautifully-formed legs; the oh so kissable lips -- he did nothing to quell his excitement. With the swelling beginning to reach the danger zone, Marc sat down and brought his knees up until 'things' subsided. They enjoyed each other's company so much, the two of them stayed out in the sun longer than they should have. Only reluctantly did they part company that afternoon, and only then after Marc had summoned the courage to invite Caroline out for dinner the following evening. She eagerly accepted his invitation, putting Marc's fears of rejection to rest. He lay nude in bed that night, staring at the stars through the skylight window above him, and drifted off to an agitated sleep; Caroline still very much in his thoughts. He awoke from a powerfully erotic dream in the middle of the night; his lust fired with visions of Caroline's bikini-clad form; the sound of her voice; the smell of her perfume and suntan lotion still firmly in his sense memory. He was unable to sleep. Sensing that only sexual release could provide him with the respite he craved, he slipped his hand under the sheets and grasped the massive, horse-sized sex between his taut thighs. With his mind's eye feasting on images of Caroline on the beach that day – the way her bikini bottoms hiked up over the delicious curve of her derriere; the single-minded way she stared at his crotch – Marc violently stroked his enormous, steely hard stalk until he came. Whispering her name softly aloud at the penultimate moment, strings of his hot white cum shot high into the air and rained down on his sheets. Spent, his breathing slowing to a gentle rhythm, he drifted back to sleep and slept soundly 'til noon. He awoke to the sounds of exotic birds in the surrounding trees; the smell of flowers and saltwater filling the sweet gulf air. They met the following evening, at dusk, at an intimate French restaurant at the end the town's main street. He was waiting for her when she approached their candlelit, white linen table. It was her turn to take his breath away – she looked stunning in her short black cocktail dress with spaghetti straps, open-toed heels, and tasteful silver earrings. He'd never seen her in make-up before, and her eyes and lips shimmered in the candle light. "You look so beautiful," gushed Marc. She smiled brightly and thanked him, complimenting him on his crisp white dress shirt and black pin-stripe dress pants. Thankfully, the waiter was timely in delivering them their cocktails, since nerves had got the better of them. The cool drinks steadied them, allowing them to recover the rapturous ebb and flow of their conversation, and to regain their appetites, such as they were. With 'The Look of Love' playing softly in the background, he presented her with a single red rose. Such was her reaction that at first he wondered if such a gesture to a married woman was inappropriate, but her blush and the expressiveness of her eyes soon convinced him otherwise. As the evening wore on, his heart began to ache in equal measure with the intensity of his lust. He decided at that moment, as they sipped their wine together, that, married or not, he had to have her. He had to know her in the most intimate sense. He felt his huge, vascular penis expanding down his pant leg as nervousness gave way to immense sexual tension. When she touched his hand, his face went hot. Before either of them quite realized what was happening, their conversation had turned to sex and sexuality. Even though their take on the subject rarely extended beyond the abstract, she conveyed a raw and intense sexuality in her words. Her depth of feeling and her desire to experience everything sex could offer was palpable. Still, there was a sadness about her when she talked about her marriage. Though his curiosity had been piqued, he did not press. Caroline steered the conversation towards their time at the beach the previous day, and for a moment he wondered if she was changing the subject because he'd said something inappropriate, but he was wrong. "I can't get the image of you in that white swimsuit out of my mind," she grinned flirtatiously. "I could say the very same thing about you in that tiny, sea foam bikini!" he countered. Truer words had never been spoken. The evening flew by. The electricity between them manifested itself in gushing but heartfelt compliments and gentle flirtation. He found her charming in the extreme; sexy beyond words. At one point, Caroline's facial expression