B-ray389

A commission for ACRimkus which I had a great time working on. If you are interested in ordering a commission please drop me a note 🙂 The instruction has been posted separately due to file size limitations. ---‐----------------------------------------------------------------- A prickling sensation caused goosebumps to rise along Carla's legs. Her knees were planted firmly in a piled scattering of loose straw that had collected across the dusty earth of the farmyard. The straw would shift slighlty along her leg, reaching new unprickled areas of skin with even the slightest of movements creating a constant irritation. But suddenly an even greater sensation swept through Carla's already heightened nervous system. It was a delicate airy touch to an especially ticklish part of her body. Her face contorted restlessly with giddiness as the feathered stroke of something bristled playfully between the thick folds of belly slouched between her thighs. She flailed her arms and wiggled her legs, trying whatever way she could to relieve this uncontrollable feeling. "Please, no! Stop it!" She cried out through streams of laughter.  "Not until you admit what you did!" responded Maisie in a playfully drawn out and jesting tone. She then continued tickling, even more feverishly than before with her feathered leaf, as though by an act of ultimatum. "No seriously, please!" Carla cried again. "Nope!" Responded Maisie definitively. "Not until you can explain where my cakes have been going!?" Maisie then pinched a wedge of Carla's gluttonous belly. "I mean... I think I know" she said, and began shaking Carla's belly to make clear her accusation. The shaking sent jiggles rippling from Carla's belly to her hips and from her bum down her thighs. "But I won't stop! Not until I hear it from you"! --‐--------‐--------------------------------------------------------- Carla had been staying on Maisie's farm for almost a week now. She did so every spring and was always made welcome. She also knew well how to make herself feel at home. She was comfortable being a guest. Maisie had been focused for several weeks on the county fair annual bake off. She was a competitive sort with a good work ethic. There would be no shortage of preparation, testing and tweaking before the big day to make sure she was serving up her very best to the judges. So great was her dedication to preparation, that she had enlisted a number of tasters to critique her baking in the run-up and offer constructive feedback on where she could improve. She thought it important to take on feedback other than her own, and figured that a varied sample of voices would serve better than just her own or Carla's. Over the course of the week Maisie had been baking daily batches, sometimes even twice a day. However, she was continuously finding herself short. She would bake multiple variations of cakes and then find that she would not have equal balance between the different types to send to her tasters. She had questioned Carla on this, but Carla had denied any knowing, whilst all the while looking rounder than she had done before. Carla would even suggest to Maisie that perhaps she had miscounted, despite knowing how meticulous Maisie was when it came to baking. It was a pitiful attempt at misdirection given that all logical reasoning placed her as the guilty culprit Maisie would already set aside a generous amount for Carla to taste as part of her batch. But it was perhaps the act of eating that was more captivating to Carla more so than the act of tasting. She knew instantly that she liked the taste and so only ever wanted to eat more. In this sense, she was more a liability than an asset to Maisie's baking, as she would eat up too much supply and offer little to no valuable feedback. The response was always the same single note of gratitude. Often this was coupled with a satisfied pat of her full stomach and the occasional burp for compliments. Flattering, for sure, but not the critical analysis which Maisie was seeking. --------------------------------------------------------------------- The weather had been warm and the skies had been bright and sunny and Carla had packed for the clear country air with a selection of light floral dresses. A secondary function to these of course was the fact that they were flowy and not too binding across her midsection. She had been gaining weight prior to her arrival, but knowing that Maisie would be baking at bulk she thought it best to allow herself for a little more growth in that area. However, Carla had been eating so much that even her flowy dresses were now beginning to look a little under strain. Flowy turned to clingy as her widening hips and bloating belly stretched the material to its capacity. One morning, Maisie and Carla were pondering out into the farmyard  to collect eggs from the hen house. Carla's bright floral dress was especially tight fitting and a clear demonstration of just how well she had been feeding herself over the week. Maisie had been ruminating over how best to handle the situation with Carla. She had never been great at managing conflict and felt that she couldn't keep asking Carla the same questions only to keep receiving the same answers. She needed to find a resolution quick because her preparation and testing was suffering and she feared that it could cost her at the bake off. At the same time, she was equally unwilling to cause offence to Carla, who had been nothing but complimentary during the week and she suspected that she may be somewhat sensitive to the fact that she was taking more than her fair share of cake. It was a tricky situation which Maisie struggled to navigate, but then from nowhere a thread of opportunity presented itself. Ironically, it was inspired by something Carla said: "Can I get the eggs this morning?" She asked, with an enthusiasm that caught Maisie by surprise. This got Maisie thinking. Carla was clueless about the workings of a farm and thus could be suitably misdirected, perhaps even for something as basic as collecting fresh eggs. She quickly thought through a plan in her head before responding. "Sure" said Maisie, and she pointed to a red wooden hen house in the yard. "There