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Double the Trouble, Double the Fun


Sonic Purity

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Double the Trouble, Double the Fun

by Sonic Purity
Born with 2 fully-formed, healthy pelvises and 3 legs, life for Tara Pelvig has often been quite different from anyone else. Follow Tara on her birth through mid-life story, as she discovers the detriments and benefits of her highly unusual body, and meet her eclectic collection of friends and lovers.
 

Double Below Child

The first thing anyone noticed about Tara Pelvig was her third leg. Unless perhaps she was standing still wearing one of her full-length peasant, tie-dye, or other homemade/casual-looking skirts long enough to cover her 3 feet, and was standing in a suitable stance for her feet to not be visible. In that situation they always noticed how wide her lower half was, making her in that moment look pretty much like any other SSBBW mega-pear of average-sized upper + large BBW/small SSBBW lower body shape. Soon as she moved and exposed her feet, and especially if she walked anywhere, the third leg became immediately obvious. Or, viewing her back side, her middle bouncing fat bun along with the expected outer pair.

Life started out about as normally for someone with such a severe developmental abnormality could. Her mother had only slightly more difficulty birthing Tara than if the infant had had a normal single pelvis and two legs.

Drama naturally started immediately, as the receiving obstetrician saw the third leg and extra-wide pelvic area, with everyone aiding the birth process rushing over. There had certainly been dipygus humans born in recent enough history to be photographed and earn their own Wikipedia pages—that alone would have been noteworthy for the medical team. What really had them stunned was that just-born Tara Pelvig was not a true or typical dipygus with 4 legs, the two inner ones and their related buttocks etc. smaller. She had exactly 3 legs, with no hint of any other, vestigial or otherwise. More than that, her center leg had about the most perfect bilateral symmetry one could imagine: two outer big toes, then two adjacent long toes, then a single perfectly-formed middle toe on her double-arched, double-balled foot, with her calf, knee, thigh, etc. displaying exact split-down-the-middle symmetry. This leg was full-sized, and kicking fully as much as her two normal outer legs and their normal feet.

Very quick non-invasive testing began immediately. Everything they could discern without x-rays or other tests which would take the newborn away from her mother tested perfectly—Tara was a totally healthy baby.

Brand-new mother Joan Pelvig initially started to flip out when she saw her daughter’s abnormality and the instant rush of urgent, focused attention from the medical team to the child (her first). It wasn’t until the doctors confirmed that there were no urgent issues and the child seemed totally viable and healthy, and little Tara first saw Mommy and made that endearing newborn connection with her that Joan Pelvig settled down. Holding the infant gently against her chest, her entire being raced with an overwhelming swirling mash-up of thoughts and feelings regarding what was happening.

Roger Pelvig, Tara’s father, witnessed the birth from another room over video. He was in shock, with his own overwhelming swirling mash-up of thoughts and feelings regarding what was happening, how it came to be, and what it meant going forward.


Word spread quickly, and soon little Tara Pelvig was the talk of the hospital. Mr. and Mrs. Pelvig were too numb to do anything other than OK the various tests the obstetrician strongly recommended.

In most ways, it was the best possible news: everything normal, other than torso-and-below body parts nearly doubled up. Tara had full hip joints on all 3 limbs, with as much full range of motion on her middle hip ** as the remainder of her body allowed, which was significant. Her pelvises were not exactly fused, tied together with what acted like some form of cartilage, allowing their bases to spread apart slightly as their top anchor point remained fixed. Her middle buttock was absolutely, amazingly symmetrical, like her middle leg. Her spinal column split neatly a bit above navel level, anchored normally to each pelvis with thankfully almost no lateral shifting likely to cause her trouble later.

Internally, Tara had one normal set of organs up above, and two down below. Like her spinal column, Tara’s colon split neatly before terminating at each of her two anuses. She had two normally-developed, functional urethras, and two vulvas with all that came with them, including (surprisingly) 4 fully-formed (for an infant) ovaries and fallopian tubes.


Other than her obvious deformities, Tara developed as a textbook-healthy baby—healthier than many her age who had no birth defects. Each of her parents went through a great deal of soul-searching in her earliest days, trying to suss out what could have happened: something one or both of them ate? Radiation of some sort, ionizing or not? Environmental contaminants in the water? The most likely candidate was the brand-new drug Chillerol which her mother had been taking as part of a stage 3 clinical trial. It had been highly effective reducing Joan Pelvig’s anxiety (its design intent), with far fewer side-effects than the older anti-anxiety medications she’d taken. Then again, her father had taken a course of Whizzfrē around the estimated time of conception for some prostate issues he’d been starting to have, discontinuing it when it proved ineffective.

No one would ever know the cause. They had a vibrantly healthy daughter with three legs and two pelvises, going through wholly normal development. A charmer of a little girl, whose soulful eyes and two little grabby hands reaching for each of mommy and daddy when either came into her sight couldn’t help but melt their hearts, and give them hope that somehow Tara and all of them could manage to live normal, happy lives.

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Three-legged Childhood

As one might expect, everyone in the extended family had to go through the initial shock of seeing Tara’s 3 legs and extra-wide pelvis (so the pair appeared externally) with 3 buns. Effortlessly, the little girl charmed all of them into loving and accepting her, the aunts and uncles secretly grateful that they weren’t dealing with what Joan and Roger were dealing with, and would continue to need to deal with.

Diapers were an obvious problem. Joan went with traditional cloth, which she and her mother worked together to learn to creatively fold to work as well around 3 legs as 2. With that change, one problem solved.

Life as a triple toddler for Tara was no problem whatsoever: her nascent standing mobility was at least as good and easy as her two-legged peers. She tended to toddle, then walk, as two 2-legged people with adjacent legs lashed together do in 3-legged races: center forward, then outsides forward. The giant difference for Tara was that coordinating her 3 limbs from her one brain and upper body was vastly, vastly easier than two separate humans artificially and temporarily joined.

Nearly from the get-go, her mother dressed Tara in full-length little girl skirts, to minimize exposure of her legs and thus shock from strangers when they were out in public. No way to hide her feet, of course, without having her trip at every step and possibly badly hurt herself. With so many fat children in the world, finding wide skirts was no problem whatsoever.

The same could not be said for shoes, nor once she was out of diapers, undies. The shoe issue arose first, and Roger had stepped up to the plate to get with shoe manufacturers and local cobblers to get his daughter into sets of 3 shoes, doing what shoes needed to do for her middle foot. Not cheap, but necessary. When at home in the house and sometimes outside, all 3 of them tended to go around barefoot, to minimize Tara adding wear and tear to her expensive triples.

Undies were the first issue where Joan Pelvig started to truly struggle with the reality of a 3-legged daughter. She and her mother plus Roger’s mother valiantly worked together to modify pairs of little girls’ undies of the proper size into 3-legged units. It was a lot of work, and the end result didn’t work out especially well, thanks to the nature of the stretchy fabric and the limitations of the home sewing equipment they were using. Roger looked into what it would cost to order a batch of custom 3-legged undies directly from the manufacturers: prohibitive, wholly.


Toilet training was its own crisis. Tara was a bright, intelligent, generally obedient child, with good communications skills at each age she passed through. Her insistence that she could not separately control either her urinary or anal sphincter on each side was the first point where her parents didn’t seem to fully believe her.

I can’t!” she screamed at them, after yet another failure to meet their demands and expectations.

It didn’t strike them as reasonable, given that she had fully separate tactile sensations on each of the two sides of her lower body. She tried and tried and tried to please her parents, sometimes seemingly tantalizingly close to some individual control, but it was never to be. She felt horrible, they felt horrible—no one was happy.

Her very wise and kind pediatrician, with a great deal of mental health training, worked with Tara and confirmed that she wasn’t being obstinate: she literally could not control these bodily functions separately on her two sides. She reassured the young girl that she was a very good girl, doing all she could, and got Tara’s parents to understand the veracity of this.

Initially, this was awkward, but not a huge inconvenience: Tara could sit sideways on any toilet bowl as a little child, then as she grew any elongated toilet bowl, let loose, and things would work out OK in the (rear) end(s). Roger knew that eventually this would no longer be the case as his daughter matured, but for now, it worked.


Tara knew she was different—unique, in fact—from a very young age. The world around her reminded her of this every day, especially outside the Pelvig home.

School-age childhood was rough, being picked on for her deformity and being fat, given how wide she was. There was a smidge of truth to the fat claim: Tara was growing up slightly thick. Not fat, not even quite to the point of chubby, just an extra layer of soft thickness. This despite Tara being a highly-capable athletic little girl. She ran around all over the place with aplomb, easily winning or tying in foot races and the like. She absolutely shone at soccer, from soon after she first started. With no prohibition against 3 legs and none of the adults wanting to hurt a young girl who got hurt by bullies and other miscreants just about every day of her life, Tara played on a not-quite-equal footing with her peers. Everyone wanted her on their team, given how well she did! Naturally as one of the very few places her third leg was an advantage, she put a lot of energy into the soccer program, including helping others with 2 legs fine-tune their skills.

Another area where Tara absolutely shone was 3-legged races at summer 4th. of July celebrations and similar events throughout the year. She so thoroughly blew away her next nearest competitors that after the second year of winning by 20+ lengths, the powers that be needed to disqualify her. Knowing how sensitive an issue this would be, they elevated her to the new made-for-her category of All-Time Grand City Champion, made her an official judge, and had her lead the training exercises just before the race. She relished the respect and responsibility, proving herself a good young leader, able to transcend her innate ease of 3-legged mobility and truly help the pairs of tied-together people operate better in 3-legged form.

These athletic triumphs did little to negate the teasing and bullying. She found solace bonding with other misfits in her class: Tuan, a paraplegic of Vietnamese ancestry, who got bullied for both characteristics; Rebecca, a girl with poor eyesight and a severe stutter, who often said her own name as “Rebecacacacacaca”; Artie, a nerd who not only had thick glasses, but a giant long right-triangle nose upon which multiple pairs could be stacked; and Barb, usually called “Blub”, the fat girl with one pelvis’ worth of hips nearly as wide as Tara’s two, and a big, fat belly which was impossible to hide, nor get to stop jiggling. What started as a mutual non-aggression pact evolved into true friendships, some closer than others, but each of them at a minimum respecting each others’ issues, and not being part of any teasing/bullying activities.

Tara kind of liked them all, having the most trouble being patient through Rebecca’s relentless stuttering, keeping her more distant from her. Artie was fine, but could sometimes fall into thinking a bit highly of himself, possibly overcompensating for his beleaguered self-esteem’s benefit. Tuan was sweet, and easy to get along with. Sure it pissed her off when his wheelchair’s battery pack suddenly died without warning and classmates taunted her for being “Tuan’s girlfriend” (in 4th. grade) because she was willing to push his chair around manually the remainder of that day in their shared classes, but such was the course of normal teasing. Probably not surprisingly, her best friend was Barb, given that they shared the commonality of being targets of fat hate (even though Tara was not fat). Tara absolutely did wear fat girl-sized skirts of the same size as Barb, so they had that in common as well.

The friendships helped and Tara did well in these early school years academically, but overall, for her it was not a happy childhood.

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Double The Trouble

Changes in schools from elementary to intermediate broke up the misfit support group. Barb and Tuan went to a different school in the district, based upon where they lived; Rebecca transferred to a private school.

Already near the end of 5th. grade and elementary school, signs of impending pre-adolescent changes were happening. Tara was 11, and beginning to develop, as in: mature physically. So were several of the others, but it happened late enough in the school year and messed each of them up enough in its own way that the changes weren’t discussed.

That summer gave the Pelvig household a double-whammy: Tara started menstruating, and growing into her adult body. Both meant she was becoming a woman. The latter meant that she was widening enough that sitting sideways on an elongated-bowl toilet was rapidly becoming insufficient. Both were double the trouble—at least! She felt great shame about both, and especially the toilet-outgrowing, using a bucket to catch what the bowl no longer could, then cleaning it, doing all she could to only use the bathroom at home (which was not always possible, and the source of major consternation).

Her parents were intelligent, having planned ahead as best they could for this time now upon them which they knew would come. Tampons weren’t an especial problem: buy twice as many. Pads were an issue insofar as they required undies to support them, and Tara was more and more recalcitrant to wear the inelegant and, honestly, uncomfortable 3-legged pairs her mother and one or both grandmothers still made for her. Draining during heavy flow was a problem for the same reason anything else involving a toilet was a problem.

Her father had long had a plan for the toilet, which started to fall apart precisely when he needed to execute it. Tara overheard her parents arguing about it from a distance one evening:

“What do you mean the company can’t make our toilet?!”

“That’s what I said, Joan: U.S. Standard was bought out by Yang Chow Porcelain 2 years ago, at which point all the U.S.-based engineering staff was let go. Today’s U.S. Standard wants us to pay the several-thousand-some dollars all over again for a new engineering design done by their engineers in China.”

She’s crapping, bleeding, and peeing all over the bathroom floor, and doesn’t always clean it all up!

I’m doing the best I can! This doesn’t even count the drain rework in that bathroom which will be required to hook the normal sewer piping up to the custom toilet flange!”

Daaaaaaahhhhhh!

Tell me about it!

Given all she’d been through in her life up until this point, it was delightfully amazing that Tara Pelvig had solid, balanced self-esteem. These new changes and the concomitant problems tipped the balance to an unbalanced point, though not permanently. She redoubled her efforts to keep everything in the bucket (and toilet bowl) and clean up better when she missed. When her mother was too emotionally undone to go to the school district on her behalf to discuss toilet issues, she bravely stepped up, getting into detail regarding the problem and presenting the solution she was utilizing at home. The principal was impressed enough with her responsibility and maturity to arrange for Tara to use one of the women’s teachers’ restrooms, where she could keep a dump bucket, have access to the necessary cleaning supplies, and not be taunted by other students as she did what she had to do.

No one is perfect, and that certainly included Tara heading into adolescence. She and her mother fell into common parent-adolescent child power struggles. Her mother had been having more and more trouble functioning before this started, with these struggles adding to her mother’s issues. Her father tried not to get involved, sometimes having to step in when things got out of hand, such as when her mother raged on her one day for growing out of her custom undies and shoes so fast—something over which Tara had no control, given that it was normal growth.


Delays arranging for a custom toilet plus a whole string of other life issues (many of which did not involve Tara at all, though many others did) took their toll on Joan Pelvig: she snapped. Totally broke-down lost it, driving off one day with a carload of her most prized possessions to run off with a man she’d started an affair with many states away, and never looking back, other than sending Roger divorce papers.

Roger was shattered; Tara badly shaken up. Joan’s parents felt great shame regarding their daughter’s behavior, coming by to apologize and make it clear that they totally respected Roger and that Tara would always be their beloved granddaughter, and that both were welcome any time other than the few times Joan and her new man might be around, and that they’d do what they could to help Tara into adulthood. This grandmother and Roger’s own mother worked with Tara to help her learn how to make her own 3-legged panties. Grateful as Tara was, she hated panties, going commando other than when she had to wear pads, or rare days of bowel or urinary problems.


Destabilizing as Joan Pelvig’s departure and divorce from her husband were, father and daughter pulled together to make it through. The household certainly became much more peaceful, with almost no friction between Tara and her dad. He absolutely set limits and didn’t let her run wild, but it was with a far lighter touch, and rational explanations in a calm voice when she questioned him.

The brand-new custom toilet from a whole different company arrived a few months after Joan left. It was plumbed in within a day or so, inspector-approved and ready to use. Tara loved it!: sparkling new, stylish, with a huge enough oval bowl 90° off the normal elongated bowl angle to allow her to sit both butts on it facing forward, like a normal person. The custom woodgrain seat had three layers instead of the usual two: Tara’s very big and wide seat, a seat which fit atop that one to center normal-sized single butts more or less over the middle, and the usual lid. The ample sizing of the bowl allowed plenty of room for growth should it happen, with the current seat acting as a butt adapter so she wouldn’t feel like she was falling in. She again went out of her way to use this new toilet at home as much as possible, learning how to shift her eating to shift her output timing, and hold things in better.

Budding adolescent Tara had another round of self-image hits to deal with, of a nature shared by many of her peers: she wasn’t pretty. Not ugly, but plain… very plain. As bad or worse, some other girls were starting to develop up top and “bust out” a little bit, sending out clear signals of the womanly changes they were undergoing. Her development was minimal: not even a U.S. 30A cup yet. This was a terrible disappointment, especially given that she remained on the thick side and was thickening still more. She didn’t need any more down below, but that’s where much of her softness went: she was a double pear! Not at all a huge pear flare yet, but now there was consistent double inner thigh chub rub where there had been little to none before.

Technically Tara never truly suffered from clinical depression, though she did go through a blue period where she changed a lot of things up, as her body changed these just-discussed things up on her. She lost interest in soccer, and running and exercise in general. A good student all along, she became more quietly scholarly, reading many things both on electronic screens and printed onto paper. She had new friends, but there was some age-related aloofness or coolness that kept them from being as close as at her elementary school.

The blues did a very slow fade, but Tara Pelvig still wasn’t having an especially happy childhood, or life.

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Double The Fun

Menstruation and decent sex education not withstanding, Tara had never felt anything she could identify as a sex drive, making her wonder whether she would ever have any, and if she did, what it would be like.

A couple of months after she turned 13, Tara had a night like none she’d had before: intense dreams of great pleasure, with sparkly, tingly, wonderful feelings down in her genitals and occasionally elsewhere which she’d never felt before. She woke up very excited, heart racing. She could feel that things felt different in her genitals. An inexorable drive within her compelled her to reach down and touch her swollen vulva and clitoris, first on her right side.

Hhhhhh!” she gasped, as brand-new wonderful sensations of pleasure she’d soon verify were erotic burst through her. With her left hand she immediately tried the same thing with her left vulva and clit: “Hhhhh Aaaaaahhh!” Both sides felt amazing!

She didn’t get much more sleep that night, practicing and practicing touching herself on each side. Each vulva and parts within were fairly symmetrical: full, just slightly chubby, average-sized clitoral hoods. Neither side was better nor worse than the other, and both were great! She absolutely felt them as separate, distinct entities, even though her orgasmic genital contractions tended to be on both sides simultaneously, the way her urination and defecation worked.

Suddenly, Tara’s life got a lot better! She went to bed earlier, so she could play with herself. It wasn’t at all long before she discovered that even if one set of genitals was getting tender from overuse, the other side was all ready to go for more (if it hadn’t been utilized to the same degree at the same time)! She realized she had twice as much of (allegedly) what every hetero man wanted most—all hers, to play with any time she had privacy! Truly double the fun, at least!

Beyond the pleasure of arousal in the moment, getting off soothed her greatly, helping her relax more deeply than she ever had previously. It quickly became a happy habit, in which she engaged daily, often more than once.

There came a point when her father knew, having overheard her beautiful young womanly moans through her closed bedroom door as he quietly went about his late-night business before he too went to bed. He thought it was beautiful, natural, and knew she had been far more tranquil and happy of late. Between that and his hope that she’d continue to prefer self-pleasuring to sex with others, he had absolutely no reason to interfere in even the slightest way. It also made him feel less guilty about getting off to porn in his bedroom.


Thanks in large part to her stellar solo sex life and the self-esteem mega-boost of knowing she had twice the genitals thus twice the pleasure of anyone else living she’d ever heard of, Tara’s life remained great all the way well into high school. She continued to do well in school, other than P.E., where the taunts and having to deal with the changing room and almost getting inappropriately touched by another girl and a whole different time by several boys made her stay away and even cut class. Her father understood, giving her no grief about P.E., merely asking her gently to please exercise more at home or other places where she felt comfortable, in ways she felt comfortable.

The intent was there, but not so much the follow-through. Especially wanting to study as much as she did to do well in her other classes, and now dealing with her larger, heavier, becoming-womanly body, Tara found that the sedentary lifestyle suited her. Her hearty athlete’s appetite hadn’t ever left, and now was joined by adolescent hunger. Most of these raw materials went into muscles, bones, ligaments, and all the many other parts of a growing young human’s body. Some of them thickened her up further with additional fat, still all over her body with a bit more on her 3 buns, two outer hips (there really wasn’t any space for a true inner hip or two), and her favorite parts: her two montes pubis. She now qualified as genuinely chubby or a plumper, but still wasn’t at the point of small BBW—even though people seeing her and especially not understanding the body mechanics of her two pelvises tended to rate her as a BBW or even SSBBW pear with slightly smaller, tighter buns than many BBW of her great width.

Shoes, always a problem to get for her middle foot, more and more gave way to sandals when barefoot wasn’t an option. Sandals were easier to modify for her middle foot, more stylish, and at least for the ones she gravitated towards, less costly than full closed shoes. She and her father agreed that a blossoming young woman like her needed at least one nice, cute, dressy outfit and suitable triple of shoes to go with it. He gave her a very generous budget and free reign to shop and arrange for customization of the middle foot shoe, with him footing the within-budget bills.

Feeling more brave now that she had the confidence of double the sex organs of any other living woman (to the best of her knowledge), Tara moved away from full-length skirts to higher options, especially knee-length and even one mid-thigh! Her third leg hadn’t been a secret from anyone from the moment she entered high school anyway, and now she had three sexy womanly legs to flash—an obvious reminder of what people couldn’t see, of which she proudly had and every day enjoyed two!

She still looked girl-next-door (or less enticing) plain, and only now was starting to experience bust growth past 30A into almost 30B. It wasn’t fun that many of her female classmates were flashing and bouncing their 28-38 E through G cup boobs, though when she thought about it, Tara decided that two excellent pussies trumped big boobs, if one had to choose.

Many boys, and some girls, very much wanted to get with Tara sexually, especially once she and they were 16 (or thereabouts for those wanting her). She did eventually decide that she too wanted to find out what actual sex with another person was like. Selective, her first lover was Artie, who still could be full of himself but knew as well as she did what a great honor it would be if she would let him get with her. Despite his equipment being average-good and hers being unique treasures, it was a typical awkward first experience that left both of them wondering why anyone bothered. He truly did appreciate it and let her know, and she also appreciated starting with him, given that there was a greater level of trust from their having known each other for so many years. There wasn’t a second time, by mutual agreement.

Between then and when she graduated not quite 2 years later, Tara tried two other young men in her class, individually on separate occasions. She learned about the similarities and differences amongst penises (sheathed in condoms, of course), and far more than that what the brains of the men attached to them did with them. Even with teen-teen consensual sex being a gray area and her enjoying the experiences more than her first go with Artie, she fancied herself a good girl, choosing to only do it once with each young man. Also, she figured she and her lovers all needed to mature, emotionally and their sexual equipment.


Yes, once Tara Pelvig turned 18 and was in college, she did resume having sex with others, more routinely and with greater diversity. Her first woman-woman experience didn’t work for her, though a second attempt with someone else a year or so later was good enough that she’d consider further experiments along those lines in the future.

It was a heady, empowering experience to be able to get with just about any man (and quite a number of women open to loving other women) she wanted, despite remaining small-boobed and no beauty queen. Such was The Power Of Double Pussy (as she framed it and thought of it). Like any other woman, she had to be selective to avoid assholes that might abuse her, liars that might give her STIs, and all the other forms of problem people that make Stranger Danger all too real. Tempting as it was to think that she might have one “disposable” set of genitals which could handle one or more of the less-dangerous-to-her STIs and one clean side, she had no way of knowing whether it worked that way or whether the infection would cross sides. Neither did anyone else know. Besides that, she occasionally had fantasies about getting pregnant on both sides at the same time, possibly from different men, and any STI would be a major problem for that.