suddenly grew earnest. "Marc, I don't mean to embarrass you or make you feel uncomfortable, but may I ask you a rather personal question? And please, feel free to tell me it's none of my business," she said. Marc assured her that there wasn't anything he couldn't ask her. She hesitated for another moment before asking, as if struggling for the nerve as well as just the right words. "Does the difference in our age bother you? I mean, having dinner with a woman more than twenty years older than you?" she asked. Marc fixed his eyes upon hers, and tried to express in words what he desperately wanted to express with his lips and his body. "Nothing, and I mean nothing, could be further from the truth" he answered in a low voice, his dark brown eyes burning with passion and emotion for her. As if to give some relief to the current of sexual tension flowing between them, their conversation moved to lighter subjects. He asked her about her art, and she talked enthusiastically about her newly discovered penchant for drawing and painting. Clearly, hers was a soul meant for art and all things creative he thought. How could such a passionate soul not pursue them all? Indeed, they shared a love for all the 'sensual arts': music, dance, painting, food, love, sex ... He asked her what she enjoyed drawing most. "The human form," she answered earnestly. "But I haven't had a real nude life model since I took a drawing course at an art college last year back home. It makes such a difference." "May I be your life model?" asked Marc, seizing the moment purely on impulse, and before he had a chance to second guess himself. "I could sit for you tomorrow in your studio." Caroline blushed. "Are you sure?" she asked with a shy, somewhat embarrassed grin. He assured her that it was. "Oh, that would be wonderful!" she answered, excitement in her voice. There was a method to his madness. He wanted desperately to make love to her -- more than any woman he'd ever set eyes on -- but he had been frustrated often enough in the past to know that there was always the chance that his size would preclude that. She was also a married woman – something that was always in the forefront of his mind. This would be her opportunity to bow out for either reason and still save face. He walked her home that night. Mercifully, she was expecting a call from her husband that night, and couldn't ask him. Had that not been the case, wild horses could not have dragged him away from her. There was an awkward moment as they said their goodnights. Each sensed the other was desperate to kiss, but something stopped them. Perhaps it was that they both knew too well that one kiss would open the flood gates; that it would be a point of no turning back. And perhaps for that reason, they held back. They looked into each other's eyes long and hard, struggling with the desire they both felt, before a last kiss-less goodnight. The next day, around noon, Marc made his way over to Caroline's villa. It was even more beautiful in the daytime: an elegant structure of dark wood and stone, landscaped with tropical trees and exotic-coloured flowers. He took at deep breath, and then knocked. The door opened to a smiling Caroline, barefoot and wearing a big, puffy terry-cloth robe. She invited him in, her voice betraying her own, not insignificant, case of nerves. Inside was exquisite: bright, with more dark wood and stone, warm-coloured walls, and candles and flowers throughout. The sweet smell of the lush fauna permeated the rooms. She showed him around the spacious living space, before escorting him into the studio. Of particular interest was the master bedroom, with its panoramic view and the four-poster, king-size bed. The studio was sparsely furnished -- only a single leather loveseat -- but Caroline had obviously left her own imprint; making it cosier with candles, art and ceramics she'd purchased in town, and covering the walls with her sketches and paintings, which he judged to be quite good. Other than the loveseat, there was her easel and a table for her art supplies – set up and ready to go -- and in the centre of the room, a barstool, presumably for him to pose on. She offered him a robe identical to her own, and showed him the way to one of the bathrooms so that he could change. She was in an effervescent mood, and asked if he'd care for a glass of chilled chardonnay. She'd read his mind, and he gladly accepted her offer. Closing the door behind him, he