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From: "Ithillion" <John.V.OToole@gmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} repost: Fat Gerta (Fm hist rom BBW)
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This is a reposted story, originally posted to alt.sex.fat,
alt.sex.fetish.fa & alt.sex.stories on the 9th of Feb. 1998 by Richard
Donnehy. i tried to get in tough with the author, but failed.
resulting i have posted this story with no permissions. however i feel
that leaving it unaltered after this preface and some formatting, i
have remained true to the authors vision. I hope that this story
brings as much joy to BBW story readers as it did to me.

-- John
====================================


To encourage the posting and reposting of more stories about BBW's
(big beautiful women), I'm providing the following original story,
inspired (very loosely) by a character in Gunter Grass' "The
Flounder."  Post comments to alt.sex.fat; do not reply to my email
address.  Medievalists, please excuse my unscholarly anachronisms.
-- R. Donnehy

St. Freja's Abbey, Saxony, 1189 A.D.

       Resting her hands on her wide hips, the abbess, Fat Gerta,
closely scrutinized the young man sitting before her.  "You are young
for a journeyman carpenter, are you not?"  She handed the lad a cup of
ale.
       "I assure you, Reverend Mother, I have completed my
apprenticeship. I learned my trade from none other than Master Albert
Runz of Dornsberg, the finest carpenter in Saxony.  You may see my
work here in Aarnsbruck, in the church pulpit, and also in the gateway
to Count
Falke's residence."
       "I have seen them, Master Hans, and they are fine works
indeed."  He was a handsome young lad, perhaps sixteen or seventeen,
small of stature but well-built, with curly brown hair and earnest,
innocent-looking brown eyes.  Fat Gerta, despite her fifty years of
age, was not insensitive to his good looks.   He made her feel warm.
She went to draw herself a cup of the cool ale, bending over the keg
beside the cupboard.  Straightening up, she glimpsed his face in the
looking-glass on the wall: the young man's eyes were fixed on her big
bum.   She smiled to herself, feeling pleasantly flushed.  Their eyes
met in the mirror, and the lad quickly looked down.  She turned back
toward him, and took a deep draught of ale.  Was that an erection
poking up beneath the apron of his shirt?   What a rare and sweet
young lad, she thought, to feel desire for me, and I old enough to be
his grandam.
       "Indeed, you do fine work," she continued, returning to the
business at hand.  "But this is a much bigger task.  The panelling in
the main hall was destroyed in the fire last winter, as you saw.  The
remaining panelling, in the cells and chapel, is half-rotten.  In
short, nearly the whole abbey must be refurbished, and fine carving
work is required in the chapel.  Here at this abbey we serve the
Blessed Saviour," her voice now dropping to a murmur, "but we also
serve the old gods, as we have done since before the days of Charles
the Great -- I tell you this privily; many in the Church do not
sanction the old practices -- and so we require figures of Freja, and
Wotan, and so on, cunningly carved in the wainscoting, so that the eye
does not light upon them unless looking for them; but if one looks for
them one sees them everywhere.  Are you able to take on a task of this
size, to our satisfaction?"
       "Aye, Mother.  I have done such work before, in Master Runz's
service, for the brothers at Wolund Abbey.  It will take me longer
working by myself -- at least till Candlemas next year -- but I shall
be able to do it.  And I am pleased to carve something in the service
of Blessed Freja and the old ones.  What are the wages, Mother?"
      "Six marks in silver, plus cost of the woods, and you shall have
bed and board here at the abbey while you complete your work."  Hans'
mind reeled.  Nearly two year's bed and board, no tramping about the
countryside searching for work in the midst of winter, and six marks
free and clear at the end of it.  With that money, he could open his
own shop.  And the abbess, though clearly nobody's fool, was a kind
women, and a devotee of Freja; in sum, a good person to work for.  He
must be careful not to stare lustfully at her again.  But her huge,
soft bottom was so enticing.
      "Agreed," he bowed respectfully, driving away these thoughts,
"and much obliged for your custom, Mother; I shall do my utmost to
satisfy you in every detail." He raised his ale cup to hers, and they
drained them, sealing the bargain before Wotan.  She had done well,
the abbess thought, to find this young journeyman; the master
carpenter in Becken had wanted twenty marks for the job.  And this lad
was far easier on the eyes.
       "As I say, it is a big task," she continued.  A mischievous
smile played over her lips. "But if you like big things, I dare say
there are other big things, here in the abbey, that could use your
attentions."
       Her eyes twinkling, she coyly ran her hands over her bosom and
hips, as though smoothing out her habit.
       Hans smiled back, shyly, his heart pounding, unsure of her
intent. Well, there was only one way to find out.  "Mother, I ... if I
take your meaning aright, I would say that, er, the bigger the size of
your, er, tasks, the firmer is my, er, resolve to satisfy you."
       Fat Gerta beamed.  "By Freja's womb, you are a gallant and
sweet young man, Master Hans.  And I find your boldness charming."
She kissed him on the lips; he stood, trembling, taking her in his
arms, feeling the lush softness of her body.  She could now clearly
feel his hardening prick pressing against her belly.  "Nay," she
giggled, reluctantly disengaging from him, "we may not grapple in
earnest here, sweetheart; we might be seen.  This abbey isn't strict
about chastity; but some show of discretion must be observed, or the
bishop will hear of it and be obliged to reform us.  Come now, let us
take our supper with the sisters.  I wish you to be well-fed; for I
will put you to some strenuous work tonight."

