Cheese, Chalk and Plenty of Pork
by Lin Dale

Synopsis: When Greta meets Gavin at her rich father’s second wedding, she immediately falls in love. But just like cheese and chalk, he is a beautiful, slim young man and she is heavily obese; she needs to find some way to stop him wandering off. Her father’s new wife has problems facing up to her role as a Lady, so she decides to involve Gavin in a project with certain challenges.

Author’s Note: This story is complete and in ten parts which will be released at approximately daily intervals. It contains items such as crossdressing, non-explicit sex between adults and language typical of that between English adults. If you feel this may offend you, then please do not read.

Part 1 – In Which Gavin Goes to a Wedding

Gavin Smythe would probably have found some excuse not to go to go to the wedding of his cousin, Chelle, to Lord Rupert Carver. Gavin had always thought Chelle had her nose stuck up in the air and looked down on his side of the family and Carver had made a packet on the stock exchange and then bought a peerage by donations to the Conservative Party, which had turned him into Lord Carver. She would be unbearable now she was marrying this rich old fart. But his mother wanted to go and, now that his father was dead, he felt he had a responsibility to go with her.

***

In fact, it was probably worse than he expected. In the church, they had been placed right at the very rear and behind a large pillar, so they couldn’t see the ceremony taking place, and could barely hear it apart from Chelle’s shrill voice, calling out “I do!” so loud, he thought, it was a wonder the dead in the graveyard didn’t awaken!

It was only when they were being photographed that Gavin was able to see Carver for the first time. He was short and obesely fat, which meant his new wife was almost as tall as he was. Obviously, Chelle had sold herself in order to become a very rich widow fairly quickly, as he clearly wasn’t going to last long.

At the hotel reception, Gavin and his mother were again placed right at the back and couldn’t even see the top table. The guests seated on either side of Gavin and his mother made a point of turning their backs on them and the hotel didn’t even have any decent beer available. On the other hand, there was a nice wine and with the waiters continually topping up his glass, he was almost at the stage where he thought he might climb onto the table for a better view. It was only knowing his mother would have killed him afterwards for the disgrace he would bring on the family name that kept him seated.

So, even though they could barely hear the speeches, they politely applauded, and if they hadn’t have had rooms booked for them (and had Gavin not been too drunk to drive by then), they might well have gone home. But the wine continued to flow, and then events took a turn for the better.

“I’m Greta,” a voice said. “You must be Michelle’s cousin – Gavin, is it – and you must be Michelle’s Aunt Lucy?” Michelle, of course, was Chelle’s real name, unused since childhood except, it seemed, when she was trying to pull rich, elderly potential husbands.

Gavin turned to see the fat girl who had followed the newly married couple out of the church, presumably Carver’s daughter by a previous marriage. She was almost as fat as Carver himself, and was wearing a hideous frothy-pink dress, which would probably have looked fantastic on someone half her weight. On the other hand, she was probably only a few years older than he was, she had two plump breasts poking out of her dress which quivered with every movement, and she had a nice smile on her face.

“Yes, we are,” he replied, smiling back at her. “That’s a very pretty dress you’re wearing.”

“Thank you,” she said, giving a little shake of her shoulders which in turn delightfully wobbled her breasts. “Shall we adjourn to the bar? We should be able to chat, there.”

So, the three of them went to the bar, which was already starting to fill with wedding guests, and found a table in a distant corner. Gavin offered to get some drinks in and Greta told him to put it on the house tab. By the time he returned, his mum was asking Greta how long her father had known Chelle.

“About two months,” she replied. “I know, I know,” she added, seeing the look on their faces. “There’s no fool like an old fool and my dad qualifies in every respect.”

“How do you get on with her?” his mum nosily asked.

Greta smiled, turning the question back on Gavin. “How do you get on with her?”

“Not very well,” he replied imitating Chelle’s shrill voice.

His words fell into one of those sudden lulls in the room, and everyone turned to see who was speaking.

“Gavin,” his mum hissed at him. “Keep your voice down.”

“He’s very good though, isn’t he?” Greta said, grinning at him. “How do you manage to make it seem so lifelike?”

“Long practice,” he smirked.

Actually, he found it really enjoyable chatting with Greta. After a while, his mum said she was going back to her room to have a rest, and they said bye-bye to her. Then Greta asked him if he fancied coffee in her room.

***

Greta may not have borne much resemblance to a sex bomb, but hell, Gavin thought, she fucked like a nuclear warhead. Gavin was smaller than average with a light bone structure, and with her weight and power, she took total control. Occasionally, various parts of her anatomy were thrust against his mouth and he had to respond appropriately, but other than that, all he could do was to lay back, mutter sweet nothings to her and think of… well, paradise.

“You do mean what you’re saying?” Greta asked him, taking him surprise as they took a temporary lull.

“How do you mean?” he responded.

She grinned at him. “Well, you keep saying how fantastic I am… Even how pretty my dress was when I first came up to you. You’re not saying it just in order to have sex with me, are you?”

“Greta, I mean every word I utter. We were having such a miserable time before you came over, and then I turned and saw your lovely smile and you looked so wonderful I couldn’t help smiling back at you. Then, this afternoon, it seems as though I’ve fallen into paradise.”

“Oh, Gavin,” she said. “You say the sweetest things. You know, when I saw you as you came out of the church, I thought you were the most beautiful boy I have ever seen.”

“Er, thanks,” he said, uncertain about being called beautiful.