stripped off his clothes and wrapped himself in the large, luxurious robe. He met her back in the studio and their huge wine glasses kissed in a toast. "Shall we get started, then?" she inquired a little bashfully and with a deep breath. "Of course," he replied with a smile. Almost business-like, as if compensating for the sexually-charged atmosphere, she instructed him on that to do: she needed him to assume a natural pose that was comfortable – either leaning against, or sitting on, the barstool -- since he would need to hold it for some time. And lastly, and only when he was ready, she asked him to remove his robe and they could begin. Marc sipped a liberal amount of wine into his mouth and approached the barstool. The soft, noonday sun gave the room a warm glow. His back was to her as she stood at her easel, and he untied the cloth belt of his robe and let it slip from his shoulders. He detected a soft sigh as his naked torso was unveiled to her: the taut behind; broad shoulders; and well-formed, athletic legs. Pausing only briefly, he turned and faced her; choosing to sit, thighs parted, with one knee higher than the other. His giant sex slapped heavily against his leg, reaching almost mid-thigh, as he assumed his pose. Below his flat stomach and a smallish thatch of dark pubic hair, and from between his parted thighs, his giant phallus came to rest; extending down and over the edge of the barstool. Dangling some eight inches in its dormant state, it maintained a fat and fleshy thickness from the root to the plum-size head. He heard Caroline gasp audibly and turned his head slightly to see her gaze fixed upon the over-sized organ between his legs; wide-eyed and crimson-cheeked. He was not unaccustomed to a reaction such as hers. The difficult part was gauging a woman's tolerance level despite the inevitable, initial intimidation. The gasps and gaping mouths were soon replaced with either undaunted desire and resolve, or incredulity and a fearful refusal. Caroline and Mary Mary sat down at the table with her mother. She eyed the food spread out for dinner anxiously. There were pickled eggs and deviled ham sandwiches, a roast beef and two heads of boiled cabbage. Her stomach rumbled and she shifted in her seat, waiting for her mother to finish talking on the phone. Finally, she hung up the receiver. Mary heaped her plate with eggs and cabbage and dug in heartily. Her mother did likewise, albeit at a bit more civilized pace. Caroline was a voluptuous woman, and she could eat more than all of her daughters combined. She wore a tight corset that seemed to make her already huge breasts even bigger. She patted her bosom and swallowed another pickled egg. Mary massaged her stomach, which was rapidly filling with greasy food. She let out a small, soft burp, sighing in relief. Caroline slammed her fork down. She straightened in her seat and drew her breath in sharply. Mary stopped eating and looked up timidly. "Mary!" she reprimanded. "You know better than that." Mary swallowed. "I'm sorry, Ma." She straightened up and tucked her hair back, folding her hands in her lap. Her belly gurgled and she let out a loud, three-second-long belch that blew her napkin off the table. Caroline raised an eyebrow and smiled. "That's better." She picked up Mary's napkin and handed it back to her. "I won't have my daughter letting out small belches." She adopted a rakish pose, one hand behind her head, pushing her hair forward slightly, the other upon her hip. Winking at Mary, she unleashed a massive belch that made Mary's seem tiny by comparison. Flecks of dinner flew from her throat. The table physically vibrated. Mary smiled shyly at Caroline. "That was beautiful, Ma," she said, blushing. She wiped a speck of egg off her cheek. Caroline smiled back. "Why, thank you, Mary. It felt beautiful, too." She patted her corset and paused, her eyes widening in surprise. A gurgling sound came from her waist. She shifted in her seat, patted her breasts, and let out the deepest, throatiest burp she had ever produced. One would have thought the sound came from an ogre or a giant, not an attractive 25-year-old woman. She laughed. "That one was simply unladylike! My goodness! Now, Mary, help me clear the table and we'll go to bed." After the dishes were done, Caroline and her daughter got dressed for bed. Mary wore her undermost petticoat, and her mother wore only her corset. Mary couldn't help staring at Caroline's impressively large