       The guest room in which Hans was lodged was adjacent to the
abbess's cell, with a connecting doorway.  And so it was a simple
matter for him to slip into her room when, after Vespers, Fat Gerta
tapped on his door.   She had removed her habit and wimple, and stood
before him wearing only a fine linen shift, her grey-blond hair
hanging down her back in two thick braids.
       "Come, lad," she cooed, "I've had a bath drawn for us.  Shall I
wash you?"  She gestured to a large wooden tub, with steam rising from
the water, beside the large curtained bed.
       Hans hastily pulled off his belt, shirt and hosen, stepping
into the tub and sinking down in the hot water.  The abbess took a
flannel, steeped in soapwort, and began lathering his shoulders and
chest, kissing him, and murmuring, "Such a gorgeous young lad!", such
that he
began to feel bashful.  But the bashfulness soon gave way to lust,
particularly when she bade him stand up and began washing his
buttocks, and then his male organ, sliding her soapy fingers over it,
till it was rock-hard and throbbing in her hand.
       Rinsing off the soap, she said, "Close your eyes, sweetheart: I
have a nice treat for you."   Suddenly, he felt his prick engulfed in
the warm wetness of her mouth.  He came almost at once, spurting his
hot semen onto her tongue, as his knees buckled and he braced himself
against the sides of the tub, panting.  She released his now limp
organ, wiping a strand of come from her lips, grinning from ear to
ear.  "Did you like that, sweet?"  He nodded weakly, smiling, and sank
back into the water.
       "Come, then, it's your turn to wash me, ere we go to bed." She
drew the shift up over her head in one smooth movement, and climbed,
naked, into the bath with him.
       Limp as Hans had been a moment ago, he quickly revived upon
seeing this abundance of soft, rosy-pink female flesh before him.
Ah, gods! how lovely she was!   Her heavy, pendulous breasts were
covered with a delicate tracery of feint blue veins, and capped with
large nipples the color of coral; her belly was full and round; her
female parts were prominent, covered with a thick, shaggy forest of
hair; her buttocks were so voluminous, so broad that he could barely
span her with his arms; her thighs were thick and beefy.  The abbess
immersed herself in the water, and then stood before him.  Finding the
soapy flannel, he began washing down her back.  She took his hands in
hers, and guided them round her thick waist, up to her soft, heavy
breasts. Snuggling tight against her, he kissed her neck and ear as he
kneaded her breasts.
       "By the gods," he whispered, "I've never felt anything this
wonderful."
       "Ah," she cooed, "I am glad that you are pleased with my big
floppy teats.  You are a tender and ardent lover, Hans.  Have you had
many paramours?"
       "Nay, Mother, you are the first."
       "Why, gentle lamb, how sweet of you to offer your first-fruits
of love to cheer a lonely old woman such as I."
       He took up the flannel again, and began washing her immense
buttocks and thighs.  Her pubic hair grew all the way back here,
poking out from between her buttocks like grass in the chink of a
stone wall. Leaning forward slightly, she spread her cheeks for him,
allowing him to run the flannel deep within the fur-lined crevice of
her arse, down into her lovely cunt.
       "You are pleased with my large bum, are you not?" she cooed. "I
saw you gazing at it this afternoon."
       "Aye, loveliest Mother," he whispered hoarsely.  "I meant no
disrespect, but I cannot keep my eyes from it."
       "Enough washing, sweetheart; let us to bed now," she whispered
urgently.  Rinsing off and stepping out of the tub, she dried herself
with a linen towel, and Hans did the same.
       Fat Gerta climbed into the four-poster bed, rolling onto her
belly and spreading her thick thighs.  Reaching back, she stroked her
backside.  "Love, kiss me here," she cooed.  Hans needed no further
invitation.  Scrambling between her thighs, he began showering her
huge, jiggling buttocks with kisses, as she giggled, squirmed and
cooed with pleasure beneath him.  At first Hans alternated his kisses,
going from one buttock to another.  Then he began kissing and licking
each lovely little dimple that graced the abbess's nether-cushion; and
soon he was rubbing his whole face against the soft warm flesh, as he
kneaded the cheeks with his hands.  Like a swimmer caught in a
whirlpool, he was inexorably drawn inward, towards the sweet, furry
abyss.  Spreading her cheeks, he asked, "Mother, may I kiss you in
here, too?"
       "Oh, aye!  Please!"
       Joyfully, the lad buried his face in the crack, nuzzling,
kissing, licking, till his tongue found her anus.  Fat Gerta squealed,
"Aye!", and Hans easily slid his tongue inside.  The abbess's clitoris
was urgently begging for release, and she reached under her belly,
frantically rubbing it, while her lover's hot wet tongue burrowed in
her bunghole, licking, sucking, caressing.  The orgasm caught her like
a summer thunderstorm: sudden, violent, breathtaking.  When she opened
her eyes again, he was lying beside her.
       "Did I give you pleasure, Mother?"
       "Did you ever!" she laughed, kissing his mouth and taking him
into her arms.  "You are the most skilful lover I've ever had; yet you
say I'm your first.  Freja herself must be your instructress."
       "Your body instructs me, beloved Mother."
       She rolled over onto her back.  "Come, love," she cooed.
Eagerly, he climbed between her legs, and she wrapped her thick thighs
round his waist, pulling him down upon the softness of her belly, his
hard prick nestling in the hairy thicket of her loins.
       "Aye, love, put it in me now.  Ohhhhhh!!  Prick me deep, love.
Ohh! Blessed Freja, this is sweeter than ..."  And then there was only
the rhythmic sound of her cries, and the creaking of the bed, as she
rocked her huge hips beneath him, meeting his urgent thrusts.  As her
cries blended into one long scream of pleasure, he felt the love of
her overtake his body, and he emptied himself deep within her.
       For a long time, they clung to each other in silence, his
slender body riding upon her heaving belly like a ship upon the
ocean.  At last the abbess laughed, "I see that you are indeed a fine
carpenter, for you nailed my arse perfectly."
       She sat up, and poured out two cups of ale from a jug upon the
night stand.  "Let this refresh you."  They both drained their cups in
one draught.  He began kissing her mouth, savouring the sweet-sour
taste of the ale on her tongue, the softness of her lips against his,
sharing the very air that she breathed.  At last he began planting
light kisses on her forehead and eyelids.
       "Sweet love, Freja bless you," she cooed gratefully.  "Now, let
us say our prayers together ere we sleep; for I would thank the gods
for sending you to me."

