Secretary Spread

"Do you mind if I join you?"

Becca looked up from her grilled salmon to see a large woman hovering over her booth. The stranger smiled and looked around the cafe's dining room, which was bursting with the after-work dinner crowd. She swept her arm in front of her curvaceous form. "The only seats left are those narrow stools at the bar and, well, I don't know if you hate to eat alone as much as I do..."

Becca nodded sympathetically, she knew from experience how uncomfortable it was to balance a full sized posterior on the tall and wobbly wrought iron stools that lined the bar. Besides, it would be nice to have a dining companion for a change.

"Please, by all means," Becca smiled and new dining companion squeezed herself into the other side of the booth. "My name's Becca,"

"Thank you so much, I'm Penelope," She was one of those ageless women, although Becca was sure that she was probably a generation above her. Wisps of white gleamed in her hair like starlight on dark waters. "It's a pleasure to meet you,"

The waitress returned to refill Becca's Diet Coke and, seeing another guest, offered to get another menu.

"Oh no, don't bother, I know what I'll have," Penelope waved. "Let me have a small Ambrosia salad and, for my side, a New York Strip, please,"

The humor was lost on the twenty something, maybe 115 lb, coed and Becca rolled her eyes. Penelope winked at her as the waitress dutifully wrote down the order. Her eyes were olives, bright and rich as they considered the other woman in the booth.

"Anything to drink?"

"What are your happy hour specials, dear?"

"Well, we have a dollar-fifty pints of domestic draft and all our wine by the glass is half off,"

"Then I'll have a glass of your most expensive red, whatever it is,"

"Sure thing, I'll get this order in right away,"

"Thank you," Penelope adjusted herself in the booth a little more. "So, Becca, what do you do for a living?"

"I'm a secretary at an law firm up the road from here, Peterson and McKenzie,"

"Do you come here a lot?"

"I try to," she sighed. "I'm trying that whole 'Mediterranean Diet' thing,"

"Oh, yes, I've heard of that one," Penelope winked again, "Although, for my money, the best Mediterranean diet is a fattened lamb followed by a pound of baklava,"

"Oh, I see," Becca laughed, "I assume Penelope is a Greek name, then?"

"Yes, yes, my roots go pretty deep in that soil," the dusky woman smiled with what seemed like an infinite nostalgia. Her broad smile broke over the horizon of her double chin like a sunrise. "Have you ever been?"

"I wish, but on my salary, I'm afraid Toledo is the most exotic locale I can afford,"

The two women chatted through dinner. Penelope's description of the Aegean Islands and the food there held Becca in thrall. When the Greek woman suggested they split a bottle of wine for dessert, she agreed without a thought to the fact that it was Wednesday.

* * *

Perhaps she should have.

Becca rolled over in bed and slapped the snooze button on her alarm clock. A pounding surf slammed her forehead and her mouth was as dry as sand. With a groan, she lifted herself out of bed and walked to the kitchen for a drink. Next to the fridge, she was surprised to see an empty bottle of ouzo. Chugging orange juice from the carton, she noticed a handwritten note next to the bottle:

Thanks for the wild night out, Becca. It seems like centuries since I had that much fun. 
Hope I wasn't a bad influence on you.

~Penelope

That explained a lot, Becca shook her head. She couldn't believe she had blacked out. She hadn't done that since she was in college. She was mad at herself but, as she got ready for her shower, she shrugged off any residual guilt. It did seem like centuries since she had let her hair down, but she wished she could have at least remembered it. As she peeled off her sleep shirt, however, Becca's stomach did a flip and her blood froze.

A chubby little cherub perched above her right tit, his diminutive bow drawn back, aiming an arrow at her heart.

"Did I lose my mind last night?" Becca rubbed at it, as if expecting it to smudge off like the ball-point pen decorations she and her friends used to draw when they were bored in high school. This ink, however, was certainly under the skin and her ministrations did nothing but send her breast fat bouncing, making it look like the little guy was fluttering his wings.

"Oh, my god!" She remembered an all-night tattoo parlor by the university. Penelope had been holding her hand while she sat, stripped to the waist in front of the whole store, drunkenly coming on to the young man who had helped her. She must have looked like a desperate, fat slut. She started to cry.

The snooze button had run it's course, however, and the morning traffic report warned her that she didn't have much time for self-pity right now. She showered and fixed her hair and makeup. She pulled on a pair of pantyhose and a skirt and, with her little mistake obscured by a navy blouse, Becca sighed and grabbed a donut on her way out the door.

* * *

"Looks like somebody had a rough night," Cecelia, the receptionist, looked up from her nail filing as Becca walked it, five minutes late.

"It's been a bad morning," Becca glared arrows at her as she sat down at her desk across the room.. She couldn't understand how anyone could spend eight hours a day on the phone and still not know how to talk to another human. Mr. Peterson only kept the rail-thin bimbo around because he was a pig and liked the office scenery. That she continually rebuffed the middle-aged man's adulterous fantasies was too small a consolation.