breasts. "I... I... Your breasts are very nice, Ma," she finally got out. Caroline smiled and hefted one, stroking it gently. "Thank you, dear. You know, these produce so much milk that I was able to feed both you and our house cats at the same time." Mary blinked in surprise. "Wow. What do you... I mean, now that you're not..." she trailed off weakly. Her mother spread the comforter out on the bed. "What do I do with the excess milk? Well, whenever I do some baking and we're low on milk..." She winked at her daughter and patted a breast. Mary was shocked. "You mean... whenever I've eaten any of your cooking... your breastmilk was in there?" Caroline ran a brush through her long, dirty blonde hair. "Most of the time, yes, dear. It's absolutely full of good nutrients. Besides, you drank plenty of it when you were small." Mary protested. "But... but.. that's different!" "Is it?" Caroline sat upright and looked at Mary. "You know, I'm actually feeling a little full just now." She placed both hands under her breasts and tested their weight. "How about a little warm milk before bedtime?" Mary had to admit, warm milk did sound nice. But from her own mother? Then she thought that since she had drunk from her as a baby, it couldn't hurt. Besides, milk helped her to sleep. She hopped up onto the bed next to her mother. "Ok." Caroline smiled. "Lay down in my lap, dear." She pulled a pillow up for Mary's head to rest on. Mary positioned herself under her mother's massive left breast. It was considerably larger than her own head. Caroline leaned down slightly and gently nudged Mary's lips with her nipple. Mary's opened her mouth slightly and accepted the nudge. She ran her tounge around the nipple and began to suck. Almost immediately, warm milk splashed into her mouth and down her throat. She hummed softly and swallowed, suckling for more. Her mother slid her hand under Mary's head, propping it up gently. "That's a good girl. Just like that." She patted Mary's hand. Mary kept gulping milk down. She knew she'd probably had enough, but she wanted more. Small amounts of air rose in her throat, but she swallowed the bubbles back down, focusing on drinking. Caroline pulled away from Mary and shifted position. "All right, Mary, the other one needs some attention." Mary gasped when her mother pulled away, searching for a nipple. She eagerly latched onto the right breast and began suckling again. Her mother laughed. "You're thirsty tonight, aren't you? Mama's got plenty of milk, don't you worry." She massaged Mary's belly, which was now bulging slightly. Finally, Mary could drink no more. She stopped sucking, her mother's nipple still in her mouth, eyes half-closed in contentment. Caroline repositioned her breasts. "Done already? There's still more in there." Mary sat up and moaned in pleasure. She licked her lips and held her swollen belly. "My stomach feels... " She hiccuped. Her mother held out her arms. "Sounds like someone needs to be burped. Come on." Mary was surprised, but she allowed Caroline to pull her into her arms. She placed one hand on the back of Mary's head, moving it over her shoulder. The other hand she used to pat Mary firmly in the small of her back in regular intervals. Mary felt an odd sense of security in her mother's embrace. The patting had a soothing effect, and she relaxed. Suddenly her stomach rumbled. She felt air rising in her throat and an enormous belch escaped her lips. She instantly felt relieved, and made a soft sound of happiness. Caroline patted her again. "Ooo! That was a good one! That's my girl." She lifted Mary up a little higher and continued the pats. "Come on, baby, I know there's more in there." Mary let out several more burps and a few more large belches, receiving praise from her mother each time. Then, she felt another burp come up to the surface. However, this one felt a bit odd. She let it out anyway. A gurgling sound came out of her mouth, as well as a sizable amount of milk. It flowed over her lips, dribbling down her chin. Caroline sat Mary up in front of her. "Oops! You spit-up a little. That's all right." She picked up a stray pillowcase and wiped Mary's mouth. "All better." Mary hiccuped, sending a few drops of milk onto her mother's face. Caroline wiped them off. "Who's my good girl?" She leaned forward and kissed Mary's nose. Mary belched again. "Ohhhh..." She held her stomach. "That was... -burrp-... Oh, yes..." Her mother stroked her hair. "I'm glad you liked