       At dawn the next morning, a black-robed friar rapped sharply at
the gate of the abbey.  Fat Gerta, still sleeping naked in Hans' arms
(for in truth, they had slept little, and made love much, during the
night), was hastily roused by her trusted confidante, Sister Amelia.
The abbess sent Hans back into his guest room, while she threw on her
habit.  A minute later, she strode down to the scriptorium where the
friar was awaiting her.  A black-robed Dominican.  Fat Gerta felt
uneasy.
       "Ah, Reverend Mother Gertrude von Roheim," he smiled icily. He
was tall and lanky, with a face like a vulture.  "It is a privilege to
meet you."
       "You are welcome, Brother ... ?"
       "Brother Otto von Thalen."  The smile fled from Fat Gerta's
face. "Ah, I see you have heard of me."   This was the man who had
organized the "reform" of St. Stefan's Abbey in Becken.  Twenty monks,
including the abbot, had been starved to death as "penance" for pagan
practices.
       "What can we do for a famous Dominican preacher, in our humble
abbey?"
       "Come, Mother, flattery softens the ungodly, but not men of
God. You know very well what the mission of the Dominicans is: to
protect the purity of the holy Church."  All pretence of politeness
left him. "It is rumoured that this abbey has lapsed into the foulest
paganism and witchcraft,"  he snarled.  "Do you deny it?"
       Fat Gerta drew herself up in a cold rage.  "Whoever says we
have lapsed is a liar.  We faithfully observe the order imposed by the
founder of this abbey, and we serve St. Freja."   (This was true: for
the founder of the abbey, Irmengarde von Bisalia, back in the eighth
century, had worshipped the old gods, as had every nun of St. Freja
since.  And what was the difference between St. Freja and the goddess
Freja?)
       "Ah, but of course, you being the abbess are the leader of
these foul rites, and so you deny it.  But I will interrogate every
nun here, under torture if necessary, till I get the truth.  I advise
you to confess now, and seek mercy, before --"  The Dominican's nose
twitched oddly.  "By Christ's blood, you smell of fornication,
woman!"
       Fat Gerta went to a chest in the corner and fetched a certain
document.  She handed it to the Dominican.  His face turned beet-red
as he read: it was from the Archbishop of Mainz, exempting the abbey
in perpetuity from any external examinations and inquisitions.
       He threw the document back at her.  "What did you pay the
archbishop for this exemption, witch?"
       "That is a grave slander against the archbishop, which he shall
hear of.  In the meantime, I command you to leave my abbey.  NOW, you
vulture-faced black-robe!"  A group of nuns, who had gathered in the
doorway, burst out laughing.  "And if I see you again on the grounds
of this abbey, I'll set the hounds on you!"
       The Dominican sullenly turned and, pushing through the crowd of
jeering nuns, walked out to the courtyard.
       "Three cheers for Fat Gerta!" Sister Maria shouted.  "Hurrah!"
the other nuns joined in, lifting the big woman up on their shoulders
and noisily carrying her down to the chapel for matins.