Tara probably did have more sex than many of her female classmates, and less to much less than some others. She experimented with two men at one time, each penetrating one side of her, starting with a pair of twins she knew could get along with each other as they fucked her. She learned that black cocks weren’t necessarily big, and white ones weren’t necessarily small. She learned that being pronged on one side whist being licked on the other was amazing and worth doing often! Licking on each side by two different people with different licking styles could be almost as good, once in awhile better, depending on her mood. Licking plus fingering, pronging plus fingering, sex toy plus real, one lover doing something on one side as she worked her other—all these and many more she tried over her 4 years of undergraduate studies.

And she did study—a lot. Sex was important, but just one aspect of her college experience, and not as major a part as one might expect of someone as sexually driven as she was and so well-built for sex. As with everywhere else in her life, back when she was a brand-new freshwoman, many were shocked to see her third (middle) leg, and word spread quickly around campus. As with twins with two heads and some other shared organs sharing what appears to be one body, people eventually got basically used to seeing Tara around, usually managing not to stare after an initial hard look.

One reason Tara chose the college she did was that they were very strong on accommodating special needs students. With additional funding from her father and grandparents, the school customized a little-used non-ADA-compliant one-stall restroom in her dorm into Tara’s private restroom, installing a copy of the customized toilet her father had had made at great expense for their home. Apart from this essential concession, Tara experienced the same shared-shower and dorm roommate life experiences of other students. Many of course were curious about her body, sneaking glances. She let her roommate touch her three bare buns, three legs, and the outside of her two vulvae, for the experience and to reduce tension between them. Tara was OK with her roommate, but didn’t feel anything for her sexually, making things difficult in terms of finding time to get herself off. This was one amongst several ingredients into why she had more sex with others.

She graduated with honors in business management, poised to enter adult life.

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Sensual 20s

Adulthood proved even more wonderful for Tara Pelvig than college. She had the maturity, skills, and emotional balance to do well in the adult world, right out of college.

Having learned valuable lessons in frugality from her father, between that and her special toilet needs, she initially worked from home, starting with freelance writing of several kinds. Thanks to generosity from her father and grandparents plus working when she could in college, her student loans weren’t too bad, paid off within under two years of graduation.

At this point, she could really start saving. She had the resources and finances to strike out on her own. Her father had a compelling new love interest with her own nice home, leading him to suggest that Tara may want to part-inherit/part-buy-over-time this home in which she’d grown up and which already had a toilet customized specifically for her: installed, working, and paid-for, unlike what she’d need to deal with anywhere else.

“I can move out entirely, moving in with Laura.”

“I love that idea, other than there are still aspects of this house which remind me of Mom.”

“It will be your house should we go through with this, Tara. You’ll be free to redecorate and remodel as you wish, and can afford.”

And so it was.


Tara’s solo and with-others sex, and to some mild degrees love, life remained stellar and kept getting better over time. Most but not all her adult friends were lovers, and vice-versa. Some of the initial ones were college holdovers who lived close to her city, or were passing through. Friends of theirs who lived locally sometimes came into the mix, then friends of friends. Not a massive number of people, but enough that at any given time she had all the opportunities she wanted.

Solitude suited her, allowing her to lead a very happy life as a single woman living alone in a nice house in a nice neighborhood where she’d grown up, having friends/lovers come and go as she pleased (and visiting them).

One thing that hadn’t changed at all since age 13 (other than her college roommate years) was the joy and relaxation Tara got getting herself off. She’d long been at the point of quite liking sex with other people, though solo sex remained important to her—at least as good and sometimes better. Having the run of the whole house any day and time of day allowed her to try all sorts of experiments on her horny days, with found objects as sex toys, and getting her body into different positions with some of the built-into-house objects beyond what most people could achieve.


Tara absolutely got out and did things, yet there was always that pesky toilet issue keeping her not-quite-tethered to home, or more precisely, a 30-or-so mile radius of home such that she could count on getting back there before bathroom urgency became too late.

Several of her good friends let her wee in their back yards, and, if necessary, use the bucket trick in their bathroom if she needed to #2. One, Lorelei, had a charming backyard garden with a garden sink. Providing nice hand soaps and towels as added permanent features of the sink area made Tara’s use of it far more pleasant, and had the desired effect of encouraging her to spend more time there.


You feel nice” Tara smiled, speaking to herself and adjusting a soft cashmere top she’d just put on. “I think I’ll wear you today.”

Another significant aspect of Tara Pelvig which blossomed and became more evident around the same time as the blooming of her sexuality during adolescence was that Tara was (and is) extremely sensual. All senses, led by touch, then taste, then smell. Some of her preferences matched those most common amongst the general populace. Others, especially scents, did not: she quite liked some scents others found neutral or unpleasant.

Her sensuality increased gradually since age 13. Now as a young adult in her 20s, pleasures of the flesh were what she was all about. Sexuality to be sure, but so very much more than that!

Never especially into fashion (or at least not following anyone’s trends), more than ever she bought clothes for how they felt rather than how they looked. Wearing soft cashmere sweaters as shirts with no bra (thanks to her 30 to 32B breasts being small enough to pull that off) gave her good feelings all over her upper body. Eschewing panties (other than as briefly as possible to hold pads during period heavy flow times) allowed more of her generous near-double lower body to partake of similar feelings of her skirts of various different sensually enticing fabrics.

She experimented one time with making a set of homemade soft purple velvet 3-legged pants, to find out if she’d been missing out on anything having never once in her life prior to that having worn any pants. She made them carefully and they fit well for the tight, leg-clinging design they were supposed to be (which she wanted for maximum skin contact). Besides hating the look, they felt more constricting than pleasurable with their added skin contact. It was worth the experiment, confirming to Tara that her life-long absolute love of wearing skirts (and very occasionally dresses) was not denying her any lower-half clothing experiences she wanted to be having.

A logical result of Tara’s taste sensuality was that she was a foodie, again having gradually become more that way since her hormones kicked in. In terms of quantity, also since that time she had eaten more than most people. Outside of some spans of stress eating, it was proportional to having an extra nearly-double lower body. When this was taken into account and ratio calculations done, her consumption was right about “average”.

More precisely, tending to high average, because she loved the sensual tastes and scents of food! She always savored quality over quantity, far more into having a fancy dinner out with small portions which tasted exquisite to larger portions lacking the gustatory dazzle of the former.

Her sensual love of food plus her genetic nature and mostly sedentary lifestyle led to slow fat gains. As mentioned previously, she’d looked pear-wide fat almost since birth, and definitely since the start of adolescent growth towards her adult body, even though she wasn’t actually. Besides the width, having most of a second lower body meant she’d always weighed significantly more than most people of her height and body composition, again especially once adolescence got going and muscles and bones and limbs etc. took off on their relentless growth to adult proportions. Mostly due to her near-double lower body, she’d weighed over 300 pounds since near the end of college, despite only being technically chubby in terms of fat.

Now passing the middle of her 20s and living a fully sensual life with decent income and plenty of personal time to indulge plus spending time with some friends who enjoyed food as much as she, Tara had slowly gained into the true BBW range in terms of fat on her body (and looking and weighing well into the SSBBW range due to her lower half). She didn’t mind being fat and felt neutral about it: for the most part it was neither turn-on nor turn-off. She’d ventured into the online fatlovesex world, and truly didn’t get the intense sexuality experiences most people reported. The one—really two—exception(s) was her pair of fattening vulva mounds. They were so softly fat, the skin felt so nice to caress and when it rubbed things or things (like skirt fabric) rubbed it, she couldn’t honestly be neutral on that. But then by the same token, it wasn’t so incredibly awesome that she felt moved to intentionally get fatter for the erotic aspects, the way fat gainers and feedees did.

In some ways actually now being BBW fat with an unusually wide single fat belly spanning her whole width made her less jarring for people who’d never seen her out in public before to see: she looked more like other very fat pear-shaped women, her bobbling belly (very wide but not all that big in the greater BBW pantheon) distracting attention from her middle leg.

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Dirty 30s

The most significant change int Tara Pelvig’s contented, balanced, stable life when she was closing out her 20s and about to hit 30 was a career change: she gave up her long line of mostly-at-home free-lance writing with occasional website design and marketing work to take a job as an office manager of a small model and prototyping company.

For decades, Model Magicians had made all sorts of models from many different kinds of materials: product models and prototypes, architectural models, topographic models, cutaways, and more. While their business core had evolved with new technologies including several high-end 3D printers, the front office lagged behind: there were still voluminous paper files not transitioned to the newer computerized fulfillment system, and a less-than-modern phone system needing a human receptionist-style operator.

The title “Office Manager” did not do justice to the actual job: transitioning the company to more fully computerized and automated ordering/billing/archival project and voice telecom systems while at the same time managing the legacy ones. While the title may not have done all the work justice, the salary did: it was good pay—better than the other options currently out there which Tara could take, and was pursuing.

She felt for sure she’d blown the interview soon after she left, given a strong awkward tension in the air during it. As well, she felt the position needed someone heavier on core IT system-building skills and lighter in body, or at least not having two active butts releasing their output in sync.

An unexpected phone call a few days later altered her expectations.

“Hello?”

“Ms. Pelvig?”

“Yes.”

“This is John Mercer, of Model Magicians.”

Adrenalin shot through her. She wasn’t expecting to hear back from them at all! “Hello, Mr. Mercer!”

“Are you still interested in the office manager position?”

Yes! Interested and available immediately.”

“Perfect! I’d like you to come in at your earliest convenience for us to sign the contract, get your keys, and do what we need to do to start getting in place the furnishings you’ll need.”

Tara knew that that last part was going to require her disclosing her weight and either providing her measurements or maybe having Mr. Mercer or an assistant measure the width of her nearly-double butt and hips. She didn’t much care, and for this job, it was worth it!


There was a lot less tension and more smiles when Mr. Mercer, the owner and head of the company and the person who’d interviewed her, met Tara at the street-facing main door of the old brick building. He already knew all about her third leg and the rest of her doubled lower body, though not knowing who else might see her and possibly get upset, she wore a full-length skirt as she did whenever she felt the need to minimize problems.

He did indeed need to measure and weigh her, during which the awkward tensions returned, about half as strong as during the interview.

“Unfortunately we lack sufficient porcelain and plumbing industry expertise to make our own toilet to plumbing codes, so we’ll have to outsource to an existing toilet maker. Your office chair will be a stock model from one of several office furniture manufacturers we use, so that will be here sooner, hopefully by the end of the week. The toilet could be many weeks.”

“I can use an old paint-type bucket and sit sideways on a standard toilet” she assured him. “And clean the bucket and everything up afterwards.”

“Is that how you handle things away from home?”

“Have to.”

“Well, I’d love to have you get started sooner than later, but I will not at all hold it against you if you’d rather not come in until your toilet is ready, or only want to work partial days and go home to relieve yourself.”

“I’m very excited about this job and look forward to getting started, so let me go into greater detail about how I work the bucket system, and we’ll choose between that and me doing part-time for now.”


Tara’s generous sexual appetite and good connections via her significant number of lovers/friends led to another significant change as she entered her 30s: she (and several of these friends) fell in with a local polyfidelity group. Quite the interesting bunch they were, covering a surprising diversity of local citizenry. A number of them lived communally in two adjoining big homes. Others lived what appeared to the outside world to be wholly normal, typical lives, scattered around her metro area, often appearing as traditional couples or singles.

It should go without saying that she was popular right away, making new friends + lovers, enjoying new people and new experiences. Thankfully she didn’t find anyone in the group creepy or worse, though like anyone she had her tastes and preferences.

She hit it off especially well with Lou and Linda Lick (from the same extended family as James Lick), a married couple who were part of the poly group. To the outside world they were a wholly conventional heteronormative married couple living in their own home, active in the general community. No one other than members of the poly group knew of their kinky sex lives. Linda’s married surname was apt, given that she loved to lick other people’s genitals. Lou enjoyed that from time to time as well, along with many other things. Both of them were especially powerfully drawn to Tara, with all three of them extremely into Lou P.I.V. sexing one side of Tara whilst Linda licked her other side. Beyond being really hot for each other sexually, they all got along very well as friends, leading to Tara visiting their home for both sex and friendship between poly group get-togethers.

The poly group became the center of Tara’s non-solo sex life—easy, since most of her then-current sex partners/friends were in it or joined it when she did. Much of the time it was just pairs or threesomes, with whomever was home at the communal houses and interested getting with anyone receptive to their advances, or of course any combination when invited to members’ private homes for those who did not live in the two communal houses. She quite enjoyed two men in her vaginas plus one small-dicked friendly man named Jed in her mouth. Another time she very much liked two women licking her below and a third kissing her mouth.

At least a couple of times a year the group scheduled orgy days. With greater attendance, it was easier to get into 4-ways, 5-ways, and beyond. One of Tara’s favorites which got her off several times was a 7-way, more or less centered around her. It worked like this: her favorite three women were licking her plus kissing her mouth. Each woman picked a favorite penis-equipped lover (not all male) to plunge them from behind as they licked or kissed. Another time when she was in an especially horny mood to catch some dick, she had two lovers plunging her vages, two working her butt cracks (but not anal penetration, which she wasn’t into), and Jed back in her mouth. Linda made a video of this one, which Tara enjoyed watching at home (usually getting off to it) as did the Licks (and for the same reason). Then there was the 9-way, like the 7-way with two lovers pronging her butt cracks. And the legendary 11-way, which was the 7-way plus two more women kissing and licking Tara’s buns as two more penis-equipped individuals slid in and out of their vages.


To: Linda Likes Licks

You should come over and visit soon. We have a surprise!

Person or object?

Object.

Eh.

It’s been awhile.

Yeah. Alright. When?

Any time.


The Licks had a very nice home and yard. Other than the toilet issue, it was an enjoyable place for Tara to be, with several options for sturdy, wide seating able to comfortably accommodate her. She also liked their long driveway which wrapped around the house in back, widening with plenty of space for her to park and get out wearing as short a skirt as she might want without blowing the minds of neighbors and passers-by.

Lou, already naked, greeted her at her car, leading her towards the beautiful plant-covered arch connecting to the back yard.

“Aren’t we going in the house first before sitting outside?” she asked.

“Not today” he smiled.

She held his hand as he led the way, letting her belly and hip bump him, knowing how much he enjoyed it. The Licks were getting into fatlovesex, both of them starting to gain from soft-side-of-average bodies. Both of them appreciated Tara’s BBW nature as well as her unique physique.

She spotted it right away, as soon as they passed through the arch and were in the flat, minimally-planted part of the back yard which once had a turf lawn, and now had low-water native grasses which grew short in its stead: the most elegant outhouse she had ever seen.

Linda (also bare) came over, cuddling into Tara’s other side.

“We modeled the design starting from a large ADA-compliant portable toilet” Lou proudly shared.

“Then we added as many indoor bathroom accoutrements and design elements as we thought would work and could afford.”

Obviously meant for her given the wide door (and its existence in the first place), Tara walked over to have a look.

The interior was impressively beautiful from the moment she opened the door. The “seat” was a structure-wide and deeper-than-usual (for a toilet seat) rectangle of cream-colored marble or marble-appearing material, with a large oval very obviously sized for Tara’s two butts.

“I measured your home toilet one of the times we visited you” Lou admitted.

Linda added “We thought about making it an actual plumbed flush toilet, but running a sewer line out here was prohibitive cost-wise.”

“I don’t even think they could have done it. Anyway, this one’s chemical, like a standard portable toilet, other than we do have running water to the sink, which drains to the garden and waters the yard.”

“Hence liquid soaps which will clean your hands and not destroy plants.”

The sink was a nice indoor model, with a mirror above, towel loop to the side, and just about anything else one might need. Plenty of toilet paper, and the whole space was illuminated by a far nicer milky white skylight than the typical portable toilet. It truly was beautiful.

“A foot pedal?!” Tara exclaimed, related to the sink controls.

“Well, given how you might prefer to wipe both sides at once, that wouldn’t leave a clean hand now, would it?” replied Lou.

“Why would you go to all this trouble and expense just for me?!”

“You know why” Linda smiled, reaching down to caress Tara’s nearest mound through her skirt, then giving it an affectionate squeeze.

Lou felt the need to clarify, “The easier it is for you to be here, the more likely you’ll be here longer and more often. Which if you couldn’t tell, is something both of us who live here want.”

The making out started right there. The lovemaking started outside, soon as Tara shucked her clothes.


As was becoming usual for their daytime trysts at the Lick home, the Licks cuddled each side of Tara to share afterglow love, conversation, and light snacks. It was a fun, relaxing time, and a great opportunity to remain bare and still do some extra caressing. Sometimes the fire would re-ignite and they’d all go for another round. Now that Tara could more easily relieve herself in any way necessary without making a mess, maybe even more afterglow and another round—exactly what the Licks hoped when creating Tara’s Restroom.

While they shared several interests besides sex, given each of their love of sex, sex and related subjects were common points of conversation during these afterglow moments.

“What do you think Tom’s doing to his balls to make them feel so heavy and give such a good whack when he humps?” Linda asked the two other of them.

“Is it that much more?” wondered Tara. “He’s always felt like a ball-banger to me, same on both sides.”

Lou’s response was, “I don’t know. If I did, sounds like I would want to be looking into that modification.”

“You’re fine, hun. Grab his dick and give it a friendly shake for me please, Tara.”

They each had another round of crackers and dip.

“So it’s that time of the month again where I need to decide whether to revert to keeping the pussies shaved, or let them grow out and eventually get back to natural. Any votes?”

“Honestly Tara, one thing I’ve never understood about you is why you don’t just let one be natural and shave the other, since you have two!” Linda replied. “That way you always have whichever is most fun and appropriate for a given situation, when it makes a difference.”

“I’d pick the side that’s easier to shave as the clean-cut one, and let the other stay natural” added Lou.

Tara sat there, slightly stunned. “You two have no idea how stupid I feel right now. I never thought of that! I’m so into symmetry and balance, it never even occurred to me!”

Linda got all excited. “Oh my word, there’s so many things you could do! Get a piercing on one side, and not the other.”

“Put two entirely different sex toys in each side and keep them there all day.”

“Now that I’ve done” Tara smiled, claiming another dipped cracker.

From that point forward, Tara shaved her right side (she’s right-handed), now known as Smooth, and left her left side, now named Furry, alone to grow back out natural. She still preferred shaving all 3 legs, despite the extra effort and time needed. She had very nice, shapely legs, and felt keeping them shaved would minimize the 3-leg shock. As well, being plain in appearance, she felt she needed every beauty advantage she could manage.

Having one each at the same time and getting all excited afresh from the different sensations during self-pleasuring made Tara wonder what other asymmetries she might wish to consider.

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Who’s Old Is New Again

Neither Tara nor her mother could bring themselves to speak to one another at her mother’s mother’s funeral. The same was true of Joan and her ex-husband, despite Roger doing his best to be civil. Tara’s grandfather (mother’s father) ensured that she and her own father Roger and his mother were all invited, redirecting the intense feelings of the loss of his beloved wife towards his daughter to keep her in line. The others all behaved respectfully and well, honored to pay their last respects and grieve in their individual ways.

Grieving, loss, and other unpleasantries of life are inevitable, and certainly were a part of Tara Pelvig’s 30s experience. Now in transition from her mid 30s to her late 30s, the vast majority of her life remained as pleasant to wonderful as it had been earlier in her 30s. She had her stable career at Model Magicians, despite some downturn in the business as more and more people and firms used personal 3D printers and other alternatives to make their own prototypes and models, and the company struggled with funding pensions of retiring employees plus ever-more-onerous government regulations. Her friendships, usually also loverships, remained sufficiently plentiful and strong.


The polyfidelity group to which Tara belonged flew low enough under the radar that not that many people knew of it. Between that and members of the group tending not to share its existence with any of their outside friends save a precious few close ones who believed in the poly lifestyle and fit in to it well, new applicants were few.

On an as-needed basis, the group scheduled all-member meet-ups for the one or sometimes two new people wishing to join. These were clothes-on no sex events held at the communal house with the larger space for entertaining. Without exception the new member(s) was invited and chaperoned to/at the event by an existing member. The meet-ups were as low-key as possible, run along the lines of a quiet dinner party minus dinner or large family holiday gathering without tie-ins to any holiday. Hors d’oeuvres were served, no alcohol nor other drugs. Obviously the point of the exercise was to get a sense whether the individual(s) was compatible with the rest of the group, beyond the inviter (whose own credibility was on the line if they made a disruptive or otherwise poor choice).

This meet-up was of course merely the preliminary step. STI-vetting, a background check, and more or less of a probationary period were required, once the candidate showed promise as a worthy addition to the mix of the group, all of whom tended to hunger for new sexual experiences and partners.

A form of trial-by-fire was having the inviter escort the inductee into the meet-up once all the regular members were present. Thus as far as the inductee was concerned, the meet-up started about half an hour after the scheduled time for existing members (some of whom tended towards habitual lateness).

Tink-tink-tink-tink day’s hostess and group leader Pat Waters’ spoon sounded against her water glass, “Alright everybody. It’s time for Gretchen to introduce us to someone she hopes we’ll all want to get to know intimately well. Gretchen?”

Into the room side-by-side walked Gretchen and her inductee. The inductee was one of the fattest women most of the group members had seen in real life. Fat all over with hips as wide as Tara’s (on a single pelvis), big buns, thick legs, very fat upper arms, and a fat face and head, her belly was massive and her breasts were enormous. All the latter three body parts drew a great deal of attention as they wobbled and jiggled erotically in her Turkey red high-waisted (almost Empire) halter dress.

Inductees were instructed to dress to impress in semi-formal or evening wear, appropriate for upscale dating events out amongst the general public—nothing sleazy nor kinky, which could be presented later. This woman nailed it, looking stunning. Her natural golden blonde hair and decently attractive features made up to perfection didn’t hurt either.

Several group members couldn’t help staring at the woman’s quite large belly button depression down near her mid-thigh level and very visible through the fabric of her dress. Tara was staring at all of her for a different reason.

“Everyone, I’d like you to meet–”

“–Tara?!” the inductee abruptly cut her inviter off.

Barb?!

One reason the group chose to introduce new potential members with no advanced notice to the body of the group who they were was for moments of serendipity like this. These moments tended to reveal interesting facets of both existing and prospective members, and open things up for more wide-open sharing and getting to know one another. It was always a bonus when a second (or third or more) existing member beyond the inviter knew the inductee and thought favorably of them.

Gretchen quickly regained control, “Yes, this is indeed my friend from work Barb Bloom. It seems that she knows Tara, which is news to me.”

Nervously from the surprise and all the pressure, Barb explained. “Tara and I were amongst a small group of misfit friends in elementary school. Beyond her third leg, people teased Tara for being a fat pear, when she actually at that time was not. I was fat, but this was before my beautiful boobs started to develop much, so I had little to no perceived value as a person outside of being a misfit, as was true with all our group at that time. Did I get that right, Tara?”

“Nailed it!” She couldn’t stand it another moment, needing to go over and hug her friend from long ago. “It’s so good to see you again, and see what you’ve become!”

The deep hug felt great to Barb as well as Tara. “You too!” She stepped back, looking Tara up and down, “Looks like you’re doing very well!”

“Let’s let Gretchen at least finish her introduction, please” Pat interjected.

Tara stepped just far enough away not to block anyone else’s view of the inviter and inductee, still grinning at Barb, as Barb was at her.

Gretchen continued, “Barb and I have been work friends for a number of years now, often taking breaks together to discuss world events and life in general. As we’ve gradually come to know each other better and earn each other’s trust, the conversations have at times become the more private sort between good, close friends—the kind of conversations one just doesn’t have with anyone. Barb recently admitted to me that she has a high sex drive, and has never found monogamous IIRs to her liking.”

“Too constricting” Barb inserted.

“Once she elaborated on where she is in life and her outlook, I felt safe mentioning my own polyfidelity, then eventually our group.” She turned to Barb.

