This choice: She's constantly being fattened by the kids • Go Back...Chapter #4The plan by: Unknown The school bell rings at Springfield Elementary signifying the beginning of class. Regardless, all of the students continue their idle chatter. Ms. K, unhappy 5th grade teacher, stands at the front.
“Quiet down. I trust everyone has had a good weekend, especially after Friday’s big math test.”
The class nod their heads in agreement.
“Why yes. Ms. Krabappel”, Martin Prince announced proudly, hand raised in the air, “I had reunited with my uncle after his 3 year service in the war.”
Another kid spoke up, “My parents were able to open up a business in making cheap officially licensed products. Anybody want an ‘Official’ Pepsi-Cola Frisbee?”
“That’s great you two. It’s nice some people had something sweet happen to them this weekend,” Ms. K smiled, “Cause it’s going to be bitter tasting this.”
Edna passed by each desk and hands down an F graded paper.
“F. F. F. F. f. F. F. F. f.f.f.f.f.f…”
The class groans in disappointment. Bart Simpson, a student unfamiliar to failure, turns to Milhouse.
“Aw man, normally I can’t stand Ms. K, but lately all she’s been doing is hand out ‘F’s’ ever since she broke up with Luigi.”
“Yeah, and ever since Luigi broke up with Ms. K all he does is hand out uncooked spaghetti and death-threats. See?”
Milhouse holds up a slip of paper that read, “Leave a big tip or I’ll grind you-a face into a fine cannoli.”
“Mamamia!” Bart gasped.
“It’ll never taste the same again.”
Cut to the Treehouse in the Simpson’s backyard. Bart and Milhouse pace back and forth racking their heads together.
“We have to do something about Ms. Krabappel. If she keeps this up she’ll hold the whole class back a grade. I was too close to that once and I’m not letting anyone experience that.”
Milhouse spins around wide-eyed, “Wait, Bart! Does this mean we’re going to be the good guys this time?”
Hands folded behind his back Bart stares out the window and onto the Springfield horizon, “This time my friend, yes.”
“Alright! Now I can earn a gold star at home. My mom will love me again and I’ll finally get my puppy googoo back!”
“Okay, back to the plan. We need something to keep Ms. Krabappel permanently in a good mood so that everyone can get A’s. Even nimrods like Nelson.”
Milhouse rubbed his chin, “Hmm that sounds like a toughie. We could use the silly juice my dad drinks to keep him happy…but it also makes him very loud and pukey.”
Bart peers out of the Treehouse door to see Homer grumbling angrily while holding a plate of uncooked lard slathered pork chops. Unfortunately he trips on a rock and smacks his face on the hot grill, “YYAAAAAAAAAAAH!”
Homer, face scalding, runs amuck until he again trips and lands on a pork chop mouth first taking a hearty bite, “Mmm, That soothes the burning.”
“Hey! That’s it! All Krabappel will need is just some delicious, fatty food to keep her happy.”
“True, Bart. But, where would we find a constant supply of food like that?”
“Leave grunt that up to me gasp.”
Heaving up to the Treehouse is Lindsey Naegle. Business woman. Realtor. Entrepreneur. Millionaire. She’s looking a lot more plump than she normally does.
“Hey, you’re that lady that’s in my mom’s stupid book club. What happened to you? You look as bloated as my Gunter after child friendly Ocktoberfest.”
Bart’s words were true, Lindsay formerly fit and the ideal female image was now…obese. She sported a belly larger than Homer’s with big moldable love handles sitting on top of her widened hips. Her breasts, expanded to D cups, rested on her rotund belly and strained her ever shrinking bra. Lindsay wiped her brow with her meaty arms and used them to adjust her too short skirt. Not to mention her thighs which have grown tremendously thicker and gave an obvious sign that Lindsay’s butt had grown tremendously as well.
“Well young man. I was taking my ‘pain-in-the-heart’ walk through the neighborhood I couldn’t help, but to overhear your conversation”. She flashed a chubby grin.
“About feeding our teacher food?”, Bart crossed his arms.
“My ears are ringing!”
“How could you possibly help us?” Milhouse inquired.
“Well, as you couldn’t tell by my “fuller” physique, I’ve been addicted to a little substance called Cream of Lard. Seem familiar?”
“Not at all.”
“Darn alternate continuities. Anyhow, I need to get this splendid product on the market and I figured we could collaborate by pushing it onto your teacher. Then it will snowball to the whole faculty then who knows elsewhere.”
“Well. As long as Ms. K gets fat then what could be the harm? Looks like we have a deal, Lindsay.”
“Great! Meet me at the school at 6 AM sharp.” Lindsay turned to leave to reveal that the entire back of her sport coat had ripped open.
“Milhouse. We have found a gold mine.”
"Sorry, Bart. I stopped digging in my nose a while ago."
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