       A week later, Hans was in Aarnsbruck for the day.  He had just
finished haggling with the lumber merchant over a large order of
panelling wood.  Feeling thirsty, he stopped in at the tavern for a
pint of stout.  A tall black-robed friar sat down across from him.
       "Master Hans Carpenter, is it?" the friar smiled.  "I am
Brother Otto."
       "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Brother Otto.  Will you
take a pint of beer with me, for the love of God?"  The abbess, of
course, had told Hans all about the snooping Dominican, but Hans
thought it safe to play dumb.
       "Why, thank you.  You are now working at the Abbey of St.
Freja, are you not?"
       "That is so.  I'm refurbishing the panelling that was burnt
last winter."
       The Dominican leaned closer.  "You appear to be an honest
Christian lad.  And you are not from this heathen place.  I would be
obliged if you would keep your eyes and ears open at the abbey.
Anything hinting of heathen practices, if you know what I mean.  I
also have reason to
believe that the holy-seeming abbess of St. Freja is in truth a
fornicating whore."  Hans stifled a smile.  "There's a substantial
amount of money in it for you, if you can tell me what I need to
know. More than the nuns are paying you, I'll warrant."
       "The nuns are paying me six marks of silver."
       The Dominican blanched.  "Very well then.  I'll pay seven.  In
return for useful information."
       "I'll keep my ears open, Brother Otto.  But I can't believe
that the abbess is as you say.  Why, she seems a very model of virtue
to me."
       "Nay, Master Hans, appearances can be deceiving.  But keep your
eyes open, and tell me what you learn.  I'm staying at the inn.  You,
Master Hans, may be the key, the key I say, to saving St. Freja's
abbey, and this whole town, from great sin."