“I was and am highly intrigued! I’ve done responsible, open, concurrent-partner dating, but up until now have not had the opportunity to be part of any polyamory nor polyfidelity group. I’m pansexual, with attractions which don’t neatly fit onto a spectrum nor less than many paragraphs of words, other than as you can likely tell by my face, I’m liking what I’m seeing.”

“So are we!”

“Hold on, George” Pat interrupted. “We’re mere moments away from the end of the formal introduction and the start of the open meet-up.” She motioned towards Gretchen and Barb for either of them to continue.

Gretchen and Barb whispered between themselves, then the latter continued her speech, “I’m an extremely sensual woman, open to new experiences. I’ve tried too many kinks and fetishes over the course of my sexually active life to list here, and welcome your inquiries when we meet individually. I’m obviously a big SSBBW, currently nearing 600 pounds.”

Several in the room gasped softly.

“I’m a foodie and intentional fat gainer, since both eating and being fatter are highly sensual experiences for me, and my body’s always been good at being fat, as Tara will vouch. Some consider being a fat gainer as a kink or fetish, but I consider it a lifestyle choice, as with living poly rather than monog. I’m healthy, and here to tell you from first-hand experience that there is nothing morbid about being this obese. Thank you for having me here today! Hope this works out!”

So ended the formal introduction. Barb and Tara immediately gravitated back towards each other, with others approaching.

“This is so amazing” said Barb, “crossing paths with you again, here of all places.”

“What exactly surprises you about a woman with two pussies having a strong sex drive and wanting to make the most of her gift?”

Barb’s eyes grew wide. “Oh yeahhhhh! I’d forgotten that! Now that you mention it, I’m remembering how we all discussed how popular you were going to be when you were older because of that, after our 5th. grade sex ed curriculum. I take it that’s exactly how things worked out?”

“Yeah, it’s more nuanced, but that’s an OK summary. Barb, I’d like you to meet two of my closest friends and lovers, Lou and Linda Lick, who take full advantage of how I’m built for the three of us to share excellent 3-ways.”

The introductions and the overall meet-up continued apace. Barb got quite a bit of a boost from Tara’s high cred amongst the group, and their obvious joy reconnecting with one another after so many years—the first time as adults. Tara and another woman who’d been part of the group but needed to move away from the area named Shelly were/had been the only BBW amongst the group. Several were interested in sampling a much fatter BBW, and even more were into big breasts, which a couple of the other women had—but nothing like the size of Barb’s monsters!


“Did I pass the audition?” Barb half-joked, several hours later as the meet-up had wound down and was breaking up, as she sat with Gretchen and Tara.

Gretchen explained how things worked, “That’s a decision the rest of us make in the next few days. If anyone has any reservations about accepting you, we currently in the group discuss things to reach a consensus, which may be rejecting your application to join, convincing the party with reservations that they’re unfounded, seeking additional information from you or about you, and probably other things I don’t know about, since they didn’t happen to me when I was admitted, and you’re the first person I’ve invited in.”

“Isn’t it true that once Barb gets the request for proving her current full STI status and asked to refrain from fluid-sharing sex outside the group and ideally all sex outside the group that she’s in?” Tara asked.

“Other than the probationary period, that’s my understanding.”

“What do I have to do to pass probation?”

“Wow at least some of us and not alienate any of us, the latter of which remains true for all of us throughout our time in the group.”

“Any limitations on me spending time with you or Tara or anyone from the group during this interim decision-making span?”

“Not so much for you, other than lobbying and persuasion will mostly be irrelevant, as much of the decision will be based upon what happened here today. Me, Tara, and anyone else need to refrain from any potential STI-transmitting sex with you and everyone else not officially in the group.”

“But visiting as friends without benefits and similar no-contact or safe-contact options?”

“No limitations.”


Tara and Barb had so much to share, they needed more time with each other right away. They made arrangements and drove off in their separate vehicles to pick up Chinese food (Barb) and libations (Tara), meeting up at Tara’s house (with Tara’s current contact information freshly entered into Barb’s handtech).


Barb looked all around as she entered the house. “I thought I recognized the address! This is the house you grew up in, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Mom became unhinged not that many years after you and I last interacted, leaving us and eventually divorcing Dad. Dad and I lived here until my—our—early 20s, at which point he had a new love of his life with her own very nice home. They decided he’d move in there, and part-sell part-give me this house, with my special toilet already installed and ready to go.”

“Oh that’s right—your double butt!”

“Still there and still and forever letting loose on both sides at the same time, to my ongoing dismay.”

“Seems like a minor downside to have the upside of two full vulvas! So let’s get this meal set up, and tell me about your life after 5th. grade.”


Tara side-glanced at her friend soon after they sat down next to each other on the big family room couch with the coffee table in front of it with all the food and many of the beverages. “Show off.”

She was referring to Barb putting a cotton sock around her beer bottle and sticking it in her cleavage. “Habit. I don’t have as much table space at home, and get tired of reaching around myself. I guess you…”–she studied Tara’s breast situation–“yeah, no.”

“Nope. Nor so far have I found practical uses for my two butt cracks anywhere near what you’re doing with your mams.”

“So tell me the life story of your two butt cracks, and the rest of you!”


Barb thrilled at pretty much all of Tara’s life story, as well as the spring rolls, chicken fried rice, barbecued pork, and other dinner delights.

Soon it was her turn, and Tara’s to eat (from amongst what was still left).

“You may remember I was already developing breasts at age 11 when we were in 5th. grade. But the hormones hadn’t kicked in enough to give me a sex drive nor for me to consider it any sort of advantage, so I hid them.”

“I thought you said you didn’t have any then.”

“That was my story at the time, to not deal with it. 6th. grade, new school: boobs had grown big enough over summer for me to have a legit bra. I felt proud and got some respect—or at least less negative attention—right away. I still wasn’t feeling sexual desires, but knew from the world around us that boobs are power. Still had way more belly and hips than boobs, but given the fresh start and my leaving my little girl or hide-myself fashion sense behind, I did OK.

“Like you, 13 years old and 7th. grade was where the hormones started kicking in. From what you said, mine may have been more gradual. Mainly it was the boobs swelling up beyond anyone else’s in my class that made me into a sex object, whether I wanted to be or not. More curve starting to come in on the hips too, not that I needed much, if any. I didn’t get into anything sexual, not even touching myself the way you described. Found an old, forlorn lute at a garage sale, bought it, and tried to fix it and take up the lute. It would be kind of you not to ask how that turned out, at least right now while I’m life story flowin’ so well.

“Halfway through 8th. grade, I had a rack which looked like it belonged on a stacked high school junior. On me of course it was mostly balancing out my belly, buns, and hips, but at least now they were close to balanced. Still not really interested in boys or anyone else, but knowing that was coming, started to practice flirting with them near the end of the school year. Was doing well in school by the way, other than P.E., like you.

“Midway through freshman year of high school was when sexual desires found me. Food sensuality had already been happening since back in 6th. grade, and now really kicked in. Went online and found out about the whole fatlovesex world and that I was now a star, not a loser! Secretly touched myself, feeling shame but liking it so much I didn’t want to stop. Soon as I found that my fatter vulva rubbed my clit more just walking around, it was all over for any thought of being any less fat than I was then.

“My parents separated, but didn’t divorce until I was in college. First I was with Mom in the house, with Dad out living with his new lover. It was hell on wheels: arguing about how much and what I ate all the time, outgrowing clothes, my style choices for new ones, and more. Sophomore year I was rebelling, avoiding being home as much as possible. That’s when I became sexually active with others. Rather than get bogged down in the details of that right now, I’ll stay with the overview and can tell you more later. I wasn’t totally wild and I did require protection and common sense, but I was pretty free with people I was into. Everything about this period reinforced that big boobs were gold.”

Tara looked away, sighing loudly.

“Hey… if you want to trade bodies, let me know. I like mine a lot, but I’ll trade massive boobs for two pussies any time. Summer between sophomore and junior years Dad broke up with his lover and Mom moved in with hers, whom she’d taken up with about a year prior. She didn’t want to move in with the guy until the combination of Dad arguing with her and me making life suck for Mom and her new dude—ulgh, what a turd!—made her move out and Dad move back in.

“Dad couldn’t reign me in much, and didn’t try very hard. Unless it involved money in which case he came down forcefully on me, he didn’t get too involved. I don’t think I dressed slutty, but I definitely dressed hot enough to get lots of attention and the occasional warning from the vice principal. I was still there to learn, and was learning what was being taught in class, as well as how to better manage my sexual assets. Not too many lovers, and that was around the time I quickly discovered I wasn’t all that much into bonding with one guy. Hadn’t done any women yet, but was feeling strong feelings in that direction. You’re going to have to show me your special toilet or some other one I can use; I gotta go.”


After the break, Barb continued with her life story. “Graduated high school weighing 450 pounds with boobs so huge no one could hide all my cleavage, no matter what they did to my graduation gown. Missed being an honor student, but not by a great amount.

“I had to pay for more of my college education than it sounds like you did. For me that meant getting serious about real summer jobs, not just fun stuff for hanging out with friends and screwing around. Food service was a natural, and where I wound up. BK was the first, with some of the other famous names in later years as I played the fast food field.

“Not planning to go to graduate school, which I didn’t, entering college would be my last new school move, so I wanted to do it as well as possible. Studied a little about the look and attire of fierce free-thinking female fatties so I could nail it as well as possible from the first day, leaving the last vestiges of sad, reserved, unhappy Barb Blub of elementary school behind.”

“Freshman year made it clear right away that I was in the big leagues now, and wouldn’t have time to mess up on my studies. Shied away from sex with others as I struggled to figure everything out about college life. Shied away from solo sex only on account of having a roommate, and needing to learn how that worked.

The concept of the dining hall and being able to eat multiples of all but the truly expensive stuff without anyone monitoring me was like a gift from Gaia! Sure, it wasn’t always the best, but it was good enough, plentiful, and paid for! Like moths to light, fellow foodies flocked to the two dining halls from which we could choose. Not all were fat, nor were all fat students foodies, but the correlation was pretty good. Made some new friends in my class, all women at this point, from amongst this group. Again, I can go into far more detail on this once the overview is finished.”

“I’m fine with that” {and having another beer}.

“June, my freshman year roommate was OK, but we didn’t have much in common. Erika, one of my fat foodie friends, and I worked to be able to room together sophomore year. Besides love of food, we were both biology majors, with some of the same classes. She was, and I’m sure still is, sex-positive and active as well. We’d previously discussed self-love with our friends at a small party one weekend night, so it was something she and I could talk about between each other as roommates. We agreed that each of us would be OK with the other doing themselves as long as it was at a time that didn’t wake the one not touching herself up, no one else was over, and especially during quiet hours, muffled.” Barb started to blush, “It worked really well. So well in fact that we each did it more often, and started scheduling to do it at the same time. Wasn’t long after that before a moon phase or something had us both so horny, we did it together, as in: in intimate body contact with each other. Then touching each other’s junk rather than our own—same night. Not even half an hour later we were making out and forming a passion love bond with each other. The convenience of living with a lover is something I sometimes miss” she sighed.

“Things got more complicated junior year, when Erika, myself, and several of our other close foodie friends moved out of the dorms into a shared rental house near campus. This was an economizing effort on our part, relative to paying for the dorm room + dining hall privs. We did bulk food buys and took turns with meal prep to keep us all fat and happy and solvent.

“One might have thought that this arrangement might have created our own polyfidelity group, but sadly Katie and Tamara were pure hetero, with Tamara visibly uncomfortable with Erika’s and my IIR. None of us had the space nor money for anything beyond a double bed, which most of us filled or nearly so on our own. The bedrooms were designed small, for one person each for privacy and all that. Katie and Tamara had boyfriends, and wanted us to have a system to have lovers over. Initially Erika and I just used that system with each other as the lover, but then between meeting new interesting people and Tamara being twitchy, each of us used the system for outside lovers, who at the time happened to be male.”

“What was this system?”

“Basically it was a scheduling arrangement so each of us could have our lover over with our housemates out of the house as much as possible. Wasn’t always possible, but it was an attempt to enhance privacy and let everyone get their lovin’.

“Not much else to report for the rest of junior and senior years. We each had plenty of studying to do. Katie and I stayed in the rented house over the summer, to reserve it for senior year as much as anything. Worked locally, dated one guy in her case, and two serially in my case. This was when I really got into feedism for sexual reasons more than foodie sensual reasons. Knew of it from reading, but hadn’t before then clicked with it. It was actually Katie and her feeder boyfriend Evan who led me into it. She was already comfortably supersized, and reallystarted to fatten more over that summer. I asked her about it, and she admitted she was a feedee and that Evan feeding her to make her fatter explicitly for both their sexual pleasure got her off like nothing else.

“I came home early from work one time, finding the two of them naked and Katie sitting on Evan’s lap, obviously mounted on him the way she rocked her pelvis back and forth. He was feeding her string cheese as she slowly rolling humped him, caressing the side and part of the front of her belly. They didn’t stop and didn’t seem to notice me, so I quietly stood there and watched. He seemed to be doing a savory-sweet-savory-sweet thing with her, moving from the cheese to chocolates, then lasagne, then donuts. Not a lot of any of those, eaten slowly by her so she could savor them. Several times during the process she caressed her own fat, which really turned me on!”

Tara decided to perform a test: she maintained eye contact with Barb, reaching down and caressing her own belly fat through her top.

Barb grew flushed pretty quickly. “Don’t be a tease, Tara. Things might happen which could put both of our futures with the poly group in jeopardy.”

“Just checking how you feel about me.”

“Several forms of attraction I could have never imagined when we were in 5th. grade. What about you towards me?”

“I’m enjoying sitting hip-to-hip with you more than I could have imagined. All sorts of feelings, with a lot of lusty passions. You’d better keep going with your story before either of us gets us into anything troublesome for our goals.”

“I hope there’s some way we can see each other and let feelings flow if they don’t accept me in the group.”

“It’s come up, and yes. Let’s not get into that unless that’s what happens.”

“OK. So I’m watching their ongoing humping and slow build-up from my front-row voyeur position. They get incredibly aroused, getting me aroused enough that I have to plant my mouth deep into my fat upper right arm to muffle my own moans and heavy breathing. Katie’s orgasm was so room-filling intense and Evan’s so appealing to me, the combination made me cum, just by watching and listening!

“To my amazement, generally-shy Katie had seen me not long after I came in, smiling at me and welcoming me home once their peak arousal was past and they were sitting still in the same position in afterglow. She used to cover herself up or get twitchy if we came across her naked in the bathroom, or in transition to or from it. Only one bathroom in that house. Not optimal for 4 women, but it was a big, nice one with a big shower any one of us could get into with plenty of room to spare. On this evening, she wasn’t twitchy at all with me seeing her and her boyfriend bare.

“I told them, ‘That looks amazing!’ Evan asked, ‘You’ve never done ** stuff?’ which I answered ‘No’ and explained I’d read about it, but had never done it. They whispered back and forth, then he offered, ‘Would you like to try it?’. Surprised and taken aback, I asked, ‘Naked and on your lap like that?!’ then monogamous hetero Katie blew me away by saying, ‘If you think you can get him up again so soon, sure. Otherwise yes, but it won’t be quite the same.’

“Turns out Katie was and I’m sure still is a feeder as well as a feedee. She kept her clothes off, working in the kitchen as I stripped and got to know Evan intimately. Katie’s pretty busty but I was a whole level beyond, which helped Evan get hard again sooner than later, and guide himself into me as I sat down on his lap. I felt him get harder when he saw the very big bowl of chocolate pudding she’d brought out. I didn’t truly get how extremely sensual erotic feeding could be until he started spooning this delicious pudding slowly into my mouth, allowing me to savor each spoonful, squeezing and groping my various fat parts within reach, growing harder inside me as he did. Rocking humping motions as Katie had done came naturally to me at that point, and we were off to the races, and quite awhile later once the bowl was empty, crossing the finish line.

“True to form, Katie had no intention of sharing Evan with me. Given that my guy of the time Ian wasn’t into feedism and I was still emotionally bonded with him and too busy with work to spend time hunting for a feeder anyway, this rather left me hanging. Katie must’ve been evolving or something about that day changed her, because from that day, she was no longer shy about being bare around me, nor looking at me in the bare. Without explicitly discussing it, we tended to take a lot longer to get dressed after showering, on weekends or other days off often not getting dressed for hours if at all, whichever or both of us were staying home. She was far more tease than girlfriend; it never developed between us past that, other than we each spent more time cooking and ensuring we had plenty of delicious food, including snacks. Ian loved the changes, despite not being willing to contribute to their creation.

“Senior year with everyone back, things reverted more as they’d been, other than Katie and I were fatter and she was less uptight with any of us seeing her bare—but not parading around for hours that way as she and I did over the summer. We all had plentiful school work to do, all of us fully intending to graduate on time and get on with our lives.

“We all made it, and all of us sported generous cleavage in our graduation gowns, with me far in the lead.”

Tara huffed a little and looked away again, folding her arms.

“Look, if you’re that envious or jealous or whatever about not having huge boobs, maybe you should do something about it. Far as I know you’re the only person alive on the planetwith two complete, fully functional sets of female genitalia with a third leg spacing them apart. I will still trade you any time, if one of us figures out a way to do that. Until then, why not be rightfully proud of what you have, and let me be proud of what I have?”

Tara silently agreed with a nod, cheekily sliding closer so her left butt cheek could ride up onto Barb’s right thigh as her middle and right cheeks remained seated normally on the couch.

Barb couldn’t resist caressing Tara’s thigh through her skirt, with occasional brushes onto her bare skin. “You’re such a babe. No wonder you’re the star of the group!”

“So beyond flashing legendary cleavage making all sorts of people whimper in agony who couldn’t get at your girls, what else happened at graduation and beyond?”

“The only other happening around graduation time worth mentioning is sadness at leaving friends behind as we all scattered to the winds for our adult lives. All of us had promising new jobs awaiting us, all in different cities. We had each other’s contact information and promised to stay in touch, but honestly, it didn’t happen.”

“Getting a lab tech job at Bioteronimo straight out of college was an excellent career move for me. A bit daunting given their high profile in biotech, but happily I learned that they’re not as massive a corporation as they seem to the public, and they’re pretty progressive in terms of being a safe workspace for women in general and LGPTQI and non-caucasian people. My body was initially an issue in terms of lab coats and suitably strong chairs, but they did the proper thing and worked out the necessary clothing and furniture. There were at least 10 guys and 5 women I wanted to get with just about as soon as I first saw them. But this was far too good of an opportunity to blow, and they made it clear during orientation that sexual harassment worked in every direction, not just superior men to subordinate women, so I stayed focused on actual work. Needed to do that and wasn’t difficult, because especially when everything was brand new, it was challenging and fun.

“I think Gretchen was working in some other Bioteronimo department when I started. She moved into the same department as me, doing similar work on a different, related project. We became good work friends over time the way people who work with each other every work day often do. A lot of my life revolved around work and otherwise adjusting to life as a bona-fide adult, and in some ways still does. Earning enough to rent my own place and still have enough to put some away for savings and have nice foods to eat and meals out has been and remains blissful!

“Not sure if the quality of the people has gone down, or if my standards have gone up. Whatever the case, finding people worth my time to share love and sex with seemed to be getting more difficult over the years, through the present. I’ve obviously got plenty to offer so things haven’t been barren, but there’s been far too much weeding through to find someone. Then, as often, it’s OK for awhile, but doesn’t work out for any sort of long term. So, I’ve had lovers, and some were decent, but none really worth spending the time discussing in any detail. My frustration with this and especially lovers who want to ‘own’ me exclusively eventually led to my discussion with Gretchen quite recently, which led me to the meet-up today where I was blown away to see sexy adult Tara Pelvig. And here we are” she smiled.

Tension of desire filled the room. Tara had trouble tearing her eyes off Barb, especially Barb’s mega-rack, so huge and so close!

Barb knew the look. She wanted to be studying parts of Tara she liked, but her view was blocked by her own body.

What’s it like?” Tara near-whispered, “Being so huge-boobed?

“How am I going to be able to honestly answer that question when so far every time the subject has come up, you’ve gotten upset enough to turn away? Beyond that, isn’t your question rather as fruitless as asking a penis owner what it’s like to have a penis, or me asking you what it’s like to have three legs and two hot pussies?”

“How do you know they’re hot?!”

Barb grinned, “My sources are confidential.”

Tara’s mind flashed back to the time Gretchen had gotten her face down into each side. Wasn’t usually her style and she hadn’t been great at pleasuring Tara, but Tara felt it had been a worthwhile opportunity to give Gretchen the chance when she was psyched up for it. She put her left leg up under Barb’s belly, atop her hidden lap, spreading Furry wide beneath her skirt.

“Is that an invitation?”

“Mayyyyyybe” she replied coyly.

“Honestly, with the boobs, the sensations do change as they get really big—at least they have for me. Best you can do is extrapolate from what you have, which is better than every dude who’s ever asked me the same question can imagine. Wanna play with ’em?”

Tara nodded, biting her lip with a half smile.

Barb pulled her top off, asking as she unfastened her industrial-strength bra, “Does this allow your ‘Mayyyyyybe’ to now be a definitive Yes?”

“Yes.”

Tara reached for both of Barb’s truly gigantic breasts soon as Barb had her bra off. They were so blissfully, pillowy soft, with at least salad-plate-sized areolae. Her nips weren’t especially big (and looked smaller with so much areola around each), but were quite responsive. Tara also liked Barb’s now-exposed belly and equally-pillowy soft upper arms.

Barb found quite the surprise once she slid her hand down beneath Tara’s skirt and under her belly. “You’re convenient!” she grinned.

“Converting two pairs of normal 2-legged panties into 3-leggers is not my idea of fun, nor wearing them my idea of comfort. Hence usually the only time I’m not commando is when my flow benefits from pads instead of or in addition to tampons. And once in awhile when I’m out somewhere where either I don’t want to mess up their seating or don’t want whatever’s on their seating in touch with my skin.”

“Such as at work.”

“Actually no. There I go commando, like here. In fact, other than some friends’ homes including our group’s communals, work is the most common place for me to leave off the lowers.”

“If your supervisor’s into big women, they must love you!

“I work in the front office with the company owner and president, and yes I think he likes me, but he’s very good about sticking to his firm’s own safe, friendly workplace policies, so I can’t be totally sure. Ullaaaaggh!” Tara suddenly shuddered in pleasure as Barb touched her just right.

Barb’s arousing touch made Tara get into some serious boob suckling. It wasn’t long before she had Barb gasping and panting, and eventually shuddering with pleasure. It wasn’t a whole lot longer after that before the rest of the clothes came off.

They spent the next roughly hour and 1/2 exploring each other’s bodies, within the limits of wholly safe sex.

Midway through that period, an idea occurred to Barb. “Ever had a breast-equipped lover rub one or both nipples on one or both of your clits?”

“No, actually. Which is weirdly amazing, given all the other things I’ve seen and enjoyed people in the group doing.”

“I’ve got two and you’ve got two, and with no open wounds no fluids getting shared. I’d call that a perfect match.”

Tara was not prepared for how much of a major turn-on this sex act was. It wasn’t just the sensations of Barb’s nips on Tara’s clits, of course. It was as much the sights and sensations of Barb’s massive soft breasts rubbing and resting against Tara’s sensitive fat inner thighs, the sensations of Barb’s fat belly lower down on Tara’s 3 legs, and absolutely Barb’s highly aroused expression and non-verbal vocalizations. Also, it took breasts of a certain size of big to have the width span to comfortably reach each of Tara’s clits at the same time and make it into her fat muff mounds. When Barb’s nips were sufficiently aroused to not be quite so small as at rest, she had everything necessary to rub Tara down there with ease.