you go there" They walked over, Maisie jiggling in step and starting to examine the small fixture before her. It was small and without a door, or at least from the point of view. There was only a hatch, sized big enough for hens to pass in and out. "So ... how do I, you know, get in?" "By magic" joked Maisie lamely, but she still managed to elicit a laugh from Carla. "Through the hatch" she then confirmed, pointing again at the hen house but more specifically to the square doorway. "Oh... oh right... I thought that door was like just for the hens?" "Technically it is, but usually its easier to just reach in and grab a few" Maisie explained. "They get panicky when you open the big doors. It effects their laying" she added for more conviction. "Oh wow, that's intresting" responded Carla with wide gullible eyes. "Well we don't want to disturb that I guess" "Definitely not" Maisie smiled. She had almost convinced herself with what she had said. She usually wasn't good on the spot but had pleasantly surprised herself here. "Well off you go" she continued. "I'd say six will do for now. There are cartons inside that you can place them in". "Okay" Carla snapped back cheerily. She dropped to her knees and began crawling her arms forward in through the opening and inside the hen house. She noticed  that she was still out of reach and so began to crawl further. "Hmm... they are not exactly easy to reach, are they?" "You just need to go in a little bit more" Maisie instructed. She landed a supporting hand onto Carla's soft posterior to encourage forward momentum. Maisie needed her to proceed if her plan was to work, but she didn't think Carla was committing further. Maisie had not planned to interfere at this point but instinctively, she made the bold decision to push Carla forward with a firm open palm to guarantee her plans success. The hen house rocked as Carla lurched forward at force, stirring a moment of chaos as the surrounding hens and Carla tried to acclimatise to the shock. It would take a moment for Carla to adjust, but Maisie knew instantly that she had gotten the result she desired. Carla was wedged stuck in the doorway of the hen house. Carla tried to wriggle and move but found that she couldn't. "Maisie! Maisie! I think I might be stuck?!" "What, no? Really?" She responded deceptively. Carla was scrambling to make sense of her situation, let alone figure how she would get out of it. "You pushed me, didn't you?" "No, no. I don't think so anyway", Maisie said with some satisfaction. She was playing Carla at her own game. Carla knew she had been pushed. But much like Maisie, was unsure what to do in the face of such blatant denial. "It's kind of like how you don't know where my cakes keep going, isn't it"? Provoked Maisie. Carla's face flushed a bright red. Unlike Maisie, she had almost forgotten that her little cake ritual was in fact an act of denial in itself. And now she knew that Maisie definitely knew, despite seemingly accepting her deflections at the time. Carla could not find the words to respond. Maisie advanced with her plan. She held up Carla's dress, draping the material tightly together in a clenched fist. The fruits of Carla's feasting were fully evident. Her cotton panties were strapped low and tight around her hips and her belly hung forward in two densely padded rolls of fat. She was soft all over and curved voluptuously away from the point by where she was trapped in the doorway. "Cos, what I'm looking at here" Maisie picked up, "tells me exactly where my cakes have been going". Maisie was enjoying the theatrics and amazed with how well this plan was working out. It was at this point she began tickling Carla ruthlessly with the feather. Maisie had pushed forward her hips firmly into Carla's rear and wrapped her thighs around Carla's to lock her in place as she tickled her. It had felt like an eternity for Carla but in reality, it was only a short amount of time before she caved. "Okay, okay. I confess. I can't take it anymore"! begged Carla. Maisie then slowly drew back the feather. "Confess to what"? Maisie pryed further. "To the cakes". Carla was panting her words out now. It had been a lot to endure and she wasn't exactly in a comfortable position either. "I was taking extra. A lot extra". "Thank you" Maisie exclaimed joyfully. "See, I knew it", she pinched a wedge of her belly again and shook it lovingly the way a doting relative might do to the cheek of a child. The ripples of jiggles surfaced once more across her skin. "Of course it was you" "Its not my fault" claimed Carla. "Well maybe a little. Or a lot" she paused to try find her point. "You are too good at baking" she started, "and you know I have no resistance for baked treats." These words were true in every sense. And were recieved with great warmth and affection. "Why did you feel the need to deny it" Maisie asked? "You know I would have happily made you more if you wanted". "I don't know to be honest. I dont think I ever knew how much I wanted until I started. But then it was too late" A fair answer Maisie thought. And one that made perfect sense from all she had observed of Carla's eating habits. She didn't know how to stop. And so skirted along what she believed to be the boundaries by which she could go unnoticed. There was a moments reflection between   them with everything out in the open. The hens had settled and the prickly touch of the straw came back into focus on their legs once again. "So I'm stuck right?" said Carla. "Yes" replied Maisie. "Can you, like, get me unstuck?" Maisie considered the question. She had only thought forward as far as winning Carla's admission of guilt, but had forgotten to account for the aftermath. Maisie pondered her options. She tried to speak but had no answer so stopped herself and thought again. The truth was, she was totally unsure and she didn't know how to break this to Carla. So instead she deliberated and pondered and ruminated further and further whilst saying nothing. But the silence spoke a thousand words. Carla collapsed forward her upper half in despair, her elbows falling to the floor and her face into her hands. Exhausted and forlorn she uttered beneath her breath, "Oh bother".