       That evening, Hans and Fat Gerta both convulsed with laughter
as he related the whole story to her.   As he kissed his way down her
soft belly, she laughed again, "I'll cook a sauce to roast that
vulture in. Now, give my cunt a good licking, love, and I'll show you
what a fornicating whore I truly am."

       A few days later, Hans knocked at the door of Brother Otto's
room at the inn.
       "Who in God's name ... oh, Master Hans, do come in.  Sit down.
Have you any information for me?"
       "Aye, Brother Otto.  I would not have thought it possible. The
most fiendish practices imaginable, in a Christian abbey!"
       "Now, calm down lad.  Explain carefully.  What practices?"
       "Why, worship of Satan himself, at vespers every evening.
Instead of saying 'Our Father which art in Heaven,' I heard the nuns
chanting 'Our Devil which art in Hell'!
       "No!  This is better than I suspected."
       "But wait; there are worse things!   Every Friday night, as a
mockery of Our Lord's passion, the nuns crucify a dog!"
       "No!  I've never heard of such a fiendish practice."  The
Dominican seemed positively gleeful.
       "Seeing is believing, Brother Otto.  I myself saw them do it
last Friday.  They preserve the remains of the dogs in a barrel of
spirits, in the southeast corner of the refectory.  For what hellish
purpose they use the dead dogs, I dared not inquire."
       "No doubt, for some wicked spells of necromancy and
demonolatry," the friar intoned.
       "And that abbess, as you said, is no chaste bride of Christ,
but is reputed to be the mistress of one Adelbert Schwenk, and has
born a bastard child to him."
       "Excellent, excellent!  No one else in this town has dared to
speak a word to me against these foul witches.  Either the townsfolk
are heathens themselves, or they are so terrified of this whoring
abbess that they fear to denounce her.  And that fool of a bishop told
me I'd find no heathenism in Aarnsbruck!  But you, Master Hans, are a
good Christian lad.  I believe you've earned this."  The friar opened
a strong box, counted out seven silver marks, and gave them to Hans.