it." She leaned close to Mary and winked at her. "I've got a surprise for you." Mary cocked her head. "What is it?" Caroline beckoned with her index finger. "Come here and I'll show you." Mary scooted in close to her mother. Her head was just level with Caroline's massive cleavage. Her mother kissed the top of her head and leaned to one side, letting out a small sigh of relief. "PHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRT! Ahh, that's better." She giggled. Mary gasped. "Did you... did you just... fart?" Her question was answered quickly, however, when a strong, rotten-egg stench rose from her mother's lower region. Mary coughed. "Oh my God! Ma!" Caroline waved her hand in front of her nose. "Oooo... I must have eaten a good supper." She sniffed the air. "Mmmm... Oh yes..." Mary blinked back tears and held her nose. "How can you stand that?" Her mother raised an eyebrow. "I think it smells good. Don't you?" She squinted in concentration and pushed out three more large farts. "PHHRRRRRRRRRRT! PPLLLRRRRRRRRT! PHLRBLRLPLRLB LRPPRLBRRRRRRT!" She laughed. "Oh, God yes! That's so good..." She rubbed her stomach and moaned in pleasure. Mary gagged. The smell was thick and horrible. She began inching away from her mother. Caroline stopped her, grabbing her arm. "Mary! I haven't given you your surprise." She reached down next to the bed and produced a large, clear plastic sack. A four-inch-wide hose was attached to the bag with tape. The other end had some sort of molded, mask-like shape fitted to it. Before Mary could do anything, her mother had straddled her across her waist, pinning her to the bed. She slipped the plastic sack over Mary's head, sealing it around her neck with duct tape. Mary looked up at her smiling mother with shock. She struggled to get free, but Caroline's large ass proved to be too heavy to escape from. Her mother laughed and patted her sizable derriere. "Sometimes it's nice to be the girl with the big butt." She then took the device on the other end of the hose and reached behind her naked ass, shifting position. She slipped the mask-like thing under her nightgown skirt and sat back down heavily on Mary's stomach, which was still filled with breastmilk. Mary felt her belly slosh and gurgle. Her eyes widened in fear as she realized what was about to happen. Caroline held her stomach. "Ooo.. I think I feel some gas in there, Mary! What should I do?" She smiled evilly. Mary shook her head in a silent, desperate plea. Caroline bit her lower lip and leaned forward slightly. A long, noisy fart leaked out of her asshole, traveling down the tube and making the plastic bag swell with gas. Mary felt the warm air flow into the sack and held her breath, determined not to breathe her mother's farts. She squirmed, trying to get out of the bag, but Caroline didn't budge. Mary began to run out of air. Her struggling slowed down and her eyes rolled back in her head. Finally, she could stand it no longer. She released her pent-up breath and gasped for air. The result was immediate. She gagged and nearly vomited in the bag. The rotten stench of eggs and cabbage was in her lungs, burning her tongue and throat and making her feel slightly nauseous. She was forced to take three more breaths of her mother's nasty gas, coughing each time. Caroline laughed. She put a hand up to her face in mock surprise. "My goodness! That was very unladylike of me!" She leaned forward and kissed Mary's forehead through the plastic. "You're a good girl, Mary. Your Mama's got a little more gas, that's all." Her stomach gurgled and made a loud sucking sound. Mary began to cry. Tears streamed down her face as she sobbed helplessly, dreading another fart from her mother. Caroline patted her daughter gently. "Don't cry, honey. I just-BLRPBLRPBLRPBLRPBLRP!- Oh goodness!" Her ass sent another large, hot fart into Mary's bag. She fanned the air in front of her nose. "That one felt absolutely rotten!" A visible mist had begun to concentrate on the inside of the plastic. Mary choked in another breath and retched as a drop of liquid fell off of the inside of the bag into her open mouth. Her gag reflex prompted a loud burp to escape her throat, adding the scent of sour milk to the already pungent air. Hours passed, Caroline letting loose a seemingly endless stream of gassy farts, one after the other. Mary eventually stopped gagging and began to breathe somewhat normally, falling asleep soon afterward. Caroline did likewise, laying