Even having done this act before with one or sometimes two women at the same time, for Barb it wasn’t anything like doing it with childhood friend and now sexy adult brand-new lover Tara Pelvig! Many of the same factors—fat thighs, fat muffs, Tara’s arousal—which made things so exciting for Tara did the same for Barb.

Each at different points experienced different flavors of intense orgasms which at least for brief moments, seemed to take them to higher planes of existence. For awhile neither of them wanted to stop, filling the whole house with their intense sexual joy.

Even ignoring the several other things they shared during their sex adventure time this evening, this act alone was plenty enough of a reason for them to get back together as lovers in the future. It was so obvious to both of them, neither felt the need to discuss it.


Sitting together bare in afterglow and restful renewed friendship, out of nowhere Barb asked, “What do you think your 11-year-old 5th. grade self would say if the you you were then could see us now?”

“My head would explode! I had no context then for so much of what we’ve become, and what we’ve just shared. What about you?”

“The same, pretty much. I wasn’t into you or anyone romantic intimately or sexually then, but I sure am now!”

It was getting late and each of them had work in the morning, meaning it was time to wind things down, for Barb at least to get back into her clothes, and to part ways for at least a few days.

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In, Not Thin

Barb Bloom had never been as happy to be asked to go take a comprehensive STI test as when Gretchen informed her that she’d passed the initial acceptance and background check.

Thankfully the STI test results held no surprises: clean, as expected.

It wasn’t the time of year for a whole-group orgy, of which there’d been one just under 2 months prior. Group meet-ups with anyone feeling motivated amongst group members tended to happen weekly on average, with anyone able to get with anyone else in individual pairs or triples or whatnot. The core members who tended to have the highest drive for both sex and life partnering with multiple partners lived in the communal houses, and tended to at least be home in the evenings, even if not interested in physical intimacy on a given evening.

Right around 2/3rds. of the membership made a point (those who didn’t already live there) of dropping by for the first routine group get-together with Barb as a new (on probation) member. As usual, the new member was the center of attention, with everyone into her wanting to give her a consensual go of whatever agreed-upon form.

Tara absolutely was there. Normally when others got into things outside of her interest range like BDSM or a number of far more extreme lifestyles or kinks, she filtered what they were doing out, focusing instead on what she was doing with whomever she was with. Her interest in what Barb was into sexually didn’t allow her to do this at this specific gathering. Barb had a much larger range and comfort zone than she did, leading to some uncomfortable observations and more than a few questions she’d ask her later.

Later, when Lou was running himself into and out of Smooth, Don was working Furry similarly, and Don’s buxom wife Sheila was draping her big boobs over Tara’s shoulders and rubbing them against both sides of her head, Tara admitted, “I feel so vanilla, compared to Barb!”

“You haven’t been vanilla since you were born!” Don laughed, in his big, booming voice, smiling as he usually did.

“At least not since coming of age” added Lou.

“We’re all allowed our tastes” Sheila joined in. “As long as each of us can do what we like and try new experiences of interest to us and play safe within the group, anything from pure vanilla—which is none of us so far—to ultra-kinky like Curly Joe is as good and worthy as anything else. Teethe me, please?”

Barb’s first event was a smashing success. No one had any issues with her, and everyone had a great time. It looked highly likely that she’d continue to do well far past the end of probation in about half a year.


Barb and Tara absolutely were in each other’s friends + lovers mix, visiting each other between group meets, sometimes with others, often not. Beyond their friendship of years ago, they found they really liked each other on many levels as adults. Neither had as much time for their friends including each other as they’d like, given the necessities of work careers plus the chores of life. Still, modern communications technologies allowed them to stay in touch, and relative to other people who might not see friends more than once a month or once a year, they got together in-person quite often.


The half-year point for Barb in the poly group came and went: she was in. No question, not even close. Something else happened a few weeks later—something unexpected.

Tara knew the moment Barb arrived at her house for a Friday evening and overnight together that something was on her mind. The ruminative plus slightly worried expression remained on Barb’s face long after they were inside and into their pattern of calmly getting undressed with chit-chat, then gathering some refreshments and sitting down cuddle-close on the couch in the more laid-back family room. “What’s on your mind, Pillow?” she asked, Pillow being her pet name for Barb, given how profoundly soft she was nearly everywhere from being so profoundly fat.

“Landlord’s son needs a place to live, 3 months from now. That’s plenty of notice in a legal sense, but it still means I have to get my fat ass in gear for finding something else.”

“Yeah, that’s no fun.”

Barb inhaled and exhaled deeply. “Is there any chance at all that I could move in here with you?”

The rush of feelings which burst through Tara said Yes. Her rational mind throttled things down. “Depends. There certainly should be room, especially if you’re willing to only put out part of your Babylonian nutcracker display at one time. I’m not sure I feel all warm and fuzzy about having Curly Joe over if you two get into golden lawn sprinkler stuff.”

“We can do that at the group houses. I don’t need to have him over here. I don’t need to have anyone over here that you don’t especially want here, or don’t want here at all, period. Please? I think we could have a lot of fun living together, and we’d be economizing not running two households. I’ll be sharing utility costs and cleaning and laundry if you want. Yard work; all the usual stuff. Or only those aspects you want me to contribute towards, if you have some you especially enjoy or don’t want me meddling with.”

She looked away contemplatively, sighing. “We should probably have separate beds and bedrooms, so we have space.” Turning back to her friend she added, “But I’m going to want to sleep with you every night you’re not sick or with another lover.”

“What kind of ‘sleep with’?” Barb cheekily asked.

All.”


Barb’s moving in with Tara in Tara’s house was where the again good friends discovered how into each other they truly were. No, it wasn’t friction-free nor otherwise perfect, but they got on better than many married couples who hadn’t lived together before marriage. They worked well together as a team, including Tara going over to Barb’s rental one final time to help her with the final post-move cleaning. Barb was out in under a month from the initial 3 month’s notice, pleasing the landlord. She got every penny of her cleaning deposit back.

As much as each of them were happy single women by nature who enjoyed lots of freedom in their own home, they were on the same page for enough things that neither felt much loss of freedom. Sharing the cooking and other chores gave them each more free time. Especially when they worked together, which was often for cooking and close to always for grocery shopping, they had that much more time to share stories of their lives, current and past.

They were not full-out nudists, often wearing clothes at home the way most people do. bare time was bathing/bed time through morning every night, and warm-enough weather weekend and vacation days when they were kicking back and staying home.

Barb’s bed was in good enough condition that she brought it over for “her” room, more for use as a guest bed or “someone’s sick” bed than individual sleeping. Tara had a king-size, which was a little snug for the two of them, but at this point in their now-full-time IIR, snug was good! As contented singles, each of them figured they’d need to get used to sleeping with the other before they could again sleep well. Wrong: the comfort of cuddling together had each of them sleeping better straightaway. If they’d remembered that this had been the case a few times when Barb had overnighted, they might have reached the correct conclusion initially.

The most surprising thing about living with Barb every day versus the occasional overnight or weekend in the past was how much food she blew through. Tara knew Barb had been a big eater during visits, but thought perhaps she was excited or celebrating, not doing everyday eating. One early point of contention was how to add more cold storage space: second, small or possibly used refrigerator added in the garage (Tara’s choice), or a bigger brand-new refrigerator for the house with the current house refrigerator moving out to the garage (Barb’s choice, backed by more than half or even all her $ for the new one). On account of the big new one being more energy-efficient and having a rebate, Barb sold Tara on that option, based upon lower total energy consumption for the 2 appliances plus greater overall cold storage plus a new refrigerator with a warranty plus knowing the history of the one moving to the garage.

Being around a big sensual foodie eater and being a sensual foodie herself, it was inevitable that Tara ate more and got fatter. So did Barb, having a live-in sensual foodie buddy. Bigger, softer bodies, able to feel more, required to rub more as they passed each other in hallways and other tight spaces. More sensual feelings for each of them merely existing in their individual bodies, moving around or just resting and mindlessly caressing themselves whilst doing other things.

“You’re cuter, fatter” Barb told her lover one day.

“How so? My boobs aren’t any bigger.”

“Boobs are sexy. Faces are cute. You have more softness on your cheeks and the sweetest double chin—oooooh!”–Barb couldn’t help tweak Tara’s chins, with a sound effect.

Tara giggled from the playful loving touch. “I’m quite liking how big and soft Smooth and Furry are getting. I’m feeling the difference at times I wouldn’t normally notice, such as walking around.”

“Getting the greater clit rub thing yet?” she grinned.

“Yeah” Tara grinned back. “Both sides.”

“Don’t make me envious.”

“We’ve been over this countless times: I win on pussies, you win on boobs. Each of us gets pleasures and deals with inconveniences the other does not.”

“Let’s stop talking and 69.”

“Which side?”

“Smooth, please.”

The way their rippling waves of body fat fit together as they intertwined was pure art, which would make nearly any sensual, sexual person want to be a fat woman!

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Nature Taking Its Course

Several years passed. Everyone kept getting older, as is the nature of life. Barb and Tara could see 40 in their immediate futures.

They remained living together in Tara’s family home. Fattening had been gradual, not seeming like much at any given moment but really adding up over time, especially for Tara since Barb’s body had already been so huge when they first got together.

“What’s it like to now fully fill an 8 foot couch with me, and be seated higher on your own 3-bun butt fat?” Barb smiled, as they sat together eating tacos.

Tara’s expression was inscrutable. “I’ve become such a mountain of fat living with you.”

“And? What do you think of it?”

She set down her plate, then claimed Barb’s to do the same with it, thereafter pulling Barb into a tight hug with passionate make-out kisses.

Things hadn’t been like this for awhile: passions between Barb and Tara had been cooling over the years. They still slept together and lived much of their lives together as a couple, though over time they seemed to be growing apart, or at least more frequently reverting to the independence of when they’d each lived alone, operating more like housemates than lovers.


More typical was this interaction, from a few days later:

Barb set the laundry basket full of freshly-dried clothes down on the bed near the dresser, speaking to Tara, “I’m going to be over at Paul’s for a couple of days.”

Tara set down her hairbrush and poked her head out of the bathroom doorway, “Aren’t we going shopping tomorrow?”

“Nah. It can wait, or I’ll leave you some cash if you want to go.”

“Alright. Whatevs” she replied, ducking back into the bathroom.

There wasn’t anything wrong with Tara and Barb’s IIR, other than the natural cooling of passions over time. They felt comfortable with one another and loved one another, but the freshness had faded. In the polyfidelity group there hadn’t been many new members, so even that exciting, open group fell into patterns, or at least so Tara and Barb perceived. They discussed this with the Licks, the four of them agreeing they ought to each look into ways to change things up and keep things fresh. Problem was, as with the protagonist in New Kind of Kick, they’d each tried so many things there was precious little new to try, other than new people.

{I’m too young for this to be happening} Tara thought to herself during a wistful solitary moment. Her mind evaluated options, including asking Barb to move out, which instantly made her heart hurt. She still loved Barb and their warm nightly cuddles, even if the thrill had left the building.


Life went on and everyone made the best of it. Each of them amongst the polyfidelity group had a whole lot for which to be grateful: health, financial stability, safe homes in good repair, more lovers currently in the group than most people have in a lifetime, security, reliable transportation—and much more.

Out in the greater world, there continued to be political and social turmoil, with animosity and hate at high levels. Even the metropolitan area in which all of the polyfidelity group members lived there was corruption in local government, dragging down everyone’s hopes. At least the Entitlement Maimer, a subhuman cretin who attacked women and shot them in the genitals because he couldn’t get any woman to have sex with him had been captured, tried by a jury, convicted, and was on his way to life imprisonment without possibility of parole.


Barb arrived home from work, finding Tara staring out the window. She set down the two bags of groceries she was carrying and came over, finding Tara lost in thought, and not looking very happy. Tara hadn’t even acknowledged her presence since she arrived. Very gently, she touched Tara’s arm, “I care about you, you know. Please talk to me.”

“Things aren’t good at work” she replied, still staring out the window, without making any eye contact.

“Still?”

“Yes.”

“What now?”

“Same thing: business is down, people have to be laid off or are quitting of their own accord, and Mr. Mercer isn’t taking it well.”

“He is…?”

Now she turned to face Barb, “The man in the office behind mine. The owner and president of the company, and up until a few months ago, an active collaborator with his fellow employees, on many projects.”

“Time to make a move to something else?”

What else?!” Tara snapped, shouting.

She took a deep breath to settle herself down, looking away and continuing in a calm speaking voice, “Even places who may not discriminate against a very fat 3-legged woman who’s on the front doorstep of middle age aren’t likely to consider installing a special 2-butt toilet!”

“You have workarounds and you know well how to use them. You’re also amply qualified to work from home, the way you used to before you got this job which is now giving you grief.”

“Yeah, I guess” she sighed. “It hurts to see something which has been so great and into which I’ve invested so much start to fall apart.”

“So get out before it falls apart any more! It’s not your company.”

Her gaze fell to the floor, somehow looking sadder. “No it’s not.”

“I better go get dinner started.”

“None for me, thanks.”

“Why not?”

“No appetite.”

“Not even for chili lime chicken tacos with shimmer salsa with fresh organic farmers’ market veggies?”

Tara’s mouth watered. Rainbow colors and sunlight filled her being. “Alright. Lemme wash up and I’ll be right there to help.”


Life went on and things got a little better, especially at the all-group orgy where Dante introduced everyone to the Sepulveda Sexipede, a multi-way sex act involving and exciting everyone.

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Un-Final Ending

It had not been a good week for Tara Pelvig.

A group of big, strong, tall asshats who converged on her in a sheltered aisle of a big-box store with no one else around decided it was OK to pinch her asses. She managed to turn the tables and kick 2 of the 3 of them hard enough in the nuts with her middle foot that they fell to the floor in agonizing pain and were suddenly singing soprano, with the third one discreetly hurrying away, trying to avoid notice from anyone.

She’d almost been part of a road rage incident, with someone going berserk when she legally (and with signaling) moved into a space in the adjacent lane to which this other driver, who was vastly speeding, felt entitled to claim. Horn wars ensued between this other driver and her, with the other driver getting furious and stomping the accelerator in the lane to Tara’s right, intending to pass her or maybe even side-crash into her. She was barely half a meter far enough forward out of the way when the nut job’s car rammed the back of a Highway Patrol cruiser—the start of a major traffic incident and subsequent arrest she did not have to be any part of.

Months after her death and the scattering of her ashes, Tara’s father was still grieving the death of his beloved Bettina, with whom he’d bonded in love and moved in with nearly a generation ago when Tara was just out of college and taking over the family home. She visited her father as often as she could and had him over to the house the few times he was willing, but she wasn’t a mental health professional and he needed more help. She also had plenty of her own to deal with.

Besides all that, Mr. Mercer continued his downward spiral, from half functional to barely functional. With so many customers having fled, there was so little work to do that he and she were the only ones at Model Magicians this particular Friday. She picked up the slack where she could and after all these years knew the business well, but she wasn’t a prototyping genius with vast, deep knowledge of materials and tools and what is best for what, thus there were things she could not do. He’d been getting worse all week, to the point where she seriously wondered whether he’d be able to function at all come Monday.

His refusal or inability (she knew not which) to respond to her regarding the status of an overdue project for a good client who’d waited with saintly patience was the last straw. She didn’t want to bother him, given that his office door was closed thus he was almost certainly focusing on something. Still, it wasn’t normally like him to at least acknowledge her texts with a quick emoji if nothing else. She hefted her super-porky corpulent self up to go get answers.

The first answer she got was that his office door was locked. He never locked his office door when he was in there, and she knew beyond any doubt he was in there, given that she hadn’t left her desk since the last time he went in.

“Mr. Mercer!” Rattle rattle rattle—she hoped maybe the knob and latch mechanism were sticking. “Are you alright?” Rattle rattle rattle.

Nope, the door was definitely locked. Moreover, she heard sounds the likes of which she’d never heard before: clinking, clicking, and others, unlike any of the numerous model-making tools he normally used in his office.

“Mr. Mercer, I’m really sorry to bother you, but Jan at Northern Klondike has been waiting weeks for an answer regarding their project. Just tell me quick how to set their expectations, and I’ll stop bothering you.”

No answer. More strange sounds.

As soon as she heard him gagging and retching, she realized something very badly wrong was likely going on. Her mind flashed back to about 9 years earlier (not long after she’d started with Model Magicians) when thieves broke into the outer office where she worked through the front (hallway) door. They hadn’t jimmied the lock nor picked it, they’d thrown themselves against the door near the latch hard enough that it ripped the strike plate right out of the wooden door jamb of their old office building. That exterior lock set had been replaced with a stronger one with the strike plate deeply anchored by very long, strong screws passing through several framing members. The door to Mr. Mercer’s office was the same original construction and had never been upgraded.

All the above passed through Tara’s mind in mere seconds, at which point she backed up and ran full-speed at the door, using her left foot to kick it directly at lock level, just inside the knob, with all her weight and momentum behind it and full balance and stability from her two other legs.

It worked: the door flew open.

Of the many odd and out-of-place things a person like her familiar with Mr. Mercer’s office might notice, the only ones which registered with her were his startled, shocked expression, how messed up he looked, and how he was holding a handgun to his temple!

Adrenalin shot through her, allowing her to run straight at him, screaming “Noooo!” as she did.

He froze, unable to move, still startled and now seeing his three-legged extremely fat office manager who’d been slowing down as she fattened well into the 600s of pounds (not that he knew the number) run.

Bap!—she hit his right hand hard, knocking the gun right out of it, sending it flying through the air then skittering across the floor. It did not discharge.

He started sobbing like a baby, filling the room with wailing sadness of a depth few non-depressed people would ever know, and the top of his desk with tears. The tears weren’t the only liquid on the top of his desk: as she started to take in what else was out of the ordinary in the room, she noticed various fluids he’d obviously retched up. Then an odd mix of bottles with assorted liquids, some medicines and others she couldn’t easily identify. Then a stained piece of printer paper with a recipe for self-deliverance. Then a nearly empty bottle of bourbon.

It very quickly dawned on her that the gun was Plan B, which he was about to utilize after the chemical cocktail of Plan A came back up and out of him before it could succeed.

Mr. Mercer, why?!” she whined, instinctively claiming and caressing his hand.

Because I can’t stand the pain of living another day of my loveless life surrounded by stunningly beautiful people enjoying life and love when I can’t even get Hugs and Cuddles and can’t Ever share consensual sexy intimacy with them!” Soon as he finished speaking, his wailing sobbing resumed at full volume.

“Who?! I’m the only one here around the front office any more besides you. Or is this at home or somewhere else where the beautiful people are?”

It’s YOU!

Beyond being surprised, she didn’t know what to think when his sobbing suddenly stopped almost entirely, as he reached out both hands, placing them on her shoulders. His eye contact was intense, but then this whole situation was pretty much as intense as anything could get, and he was clearly in deep crisis.

“I hired you because of your qualifications, not your body. You were and are a spectacular office manager, and so much more, filling in gaps in our organization for the greater good. To say that you’re an asset to the company is a gross understatement!

“The fact that I found you attractive upon hiring was immaterial to the decision, being a nice bonus. Accommodating your special body’s special needs was a trivial expense back then when we were doing well, and worth every penny hundreds of times over in the years since, including the chair upgrades.

“Then as time passed, you kept getting sexier and sexier, unintentionally driving me crazier and crazier with desire as you went about your job and I struggled to go about mine.”

“Are you a fat admirer, Mr. Mercer?”

“Yes.”

“An ass man perchance?”

“An ass addict, Ms. Pelvig. Buns, hips, thighs—any of these and especially the first two in large, fat, wobbly awesomeness melt me into a puddle of desire and own my soul!”

“And I have two asses with three buns, two hips, and three thick-thighed legs, all of which have kept getting fatter, along with my belly and a few other areas of me.”

Yes. My inability to control my desires—and I tried, including psychotherapy—along with my failure to permanently relieve both of us and the rest of the world of my obsessive unrequited lust-driven anguish over this past hour have brought us to this awkward moment.”

She eased in closer to him, gently moving his hands to her nearest hip and bun. “Wouldn’t it have been far easier to just ask?

“No, because employers asking employees for sexual favors is about as textbook a case of sexual harassment as there is. Especially older men asking younger women—the original problem the culture and later laws demanded be changed. Given this context, asking you for even a hug was wholly out of bounds.”

“So your only option was to kill yourself” she stated rather than asked, anger creeping into her tone.

“I’d considered disappearing for good, just walking away from everything. More literally driving away. The overwhelming thoughts and feelings of starting afresh at my age and attempting to do so with a new, forged identity and the high chances of failure and poverty made me even more tired and depressed. I felt and still feel suicide is my only viable option.”

Her eyes shot open wide. “Even with your hands on one of my asses and hips?!

“You’re being gracious beyond reason. Your succulent, fat bun and hip fill me with joy, light, hope, energy and more!”

“So why would you still want to kill yourself?!”

“Because you’re being nice to me and this can’t last. Then I’m back where I was, other than very slightly healed from this delicious taste of part of the wonders of your physical being. I’m forever grateful for what you’re allowing me to experience right now, at least this once before I am no more.”

“Remember what you’re feeling now. We’re not done yet.”

She walked away, over to the gun, picking it up very carefully. “Tell me how to engage the safety.”

He did, then she did.

“Tell me how to empty out all the bullets.”

Again, he did and she made it so.

She marched back over to his desk, asking him point-blank “Do you have another gun?”

“No.”

“More bullets?”

He slid open his middle right desk drawer all the way out, extracting the original box and handing it to her.

“Is that everything firearm-related?”

“Yes” he sadly sighed.

“Stay right where you are, please, and don’t touch your poisons.”

Tara had to be even more careful than usual squeezing through the doorway, now that there were wood splinters where the strike plate had been. She looked back at him, smiling and saying, “Keep looking, Mr. Mercer. I want you to enjoy the show!”

Soon as she locked the bullets and the gun in two different safe places under her control, she squeezed back into his office and bobbled and bounced back to his desk. “Your deliverance cocktail didn’t agree with you, did it?”

“No.”

“I’d better pour all the ingredients down the sink.”

“Please save the potassium chloride. It’s from the supply room and we’re low on it.”

“How do I know you’re not going to try a variation on that recipe in the future? Maybe with mint chocolate so it goes down better?”

BAHHah haah!

Huge breakthrough: she made him laugh, for the first time in weeks!

“It’s good to hear your beautiful laugh again” she smiled. “Seriously though, how can I be sure you won’t try to make another batch of this?”

“All bets are off until I can find ongoing love I can feel. The seeking of which is well outside my skill set and with supply and demand running vastly against me, leaving me flailing and twisting in the wind.”

“I don’t like that analogy.”

“Yeah. One has to be careful with hanging. It can be too easy to cause more pain and fail at ending life.”

“Do you have more of any of these death fluids besides the ones in my hands?”

“No.”

“Don’t do anything to harm yourself until I’m back—and not then, either! And actually I’ll appreciate it if you’ll please come hold the cardboard shims in the door jamb so I can slide through with my hands full without shredding my skirt.”

“I may have to stand close enough to press into you.”

Feature! And where this day is going next. Let’s do this.”

The huge sigh he released pressing into her as she worked her corpulence through the doorway yet again startled her with how much it sounded like explosive pressure being safely discharged. “Stare at my body as much as you want. I’m better with it than you currently know.”


She disappeared into her restroom with the liquids, pouring each of them down the sink, then running the tap longer than was truly necessary. The empty containers didn’t seem recyclable, given what they’d held, thus she dropped them into the trash, hoping for the best.

He was still standing in the doorway when she re-emerged.