She moved her lips down his body, kissing every inch of the way, and between kisses saying, “Isn’t it wonderful us finding each other like this?”

She paused, awaiting his reply. He could feel her breath only an inch away from a certain appendage, so he said, “Absolutely fantastic,” which seemed to do the trick as she moved her mouth that extra inch as he gasped, “I love you...”

He’d meant to say that he loved her lips doing that, but being as she was already doing it, he was quite overcome with emotion Afterwards, he thought that Greta may have assumed he was going to say something rather different.

***

At some point in the evening, Greta ordered a room service meal. When the knock came on the door, she leapt out of bed leaving Gavin in one of those coitus interruptus moments.

“Coming,” she shouted through the door.”

“I wish I was,” Gavin said.

By now, Greta was wearing a towelling dressing gown. “Don’t be silly,” she said. “You’d better put this on,” she added, throwing him another garment hanging on the back of the door.

As Greta went to open the door, he hurriedly thrust his arms into the sleeves and pulled it around his shoulders and across his chest.

The room maid came in wheeling a trolley full of delicious looking food, including a large chocolate gateau. As the maid turned to leave, she caught sight of Gavin, smiled at him and said, “That’s a beautiful kimono, miss. You look very pretty in it.”

It was one of those instantaneous reactions. He could have pointed out her mistake, to the embarrassment of both of them. Instead, he adopted Michelle’s shrill voice and said, “It’s a beautiful gown, isn’t it?”

After the door had closed behind the maid, Greta shrieked with laughter. “That was so cool,” she said. “Your Chelle voice is absolutely amazing.”

She smiled some more and added, “She was absolutely right about how pretty you look in that kimono. It suits you far better than it does me. Jump out of bed and model it properly.”

Another instantaneous reaction. He could have responded that probably most of her clothes would look better on him than they did on her but thought the consequences of that would be pretty disastrous. Instead, he replied in his Chelle voice. “I’m not sure about becoming a fashion model. I think I’d rather find a very rich husband.”

He jumped out of bed and did a twirl, marvelling how the soft silk flowed around him.

“You really do look like Michelle, you know?”

She stepped over to him, adding, “well, apart from this sticking out.” She grabbed hold of the offending item. “We’d have to do a major job on your hair, of course, and…”

“Hang on, hang on,” Gavin interrupted. “I’m nothing like Chelle. I haven’t got her boobs for a start.”

“They’re false,” Greta said. “You can tell the way they stick out like headlamps. This is the way that real boobs behave.” She cupped her massive breasts, lifted them and let them flop back down. “See,” she said.

He could have told her that none of his previous girlfriends had boobs quite as floppy as hers. Instead, he said, “Her face is completely different from mine.”

“Only because of her makeup. The basic shape of your head is the same, your eyes, nose and mouth are identical. Your cheeks aren’t as full but even so…”

“Even so,” he said. “We’ve got a fantastic meal to eat, and then I’m going to jump back into bed with a fantastic woman.”

“That’s all men ever think about,” she said. “Food and sex.”

Which was rich, coming from her, Gavin thought, as he eyed the trolley full of food she had ordered and thought how he had been virtually raped all afternoon. Still, he shrugged his shoulders. Someone had to do it.

***

“I’m going to throw you out quite early in the morning,” she said some time later. “I have to set off home before the traffic builds up and then I have to get my Large Blacks ready for our journey.”

To Gavin that sounded rather a racist statement, which he queried. “Who are these large blacks?”

Greta giggled. “They’re not people,” she said. “They’re pigs. A rare breed of large British pig, which I rear, in the grounds of Carver Hall.”

“Are they vicious?” he asked.

“They’re actually quite docile,” Greta said, “although they can easily reach three hundred kilograms in weight, and of course, you must never get between a pig of any size and his food.”

“Three hundred kilograms,” Gavin said. “Why that’s five times heavier than me.

“In any case,” he added, “where are you taking them?” He was going to suggest the slaughter house but thought it probably not a wise thing to say.

“I’m taking them to a show in France, the equivalent of our county shows. I’m hoping to win some prizes with them. That’s why I won’t be able to see you again until next weekend.”

The words lanced through Gavin. She was assuming that they would meet up again. “Next weekend?” he said. “I’m busy next weekend and not really certain about the weekend after.”

“Never mind,” she philosophically said. “I expect we’ll meet up soon.”

“Anyway, I suggest you go back to your room at about five am, and get an hour’s sleep. I’ll pop in your room just before I leave and give you a parting gift.” She mimicked opening her mouth wide and moving downwards.

It was crazy. Here she was expecting to meet up with him in the near future. He should be saying goodbye here and now. On the other hand, she could do fantastic things with her tongue.

“OK,” he said.

***

She had kept him active all through the night so when he finally went back to his own room, he slumped into bed and slept like a log until she was ringing his mobile asking to be let into the room. Of course, he should have just ignored the call, but…

He slipped out of bed and opened the door. She came into the room so quickly that he barely had chance to notice she was very respectfully dressed in the kind of gear beloved by the upper classes; a tweed jacket and calf-length skirt with low-heeled matching shoes. She had pushed him backward until he fell onto his bed. She lifted her skirt to reveal she wasn’t wearing any panties. She grinned as she threw her leg over his face and sat on him. Then she pulled down his pyjama trousers he had put on less than an hour earlier.

***

As Greta drove away, she couldn’t help smirking over the little present she had left for Gavin. Her mother had bought it for her a few years ago, realising that Greta’s chances of acquiring a long-term boyfriend would be limited.