next to her with the tube still attached to her ass. She continued to produce large farts in her sleep, providing Mary with air. The next morning, Mary awoke with the bag still affixed over her head. She pulled it off, no longer trapped under her mother's hindquarters. As she rolled up into a sitting position, she noticed that something felt very different. She stretched and stood up, smoothing her nightgown, and then she stopped. Her hand was resting on her hip, in mid-smooth. She ran both hands down her hips. Something felt very peculiar. She padded over to the mirror. What she saw stopped her in her tracks, her mouth slightly ajar. There, staring back at her with a look of equal surprise, stood a version of Mary that had measurements rivaling her mother's. Her hips appeared to have gained nearly twelve inches in circumference, and her breasts, formerly a petite B cup, had swelled to a double D size. Her nightgown barely reached the middle of her ass, and strained to hold in her new bosom. The other thing she noticed was her eyes. Originally a pale blue color, they were now a startlingly vivid shade of iridescent green. She gasped in surprise. She looked... well, she looked... beautiful. In fact, she was the hottest 18-year old she had ever seen. She turned in the mirror, admiring her impressive bottom. As she did so, a peculiar gurgling emerged from deep inside her stomach. She felt a massive charge of air build in her intestines, not an entirely unpleasant sensation. Looking sidelong in either direction, she placed a hand on her waist and let loose a truly massive fart that made her nightgown flutter in the breeze. Her eyes widened in surprise and she looked about the room, wondering if her mother had heard. It was easily her biggest fart to date, dwarfing any she remembered letting out in her entire life. However, Caroline was gone; only the tube and gas-collecting apparatus were left on the bed. Suddenly, she felt the gurgling sensation again. Glancing around, she cautiously relaxed her abdomen. A huge, loud fart even bigger than before burst from her behind, causing her to grip the dresser for support. The curtains behind her fluttered slightly. She gasped. Feeling the air immediately build up in her guts again, she easily let out two more monstrous blasts, her eyes widening with the force of each one. It seemed that she had a more or less endless supply of gas at her disposal. Feeling a little naughty, she got up on the dresser on all fours, her ass pointed toward the doorway. She arched her back and bit her lower lip, and proceeded to let out an enormous, airy fart that slammed the door shut and blew an old lamp off the bedstand, sending it crashing to the floor. She quickly climbed off of the dresser and smoothed out her nightgown, standing over the the shattered lamp and looking around nervously. Feeling her ass, she noticed with surprise that the fart had completely blown the cloth out of her panties, leaving only a few strings around her legs. Mary pulled off the destroyed remains of the garment and swept it under a nearby rug with the pieces of the broken lamp. She hurriedly smoothed out her skirt as best she could over her now-huge ass and tiptoed downstairs. Caroline was at the stove making breakfast, her back toward Mary. "What was that noise upstairs, dear?" she said, turning. "I hope-" She stopped, staring at her daughter. Her blonde, 19-year-old daughter, who now had enlarged measurements and bright, piercing green eyes. "Mary!" she said with a gasp. "You... you've... grown." Mary chose that moment to let out a loud, rude fart, clasping her hands together and smiling shyly at her mother. Caroline raised an eyebrow, smiling. "Well, you're certainly full of gas this morning. Maybe all that breastmilk you drank had more of an effect than I thought." She stood next to Mary and ran her hand over her daughter's now-enlarged ass. Mary blushed. Timidly, she turned to her mother, eyes downcast. "Do you... do you think you have... I mean, could you fart?" Caroline pulled her eyes away from Mary's hips and looked at her in surprise. "You mean now? We haven't even had breakfast yet, honey." Mary reddened even more. "I know... I'm sorry, Ma, I just-" "Well, there might be some gas in there," her mother interrupted. "Perhaps a bit left over from last night." Mary's eyes lit up. "Do you really think so?" she asked eagerly. Her mother laughed. "Ok, I'll try." She bit her lower lip in