"Well, don't worry, you still beat Brandon here," Cecelia finished doing her nails and sighed before picking up a People magazine. Brandon was the law office's intern, a nephew of some friend of Mr. Peterson and, if rumors are to be believed, Cecelia's lover. Becca could believe it, he was her type- rich, good looking and arrogant. Just once, she thought to herself, I wish Cecelia could know what it was like to struggle with her weight. She looked up from the briefs she was highlighting to send another icy glare across the room.

Sitting behind her desk, looking decidedly bored, Cecelia was wearing a long-sleeve white blouse that didn't even attempt to hide her black bra. Not exactly the most professional outfit. Becca imagined that top getting tighter by the second, pictured the skinny little bitch's face losing it's angles.

"What the fuck!" Cecelia looked down and Becca realized that this wasn't just a vengeful fantasy. The receptionist's arms were splitting her sleeves as she held her chubby fingers, in front of her round face. Her cheeks had puffed out and her chin had doubled

Cecelia stared at her officemate in terror until her eyes rolled back and her hands covered her perky breasts. With a primal moan, her chest exploded like she was equipped with airbags. Two small buttons clattered across Becca's desk and Cecelia's ruined bra flew across the office and wrapped itself around a ficus tree.

"Cecelia?"

"Oh my god," she said, picking the shredded remains of her blouse from her broad shoulders. Her arms flapped as she moved. "Look at me!"

Becca was. Cecelia had gone from gazelle to hippopotamus in the space of ninety seconds. She sat forward again, and her twin juggernauts covered most of her desk top. She picked one up, its bulk spilling out of her palms and over her forearms, and took a deep breath before rubbing them both all over her face, smothering her throaty groans.

"Cecelia!"

Becca's wide-eyed fascination was broken by the sound of Mr. Peterson's voice. He stood in the door to his office, staring at the receptionist.

"Do you really that's an appropriate look for a professional?"

"I'm sorry, Richard," the red-head leaned back and threw her bare feet on top the desk. She soft legs and hips were no match for her tight skirt, which split and was pushed off her body by the folding of her gut. "I've put on some weight recently, and nothing fits- see?"

"You get in this office right now!" Mr. Peterson growled, "So I can ream you out in private,"

"Mmmm, sure thing, Mr. Peterson," Cecelia stood up and lumbered over to Mr. Peterson's office, picking a black Lycra wedgie out of her Rubenesque ass.

It wasn't long before Becca could hear the flapping and slapping of Cecelia's flesh through the door to Mr. Peterson's office. As she listened to the grunts and high-pitched screaming from the other room, Becca's sense of vengeance evaporated. She decided to take lunch early, until the noise died down.

"Hello, Becca," Sally McKenzie, the other partner in the practice, was already in the lounge, helping herself to a cookie from the office snack drawer. She smiled and held one out for her secretary. "Richard's wife brought these in the other day and they are amazing, have you tried them?"

"I'm on a diet," Becca grumbled.

"Oh! I'm so sorry," Ms. McKenzie withdrew the cookie. "I wouldn't have asked, if I'd known,"

Becca felt another upsurge of rage from her grumbling belly. Sure Sally was a really nice woman and always treated her with respect. But, it just wasn't fair that she could eat everything, even four slices of cake at the last Christmas party, and never gain a pound. Without even thinking about it, Becca wished she would blow up like Cecelia did.

"Ow!" Ms. McKenzie dropped her half-eaten cookie on the counter and kicked off her black pumps. "These shoes are pinching my feet!"

It was easy to see why. The attractive lawyer's feet had inflated like balloons. A smile spread across Becca's face as she watched Ms. McKenzie's dainty ankles disappear into her thickening calves. Soon, the entire lower half of her pantsuit was skintight, like someone had airbrushed the lawyers legs and thighs with charcoal pinstripes.

"You know, those stripes just don't seem as slimming as before," Becca leaned against the door frame, watching her boss's haunches finally tear her pantsuit into tatters.

"Ex-x-x-cuse me!" Sweat poured from her beneath Sally's bangs as the transformation continued, obliterating her waist.

The firm's junior partner turned around and grasped the counter as her ass continued to gain mass. Huffing and puffing, she bent over and it looked like someone had shoved two hams down the back of her black panties. As her torso widened, the elastic preserving Ms. McKenzie's modesty could take no more, and the dark fabric fell around her feet.

"Looks like that was one too many cookies, Ms. McKenzie, should I renew your gym membership, now?"

Sally turned around and stared out the door, through her secretary. Her stubby fingers struggled with the buttons on her blouse as her expanding frame ripped the seams of her jacket. With a sigh of relief, the lawyer pulled down the cups of her bra, allowing their strained contents to flop free against her stomach. She was very nearly spherical.

"Hey, Ms. McK, the moving guys are here with your new desk...,"

Just then, Brandon walked through the reception room. The intern turned the corner, bumped into Becca and froze, staring at the round figure of Ms. McKenzie. Pendulous breasts swung on either side of her belly. Her thick legs glistened with perspiration and her tousled hair gave her a freshly fucked look. He swallowed hard. "Holy Shit! You look hot today!"

"Tell the movers to come in, but leave the desk in the truck," Sally waddled over and grabbed him by his tie. "They've got some more heavy lifting to do..."