“You have a cuddle and conversation appointment with me on your office couch in about 5 minutes’ time, soon as I change the phone system message to indicate our emergency closure and lock the front door. It may be a long meeting, so please consider using the restroom before we get started. No promises, but it would be prudent to wash, rinse, and dry everything thoroughly.”


Only in his dreams had John Mercer seen Tara Pelvig smile so broadly and happily at him—until now, as she sensually wobbled and jiggled his direction.

In his dreams, he could only imagine what she might feel like as she sat down next to and on him (at the same time). For the first time ever in this moment, he felt her for real! To his utter amazement, most of her right butt was sitting on his lap, with her left seated on the couch as she cuddled intimately into his left side, her upper body at a standard just-touching spacing next to his.

“Is this OK?” she asked.

“It’s heaven!

See? And you didn’t even have to prematurely truncate your life to get there!”

“With all due respect to your beliefs whatever they may be, I don’t believe in an afterlife of any sort. I believe we make heaven and hell—such as these concepts even exist at all—right here on our plane of reality every day, depending on choices we make, including our outlooks.”

She encouraged him with her hand on his to caressingly explore her surfaces. “So why would you make such a horrid hell for yourself?”

“It wasn’t all my doing. Heaven has been right here all along, currently sitting in my lap as well as by my side, which concept melts me and makes me wish to meld as one with you. Couldn’t find a way to get to heaven, between common sense assuring me that a stunningly, uniquely desirable younger woman would have no interest in a nothing-special older man like me, and the equally common-sense sexual harassment prohibitions we already discussed.”

“May I call you John, please?”

“Absolutely.”

“Call me Tara from now on, please. Ideally under all circumstances, including when we’re meeting with clients or anyone else, unless you believe it might offend someone.”

“I love your name” he smiled.

“I love yours” she smiled back. “How old are you, John?”

“60” he grimaced and sighed.

“I’m 41, going on 42 in a few weeks. Not quite a generation apart chronologically, and it wouldn’t matter to me if we were. I know you’re older, but it’s seldom at the forefront of my mind, and when it is it’s usually related to wisdom or the power of compound interest over time or similar positives.”

She pulled out her handheld, unlocking it and bringing up the document she wanted. “I want to show you something” she told him as she held her device so they could both see it.

It was a sketch drawing.

“By no means am I a great illustrator. This was something I needed to get out of my system, not meant for others to see. I would like you to study it while I enjoy cuddling you.”

He didn’t know what to think. It was a front-side view of a woman who was clearly her, naked and bent over, leaning against her desk, with an unfinished expression of what vaguely looked like blissful pleasure. Behind her and sketched in much greater detail was a man who looked an awful lot like him. Also naked, obviously fucking her on her right side, possibly reaching with his hand down into her left side. The expression in the drawing was a grin of fiery lust. His ears reddened as he continued reviewing the drawing, noticing details such as an x-ray view of the man’s huge thick cock deep inside her.

His bright red face and wide eyes made her smile. She reclaimed her device. “Notice the creation date: 4 years ago, approximately. Way before today, and my learning how deep your attraction to me is. I mean, I’ve had the sense that you rather liked my ultra wide back side and hips for some years now, but no idea how much! Being honest, I haven’t thought about you like this all the time—certainly not obsessing on you—but desires to get intimate with you have happened more than this one day when I was stuck on transit and especially horny.”

“But your feelings weren’t strong enough to reveal to me.”

NoOOOOh. I was under similar sexual harassment restrictions to you! Granted, as a woman and an underling I probably could have made a play for you, but being uncertain how you felt about me, it could’ve backfired and I might have lost the best job I’ve yet had—one of the few jobs I’ve had. No matter how qualified and good an employee may be and despite laws in place for equality protections, I can tell you from experience that most businesses don’t consider installing a special two-ass toilet to be a ‘trivial expense’. Even if they might be able to handle an extra-wide office chair, buying an even more expensive bigger, stronger one and rearranging parts of the office as the already-wide employee continued to widen and deepen via fattening into a monstrously huge double fatass isn’t something most places would abide.”

“Gorgeously huge double fatass” he couldn’t help countering, with a smile.

“I’m glad I’m your type” she smiled back, leaning into him and caressing his arm and a corner of his upper chest. “And that you’re my type.”

“What type is that?”

“Firm with a soft heart. Man of integrity, principle, and deep compassion.”

“Failing at his life’s work, life in general spiraling out of control.”

“Mmm mmm mmm” she scolded him, waving her index finger to and fro. Her voice became breathy, her hot breath heating up his neck and ear as she pulled in close to near-whisper, “Your biochemistry is way off because you haven’t had enough sex!

“I’ve been doing what I can solo, so as not to inconvenience anyone. Usually dreaming of you.”

“That’s not enough, John. I was reading the other day that the hormones and other biochemicals men’s bodies release differ when they go solo versus with a lover. The article said ‘woman’ as I recall, not lover. Not to mention you’re depriving your sex-positive, passionate office manager with a hard crush on you from better getting her needs met.”

“Do you truly want to share sex with me?”

Yes. Don’t you wanna do it with me?”

“More than you know!”

“So why are we still talking?!”

“Because I don’t know what you like. And what you don’t like.”

“I’ll try just about anything once. Tell me what you’re into and I’ll let you know.”

“I’m probably too boring for you. I greatly enjoy labia, clit, and nearby licking, especially if my lover enjoys it.”

Uuuaahh!” she moaned, aroused at the thought, her eyes rolling up.

“I remember enjoying typical P.I.V. sex from whatever position, though honestly it’s been so many years it’s hard to remember.”

“We’re fixing that. Today… right now.” She rocked back and forth on her middle and right buns to gauge his hardness and enjoy what she felt.

“I don’t have any condoms here.”

“Yeah, that wouldn’t be good. Fertile on both sides, and don’t wanna be a mom. At least not at the present time.”

“I had a vasectomy a few years ago, so that’s not the issue.”

“You did?! Even though you weren’t seeing anybody?”

“It was for my self-esteem, so I could feel like a lover even without anyone available. The condom is because it’s the proper thing to do when I have no STI tests to show you.”

“Do you trust me, John?”

“Yes. Deeply.”

“I’m clean. I trust you and the probability that you’re clean is exceedingly high in any case. You’re correct that normally I wouldn’t take an unsheathed penis into me, but we know each other, have a history of trust going back years, and you almost killed yourself in part because you haven’t had a good lay in far too long. More importantly to me, both sides of me are getting really wet, anticipating feeling you skin-to-skin in the most intimate possible way, pretty much.”

The time for talking was over. The time for letting their passions fly was upon them.

Tara led the seduction and mutual undressing, delighted with how John couldn’t stop staring, gasping, and panting faster and louder the more of her he felt and saw.

He’d seen (mostly images of) thousands of BBW bodies in various states of undress over the years, many gifted with deliciously succulent “pear” fat deposits which drove him wild. He certainly had representative photos of some of the famous outliers who’d modeled. Never before this moment had he had the good fortune to be making out with a woman so very well-endowed with this body shape. Never ever even once in photos much less in-person had he seen much less touched an extreme fat pear doubled up with two huge pear-shaped butts, because there were no others!There weren’t even any other living 3-legged women of any size and shape that he’d personally seen. Tara was the absolute pinnacle, sine quo non of his dreams—and she wanted him sexually, seemingly as much as he wanted/needed her!

No touch, no view disappointed. He quickly lost himself to her, in her. Every fold, bulge, and body area of hers hidden by other parts of her body was a revelation; an exciting new mystery needing thorough exploration!

She’d had more lovers than she cared to count, many casual and of convenience rather than carefully selected. Good, bad, deeply engaged, cooly detached—quite a range. Never in her memory had she had one need her this much. Had it been a weak, feeble need, it might not have appealed to her. The power behind this need was nearly frightening in magnitude. John Mercer had never been a domineering, aggressive, go-getter C.E.O. type. His was a quiet power: subtle in its strength. Model Magicians hadn’t created itself out of thin air: he’d made it, without needing to beat his chest nor shine in the light of fame, nor go begging to vulture capitalists for funding. He established himself and dominated via integrity, top quality, honest dealings, and timely delivery. Seemingly without trying he charmed those with whom he associated to contract for his firm’s services, work with and for him, and spread the word of what he and Model Magicians had to offer. She realized he’d charmed her in the past in a romantic sense without meaning to do so. Now that this was his and her intent, she felt the power aimed straight at her. Yielding had never felt so good!

One of the many manifestations of this romantic power was the physical object—the body part of his—currently finding its way into Smooth. She took in his power, enveloping it with her own.

So very lost to the deepest passions as he was, he didn’t remember the precise sequence of events which led him to entering her shaved side (her right, his left), nor even whether nor how he chose it over her other side. All he recalled was a drop of drool landing on his upper chest as he savored and immersed himself in the most thrilling sexual moment of his life. He knew and she couldn’t that he’d never been this engorged before, contributing measurably to the snug, smooth friction they both enjoyed.

And enjoy it they did! It was obvious even to him reading her expression and all signals her body gave off in sight, sound, and sensation that she was enjoying herself and their lovemaking to a very high degree. The more he pumped her with his prodigious prong, oozing desire for her and need of her and what they were doing out of every pore of his body and every nuance of his expression, the more she felt his power, yielding ever more to it while at the same time delivering her own in return, forming a more intense whole.

He begged her to jump over and try her other side before he lost his long-loaded load; she encouraged him and did what little was needed to assist. Plenty of others had done the same thing, finding her to be the joy of two women in one. John Mercer found her to be far more than that: a miracle being. A unique unity gifted not just for sex beyond what most mortals could enjoy, but a living goddess of love, beauty, compassion, and intelligence. As they gave it to each other good and she kept smiling, he realized their minds had shared forms of intimacy going back many years. He briefly became upset thinking about how in many ways she had long been his business partner, and how even though he’d given her rock-solid job security, raises, and the special equipment and furniture arrangements she needed to work, it was insufficient—she was too far above and beyond only an office manager to be stuck with that title. Before his mind could fully work through that thought, a crashing wave of renewed intense sexual pleasure broke over him. He startled them both by pulling out and rushing back to her shaved side, whacking her harder than he usually humped anyone as his body took him and her for a ride to a potent climax.

Tara had been on the edge of cumming for a deliciously long time, thus his release easily set her off around the same time, without either of them having aimed nor worked explicitly towards that goal.

He looked lost once they wound down, and indeed that’s how he felt inside. “What… shall we do now?”

“Cuddle” she smiled, easing her dazed lover back down seated on the couch beside her, getting up and sitting back down in his lap and to his side, as they’d been before, other than now bareand in afterglow!

He was a cuddler who needed cuddles; she loved cuddles. Soft peep moans, sighs, and recovering lovers’ breathing filled the room. Kisses were back; longer, slower, more tender; others brief and loving… all loaded with the deepest possible affection.

“I don’t know how to go forward, Tara” he confided a few minutes later, breaking the speech silence since nearly before the start of their lovemaking. “My plans were to end it all. You saved my life many dozens of times over so that didn’t happen. I am delighted and thrilled, but also lost. I don’t know what happens now. This sumptuous feast of pure love with a large physical component has nourished me beyond compare, yet my body and soul remain at a deep deficit. I fear for withdrawal rebound effects once we part for the night.”

“That’s one reason you’re taking me home with you tonight. Another is that I hunger for more of what we just shared, and variants thereof.”

“You do?!”

“I’m a big woman, with big appetites” she salaciously grinned.

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Taking Her Home

Tara very much wanted to talk freely over dinner and beyond as warranted, thus they agreed to pick up dinner on the way to his home. She was surprised and delighted to find that his car had a front bench seat, specifically chosen in the hope that someday he’d have a special woman in his life wide enough to require one to be comfortable. Now he did!, at least for the moment. She got what she needed out of her SUV and secured it, all wiggly happy to slide her mighty width into his car. He got aroused anew seeing and feeling how of necessity her left hip had to press into his right for her to be able to fit without being slammed hard against the right front passenger door. As he knew well, she was an extremely wide woman! Also as tall as him when seated (despite being shorter when standing), thanks to her bun flesh lift.

Her big appetite comment led them to assemble a feast, from take-out orders of spring rolls, potstickers, chicken fried rice, and several more from a Chinese eatery they’d each individually enjoyed patronizing in the past where he ordered and paid, plus a stop at one of the less-famous higher quality fried chicken chains to pick up an order she’d made online and paid for. He assured her he had plenty of tea at home, and with no regional major disasters in progress, filtered tap water and the energy to heat it near or to boiling was in plentiful supply.


Mr. Mercer living in a nice house in a nice neighborhood didn’t surprise Tara at all. Both the neighborhood and his specific home were older, giving them the charm of age and the advantage of fully-developed landscaping and city park strip trees.

What jumped out at her when she first went inside were the paint peeling off the walls, several unpatched holes in walls with plastic sheeting attempting to cover them, failing due to old duct tape falling away, lots of clutter, and lots of dust.

She didn’t need to say anything for him to know what she was noticing. “This is what the physical manifestations of major depression look like” he explained.

“Why? Why leave things unfinished like this?”

“Things get overwhelming. Painting isn’t an option until the patching is finished. The patching can’t be done until the electrical’s done. The electrical can’t be done until the plumbing’s done. The plumbing can’t be done until the first part of it out front with the irrigation is totally redone. That’s not happening until the rot around the front window is dealt with. That can’t be dealt with until I clean up all the stuff in here. Finding someone willing to take this stuff rather than toss it all into e-waste is difficult, slow, and I get stuck—overwhelmed. So nothing happens… for years.”

His description of the situation even made her tired! She let it go.


“Oh” he said aloud once they were starting to set up to eat (at his couch, wide enough for her).

“What?”

“I was about to go change out of my work clothes, so as not to stain them.”

“That’s fine.”

“But you don’t have anything to change into, that I noticed. And I can’t think of a single garment I have which has a remote chance of fitting your glorious lower half.”

“No one does, John” she laughed. “I’m very custom!”

They smiled at one another and continued with setup as his mind worked through the problem.

“Tell you what. If you’ve got a shirt I can mostly fit into and we can put out some sort of old sheet to protect the couch, it’s more than easy for me to go bottomless.”


This is what they did. The oversized (on him) t-shirt he gave her made her sigh with pleasure—it smelled like him! It’s as though he’d become soft cotton and was cuddling her top almost-half all over at once!

He joined her being bottomless sitting atop the shared sheet, making for a very sexy meal indeed! To even things out from how she sat on him and the office couch earlier, she sat most of her left butt atop his lap, her body center and right butt sitting next to him on his right. Furry felt very nice, resting peacefully atop his again-slightly-stiffening penis.

Love filled the room. The tingly sexual/physical excitement overwhelmed everything else. It was an exceedingly sensual dinner, as well as one where they truly got to know one another in non-business ways.

He had many questions he’d never before felt comfortable asking her, most of them the usual ones about life with 3 legs, two butts, and two sets of genitals and elimination organs/orifices. It made him reflect that what to him seemed like a charmed life was like most other people’s: a mix of difficult and easy, bad and good, disadvantage and advantage. Her sensual joys including life as a double fatass and having come to enjoy being fat in general excited him, as she knew they would. He felt inferior and left out when she got deeper into her range of sexual experiences, his sadness and having nearly killed himself earlier this same day leading her to emphasize how happy she was with him in this moment, how sexy she found him to be, and how high-ranking he already was in her panoply of lifetime sex partners.


Midway through the meal and conversation, her handheld sounded off with its incoming text sound. It was Barb.

To: Barb Boobz

Where are you?

Having dinner with Mr. Mercer.

Bottomless.

Who?

My boss. Owner of the company where I work.

Why?!

Because he needs me, he’s a great lay, and I’m crushing hard on him.

Not bottomless in a restaurant, surely.

His place.

Overnight?

Count on it.

Thanks for letting me know. NOT! 😤

Happened fast + complicated. Will explain when I’m home.

When will that be?

When the time is right. 😘

KK. Have fun. 😘

“Apologies for violating your privacy” John told her as she set her device down. “Your screen was facing my direction.”

“It wasn’t a private conversation, and she interrupted our dinner date in any case.”

“Friend of yours?”

“All of friend, lover, and roommate. She’s the one responsible for seducing me into the sensual pleasures of food and fattening, and their nexus with sexuality.”

He’d already learned Tara was pansexual back during her relating highlights of her sex life. Having a current roommate who was a lover was a new-to-him twist. “Won’t she miss you tonight, if you’re here?”

“Not likely. We go through phases of hotter and cooler with each other, sometimes being more housemates than roommates. Unlike moon phases and things connected to them, no pattern with her and my passions for each other. She’s comfortable on her own, and has options if she’s not in the mood for solitude.”

“Busty, I gather from her user name?”

“Extremely so. Not close to any sort of world record holder, though plenty big enough to garner stares anywhere she goes. USBBW, as I am.”

“Fat all over?”

“Yes, though her boobs do stand out past her belly, and visual proportionally appear to be her biggest body parts.”

“Her rear?”

“Yes, but don’t think too much about her tonight, because you’ve got a double fatass on your lap, crushing on you as well as probably crushing you.”

“Your superlative padding and fat distribution bathes me in comfort.”

“I’d better go have a look at your bathroom situation and figure out something which works for me, before I bathe you in something else which I learned from trying once is not at all a turn-on for me.”

“Excretory functions do not arouse me, and I’ve not needed to try them in any sexual context.”

Perfect. Care to escort me?”

“With pleasure.”


“How long ago did you widen the doorway?” she asked on her way into the sole bathroom.

“I widened most of the major doorways–”

“–What the fuck?!

She’d just turned the bathroom lights on, seeing its interior fully for the first moment. The toilet appeared to be the same one-off custom model he’d procured for her use at work, similar to her much older one at home.

She swayed over to it, lifting its seat and otherwise touching it to ensure it was real. Assured via touch as well as sight that it was indeed real, she bounced and jiggled back over to him. “Why is this here?! Have you been scheming to get with me for a long time?!”

He looked hurt and felt confused. “I’m sorry its existence is upsetting you, Tara. There was a minimum order of 6 when I had the one made for you at the office, to make the vendor’s engineering, prototyping, and casting costs tenable, even with our firm helping with the prototyping. One is at work, two are in storage, one is obviously here, and the other two I managed with great difficulty to sell at cost to the sweethearts of a couple of grand fatass legends of the fatlovesex world. Only in my dreams were you ever here, not in any scheme of mine! I figured I already owned it and was making this house grand fatass friendly with the wider doorways and whatnot, so even though only you or someone else with two spaced-apart anuses which operate in sync would truly need this sort of toilet, a single-assed super fatass might find the extremely wide custom seat more accommodating.”

“Thank you for the explanation and apologies for the yelling and cursing. Maybe in the future we’ll share bathroom time together, but right now tonight I need a little private time in here.”

He pulled out a fresh towel, hand towel, and wash cloth, then left her in peace and privacy.


Dinner and conversation morphed seamlessly into after-dinner making out and conversation—at least when their mouths weren’t busy kissing or otherwise occupied. Removing just two shirts was hardly any barrier at all to full nudity, and is what happened. Tara decided her place for now was facing him, on top of him, the thigh of her middle leg pressed into his package, her other two legs easily straddling him, her padded pussies plushly pushing into his thighs once she lifted her blubbery belly, sloshing it back and forth in both hands and encouraging him to join her over its middle spread (where it tended to sag with just her two hands).

Once they finished playing with her belly and set it free to roam as it would, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her front into him with glittery eyes and plentiful kisses. His smile was on the wan side, his eyes less sparkly than earlier. She decided to inquire, “Too heavy or uncomfortable for you in this position?”

“No, at least not that I can tell.”

“You seem a little sad and I’m sensing some tension between us.”

“My mind already grieves for the great loss when you leave. On top of which, I’m feeling too tired to love you properly!”

She decided nose-rub kisses were in order. “Don’t miss the here and now worrying about the future. I respectfully submit that you need to work on being present in the moment. Your planning is exemplary, and planning is by nature future-focused. Some things, like romance, cannot be planned… or at least cannot retain full energy and spontaneity if planned. I didn’t plan to be here with you tonight, nor did you plan to be alive at all, much less here with me. True?”

“Yes.”

“Take a lesson from my playbook: live in the moment and feel.”

“I feel relieved, healing, and very tired!”

“You’ve had what’s probably one of the most if not the most difficult days of your life, going from hopeless despair moments from ending it all to at least a glimmer of hope.”

“You’re far more than a glimmer.”

“Nor do I need to be the be-all or end-all of your hope, but please let’s not go there tonight. We’re here loving each other in the moment. Tomorrow awake daylight won’t arrive for many hours, and when it does, I’ll be here and so will you and we’ll figure things out when that is the current moment. The only plan we need is me knowing whether you have a big enough bed for the two of us, which if I gambled I’d wager you do.”

“I do. California King.”

“Perfect! Unless you object, we’re sleeping together in the literal sense, since it’s been a tough, tiring day for me too.”

“I haven’t changed the sheets for awhile.”

“Let’s finish cleaning up out here and do whatever we each do for our going-to-bed routines, and I’ll evaluate whether or not I feel the need for a sheet change.”


He showered at night, and she decided she might as well follow suit. Sadly (and a bit strangely, given all the many other infinifat body-accommodating modifications around the house) the shower wasn’t big enough for both of them, so they showered separately, having a great time when he helped dry off her vast, far-reaching surfaces.

The bed sheets were clean enough, and she couldn’t help being attracted to his scent, making their less-than-fresh condition a beneficial attribute.

Cuddling and especially mutual caressing delayed sleep, which nevertheless found them and gently overcame them.


Tara slept acceptably and John slept more deeply and peacefully than he had in months if not years, despite being naked with an extremely sexy woman of his dreams.

They awoke to the new day’s full light cuddled comfortably, with him as Narrow Big Spoon and her as Double-Wide Little Spoon.

Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhh” she sighed, deep, long, and loud.

It sounded to him more like a harsh sigh of frustration than a smooth one of contentment. “Having regrets?”

“Yes.”

He started to pull away.

She grabbed his arms, pulling him back and re-wrapping them all the way around her, as they’d been. “I deeply regret not finding some way to get us to this point years ago. Hhhhhhhhhhhhh.

“Why?”

She got the whole bed as well as herself bouncing all over the place as she turned over, re-establishing a new cuddle facing him. “Not even close to a full 24 hours into our unplanned romance, I’m already feeling things I’ve never felt before, with anyone.”

They studied each other’s faces up close. She caressed his and continued, “I’ve had a lot of lovers, as we discussed last night. The vast majority were sexual only, often one-offs or else short-term. That’s what I wanted at the time and that’s all they wanted, so it was OK for what it was, but not any form of enduring romantic love. I’ve had long-term lovers, up to and including my roomie Barb currently, and I’m going to omit her for the rest of this particular conversation, to keep my mind from muddling too much. My long-terms have been satisfying and rewarding on different levels. All involved sex, and some added other forms of love, including caring love. They were good and fulfilling for their time, but didn’t feel like what I’m feeling now with you. I’ve even had a couple so into me that not only did we go long-term as friends as well as triad lovers, they built a custom outhouse toilet out in their lovely garden just for my use, to entice and encourage me to spend more time with them, maybe even move in with them. It was a beautiful thing and we’re still in touch and get together from time to time. Awakening in the morning in bed with one or both of them was mighty fine, but not like what I feel right now with you, John.