concentration, her hand on her hip. "PPPPPLRRRB LRBRLTBORPRBTL RRBTLRRRRT!" Mary leaned in close to her mother's skirt and inhaled the gas greedily. Caroline sighed in relief. "Oh, that felt nice. Mmmm, it smells like boiled eggs, too." She sniffed some of the fart herself. "That's making me hungry. Do you want any eggs, Mary?" Mary nodded, sighing and letting out a long, wet-sounding fart. Her mother smiled. "That's my girl." She walked into the kitchen and busied herself with preparing their food. During breakfast, Mary farted almost nonstop, letting one go at least every thirty seconds. Caroline added in some gas of her own, but she couldn't begin to approach the amount that her daughter was producing with such ease. Mary played little games with her farts, leaning over and erupting in the middle of sentences and while drinking and eating. Her mother took a more dignified approach, waiting until she had swallowed her food to let out her enormous blasts. She also had several loud belches to release during the morning, and did so with pristine ettiquette, patting her lips with a napkin after each burp. Caroline swallowed, burped and leaned over, letting out a loud fart. She patted her chest and hiccuped. "Excuse me. Mary, what are you learning in school today?" Mary attended the St. Corbett's School for Young Women that was just down the street a few blocks. There, they instructed girls in the mannerisms of the upper class and how a proper lady ought to behave. Mary was just then attempting to fart while belching. After several loud farts and burps, she succeeded in expelling air from both ends of her body simultaneously, much to her delight. "Oh, Ma! Did you see that?" Her face was flushed with pleasure. Caroline smiled at her. "Very nice, dear. Now, what are you going to be doing in school today?" Mary blinked. "Oh. I think we're-BUUUURRRRRP!-Excuse me. We're learning the finer points of the curtsey." Her mother began clearing the dishes. "I see. Well, how does your curtsey look? Let's see it." She stood up next to Mary. "Imagine that I am an important governess. How do you greet me?" Mary stood up and performed a curtsey quite nicely, except for the fact that her dress was so small on her new ass that when she lifted her skirt, not much was concealed. "How do you do, ma'am? PLRBTLRRBLRPT LBLRRBPRLTBLLRP LRLTBPPRLTLBLRP TPRLLORRRRP!!" Mary began giggling uncontrollably. Caroline struggled to keep a straight face. "Now, dear, I'm not sure that's a greeting quite fit for a lady." She performed her own curtsey, delicately. "How do you do, miss?" She winked at her daughter and let loose a tremendous fart that actually rattled the dishes on the table. Mary kissed her mother and picked up her bookbags, turning to leave. Caroline stopped her. "I've got a question before you leave." Mary looked at her mother expectantly. "Yes?" Caroline raised an eyebrow. "One of our canaries went missing last night. Do you know anything about that?" Mary pursed her lips. "Umm... " She felt a belch rising in her throat. "I-BUUURRRP!" A single yellow feather flew from her throat and floated gently toward the floor. "Oh!" She clapped a hand over her mouth. Her mother frowned. "Mary, I've told you time and time again! Wait for breakfast!" She picked up Mary's plate from the table. "We only have so many canaries, you know." Mary looked down. "I'm sorry, Ma. I was just so hungry..." Caroline smiled at her. "That's ok, honey. Off to school, now. You'll be late." She stopped Mary on the way out. "Come on, give your mother a good fart before you leave." Mary rolled her eyes, but smiled in spite herself. She got up on the table on all fours, pointing her ass toward Caroline. Gulping in as much air as she could, she massaged her stomach and forced the gas down through her intestines. Her mother sat down at the table, her head level with her daughter's rump, and patted her stomach. "There's my good girl. Give me a nice, big - Oh!" Caroline and Mary Mary blasted a massive fart straight into Caroline's face, blowing her hair back and causing her to grab Mary's legs for support. It lasted nearly six seconds, and smelled like rotten cheese. Caroline tucked her disheveled hair back and kissed her daughter's ass. "Mmm... that's my baby. Have a nice day at school, dear. Don't bend over too far in front of anyone." She slapped Mary's ass playfully and winked at her. Mary blushed and smoothed out her dress, then turned and skipped out the door.