The Harem on the Hill: 100th Episode Finale!

You figure if you grab the Walther PPK, you’ll be KIA, so you leave it on the floor.  One of the officers kicks it away, then makes you perform a series of humiliating dog tricks (“Down!”  “Roll over!”  “On your belly!”).  They certainly don’t show much compassion for a man who was just shot at, but, then again, they know better than to think you’re an innocent victim.

They don’t arrest you, however.  At least not immediately.  Not until an officer descends into your basement.  After a moment, he calls for another officer, who subsequently calls for a third.  After that, their attitude changes.  An enterprising camera crew from one of the major TV networks—NBC you think it was—sneaks in behind the police to film your capture.  They’re shooed away, but not before they get footage of you being hauled off in handcuffs that’s broadcast on the nightly news.

Despite being ignominiously cuffed and stuffed in the back of a squad car for all to see, you feel mostly relief.  Had the police not shown up when they did, you’d likely be dead.  That might be preferable to some in your situation, but not you.  You want to know how this whole thing will end.

The first thing you learn is how close Tina was to escaping.  While you were in jail, the not-so-little-minx had been busy.  The “fun” she’d had with your harem included healthy doses of unhealthy gas administered to its more incriminating members, none of whom were deemed fit for trial (or much of anything else).  She’d also embezzled over a million dollars, which she’d clipped from so many different investments and financial institutions FBI accountants were still trying to figure it out.  Had you not been around to tip them off, it likely would have gone undiscovered…especially had your death been ruled a suicide as Tina planned.  She’d even gone so far as to compose a note with verbiage suspiciously close to that of the one found with her sister.  It was a clever touch, you had to admit. 

Although Tina betrayed you, you hold no animosity toward her.  Well, apart from her being responsible for the hideous “Fayetteville Feeder” moniker you’re now stuck with.  You could have been a modern-day Bonnie and Clyde in another lifetime.  Some paint you as that anyway (including your attorney, who utilizes Tina’s involvement to muddy the legal waters enough for you to avoid a death sentence). Still, in the court of public opinion, Tina is considered a mostly innocent victim.  “Stockholm Syndrome” is used so much at your trial that you develop Stockholm Syndrome Syndrome--gagging every time you hear the term. 

You’re ultimately convicted on more counts than you can count: aggravated kidnapping, rape, assault, and murder being the biggies.  You could appeal some of them, especially since you didn’t actually kill anyone apart from your 2nd-degree hammer-bashing of Juan Garcia, but you don’t.  You’re given so many consecutive life sentences, shaving a few off won’t make much difference.  Besides, you know that even though you didn’t physically commit the murders of Jada Jenson, Sophie Mitchell, and Bernadette Muncy, they wouldn’t have happened without you.  If you’re going to spend the rest of your life in jail anyway, why share credit?

Of course, it’s not the murders that cement your global infamy, it’s the tales told by the survivors…

“Little Debbie” Simmons, the homeless urchin you “rescued” at the bus stop, wrote a best-selling book and is making the rounds on the talk show circuit, milking her 15 minutes of fame for all they’re worth.  “The extra pounds are my scars,” the teary, blue-eyed ingenue said in an interview with Oprah. “I won’t lose them.”  Considering the tubby blonde’s love of snack cakes, “can’t lose them” is probably a more apt description.  Especially since, in recent interviews, she looks significantly heavier than the 250 pounds she was at the time of her rescue.

Tracy Linder, the svelte jogger you abducted from the park, is the only member of your harem to resume a relatively normal life.  As your final recruit, she only gained 50 pounds before her liberation and was the victim of less trauma, especially in relation to the long-timers who suffered Tina’s wrath.  Even though she lost the weight and seemed content to slip back into a quiet life, she couldn’t resist one last lap from your gravy train.  Her book comes out next week. 

However, nothing speaks volumes more than the silence of your one-ton triumvirate of Tabitha Reynolds, Morgan McIntosh, and Eva “Anastasia” Aleksandra.  Each was airlifted to the hospital from your courtyard as none could fit through the narrow passages of your basement.  (A heavy-duty military helicopter was requisitioned for the task from a regional air force base, as it was feared the EMS copter would crash with their weight.)  There were no talk shows or tell-alls for these three, but evidence of their transitions from pert and pretty young women to bedbound blobs was showcased on the news ad nauseum (or nausea, depending on your constitution). You feel no sympathy for the conniving Officer Morgan or the treacherous Anastasia, but you do feel a twinge of sadness for Tabitha, the once-ravishing redhead.  You’ll never know why she caught Tina’s ire now that both are gone (Tina literally; Tabitha mentally), but she clearly served as a springboard for the suffering your protégé eventually caused Jada Jenson and Sophie Mitchell.

