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Rated: 18+ · Interactive · Erotica · #2040158
Karina Quinn falls under Arabian Delights Bakery's spell, can she control her appetite?
Chapter #1

The incident occurs...

    by: TheJinski Author IconMail Icon
Karina Quinn was driving to her doctor's appointment when the incident occurred. Her car wasn't moving too fast at the time, and it was pretty sturdy so it didn't take a whole lot of damage, but any time a vehicle is rear-ended by a van there's going to be a major headache. After taking a moment to compose herself and catch her breath, which the crash had taken out of her in one big gasp, Karina pushed her door open and went to confront the van driver.

There was a heated argument. Karina used her 5' 10 height and larger frame to try and intimidate the unidentified male driver, but the man was not backing down. Karina tried to insist on taking his details for insurance purposes, but all she got in return were insults about her size, which she ignored as usual. She was furious, and justifiably so, she thought.

It was only when the man got out to inspect the minor damage on the front of his vehicle that Karina spied a revenge plan. As it happened,it was a delivery van that had hit her, one that was emblazoned on its side with the logo for a bakery company called Arabian Delights. The flowery logo had next to it a woman of Arabian appearance, a belly dancer, swaying her hips and lightly covered with pink and red silks. Karina had a second of pause as she considered how similar in appearance the belly dancer was to herself, the dark hair and large eyes, the large breasts and wide hips. The difference was that Karina had moved passed the dancer's physique two or three years ago, and had only kept gaining weight since then.

The reason for this was why Karina was heading to the doctor that morning. She had a medical condition, one that started developing when she hit puberty, that gave her increased appetite. Not just a slight hunger, but a real burning need for food even when full. Doctors said that her brain acted almost like that of an addict giving up the thing they craved. Karina could never really satisfy her hunger, but she could keep it in check with several small meals a day, and light snacking. She put on weight, which the doctors said was inevitable, but it was nowhere near the levels the doctors had at first predicted. Karina had been proud of that. The thing that really stung her about the fat jokes was that people were looking at her like she had no self-control, when in fact, she probably had more than any of them. They didn't understand that for them, self-control was eating one piece of chocolate when they wanted two, but for Karina, it was eating ten pieces when she wanted fifty.

The hunger was most difficult to keep in check when she was stressed or angry, as she was right now, with a damaged car and on her way to get her prescription of appetite suppressors. It was for this reason that Karina did something she would not normally do. The back door of the Arabian Delights van was open, and its contents were clear to her. Boxes piled on top of each other, labelled on the side with large colourful cartoony descriptions, lemon cake, double chocolate brownies, assorted donuts. That sort of thing. The driver was still looking at the scratches, distracted, and Karina had a rush of blood that often comes around when her appetite is particularly insistent. She opened the boot of her car and, with swift motions, started loading boxes into it from the back of the van. Once it was nearly full she slammed her boot, and drove off quickly as the absent-minded van driver continued his inspection.

It was only after her appointment with the doctor, who proudly said to her that she had maintained her weight over the last month, which was almost unheard of for people with her condition, that Karina noticed something very unusual. She felt no guilt. She had no shame in her actions. She walked through it logically in her head, she had had her car damaged by a reckless driver, who had not been willing to compensate her. So she took something that belonged to him, something she needed and enjoyed. Karina was not a harsh or cruel person, but she was firm and believed in a sense of justice in the universe. You get out what you put in, right? After a month where she had managed to not put on a single pound, she wanted to be rewarded for her efforts. That's what some people didn't understand, she thought to herself. You shouldn't be remorseful for taking something in exchange for the hard work you put into life.

And so, she unpacked her car and began to lay out all the boxes she'd taken onto the kitchen counter of her apartment. There wasn't a whole lot of room, it was a small apartment and she'd only recently moved out of her parents' place, but she stacked the fifteen boxes on top of each other with the bright stickers pointing towards her, and admired her work.

Having eaten the lamb chops she made herself for dinner, Karina sat by the TV, eyed the kitchen door, and thought about her prize of the day. After the good work of the last month she had to decide, should she just have a little taster, or have a full, satisfying blow-out on the dozens of treats she had bought?

Karina took a box from the top of the stack and opened it, it was a whole lemon meringue pie. She cut off a generous slice off and placed the tip of the slice against her lips. The sensation was instant, creamy and sharp and rich and thick, like all her favourite meals at the same time. She took a bite, then another, then a bigger bite. Her belly growled back in pleasure. Karina felt a rising warmth of bliss as she filled her mouth with the creamy slice and then, it was gone. And Karina found herself standing over the rest of the pie, with a fire in her stomach, and a knife in a hand. The self-control that she prided herself on all her life was about to withstand its first test.

You have the following choices:

1. Karina's self-control holds firm, she doesn't eat any more

*Noteb*
2. Karina eats the whole cake

*Noteb* indicates the next chapter needs to be written.
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