“I’ve known a handful of men with whom I’ve developed strong romantic feelings and slept over with them, awakening in the morning like this—not new, not a novelty. They were good, honest men, and the experiences were pleasant. This is more—much more. With you, I feel the tingliest of thrilling tingly excitement and total serene safety at the same time. This is brand new to me. I have never felt this potent combination of deepest-possible love at the same time before with anyone. For that matter, I’m not certain I’ve felt as deeply safe and cared-for with anyone as I do right now with you. Our years of trust working together apparently leverages over to our new love, creating a sense of bonding which simultaneously fills me with bubbly warmth and frightens me with its power and all-encompassing nature. Hundreds if not thousands of people want to play with a two-pussy double-assed woman, from when I was just voluptuous through plumper through BBW through SSBBW and now USBBW. Maybe a dozen think they have what it takes to go long-term. You are such a fatass addict that you’ve set up your whole life to have a woman with that sort of body in it, including physical infrastructure! You’re the only one I’ve known this dedicated, for the long run. Having never even touched anyone with a body close to mine, you instinctively already knew a lot about how to caress, handle, and love me.

“I don’t truly know what’s happening, other than what I feel for you goes past the summer romance I thought this might be yesterday and last night—something to get you back on your feet. All of a sudden this morning I need this—and you, as much as you need me. At least that’s what it feels like. But now I have to take my own advice and take things a day at a time, not letting my mind gallop off to futures which may never be, no matter who’s doing planning nor what planning they’re doing. I’m counting on your plans of yesterday which didn’t work out implying that you have no plans for today, because I want to spend the whole day and hopefully this coming night with you, living in the moment and finding out where this crazy ride of life takes us next.”

Where it took them initially was first-waking bathroom visits, then slow, super-sensual morning lovemaking, taking each of them to dimensions of ecstasy well beyond those of everyday life. Meandering conversations were part of the lovemaking, when their mouths weren’t otherwise occupied, learning more about each other and what was important to them, present and past. A physically gentle lover, John’s obsession with Tara’s body had him spending more tranquil lovemaking time on all aspects of her asses and everything nearby than she could recall any other lover doing. The way he kissed all 4 of her inner thigh surfaces with much passion and no hurry drove her wild!


They could’ve spent all morning and maybe all day in bed making love and being with each other, had it not been for hunger. Right around mid-morning, Tara’s digestive system growled loudly.

She looked down at her belly, holding her index finger to her lips, “Shhhhhhh! (giggle)”

“I doubt there’s enough here” he sighed. “I ran down the stock, given what the plan was.”

She gently pushed him down onto his back atop the bed, climbing on top of him and easing her corpulence gently down atop him, again with her fat middle thigh atop his package (e.g. her body centered over his), kissing him before, after, and between sentences, “Normally I want your plans to work out. (kiss) But I’m glad that one didn’t!”

“We may have to go out to keep you happily fed and maintain your magnificence.”

Tara giggled a loud, shrill titter—unusual for her. She moved his hands to her outer hip fat, which was quite a stretch! “I’m telling Barb and our other fat friends that we’re now calling fat ‘magnificence’ (giggle).”

“It wasn’t a very well-thought-out sentence on my part” he blushed. “Fed to a comfortable level is really all I needed to say.”

“What about you?”

“You’ve been feeding me with that for which I’ve been most starved for all too many years since yesterday afternoon when you changed the course of our lives. (kiss) The thing with my appetite for this need is that I may never be satiated.”

“What about food? You’ve gotta have that too.”

“I’m so lost to your love and terrified of our time together ending, I don’t have much of an appetite.”

“OK, let’s do this: let’s get up and go forage through your kitchen and any pantry or other food storage places you might have. Then we’ll know whether we have enough for breakfast here or have to get something out before we go shopping for home-prepped meal ingredients for the rest of today and the next few days at least.”

“For both of us?”

Her eye grew wide with surprise, “Don’t you want me here at least that long?!”

His answer came in the form of a long string of potent passionate mouth-to-mouth kisses of devastation, leaving her gasping for air and feeling actual falling sensations anew as she fell deeper in love with this very special man.


The upper kitchen cupboards were pretty bare. A planner to the end, he’d done a good job running his food stock down. Given how hungry she was, that unopened jar of cashew butter was looking good, though without anything resembling bread, wasn’t likely to get them very far.

Things took an unplanned detour soon as she bent far over to start investigating the below-counter cupboards.

HHHHAAAANNNNGGGGHHH!” he gutturally cried out the moment he saw her bare fat asses and hips spread so amazingly as she bent over, exposing her vulvae. Instantly and as he was still vocalizing, he rushed up behind her, more or less smashing into her left crack with his already-hard-again penis, hands all over her hips and buns.

This situation which might have been wholly unacceptable in other contexts and/or to other women did indeed startle Tara, but made her laugh. “Hi John (snicker). I thought you said your refractory period was something like half a day.”

“It always has been before!” he replied as he continued to grope her bent-over form and get harder. “This is what I’ve been trying to tell you, Tara. I’m an ass addict! Nothing in this world gets me going like a huge, fat, jiggly butt and generous fat hips! And then bent over and spreading even wider, I can’t help myself!

“And mine are quite hugely magnificent (snicker), and I’ve got two!

Yes! Auuggghmmmmmmmm!” he verbalized as he bent over and kissed her back all over, still squeezing wildly. “Somebody help me before I drive you away from my overbearing lust!

“Not likely to happen—this is great by me! Furry is all ready and does ask that you slip inside her and give her a few good ones, then Smooth wants her share too while you’re still totally hard.”

Tara had taken it from behind standing bent over many a time, most often with hard pounds like John was currently giving her. Those past events had been fine and this one was every bit as good. Never before had she had the sense that her lover’s life depended upon him sexing her like this. Nor could she recall more than maybe two other lovers if that who had such a range, from almost too gentle to as hard as she personally liked to be plunged. This was an interesting ride, both the immediate sex and their over-arching love so far.


Tea and cashew butter-covered crackers was a far lighter meal than Tara normally started her day with, yet proved sufficient to keep the appetite wolves away and was faster to get into her than other options.

The meal was punctuated by worried sighs from the male seated at the dining table. She was beginning to be able to read his concerns better than as a non-lover office manager. “Don’t be so upset.”

“I attacked you then fucked you like an animal” he replied in a soft, emotional voice of failure.

“Your attack did startle me initially, but then feeling all your intense passion and knowing how irresistible I am to you filled me with joy and arousal. At which point I was the one asking you to please slip your hardness into Furry, then Smooth.”

“But not like a beast, surely!”

“I like soft sex, I like hard pounds. I like different things different times. We probably shouldn’t do that at work when anyone else is there or might come in, but when we’re locked up and alone, it could happen. As well as here at home.”

“I’m serious, Tara: I’m not normally impulsive, but when a woman with a big, wide rear bends over and especially when she has a lot of bending spread and especially when she’s bare, I can’t control myself!

“Please restrict actually losing control to only me until further notice, not anyone else, and let’s see how it goes. If it becomes a problem for me, I will let you know.”

The rest of late breakfast, they discussed foods and beverages which might help stabilize his mood, as well as what each of them wanted, where they normally shopped, and where they ought to shop today.


Ah, new love! Even mundane things such as getting dressed were sparkly fun!

Everyone who saw them could see their fresh love glow (and, as usual, stared at how huge Tara was, and of course her 3 legs). Walking side-by-side holding hands with a woman who was so wide that it was a necessity that her fat hip ground against his slender one with each step was a dream come true for John. Tara found it dreamy.

Shopping in their love cloud was magical. To keep things simple, they agreed to alternate who paid the bill in each store. Not having tons of food storage, there were limits on how much they could buy. That and wanting to get back home and naked limited the re-supply shopping to just two stores.

John’s favorite Trader Joe’s crew member Nan gave him a stern, guarded look when he and Tara grinned their way into her checkout line. She pulled out and unfolded an 81/2" x 11" piece of paper, saying, “After the dire tone of this and the $50 bill, I didn’t expect to see you here today… or ever again.”

“That was the plan. Suicide Plan A didn’t work out, and she interrupted Plan B at the last possible moment.”

Tara pulled him deeper into a side cuddle, her arm around him possessively, looking up at him with her own look of stern annoyance at what almost happened.

“I know both of you individually, but not how you’re connected.”

“Tara has been pivotal to keeping our company Model Magicians functioning efficiently and optimally as our office manager of many years, a title which should be interpreted in its broadest terms, given how she’s been in charge of office and telecommunications systems overhauls, and more.”

“Everything about me should be interpreted in broadest terms” she quipped. “It has been and continues to be my honor to report to John directly. As of yesterday when all this went down, we’re currently reporting to each other at home, as lovers.”

That part I figured out” Nan smiled, getting the scanning going. “Hope you don’t need that $50 back, ’cause I already spent it.”

“Oh heavens no, Nan! The appreciation for your years of excellent service applies whether I remain alive or not. I only regret not being financially flush enough to do the same for the rest of the crew.”

“And for the tone of the message” Tara prodded, having read it as they stood there.

“It was accurate as of the time of creation and presentation.”

“And now it’s not.”

“So far.”

“Don’t count on me ceasing to love you any time anywhere close to soon. Because so far, the exact opposite is what’s happening.” She gave him quite the punctuating kiss, apologizing to Nan afterwards for the more extreme P.D.A.


Romantic bonding love filled John Mercer’s house as much or more than lusty passions the remainder of the day and evening. Things were great as long as he stayed with Tara in the moment, not so good when his mind went to the unknown future, and worried about it being one without her, or anyone intimate.

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Working Out Work

Tara immersed her just-awoken lover in a gentle, wide-fat-flowing morning horizontal hug. “How are ya feelin’, Love?”

“Saved (kiss).”

She chuckled, kissing him back. “Think you’re up for going back to work today?” She could feel her question weighing him down as soon as she asked it.

“Nan wasn’t the only one who got a letter of that nature.”

“I sure didn’t!”

Yes you did. You just haven’t found it yet.”

“How many of those did you pass out at work?”

He palmed his face, “Twelve.”

“Let’s please hold a company-wide meeting this morning, or at least by noon, maybe with some nice sandwiches instead of just pizza as usual.”

“I can’t just stand there before everyone. I’ll crumple!”

We will stand there together, since I’m the reason you’re still here. While we probably don’t want to rub our love for one another in people’s faces, standing together holding hands or arms around each other should let everyone know what they need to know, with the two of us together explaining what we feel we need to explain, which should be our primary task this morning after setting up the meeting and ensuring everyone possible is there.”


At the office, Tara and John worked together to get word of the meeting out to employees who were confused and hadn’t shown up for work, as well as those who were at work.

Once everything was in place for invitations and refreshments for the meeting and agreement on what they were going to say to explain what happened, Tara moved on to two other issues on her mind.

“May we please widen this doorway when it gets repaired?” she asked as she carefully squeezed her bounteous blubber through the still-broken door frame between the outer office and his private inner office.

“Yes.”

“With two automatic sliding Star Trek-style doors?”

“That won’t exactly match the style of the rest of this century-old building.”

“They can make them with woodgrain paneling like the old door, I’m quite sure. They might even be able to use this old door for one half of the new one.”

“Go ahead and research it and get us some bids” he weakly smiled, squeezing her hand when it was within his reach, turning back to his notes.

She gently cuddled into his left side, softly urging, “Don’t stress over what you’re going to say. All anyone really needs to know is that you’d reached your wit’s end and were going to kill yourself, I intervened, things are better now, and we’re back to a going concern and working to get all the way back on track.” She caressed his shoulder, then moved behind him to massage both of them. “I still haven’t found my letter.”

“My estimate of how much toilet paper you go through in a given amount of time must be faulty.”

She charged off to go look.


Indeed, in her private restroom, she found a sealed envelope under the stack of toilet paper rolls. It struck her as unusually puffy for a one-page letter which might have a little cash in it.

Hhhhhh!” she softly gasped when she opened it up.

Instead of cash, it was a collection of legal documents related to John Mercer’s sole ownership of the business, fronted by a shaky hand-written document signing over the business to her.


She trembled as she approached him, finding him standing in the doorway using a lot of package sealing tape to attach the cardboard shims she used to slide through without ripping her clothes and herself up in place semi-permanently on the door frame.

“They’re going to have to re-stain the wood around the door frame anyway, so I figured why not make things easier in the interim?”

Tara held the papers up with her shaky right hand. “Why?! We weren’t– we didn’t have anything going then!”

“Who else, Tara? I’ve tried to run this company as hierarchically flat as possible. All our groups are equally important, and report directly to me. Was I supposed to ask Steve, Joni, Allison, and Humberto to draw straws? Like everything else, the decision overwhelmed me, so I left it to the only other person here who sees the organization from nearly the same perspective I do. I knew you were plenty smart enough to select someone else if you didn’t want to take the company over yourself, and that you could make that decision when I could not.”

“Could have made.”

They stared at each other defiantly, each holding ground on their own interpretation of the wording of that part of that sentence.

She eventually broke the silence, “We’ll discuss orderly, planned succession some other day. Am I correct that if I destroy your handwritten letter of assignation, the rest of the documents remain in effect with you as the owner of Model Magicians?”

“Correct.”

She handed him everything but his handwritten letter, making a beeline to the shredder out by her desk and shredding it to oblivion.


The opening of the company-wide special lunch (it turned out) meeting was intense, and founder/owner/president John Mercer might well have crumpled had he not been immersed in the supportive force field of office manager Tara Pelvig, which field expanded well beyond her physical body to his right, enveloping him with invisible protective supportive love.

Those in the room able to sense and read these sorts of feelings needed far less explanation than those who could not, and even this latter group could get a pretty good idea that the president and the office manager were now an item.

Once the very brief explanation was over, they opened the meeting to questions and comments.

“When will the A/C duct in the far corner of the materials shop be repaired, if we’re staying in business and in this building?” one worker asked.

“What’s the nature of the failure?” asked John.

“Almost no airflow.”

“I’ll look into it this afternoon. Wendy?”

“We’re going to need a new laser diode for the cutaway system.”

“No spares in stock?”

“Not any more.”

“I’ll order at least one after this meeting. Gemma?”

“We’re still waiting on you to finish the lower right quadrant of the Boone Estates historical re-creation model, and the client has a deadline in under 3 days. How do you want to handle that?”

Tara could feel John starting to collapse from being overwhelmed, and decided to speak up, “We’ll revisit the status of that quadrant within the next hour or so and get back to you.”

The looks she and John shared with each other made it clear there was now someone else in the front office willing to take the lead and keep things moving if Mr. Mercer failed to come through.

The mood in the room at the end of the meeting as everyone prepared to get back to work was positive, albeit guarded. Words were one thing; what the employees needed to experience to restore their confidence was action.


Action is what they got.

Soon as they were back in his inner office, John and Tara divvied up ordering tasks, with John handling the laser diode order and another couple of orders of technical consumables requiring precise knowledge, and Tara taking other orders which John had let slide too long for other supplies, also requiring technical knowledge though less rigorous.


Tara was starting to become so attuned to John, she could feel him starting to get overwhelmed all the way from her desk in the outer office. She squeezed her 678 pounds on 3 legs back through the doorway between their offices, smiling proudly as he watched her, then swayed, wobbled, and bounced (as she always did when walking anywhere) over to his desk, easing softly into his side. He had the lower right quadrant topo model on his desk.

“Looks finished to me, other than a little bit over here. Show me and tell me what it needs.”

As he explained, she sensed the pattern: it was like all the stuff not done at his house, a pyramid or domino chain, all leading back to a point where he got stuck.

“Have you checked with Gemma regarding whether she might have received the information regarding the gunpowder shack that’s holding you up?”

“Why would she have it? It’s not in any of her quadrants.”

“No, but the Boone Historical Society almost certainly doesn’t think of the property in terms of quadrants the way we do, so the information may be in with the package Gemma has.”

It was. John now had what he needed to model the gunpowder shack, which was holding up everything else on the rest of his quadrant. He resumed work immediately, finishing the entire quadrant in just over 2 1/2 hours, including delivering it to Gemma in the topo room. It might not have been finished so soon had Tara not dropped into his office on a few occasions where she could sense him bogging down to cuddle up to him, let him caress her nearest butt through her skirt, and share a kiss. These things and occasionally a moment of discussion of where things were and what was currently vexing him were all he needed to keep going.


Any sort of unusual sounds from John’s office immediately got Tara’s attention, usually with a shot of adrenalin for fear of it being something bad. She got back up from her desk and squeezed back through the doorway to find out what was going on.

She smiled when she discovered he was changing out of his usual work clothes. “I didn’t know you kept a set of get-dirty work clothes here.”

“I haven’t been getting into them as often as necessary in recent years to keep this place maintained.”

“What exactly do you have in mind?”

“Climbing and crawling through the crawl spaces to ascertain the failure of the materials shop HVAC duct.”

Tara was shocked. “That’s an entire different field of endeavor, with all sorts of licensed contractors available in our area!”

“Yes, and one of us may be calling the one we’ve used in the past, if what I find is beyond the means of myself.”

She wrapped her arms around him the moment he finished fastening his heavy-duty work pants. “Better not get hurt! Or you’ll have one pissed-off girlfriend sitting her two fat asses on you!”

Girlfriend?!

“I’m not?! Or do you prefer ‘ladyfriend’ or woman friend’?”

I’m honored beyond belief!” he weakly gasped out.

She moved her face nose-to-nose with his. “I love you, John! And I don’t want our love to stop! (kiss)”

“Neither do I (kiss).”

“So unless you prefer different terms, you’re my boyfriend and I’m your girlfriend, OK? (kiss)”

“This is a dream come true!”

“Stay in the present, and stay safe, boyfriend (kiss).”

“I’ll be careful, girlfriend (kiss).”

She let go so he could get into his work socks and non-slip steel-toed shoes. “May I tie the laces for you?”

“It would be kind of you not to bend over deeply facing me in any direction, if we’re to have an answer to this HVAC problem today. These pants have a sturdy button fly as you saw, though I doubt their manufacturer would want to warrant them keeping a certain part of me inside should you arouse me more than you do with your mere presence.”


One thing Tara Pelvig did not at all enjoy about being exceedingly fat and innately double-wide beyond that was being excluded from places she wanted to go and could not fit. The old building’s maintenance and internal structure access passageways were very much in this category. Indeed, it’s likely she would not have been able to fit very far into them even back in her childhood soccer star days, before she was even plump.

She made John wear a wireless camera on his head, so she could at least get a vicarious sense of what all was in there. She didn’t know which she found more fascinating: the building infrastructure itself, or how much John seemed to know about it, given how he interacted with it, testing and checking many things while he was in there.

The camera had one-way sound, over which he asked her to please go down to the materials shop (the heavy-duty “dirty” work shop with saws and drill presses and the like for wood and metalworking not requiring laser precision) and stand beneath the duct.


Once she was there, they were able to speak to each other.

“A fallen chunk of plaster knocked a section of the duct work apart” he explained, his voice given a metallic ring as it passed through this self-same duct, still apart. “If someone will remove the grille and pass a cordless screwdriver and some #8 by half inch self-tap sheet metal screws up through the duct to me, I should be able to have this back together in short order.”

Tara relayed the request to Graham, the fellow employee currently standing with her in the room. As Graham went to fetch the tool and fasteners she asked, “Why did the chunk of plaster fall?”

“That’s what I need to find out next, once this is done.”

Rather than a typical ladder as Tara expected, Graham returned with a big, wide, rolling set of steel stairs with handrails, as often seen in big-box home improvement stores for access to stock items on the higher shelves above the retail ground level shelves.

“That looks big and strong enough to hold me!”

He studied her, then studied the rolling staircase, replying “Probably” and holding out the drill-driver and box of screws to her.

She lit up, all excited to be actually hands-on helping!

The steel rolling staircase did indeed hold her prodigious weight and was wide enough for her safe usage, despite her fat outer hips rubbing both handrails at the same time. John explained how to adjust the clutch of the drill-driver to a low setting and unscrew the screws holding the grille.

“I see you!” she giggled excitedly, once she had the grille removed and set aside.

“Hand me the screws first, please Sweetie.”

It was a long stretch between where she was and where he was, requiring each of them to reach into the end duct as far as possible. {Barb couldn’t do this} she thought to herself as she did it with no problem, thanks to small boobs and comparatively (to Barb) slender arms.

The extra length of the drill-driver made it easier to pass through, despite being heavier.

“How are you going to get the drill-driver and extra screws back out once the duct is put back together?” she wondered.

“Carry them out with me, screw box in my pocket and drill-driver in my hand.”

D’oh! That was too obvious for me!”

He chuckled briefly. “Thanks for the supplies. You might as well go back to watching the live feed from up here whilst I put this back together. Have Graham pass you a hand screwdriver to put the grille back on, which I’ll ask you to wait to do upon my mentioning it over the cam.”

“Got it.”

The duct work went back together without a great deal of difficulty, now held by the sheet metal screws rather than some old duct tape whose adhesive had long ago failed. He made a note to wrap the ** with metallic tape to seal it better the next time he was in this space. There wasn’t much leakage, and full airflow had been restored to this section of the materials shop.

Yayyy!” Tara cheered. Graham handed her the grille, which he’d taken and vacuumed/wiped to remove dust and dirt. She very happily refastened it with the hand driver, not at all bothered to be immersed in the blast of cold air blowing out of it.


Tara grew impatient, waiting for John to re-emerge from the maintenance access door where he’d entered. He was taking a long time to finish up, making frequent stops and not saying anything over the cam mic regarding what he was doing. She decided to yell into the doorway, “You’re not hiding from me, are you?

“Not at all” he replied over the cam mic. “Just typing in some notes about other things which need to be done or further investigated, before I forget.”

It’s 6 o’clock, and it seems to me that you’re getting overwhelmed.”

“Yes it is, and probably so. Think about what you want for dinner and where, and I’ll wrap up in here as soon as I can.”


Redressed in his usual dressy work clothes with her still in hers, John drove them to Bisco’s, an upscale restaurant going back decades, with a refreshed menu thanks to a new semi-celebrity chef wanting to make a bigger name for herself, and more than that provide unforgettable meals from locally-grown organic produce and other locally-sourced fresh ingredients.

In its past through the present, Bisco’s was the sort of place one would go on a significant date night, or for a business meeting, or to celebrate with special friends and/or relatives. People tended to dress up or already be well-dressed from work, as Tara and John were.

The hostess nervously bit her lip, seeing Tara and John approach and sizing Tara up. “Is a 5 minute wait OK?”

John looked over towards his Love, seeing her nod slightly. “Sure.”

As with other people of visually very obviously unusual bodies, Tara Pelvig was known around her community by sight, if not by name. Many had seen the very fat three-legged woman with two adjoined lower bodies, whether they’d grown up in the area with her or had moved to town more recently. Others knew of her, but had never seen her. Whether or not she felt up to dealing with responses from members of the public varied day to day. Sometimes she paid it little to no mind, and it didn’t bother her. Other days the staring and often shock were a drag, leading her to stay in the realm of her private world.

People were more likely to look at one another at Bisco’s than many other places, checking out other well-dressed people. For whatever reason on this evening, many more eyes were upon her than usual, and remained upon her longer. John wasn’t even aware of the invisible protective force field he was projecting, enovaling (like encircling, but an oval) them both. Especially as they walked together to the corner booth once it became available, Tara was very aware of it, at least subconsciously. She hadn’t felt this protected and cared-for since being with her father as a young girl. As an adult, independent woman, she didn’t need this sort of protection, but suddenly finding herself immersed in it, it was so nice to be able to relax and not worry about defending herself from the endless invasive stares of the curious and those overwhelmed by rare body diversity.

The round corner booth was both a large party accommodation and internally known as “the fat people’s booth”, given its ample spaciousness and movable, stable table.

“It’s OK, you don’t have to pull the table so far away” Tara told the hostess. “Most of my fat should fit underneath.”

Already somewhat queasy from wrapping her head around this woman having three legs and her huge size, her forthright comments about her own fat at entirely normal speaking volume easily able to be heard nearby made the hostess turn green with nausea. She herself was a plumpette, not at all wanting to be one and with serious issues around it. “Just trying to make it easier to get in” she wanly smiled.