Becca couldn't believe what she was seeing. As Sally led Brandon down the hall, Becca walked over to the snack drawer and sniffed the homemade cookies. They smelt like toasted pecans and cinnamon. She nibbled on an edge and looked down at the pudge folded over the waistband of her skirt. She shoved a whole cookie in her mouth and waited.

Nothing happened. Her clothes were no more tight then they always were. Becca knew she had to get to the bottom of this and followed the sound of Ms. McKenzie's voice to the supply closet. She listened at the door, but couldn't hear anything.

"Ms. McKenzie?" the secretary opened the door and saw her boss kneeling on the floor with a delivery man in either hand and a law student between her lips. In her current position, Sally's gigantic ass sagged over her calves and it looked like the bottoms of her tits were brushing the floor.

"I'll come back later," the secretary said, backing away from the door. Sally nodded as best she could with her head and throat otherwise occupied. Becca heard the front doorbell ring and rushed to the reception room to answer it.

"Is my dad here?"

It was Amberly, Richard's unemployed, nineteen year old-daughter. The poor girl had inherited all of her gold-digging mother's personality, along with her mom's former-Miss Michigan looks. Today she was wearing a tank top that showed her bra-straps, running shorts that failed to cover the bottom of her ass and a pair of flip-flops.

And as she started at the lithe, spoiled teen, another fragment of her crazy night floated up from Becca's subconscious like a bubble:

"But, what about jobs, career, I don't see what's wrong with some women putting family aside," they had been talking in Becca's kitchen, arguing over a bottle of ouzo Penelope had procured from a bodega near the tattoo parlor.

"Women are the earth, we are the fields," the Greek woman shot back with intensity, "It is our duty to be fertile and our right to get plowed- over and over again, whenever we want it!"

Her dinner companion turned drinking buddy illustrated her double entendre with an upward thrust of her hips against the air. The suggestive act made Becca's field, which hadn't seen a farmhand in a year, tense with jealousy.

"Excuse me, you fat cow," Amberly's whine brought Becca back to the present. "I asked you a question,"

"You know, Amberly, I wish you knew what it was like to be a big woman,"

"Like that'll ha-ha-haaa-aaaa," the brat's comeback faded as she started to moan slowly. The secretary watched the teen's physique expand like dough in an oven. Within seconds her pot-belly pushed up the hem of her shirt and flopped over the waistband of her athletic shorts. Amberly picked it up with both hands and started rubbing it.

"Now, let's see if daddy's little slut decided to wear any underwear today," Becca concentrated on Amberly's bubble-butt, the cheeks of which were already visible beneath her too-short shorts.

"N-n-n-n-n-ot today," Amberly, still squeezing her bloated stomach, groaned as her hips, ass and thighs thickened, straining the material of her shorts until the waistband gave with a loud snap and they fell around her fat ankles. Sure enough, she was bare from the waist down- a small strip of public hair like an exclamation point. The tribal tattoo above her rump looked like an image stretched across Silly-Puddy.

"Looks like you shouldn't have wore a bra, either,"

With practiced ease, she had her bra off in seconds, followed by the woefully stretched fabric of her top. The nineteen year old grabbed her tits, which were quickly threatening to make her fall over. Although she was nowhere near as big as Cecelia or Sally, Amberly was had become a very plump, exceptionally curvy young woman.

"How do you feel now?" She asked the round faced teen, now standing naked in the lobby of her father's office. Amberly tugged and rubbed her body experimentally, pinching her wide ass with one hand as she cuddled a DD with the other. Her thighs were flushed as they rubbed against each other. She looked up at Becca, breathless.

"Empty."

Becca couldn't agree more. With a thought, she burst out of her already tight outfit, only her pantyhose clinging to her lower body. She looked down at the nylon in disgust, but Amberly rushed over and started peeling it off of her. Becca planted her ass on her desk and heard the furniture groan as she lifted her legs to let Amberly pull the offending garment down her legs. "Let's get some moving hunks from Sally, she's in the supply closet,"

The two women thundered down the hallway without a thought except for the moist earth that lay between their hips.

* * *

"I don't know what your disgusting little game was supposed to prove, Sister, except for the corruptibility of mortals," She looked down at the law firm, seeing every room simultaneously. Milky cheeks rosy with blush, She banished the image from Her mind and turned to Her sister, bronze armor clattering with every movement.

"I believe I have proven the point, and won the bet," She tossed wavy black hair from Her olive eyes and settled back on a cloud. Her belly and breasts bulged like a stone age idol. "With very little encouragement, these women have come to know their true nature,"

"I have to agree with our pale Sister," She said, entering the circle. Tattoos of doe and wood nymphs chased each other up Her arms and across Her back. "All you ever concern yourself with is popping out the next generation, you think with with your hips,"

"And if it were up to you two, our worshipers would pass, virginal, into extinction,"

"But who would tame them, who would build our temples?"

"And who would put fire in their hearts, if their bellies were always full of seed?"

"Shall we test another?"

"Yes, this time we will finally know who among us is the Greatest..."

THE END