       That Friday night, as expected, the Dominican burst into the
abbey, accompanied by Bishop Oswald and several of Count Falke's men-
at- arms. "To the chapel!" the friar screamed, as though leading a
cavalry charge.  The nuns were gathered there, chanting vespers.  The
chanting stopped as the Dominican and his company poured in.
       "What is the meaning of this?"  Fat Gerta boldly demanded.
       "Now, my good bishop, you shall see the hellish depravity of
this abbey, for which your lax oversight is responsible.  Behold, they
mock Christ's passion by crucifying a dog!"
       "I see no dog, Brother Otto, do you?" the bishop responded
dryly.
       "But, there must be a dog here."
       "I see no dog.  I see only the holy sisters assembled for
vespers, according to the rule of their order.  What madness is this
of yours, Brother Otto, to drag us here and interrupt their prayers."
      "Nay, but you will see!  In the refectory, in the southeast
corner. Come!  Before they destroy the evidence."
       The whole company, and the nuns, trooped down to the
refectory.  The Dominican stood triumphantly beside a large barrel.
       "In here, illustrious bishop, you will find the remains of
crucified dogs, for use in hellish spells of necromancy.  Behold the
proof!"
       The bishop lifted the lid.  "The barrel is full of soapy
water."
       Fat Gerta again spoke up, "For the washing of plates and cups,
good friar."  By now everyone but the Dominican was laughing.
       "Nay, you whore!  Do not jeer at a man of God!  It is known
that you are the mistress of Adelbert Schwenk, and have born a brood
of bastards to him.  Do you dare deny it?"  At the mention of Adelbert
Schwenk, the whole room erupted into raucous laughter.
        "Friar, enough of this nonsense!" the bishop roared.  "The
late Adelbert Schwenk was well-known in this town as a lover of men.
You have made ridiculous and malicious accusations against the good
sisters of this abbey, and Abbess Gertrude in particular, contrary to
the express orders of the archbishop.  I will bring charges of slander
and disobedience against you before the ecclesiastical court, and I
will see to it that you are defrocked.  In the meantime, I order you
to apologize to the abbess, and then let us leave the good nuns in
peace."
       "Apologize, to this witch?  Never!  What have you done with the
carpenter?!"
       "Enough madness!  Sergeant, place this rogue under arrest and
hold him in Count Falke's dungeon until we return to my residence."
The Dominican was led off, still shouting, "She has bewitched the
carpenter; I know it!"
       "And now, good sisters, let us return to the chapel," ordered
Fat Gerta, "to conclude our interrupted service."
       "My dear Gerta," the bishop said quietly, "by Freja's blessed
womb, I apologize for this intrusion."
       "Well, at least that mad Dominican can do us no more harm. Alas
for the brothers of St. Stefan's."
       "My dear, it is late, and my residence is far.  Can you provide
me lodging for the night?"
       "Of course, dear Oswald; you are always welcome here."
       "Might there still be room in your bed for me, after all these
years? I miss your cuddling, my dear."
       "Alas, dear old friend, my heart belongs to another these days.
Sister Amelia's affections are free, though.  Give her a good lusty
romp in bed, and I will forgive you this unmannerly intrusion."
       "Certainly, my dear.  With pleasure."

       In bed that night with Hans, Fat Gerta was melancholy, despite
her triumph over the Dominican.
       "What is it, dear Mother?" asked Hans, kissing and nuzzling her
bare breasts.
       "You have your seven marks now.  You wanted to open your own
shop.  I cannot keep you here if you wish to leave."
       "Beloved, I have a year and a half of work here at the abbey
yet. Why speak of me leaving now?"
       "When you are my age, dear Hans, you will understand that a
year and a half is no time at all.  Sooner or later you will leave
your fat old abbess, go out and seek your fortune, and marry and start
a family. But I have come to love you, my sweet, and I cannot bear to
give you up."  Tears were streaming down her cheeks.
       "Mother, do you not understand that I love you too?  When I
finish my work here, I will set up shop here in Aarnsbruck, a stone's
throw from the abbey; and, if you permit, I'll come back to your bed
every night. I could not happily sleep anywhere but in your arms, my
love."
       Fat Gerta took his hand in hers and kissed it.  Smiling through
her tears she said, "I knew blessed Freja sent me a rare lover; but I
did not know how rare and precious you are until this moment."   They
kissed.  She began to feel his hard, hot prick poking her big soft
belly.  "Are you ready again so soon?"  He nodded, grinning.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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