Although it bothers you that the public thinks you tortured your captives and relished turning their minds as mushy as their bodies, being the founder of multiple Fortune 500 companies (at least they were before they had a serial killer on their masthead) taught you that deferring blame to underlings is both weak and wrong.  The buck stops with you.  You may not have pulled the trigger, but you handed Tina the gun and showed her how to shoot.

In the end, prison is prison.  Who really cares if you’re compared to Jeffrey Dahmer or Ted Bundy? 

“I have a surprise for you.”

You look up from your journal to find Stephanie, a pretty young guard, standing outside your cell. 

Putting down your Mont Blanc, a luxury item you paid handsomely to keep, you rise from your desk and walk to the sliding cell door.  After ogling the statuesque brunette’s olive skin and chestnut brown eyes you say, “I’ve picked up girls at bars before, but this is ridiculous.”

“You might have trouble picking me up,” Stephanie pouts.  She sticks out her stomach, causing the fabric surrounding the buttons of her uniform to pucker and the spaces between them to gap with the rise of her doughy flesh. 

“This looks a little tight.”  You stick your hand through the bars and your finger into a gap for a quick diddle of her mushy middle.  “How much have you gained?”

“Ten pounds,” Stephanie says, slapping away your finger.  “My supervisor is getting suspicious.  They may switch me to another cellblock.”

“If they do, they can say goodbye to my donation to the Policeman’s Ball.”  You reach through the bars for another tickle of tender flesh, but Stephanie slaps your hand away again.

“That wasn’t the surprise,” she whispers, tersely.  Then she turns around—giving you a great view of her healthy posterior—to retrieve an item off a pushcart behind her.  “Here,” she says, handing it to you through the bars--

It’s a book: Billionaire Beast: My Story of Survival by Tracy Linder.

“I ordered you an advanced copy.  It’s signed.”

You lift the cover to find an inscription scribbled across the title page in black Sharpie: “Stay strong--Tracy Linder.”

“Thanks,” you say, smiling.     

“She actually liked you.”

“You read it?”

Stephanie shrugs.  “Some.”

Perhaps the book will change people’s perceptions of you, though the “Billionaire Beast” moniker doesn’t seem promising.  You flip the tome over and inspect Tracy’s portrait on the back.  She looks even skinnier than she was when you met. 

“I wish I had more time with her,” you say, solemnly.

“Well, you have a lifetime with me,” Stephanie says.  The perkiness of her tone, as well as her other areas, snaps you from your trance. 

“Several lifetimes,” you correct.

Stephanie giggles and gives you a pouty smile.  “I’m going to get fat as fuck.”

“Yes.  Yes, you are.”

The End.

Note Bene: Five years ago, I began “The Harem on the Hill” as an exclusive for a brand-new venture called “Mavrip,” and while I didn’t keep up the once-a-week publication schedule that I hoped for, I still pumped them out fairly regularly, and, I have to say, I’m proud of the results.  The story had tons of twists and turns (instigated by you, of course), dating back to that fateful first decision to draft Tina as your inaugural recruit.  All of which had to be woven into a cohesive narrative on the fly.  Unlike my traditional fiction, I had little idea what would happen next until I read the poll results and sat at my computer to type up the next installment.  I learned the hard way that if I looked ahead or tried to direct the action in any meaningful way, it would invariably backfire spectacularly!   

While the serial format was challenging and often frustrating, I believe the overall story turned out well.  In re-reading early chapters in anticipation/preparation for this finale, there’s a decent mix of suspense, character growth (Ha! Ha!), and fetishy titillation.  I don’t want to pat myself on the back too hard—some elements were rushed and under-developed, and some suspension of disbelief is required (“Damn it, Jim, I’m a weight-gain writer, not a criminologist!”)—but I think I did a fair job at keeping continuity, foreshadowing future events and repercussions, and setting up and paying off a few genuine “a-ha” moments…at least more than you might normally expect from Choose Your Own Adventure porn 😊.

Anyway, I hope you feel the ending wrapped things up satisfactorily.  There was never going to be a happy ending to this psychotic tale, but everyone did a great job of keeping the story (and me!) going for as long as it did. Long enough to reach the five-year/100-episode milestone.  That’s awesome! 

Thanks to all of you! And a special tip-of-the-hat to NixWydra, Michael, and WankA12 , whose encouraging comments and unwavering support went above and beyond.

So, what’s next?  Since I somehow made it to shore after diving into the deep end on this project, I’m going to jump right back in with a new interactive weight-gain adventure to be announced later this month!  And what of your Harem on the Hill?  Although the serial is officially over, its story hasn’t QUITE been told.  Stay tuned…

Thanks for playing!

Maverick