John helped the hostess move the table back towards Tara (and closer to its normal position) once she was seated, then readily scooted himself in and around to be next to her.

“Wine tonight?” Tara asked.

“If you wish. Are we celebrating something?”

She picked up her spoon, using it to playfully touch his nose as she spoke, given how her width spaced them apart and things seemed too cramped for her to be able to sit her left butt on his lap and still have her fat belly fit under the edge of the table. “You’re still here and alive, first and foremost. We got a lot done today, and that’s worth celebrating. Then there’s celebrating our new, blossoming love, and how good we are for each other.”

“Am I truly good for you, Tara?”

“You have no idea how good you are for me, sir! Neither did I, until it started happening that fateful day two days ago, growing stronger since that moment, through this one.”


Tara’s Braised Piccadilly Squash meal had her eyes rolling and her nearly moaning from its manifold subtle tantalizing sensual delights. John had nowhere near the culinary sensual dynamic range of Tara or Barb or many other foodies, yet still found plenty to enjoy in his Smoky Three Cheese Linguini with Béchamel Sauce. The bottle of Shaggy Sheepdog Chardonnay Tara chose for them to share complemented all courses (so far) of each of their meals well.

Normally at most restaurants including Bisco’s, under-table areas tended not to be lit other than by general room lighting at their entry edges. Light from the perpendicular main walkways which intersected at this corner booth managed to light up the corner booth’s under-table area just above carpet level at least halfway back, putting Tara’s three calves and dress shoed feet on display.

A man visiting the area sitting in a standard rectangular booth across from them became absolutely mesmerized. He’d never heard of a living 3-legged woman, and at first wasn’t at all sure he was seeing one. Not on any drugs including alcohol, he kept staring, then looking away to ensure he was visually perceiving known objects accurately (including the number of other people’s legs), then looking back.

Safe within the enveloping loving protective invisible force field of John and focused on all the fun she was having sharing this fine meal and their conversations with him, Tara didn’t notice the staring at all.

Tara tended to move her 3 legs the way most people moved their 2, sometimes crossing them, folding them, and so on. One of her favorite, most comfortable positions was crossing her middle leg far up atop the thigh of either of her outer legs. She often slowly wiggled her toes as she did so. Without thinking about it, she did so here at Bisco’s, crossing her middle leg over her right leg, making her middle foot highly visible to anyone looking her direction.

The visitor across the way became even more fascinated. He and everyone else looking mostly saw the sole of Tara’s middle shoe, not her wiggling toes and certainly not her bare foot. Even so, it was obvious that this was not a normal left- or right-footed shoe, with its perfect bilateral symmetry.

He kept watching in amazement as the shadowy view of her left foot pulled out of her shoe and playing with John’s feet accompanied some wine-enhanced playful giggling. Soon her middle leg went back down, that shoe came off, and he could see her two big toes on her middle foot, right before it moved into the darker area for what apparently was some escalating foot play. It wasn’t a lot longer before she slipped out of her right shoe and that foot joined the hijinx.

“Uncle! Uncle!” John giggled.

Tara was still giggling as well. “I always win at footsie! You should know that. Should’ve known it before even trying!”

“Is there anything you don’t win at?”

“Light eating. Being petite. Wearing pants. Finding off-the-shelf triples of shoes. Bodacious boobs.” Her mind flashed briefly to Barb, not wanting to stay there lest she start feeling conflicted between her love of Barb and this new searing-hot love which was so different from what she’d known before.

The visitor had good hearing and Tara and John weren’t being especially quiet, allowing him to hear nearly all of their footsie conversation. Everything he heard reaffirmed what he was seeing.

The sudden appearance of his waitress broke him out of his contemplation, “Anything for dessert tonight?”

“Uhhh… yes, please.” Normally he didn’t eat dessert. Tonight it was worth it to stall for time to further study likely the most physically unusual person he’d ever seen. He quickly scanned the dessert menu. “How aboooouut… hot chocolate?”

“Excellent choice” the waitress smiled. “Back with it in a minute or so.”

The shape of this particular set of shoes made them easier to slip out of than into. Tara needed to lift each foot in turn for hand assistance getting each shoe back on, giving the out-of-town visitor even more definitive confirmation that she had three shoes, three feet, and three legs.


Tara and John enjoyed the long meal and their own desserts (with coffee for her and tea for him), allowing sufficient time for him to drive them home sober.

The visitor was still nursing his hot chocolate when the time came for the new lovers to depart. Tara captured his full attention from the moment she started bounce-sliding out of the booth once John was out and standing, having moved the table away to make more space. Now in addition to wrapping his mind around her three legs, he struggled to process how profoundly fat she was, and how wide. Indeed, her left hip was nearly in his face for a second or so, or would have been had he been seated at the walkway edge of his booth’s bench seat.

“Whew!” she shared with John (and the restaurant) as they started forward motion, “I’m gonna give your bed a real good workout tonight, after that meal!”

Seeing her three buns bouncing and wobbling away from him dazzled the visitor, getting his mind to think through some of the many implications of what he had been and still was seeing.

Tara remained contentedly within John’s force field, all the way to the car. She never noticed how many eyes joined the visitor’s staring at her during their departure.


John let out a deep sigh on the drive home.

“What, Lover?”

“Tomorrow’s only Thursday. Already feeling tired and overwhelmed, unlikely to help give the bed a workout tonight.”

She reached over and caressed his thigh, “That’s why we’re sleeping tonight, which honestly is what I had in mind when I made my statement. The bed will get a workout solely from me moving all my weight around in it.”

“I haven’t heard it creaking nor cracking yet, have you?”

“No, and I don’t expect that tonight. Honestly, it was really more of a way for me to say ‘Thank you for a great dinner, where I ate like a starved elephant and have no regrets!’. If we didn’t need to keep the momentum going at work to keep morale high and get our deliverables back on schedule, I’d suggest we take tomorrow off. But the weekend will be here soon enough, and we’ll have two full guilt-free days to relax and rest together or play together or whatever else.”

“Will you still be here by then?”

She turned and looked at him in wide-eyed shock, “Why wouldn’t I be?!

“Your house. Barb. Likely other friends and so on I don’t know.”

“Don’t yet know. What about you and your friends and so on?”

He glanced over momentarily to make eye contact before snapping his eyes back to the road, “There aren’t any of those, other than you. Few people enjoy being around a sad, depressed, hopeless person.”

“Unless you aspire to that, that’s not what you’re going to be going forward, Boyfriend.”

“I’m yours as long as you’ll have me.”

“Then the current forecast is that I’m going to be with you every weekday and weekend day as far out as one wishes to count.”

“How does that comport with your life before the day before yesterday afternoon?”

“Let’s not talk about that tonight, please. I have things that overwhelm me too, and that’s one of them. Let’s work on yours and getting Model Magicians back on track and on schedule with rep as a thriving rather than failing concern, then maybe some later week you can help me not get overwhelmed working through my dilemmas.”

Both of them had a lot to think about, and now was not the time to do it, given the deep sleep they both also needed. Restful sensual cuddling with very light making out eased them both into the start of that deep sleep, where they needed to be: in each other’s arms.

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Moving Experiences

To: Barb Boobz

Seriously: are you being held hostage?

NO. LOVE is in bloom here!

What about here, where you live?

This is important. His life’s at stake.

You haven’t changed your clothes in over 3 days. That can’t be good.

He likes my scent.😊 And I like his.😋

So I’m still shopping and doing all the chores alone, true?

For now. We’ll work it out.

You better, GF!😠

Gotta go; client call incoming. Bye!

Bye.

Tara Pelvig hadn’t left John Mercer’s side since the suicide attempt, other than when they were both at work and needed to be different places in the building to keep things moving forward (and even then, not for long without checking in). Her SUV hadn’t moved from its parking space in the company lot, as she happily rode everywhere with him. Despite Barb’s comment, showering every night and not wearing undies kept Tara’s clothes fresh enough for her purposes, and at the moment, she didn’t much care what anyone other than John thought about her personal characteristics.

She was quite the morale builder at work, keeping him going in and going around together with him to visit each group for status checks and especially to find out if there were other things not brought up at the lunch meeting earlier in the week which were needed to keep work going smoothly. Seeing both people in the front office being so hands-on and proactive about correcting management deficiencies eased the worry of many employees regarding the firm’s and thus their own work future(s). The company would still need to win back former customers who’d bailed and new ones wondering whether Model Magicians was still a going concern or not, and a good choice or not. For now, focusing on getting all current projects back on track and finished to the firm’s historic high standards remained the priority.

She came to realize that John’s claim of being an ass addict had a quite literal component: he tended to fall into depression or anxiety if he didn’t get to feel one of hers for too long a stretch of time—more than an hour or so. All he needed was one or both her butts cuddling him or rubbing against him, or at least one of his hands caressing her there. Through clothes was fine; did not need to be skin-to-skin, excellent as that was. She wanted to be with him as much as he wanted to be with her, making fulfilling this need easy, once she realized how literal it was.


“A great end to a great week” Tara grinned, as she locked the outer office door with lover and owner/president John by her side.

“Wholly thanks to you” he replied, with a nose-rub kiss.

“We’re a team, my Love.”

The deep, long hug they shared together certainly had the symmetry of teamwork.

“Care to go see my place? You can meet Barb and I can pick up changes of clothes and toiletries and other things I’ll need. Depending how things go, we could have an overnight there.”

“Is any of that going to be OK with Barb?”

“I’ll find out.”

To: Barb Boobz

You home, Pillow?

There was no response for over 5 minutes. Tara concluded Barb must be driving, suggesting she and John go to her house anyway.

She led him to her SUV. Watching the lengthy maneuvers she needed to make to get all of herself inside and able to drive captivated and concerned him. First she needed to heft her huge mass up into the vehicle, then squeeze-slide as far right as possible, well over the pillow-cushioned center console (with her fat right butt cheek pushing the pillow out of the way), close and lock the door, then scoot back until her fat left hip was slammed well into said door, which got her body about as centered as it could get. Then she repositioned the center console pillow under her right butt cheek, and fastened the extended seat belt.

“That can’t possibly be comfortable.”

“It’s not so bad” she smiled, starting the engine. “For a bucket seat, this is pretty big, which is why I chose this model.”

“Did you even try anything with a bench seat?” he asked as she backed out of the parking space.

“Didn’t occur to me. How far does the seat in your car move back from the steering wheel?”

“Not enough to allow for all your magnificence.”

Tara snorted out a loud laugh, taking a moment before pulling out of the driveway to touch his wrist and say, “It’s OK if you call it fat, John. You’re an FA, I’m a USBBW who has come to enjoy being this fat. And hopefully soon you’ll be meeting a special one of a whole other shape who’s been very important in my life.”


He appreciated that she was a good driver, taking speed limits far more literally than most people did, signaling, looking carefully where she was going. His focus shifted continually between watching her and watching where she was driving, given that he wanted to see how she preferred driving between work and her home.


Barb hadn’t responded, and her car wasn’t there when Tara pulled into the garage. She happily claimed John’s hand once they were both out of her vehicle, leading him into his first experience of her home life.

No note from Barb, not did she expect one. There was enough food in the house for a nice at-home dinner, though she’d not purchased even half of it and Barb might be counting on it being there.

She quickly lost focus on collecting what she’d need, excited to show him all around and everything about her life, putting a physical dimension to things they’d discussed as well as seeing objects which triggered whole new conversations.


They’d been there nearly half an hour when Tara’s handheld sounded with the text message sound for Barb. She and John paused their conversation and she pulled the device out to see what was up.

To: Barb Boobz

I’m at the Licks’. Getting those along with suckles and squeezes. Coming home tonight, FINALLY?

Am home. With John.

!!??!?!?!?

Here to get what I’ll need for the upcoming week and beyond at his place. Thought it would be a good chance for you two to meet each other.

Not especially in the mood to meet someone who’s stolen my Kitten!😡

Your Kitten?!😯 Possessive much?

ABANDON much?!

It was an emergency, things quickly went far differently than I could have imagined, and now I’m working to reconcile my past with the last few days through the present. But if you don’t want to meet him yet, reconciliation may take longer.

Even if I manage to remain civil to him—not a given—he likely won’t appreciate witnessing us catfight. Rawr!😽😘

What time are you planning to be home tonight?

When Lou and Linda are sick of me and you two are gone, I suppose. Wait…

Linda saw my screen. They want me all night, all the way through the group meet-up tomorrow. Going to that at least?

Can’t. Happily sharing fluids with John, who’s outside the group. He’s going to be fine but we have no proof.

Fuck! You really have trashed our love life!

Give. Me. TIME. Life sometimes has other plans, and I’m doing what I want and need to be doing.

So if John and I stay over tonight? OK by you?

Do whatever the fuck you want; it’s your house. I’m away through the meet-up tomorrow and won’t bother you two.

Food that’s here?

Tara, I DON’T WANT TO DISCUSS THIS ANY MORE. If you want to be a shit and you two eat the food I bought for US, either replace it or leave me a check or cash for it, and maybe think about changing the sheets on the bed when you two are done with it and running a load of laundry like you live there or something.

Goodnight, goodbye. I won’t be in that house before noon tomorrow, and given all this maybe not until tomorrow night. Boobz OUT.

“I’m getting a cold prickly rather than a warm fuzzy from your expression regarding that exchange you just had that I ensured I did not see.”

She put her device back on standby, setting it on the table and rushing into his arms for a hug. “She’s not coming home tonight, out with other lovers. She’s also not taking my absence well (sigggggggghhhh).”

“I’m sorry–”

“–No” she interrupted, feeling him pull away emotionally when he started to speak, making her tighten her arm wrap to hold them physically even closer together. “There’s absolutely nothing you nor I are doing wrong in terms of my IIR with her, other than my failing to meet expectations she has which I find unwarranted. I remain madly in love with you with no regrets, so our love takes priority and I’ll have to figure things out in terms of me and her later—some future day or week. What matters for us here and now tonight is that she is not coming here any sooner than noon tomorrow and maybe not even then. So if you’d like to spend an overnight here and have a nice dinner, we can.”


Other than the minor annoyance of having to reassure him several times that it truly was OK for him to be in her house (related to housemate Barb’s unhappiness), Tara and John shared a wonderfully romantic dinner, and romantic and sexy evening plus overnight plus morning. It was a nice house, with no peeling paint nor other visible maintenance issues. The doorways weren’t as wide as his and the square meterage seemed smaller, but in other ways it was at least as suitable as his house for someone like Tara, if not more so.

In the morning she focused on gathering everything she’d need for awhile. It was definitely so much stuff that it seemed more like a move than a longer visit, which deep within John below his conscious mind, was good.

They waited to load up until they’d made a grocery run to replenish what they’d eaten. John really wanted to get Barb some kind of thank you gift, but didn’t know what would be appropriate. Tara suggested they stop at See’s so he could get her a small box of truffles, and she could get her a one pound soft centers “apology box”.

Tara felt a twinge of upset as she drove herself and John off away from her home and back over to his for the remainder of the weekend and the foreseeable future. She definitely had her work to do reconciling the disparate aspects of her love life, soon as she and John were fully stable and she knew what was what.


Late that afternoon, Tara suddenly stiffened up.

Naturally, John was concerned. “What’s going on?”

“I forgot to change the bed sheets, much less do laundry!”

She rushed to grab her handheld, texting furiously:

To: Barb Boobz

Just remembered I forgot to change the sheets! Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!

A minute later, Barb responded:

To: Barb Boobz

That’s alright. Lying on them now, eating chocolates and staying fat. You’re right, he does smell nice—nice and manly musky without being dank. Tell him thanks for the truffles, and if he needs to find them, they’ll be somewhere as part of my boobs.

We good?

Figure things out, girl. I’m not going to wait on you forever.

Working on it. Anything else?

Keep paying your share of the utilities and we’re as good as we can be right now.

Always do.

Later.

Bye.😘


The runaway train that was Tara Pelvig’s and John Mercer’s love raced onwards. The levity of her putting her clothes and toiletries away in spare drawers in the bedroom and bathroom had a weighty permanence that felt oddly like an unspoken marriage commitment or similar. They took it seriously, hugging and caressing one another a great deal during the process.

She felt like she lived there now, and so did he. Having parked her SUV in his garage reinforced this feeling; being handed a set of house keys and going over the alarm system did so even more so. The power of this love remained a life foundation shaker beyond anything she’d ever known. Over in his world, he felt this same power in the context of her healing him, and how he’d disintegrate if she went away.

The seeming permanence or at least longer-term nature of Tara’s presence in John’s home allowed him to emotionally heal further. Anxiety and depression were less evident. Signs of humor Tara could barely recall from brief flits here and there at work early in her career at Model Magicians found their way out of him, delighting her and making her laugh. They would have made her love him that much more, but she already loved John Mercer about as much as a human being is capable of loving another.

She too appreciated the strong sense of her permanence there, comfortable with him in a way beyond what she’d been with any previous intimate lover or really even friends—including Barb. Barb was probably #2, but a distant #2, as evidenced by their warming and cooling for one another and not infrequent disagreements. There may well be any number of future disagreements between her and John she realized, but in the present (where she preferred to live her life), they simply weren’t there, or were buried so very deep she couldn’t even dredge them up into her consciousness. She didn’t even care about the undone home maintenance like the peeling paint and plastic sheet-covered holes in the walls, beyond concerns of basic structural function she intended to ask him about some months down the road, once she’d integrated this new life with her old one.

The love was on every level: close friendship, companionship, nuts and bolts life partners, and physical intimacy, sexual and non-sexual. He handled the entirety of her middle leg and foot with a natural ease as though everyone had them. Same with her middle bun, and truly any part of her body which differed from what most women had. He never so much as twitched nor raised his eyebrows frequently buying toilet paper in bulk to keep her two huge butts clean, nor big stocks of feminine hygiene products required to cover both sides. No one since her father had shown such an interest in helping enable her to have shoes and other clothing meeting her needs. Here, she drew a line: his interest was welcome, but for now and until their time living together was measured in years or they’d made a more formal loving bond commitment, she’d continue to manage and buy her own clothes, and he’d do the same with his (unless he felt overwhelmed, in which case she’d help).

His natural ease with her continued to carry over to the times they went out in public together as a couple, which was virtually 100% of the time they went out in public. Treating her as if there was nothing whatsoever unusual about having 3 legs or being extremely fat was part of his invisible loving protective force field, reducing the shock and awe responses of those seeing her for the first time, or the first time in a long time. Tara felt herself becoming spoiled by his protective force field—she never wanted to lose it! He never mentioned it and she was sure he didn’t notice he was exuding it, meaning it was no hardship for him—just another innate part of how he expressed his love for her. In turn, she became almost unnaturally attuned to his signs and signals of distress, no matter how mild. Preventing him from getting stuck in the first place with a very minor suggestion or moment of physical love was less effort than getting him unstuck once his emotional mind had locked up. She did notice herself doing this, though it was about as natural and easy for her as his projecting his protective force field. She also didn’t have to do it anywhere near as often as long as he had his frequent, routine opportunities to touch her sexually.

After a life of so many lovers, one might expect Tara would find one person insufficient to satisfy her strong drive and two sides. Indeed that had been the case before getting into the poly group, then later Barb unleashing her massive body with so many surfaces and her two nipple-two clit rubbing technique. She herself had so many surfaces on her lower half and he so beyond-control lusted for all these surfaces and body parts, they’d barely scratched the surface of all the possible sex experiments they wanted to try, or had even yet imagined. Even their favorite positions were so numerous that had they stuck solely to those, it would still be some years before either of them got bored!

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Losing Track of Time

Tara Pelvig and John Mercer’s bliss showed no signs of slowing down, much less stopping. Everyone who saw them who didn’t know otherwise thought they were married, despite the absence of wedding rings. This conclusion was often reinforced when someone would speak of “your husband” or “your wife” to either or both of them and receive no correction.

Weekend days were a balanced mix of sex and related intimacy, bigger/longer “chores” which felt too fun doing them together to deserve the burdensome connotations of that word, and alternating between chilling at home and going out to do fun things together. John truly had lost contact with his friends during his years of depression, and hers were almost always also lovers and that situation still vexed her, meaning that nearly all the time it was just them, or making new friends amongst strangers when they were out.

Weekdays were work days, consistently. John hadn’t enjoyed going to work every day so much since early in the life of Model Magicians. Tara hadn’t enjoyed work this much ever, though years ago when she was over the hump of the initial full digitization of the front office and modernization of the corporate telecommunications system it was close. Employee morale kept creeping closer to historic highs as issues with equipment, supplies, and the building itself faded into memories of a bad period now in the past. Word amongst those who routinely utilized modeling company services spread that Model Magicians was back as a serious contender.

Depending on the day, weekday evenings might be centered more around shorter-duration “chores”, perhaps some grocery shopping. Other evenings were for relaxation and rest, to be fresh and ready for the subsequent work day. Sex was usually involved at some point, usually less intense than on weekends.

Tara got her widened doorway with automated sliding pocket doors between her outer office and John’s inner office, albeit operating at a speed far more reminiscent of a big retail store than Star Trek. She also got a second set at the front hall door to the outer office, which John rationalized as reasonable given the number of people who needed to pass through those doors carrying ** models or other large objects which had traditionally made it difficult to work the legacy door knob. Ironically due to their new relationship (intimate and otherwise), the inter-office door remained parked wide open nearly always during business hours. Longer-term plans to widen other doorways for newer equipment and/or Tara’s passage awaited a stronger balance sheet for the firm before implementation.

There wasn’t a day of the week they didn’t like, which may have been related to their paying less attention to them swiftly passing by. Others noticed and counted, Barb Bloom at the forefront amongst them.

Heee hee hee ha ha!” Tara laughed as John kissed one of the ticklish spots on her naked belly.

It was all Saturday morning sexy time fun and games, until her device sounded off with the ringtone for Barb.

“Want me to go to another room to give you privacy?”

“No. Want you to come up here and sit down, so I can sit Furry side on your lap and you can wrap your arms around me to soothe me.”

Once he did, she answered the call. “Hey.”

“It’s been a full month since you last contacted me, when you and the man who now owns you came over here for your whirlwind and might I add ineffectual move-out. What is the deal?!

No sound from Tara, beyond noisy breathing as she scrambled to form her own answer in her mind, then speak it.

“Emergencies lasting over a month are no longer emergencies, notwithstanding what the Feds claim about illegal U.S. wars and ineffectual authoritarian public health clampdown overreach. You’ve had a month to reconcile your poly past with your apparent monog emergency detour. So what is it? Do you have room for me in your life? Or do I have to force you to sit down with me to work out whether I’ll be the ongoing sole occupant of this now-lonely house and precisely how that will work?”

She felt John getting upset and emotionally pulling away before she could feel his shallow-breath chest heaving. She pushed herself back more firmly against his chest, moving first one then the other of his hands to her hip fat. This had become a silent commitment/love bond renewal signal between them, letting him know that she remained committed to him first and foremost in situations where she couldn’t immediately verbalize that commitment. Into the phone mic she went on the offensive, “So much of what happens going forward depends where you are in the evolution of your outlook.”

What?!

You heard me! A month ago you couldn’t even be civil to the man who yes indeed does have the number 1 slot in my heart, soul, and mind. Both he especially and I are good at planning, which requires forecasts and projections out into the future. We agree that we need each other now through as far into the future as we can forecast—and don’t give me shit about the use of the word ‘need’, because if you’re not living it, you don’t know. Are you with me?

“I think you’re brainwashed!

“I think you haven’t yet experienced true love! Like me, before this happened.”

Barb resisted the urge to slam her device down onto the bed. “So you’re not coming home.”

“Not unless it’s with John and you at least tolerate him, because I want to be with him nearly every moment of every day and night from here to as far in the direction of eternity as my human mind can fathom.”

Every moment?!

Yes!

“That doesn’t leave any room for anyone else!”

Sure it does! Me and John as a couple, the way Lou and Linda are!”

You dumped me!” she whined.

I saved his life and then within under sixteen hours discovered he has compelling intimate interpersonal abilities I want and need in my life! Accidental! Unexpected!” She caressed and squeezed John’s hand with her free hand, to better feel his supportive love.

This wasn’t going well, as far as Barb was concerned. She shifted tactics, “It’s time to scrub the kitchen and bathroom floors again, which we know works better with your special third foot rag shoe technique than the sponge mop, which in any case no longer has a viable mop head. Please advise.”

With a conversation this loud, John was able to hear most of what Barb had to say without trying. He whispered into Tara’s free ear, “Can we do that together some evening or weekend day? Sometime when she’s out, if she doesn’t want to deal with me?

She smiled and nodded, covering the device mic and whispering, “Thanks.” Then she told Barb, “John and I will take care of that, this weekend or next. It can be any daytime time that works for you if you’re ready to meet him and be nice to him, otherwise we need to schedule 2 to 3 hours when you’re not there.”

“Not sure if I can be nice to either of you, since you left me for him, so I’ll need to get back to you on scheduling.”

So basically ended the intense call. Tara reassured John (and herself) that being with him all the time was the choice she most preferred. He reassured her that he would do whatever he could to help keep things smooth between her and everyone she cared about from her past.


Barb made arrangements to visit the communal houses later that same Saturday, allowing Tara and John to come over and clean the floors. While they were there, they did some other cleaning, she paid the property tax bill (still on paper), and loaded out another grouping of clothes and sundries she wanted to have over at his house.


One month became two months, then three, then four.

Things were booming at Model Magicians: at another company-wide meeting, they started to discuss what would be the best strategic major equipment purchase to bring them back to the forefront of their field. There was general agreement that some flavor of metal additive manufacturing system was needed, but no agreement on a specific variant.

There was no time for Tara and John to share outright sex at the office, but that was OK given that both of them were energized and excited about the work they were doing, there were plenty of gropes, rubs, caresses, kisses, and hugs throughout the day, and they always left together for evenings and overnights where sex most of the time and physical intimacy all of the time were givens.

Everyone in Tara’s life amongst her friends wondered what happened to her. Given that almost every single good friend was also a lover in the poly group, get-togethers (whether just a few of them or nearly everyone, and whether at the group homes or elsewhere) were a natural place to discuss the situation.

One Sunday the Licks, Barb, and George were sharing afterglow restful conversation in the family room of the smaller of the two group homes, while others milled about enjoying nudism and general low-level arousal seeing one another as they went about otherwise-normal home life.

“So what’s the story with Tara?” asked George, a somewhat thick middle-aged balding man with very much of a chunky “dad bod”, average-sized unshaved circumcised genitals, and a strong sex drive.

“She and her monog de-facto husband come by roughly once a month if and only if I remind them to deal with household upkeep” Barb sullenly explained. “They work the interior together, then he mows the lawn and does other light yard work. She goes through her huge bag of paper mail, packs up another load of her belongings to move over to his house, then they’re non-entities in my and her house’s life until next month.”

Gretchen came over, taking a seat next to Barb, putting her arm around her (with Barb reciprocating) and sharing a deep kiss. She and Barb weren’t into each other on a deep romantic level, both preferring enjoyable sex-based love, and both really getting off on working together and having no one else at work know of their poly lifestyle nor physical love of each other. When no one else was in the room at work and they were out of view of the security cameras, they had a game where they’d see who could grope the other first. Or other times they merely felt each other up because they felt like it, maybe maybe not shared a kiss, then got back to work.

“What is it about the dude that has her all so deeply into him?”

“Fuck if I know. Haven’t wanted to meet him.”

“We saw them walking together at Bodorgel Plaza” (a local shopping center) said Linda. “Cuddled as close as anyone can get to Tara, truly hips grinding together with each step. Arms around each other, with her looking up at him like he’s the dreamiest love god who’s ever inhabited a human body, and him looking back at her similarly. They didn’t even see us.”

“We weren’t that close, there were a number of other people, and it’s not like we called out to them” Lou clarified.

Still seeking an answer, George rephrased his question and directed it at Lou, “What’s he look like?”

“Kinda average for older middle age. About 6 feet tall and maybe 200 pounds if that. Medium to slender build. Mostly-white thick hair. Dresses and projects businessman.”

“It was a weekday early evening when we saw them” noted Linda.

“He’s all of the founder, owner, and head of the place where Tara works” said Barb.

“Oh alright” George grinned, feeling he’d finally found the true answer he sought. “She’s into the Provider and Resources thing.”

“Don’t understand why” said Lou. “She’s at least as much of a self-made woman as anyone in our group.”

“It’s as deeply hardwired into female human genetics as the need of you men to spread your seed” Gretchen observed, leaning over and woggling Lou’s toggle, then George’s. “Just like you and George and the rest of the cis males in our group, that drive is there even when there is zero intent to procreate and indeed significant desires for the opposite as we all share. Unless someone knows otherwise I doubt Tara has suddenly decided to start a family, but especially having two fully functional wombs as I understand it, her body may be teeming with biochemicals pushing urges to latch onto an alpha provider, despite having no need for one.”

Barb lolled her head on Gretchen’s shoulder, saying, “Given that this all started when she interrupted his suicide attempt and kept telling me in the first week that ‘I can’t leave because he needs me’, I’m thinking it’s more of a fixing broken people drive. He’s the abandoned feral kitten she saved and nurtured, who now depends on her. She made him, bonded with him, and now needs that love and validation she made possible.”

“Whatever the case, it’s a loss of one of our star family group members if she doesn’t come back.”

Alain swayed out from the kitchen with a plate of cut rectangles of fresh homemade lemon cake, holding the plate out for Gretchen first. A slightly thick conventionally attractive woman with long dark brown hair and today wearing big hoopy gold earrings, she was gifted with archetypal exaggerated womanly curves (“child-bearing hips” and all that), arousing all of them as she leaned over to let her full, pendulous 36E breasts hang and swing and let her curvy hips show off their bending-over splay.

Gretchen happily claimed a piece.

“Watch out for those” George warned, “You’ll get fat.”

The group laughed as Gretchen first pretended to feed the piece she’d claimed to Barb, then at the last moment stuffed it all into her mouth and claimed a second piece, glaring at George for daring to judge what she did with her own body.

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bare Gratitude

Daylight hours were getting shorter, the weather quite a bit cooler. It had been nearly 6 months since Tara Pelvig saved her company founder and head John Mercer. In the Mercer (and de-facto Mercer-Pelvig) household, everything was cheery and loving, with abundant cuddles featuring Tara’s abundant fat and nearly two lower bodies to keep them both warm.

Over in Tara’s owned home, Barb Bloom reached new depths of loneliness. Remaining very active with the poly group, visiting the Licks for overnights, and having Tara-approved members of the group stay over at the house all helped, but it wasn’t the same as coming home to a lover every night and sharing cuddles, the day’s events, hot sex, and everything else. She was on the waiting list to get into either of the group homes, though given the extremely low turnover, openings there often were nearly a decade apart.

Thinking about it whilst dinner baked and she did yoga, Barb concluded that continuing to rant, rail, and hold a grudge wasn’t going to help her meet her needs. She may never get Tara back as a primary lover, but at least she could forgive, apologize, and build bridges to allow as much of their bond as possible to refresh. Heck, she might even enjoy fucking Tara’s man John, given her positive primal reaction to his scent on the sheets all those months ago.


“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to move anything out this month” John apologized to Tara, regarding his pile of old technology sitting in the living room—the lynch pin blocking progress on so many home repairs.

“You’re doing really really well!” she encouraged him, caressing his arm as she cuddled into him. “You’ve moved at least one item every other month since I’ve been here, and August you got rid of two, so you’re on track to have things cleared out sometime next year.”

“Most people would be emotionally able to send this stuff straight to e-waste all within a few hours of one day.”

“But you’re not most people and straight to e-waste is not OK with you, so you’re doing what you can, and I appreciate it!”

Barb’s ringtone sounded on Tara’s device. As usual, she tensed up when she heard it.

Today it was her right butt with Smooth which she wanted seated on his lap as she took the call.

“Hi Barb. What’s up?”

“Doing anything for Thanksgiving?”

“Not that I know of so far.” She turned to John, “We doing anything in particular for Thanksgiving?”

“I have no specific plans.”

She turned back to the device’s mic, “Nothing specific yet.”

“If you’re down for it, I’d like to invite you and John over here to the house you own for a Thanksgiving ** luck. I’ll make the bulk of the feast, which if both of you are good with it, I’m thinking can be non-traditional, e.g. Barb’s barbecued pulled pork as the centerpiece rather than a turkey—things like that. It’ll be my chance to apologize to you, meet him no longer holding a grudge against him or you, and give thanks for the amazing opportunity to still be living in this house and having reconnected with you as an adult, as we all day by day make the best of our lives.”

“That’s sweet! We’d love to do that!”

Barb let go of the thought that, as far as she could tell, Tara hadn’t even had a few seconds to consult with John before replying for both of them. “Great! Let’s say noon for the core of the meal. It’s your house so obviously you can come over whenever you want, though it would be kind of you to wait until 10 AM or afterwards so I have half a chance of getting some noms prepped and things set up.”

“Go ahead and use any of the linens and anything else in the sideboard that we never use, if you want to set up the dining table in any formal way.”

“I’m thinking buffet, but yeah, I was going to serve off the dining table and would like it to have at least vestiges of traditional holiday decor. I’m so excited to see you again!

Me too! Any specific items or categories of items you’d suggest we bring?”

“Nah. I’m covering the whole range of appetizers through dessert with a minimum of one item each, so any category you want to cover in greater depth is open. I know pretty well what you like, but not John, so if there’s anything he especially wants on Thanksgiving, you two should bring that to ensure it happens.”

They excitedly wrapped up the call, then Tara excitedly shared with John, who’d heard most but not all of the discussion.

“I look forward to it” he shared.

“She’s really nice, and she’s a huge BBW—ultrasized, who’s totally down with being admired by FAs of all genders for her body as well as the rest of her, so we all should have a great time!”

They got right into planning what they’d bring, even with Thanksgiving still two weeks away.


Excitement grew as the day grew closer.

Barb spent evenings and weekends since her invitation phone call cleaning the house in small batches she could handle, both to impress Tara that she was being a good tenant (even though a lot of the time she tended towards messy and careless), and so John would only associate piggishness with her physique and not her domicile cleanliness. Living there alone further allowed her to start setting up the dining table well in advance of the event, given that she didn’t normally use it.

Heading into the final days, she had everything she needed on hand, able to start marinading and doing a few other things better done in advance.

Tara and John had little trouble working out their ideal Thanksgiving meal for this casual potluck non-traditional event context. Even though it was her house, they planned things which weren’t sensitive to timing nor needing to monopolize her home’s oven, not knowing what Barb had in mind (beyond the BBQ pulled pork) and wanting to keep things a surprise.


The day of the event, Tara had an urgent text message for Barb:

To: Barb Boobz

Dress code?

You two: anything you and he want. Me: sexy casual.

Recommend washable clothes, or protection like bibs or aprons.

Thanks. 10A still OK?

Yes. Honestly, it’s all set up and prep is going well, so you could come over right now, but let’s make it 10 or later so I can go over my checklist and not miss something important. Let yourself in, any door, no text nor bell nor other notification of arrival needed.

X L NT. See you 10 or later!


“You sure this isn’t too casual?” John asked Tara, presenting himself dressed as she’d requested: one of his favorite t-shirts (a form-fitting semi-stretchy one), a pair of stretchy form-fitting sweat pants (that along with his usual white cotton briefs, showed off his package well and tended to make her moist if not outright wet), any socks he wanted, and one of his dressier pairs of slip-on tennis shoes.

“It and you are perfect!” she smiled, caressing his hip.

She wore her shortest skirt which still fit (mid-thigh in length), a maroon stretchy top which complemented his shirt, and her favorite triple of mule dress shoes.

Soon as the dish known as Tara’s (homemade chicken) Tenders was out of the oven and cool enough to safely carry, they finished loading up his car and were on their way.


“Hello Hello!” Tara called out with joy in her voice as she opened the back door (nearest the garage, in which John parked), carrying the first of several baking dishes.

Hey Kitten!” Barb called out in reply, wobbling on over straightaway, a huge smile on her large face.

“So good to see you!” she exclaimed upon her arrival, wanting to hug Tara but unable to do so because of the baking dish. “Is that what I think it is?”

“If you think it’s Crunchy Onion Waffle Potatoes, that is what it is.”

“Let’s get these inside so we can hug!

“Let’s hold off on the hug and the official introduction to John until everything’s inside. Brrrr, it’s cold today!”

She claimed the baking dish from Tara so Tara could turn around and get the next load from the car. “I was thinking of building a fire, but given what happened last time I tried that to surprise you with coziness, thought better of it.”

“Yeah, cleaning all that soot off the walls wasn’t fun. Be right back!”

John suggested a bucket-brigade passing arrangement: him to Tara to Barb, to speed things up. They tried it, it worked, and sooner than later everything was unloaded and Tara and John could close the garage, reenter the house for the final time, and truly say hello to Barb.

The two USBBW rushed to each other, arms open wide, prodigious piles of fat all over them moving every which way.

“So good to see you!” Barb exclaimed. “And feel you!”

“Thanks for letting this happen. Now that I’m here I’m feeling how much I’ve missed you.”

John needed no map to find the powerful love between Tara and Barb as he stood back a few steps and witnessed them embracing. Tara had never shown him pictures of Barb, though her several descriptions did her justice.

The shared hug drove home to both women something each thought they’d noticed, but weren’t sure until they hugged: each of them had lost weight, and not just a little. It wasn’t that either had dropped below ultrasized back to supersized, though they were both closer to that smaller size category than they’d been when they last saw each other. In Tara’s case, it was the combination of no longer living with a fellow sensual fat foodie with gainer, feedee, and feeder tendencies (which tended to bring out Tara’s own characteristics along these lines) plus being so excited and occupied with the many facets of her new life with John that she didn’t miss the extra food. For Barb the first of Tara’s conditions was equally true for her, and likely the bulk of the change in bulk. Her appetite had been up and down, a little more of the latter than the former. Each had shed in the neighborhood of 50 to 60 pounds over the half year—massive for a small person, but a small percentage when one’s total weight was in the 600s of pounds.

Barb still sported enough cleavage in her bright red above-knee-length party dress to hold an entire six pack of bottles lined up and one could still see her very large belly button, though she wasn’t falling/exploding out of her dress top, nor was her belly button and the belly surrounding it projecting quite as far forward, pressing so hard against the fabric.

Tara’s losses were less obvious, having taken place more or less equally all over. Barb mainly noticed the looser fit of her skirt and visibly less belly.

John wasn’t off Tara’s mind at all, even when she was hugging Barb, renewing her bond with her. About a minute into the deep, long, overdue embrace, she pulled back to introduce him, “It’s time, Barb Bloom. Please look past me and welcome the man I’m so profoundly glad I saved from what was almost a tragedy for humanity, founder, owner, and president of Model Magicians where I’m honored to work, John Mercer!

“Hi Barb” he smiled, extending his hand for a shake as he approached. “I truly am glad to meet you.”

She gave him a smirky, quirky “What’s up with that?!” look, taking his extended hand then its mate and wrapping them around herself as she eased them into a deep, pillowy soft hug. “Anyone who’s so special to my Kitten Tara that she doesn’t want to come home to the house she owns for half a year automatically goes right past the handshake stage directly to very close friendship hugs. I too am sincerely glad to meet you, and am beginning to understand at least a wee bit why Tara might find you so compelling.”

“I understand her pet name Pillow for you much better now. Viscerally.”

Barb snickered, holding the hug. What was baffling her was reconciling what Tara had shared about John being a fat admirer and his lack of full hardness for her as she immersed him in her huge busty soft front with her equally-soft belly pressed against his groin and pillowy upper arms wrapped around him. She’d not encountered such a feeble micro-erection from any woman-attracted FA prior to this moment.

Tara joined in from the side, to make it a 3-way hug.

“I don’t know that I’ll ever be over losing Tara as an every-night sleep-together lover, but I do regret the intensity and duration of my animosity. Love is what it is, and now with you both here I have a better sense of how deep yours seems to be. Having both of you in my life to some degree is far better than remaining cut off from Tara forever more, so I’m really, really glad both of you came today, to get us to this moment and allow me to apologize. I’m grateful for every moment of knowing Tara, from childhood through right now and beyond. I’m grateful for the opportunity to start to get to know a man who so dazzles her that she dropped an entire group of sexy lovers who are also nice people, to be with. I’m grateful to be allowed to continue to live in this very nice house as the new life you two are making with each other continues to unfold. Thank you!

Barb showed no signs of releasing the deep hug. Neither did Tara or John.

Tara had her own thanks to give, “In childhood and now again these past years in adulthood, you’ve been my closest, most dear and special female friend. It hurt to be cut off from you, even as I needed for myself as well as him to be with John every possible moment since that fateful day that changed all our lives and almost ended his far too soon. I hope we can all at least be friends and that this is the start of that process. But even if we only have this time together today, I’m grateful that it’s happening. Because I love you both… so much!” Silent tears of gratitude found their way onto both Barb and John.

“I wouldn’t be here without Tara, and not just due to events of that day of attempted suicide. Her ongoing love and presence in my life keeps me alive, and continues to heal me into a better-functioning human being. I have deep regret for what seems to have been and may still be a cut-off discontinuity from her prior life to the one she and I share together currently. For me having alienated all my friends long before Tara saved me, there has been no loss. That’s not the case for her, as neither of you need me to say. I can only hope that she finds a way to better reconcile her past and present lives, and that I’m the least impediment to that process that I can be. I’m very grateful that you gave her and me a chance to be here today, Barb. The love between you two is obviously deep, and it would be horrible for it not to be able to continue to the highest degree possible, given how all three of our lives have changed.”

A slight burning smell emanating from the kitchen reminded Barb of something important. She pulled out of the hug, “Cheese Whirls beckon. If they’re not already inedible charcoal, they will be in moments.”

John gasped softly and grew hard watching Barb’s bouncing backside as she rushed away. Even if not her largest parts, as a USBBW Barb Bloom had large fat mostly-round buns and enough curvy hip fat to grab onto, even if very little compared to true pear-shaped hippy fat women and especially Tara. Her boobs didn’t impress him, but oh how he wanted to (consensually) get into that gloriously fat ass!

Tara took advantage of the situation to enjoy his hardness pressed deep into her own fat middle bun.


Only a few edges of a few Cheese Whirls needed some charred areas cut off. Barb got back on track, with Tara and John helping deliver just-finished items and items out of the refrigerator to the dining table.

In under 5 minutes, everything needed for the initial course from what both Barb and Tara had in mind was all set out and ready to enjoy.

Almost.

Barb waddled out with a touch of trepidation, holding a bottle of sparkling muscat wine. “Is wine permissible for today’s celebration, asked the woman who knows how Tara rolls with alcoholic beverages, but not John.”

“He’s down with that category of potent potables. Just don’t give him bourbon” Tara ended with a shudder.

“Why not? Bourbon’s my favorite hard liquor, when I get into that category of beverage.”

“You know why not!”

“I wanted one of my favorites in my last moments of life, and as part of Plan A.”

“I have no intention of serving anything stronger than wine today” Barb clarified. “Though I was very much thinking of more than just this bottle during the course of the celebration, if there’s sufficient interest.”

With that logistical element out of the way, Barb opened the bottle for self-service, with the three of them piling their plates with whatever appealed to them and pouring a flute of the sparkling wine for themselves.

Barb sat in a living room chair across from Tara and John on the couch, both because that was the obvious preferred arrangement and so she could take in more of the man and study their live interactions as a couple. Tara wasn’t at all shy about sitting her huge right butt in his lap, as they both routinely enjoyed and she found comfortable as well as lovingly intimate. Barb could only imagine what that felt like, given that between them she and Tara had so much fat, their closest equivalent to Tara sitting on her lap (when she cleared her belly off it) wasn’t all that close.

Barb directed initial conversation towards John telling them his life story from as close to the beginning as he felt like sharing. Interestingly, a number of anecdotes about his childhood were things he’d not shared with Tara, as she’d not asked and he’d not considered them compelling enough to mention.

He’d always been good with his hands from an early age, fascinated by objects in 2 and 3 dimensions, and how they interacted. Today, he’d be called a Maker, back when there was no such word because most people made or modified tangible physical objects with their hands and tools. He successfully built model car and other model vehicle kits several years younger than the recommended age on the packaging, dissatisfied with how crude they were in many ways, learning to modify them to be more realistic and have better structural integrity and adherence to detail.

Science and math came naturally to him, with english being of minor interest notwithstanding a natural talent for it, and neither a natural talent nor interest for social studies. History was a matter of history of what: technical and scientific history interested him; political and social history did not. Geologic history only interested him to the degree he could study images of geologic formations. He spent so much time focused on body mechanics in P.E. that classmates thought he had his head too far in the clouds to be a leading choice when picking teams, even though when he swung at a softball or kicked a soccer ball, the connection was solid enough to send the respective ball far beyond what the more “with it” players typically managed. The day they reluctantly made him goalie and he blocked every goal attempt and sent the ball soaring well past the middle of the field whether with his arm or his foot was the day his classmates had to re-evaluate what John “Cloud Head” Mercer was all about.

High school was more of the same. He continued to excel in the same subjects, and as in earlier grades, especially when an assignment allowed for the construction of a model or diorama or even a poster with moving elements. Several teachers came after his parents for the “unreasonably professional” results John brought to class, getting strong rebuffs from Mr. and Mrs. Mercer, with John happily making second editions of the works from scratch before the teacher’s eyes, until they apologized.

Nothing along the lines of sexuality nor romance came into John Mercer’s life until a fateful day near the end of his junior year. “Walking in the commons on my way to where I usually sat alone to eat lunch and watch people’s bodies as part of my study of human body mechanics, I happened to glance over and see Jenny Patussi standing, bent all the way over to pick something up or look at something. A plump pear, she had the most perfect curvy ass I’d seen up until that time, aimed straight at me in her snug knee-length green skirt!

“If you’ve ever seen the flood gates of a dam suddenly open and start gushing water, that’s what happened to me. I’d never felt a moment of desire in my life to that point, and barely recognized it for what it was at that moment. I was terrified! I was also highly driven, by forces more powerful than most I’d ever known, finding my feet rushing me across the lawn over to her before I was consciously aware that I was moving.

“Thankfully I stayed off her backside, coming up along side her gasping for breath as she stood back up. The whole interaction from that point forward is forever etched in my mind, so the quotes I’m about to recite from back then should be accurate, but might not be entirely.”

He took turns speaking in his voice and his rendition of hers:

“‘Hi John! What has you all out of breath?’

‘I saw you bending over, and—I’ve never seen anything nor anyone so beautiful!

“Now, I didn’t know it at the time, but Jenny later told me that no one before me in our class ever showed signs of being attracted to her, because she was plain, had small boobs, and was fat. She wasn’t actually fat, just plump and very pear curvy in a highly desirable way, but she felt fat and some ignorant people of the time labeled her as such. I didn’t think she was plain, either: she had cute, sweet eyes on a face which she didn’t bury in cosmetics like so many other girls in our class and the adjacent years. She flashed them at me and I fell deeper in lust with her as she said, ‘All I was doing was reaching down to pick up this marble I spotted’.

“She held it up for me to see it. It was a clear standard game size, with beautiful red, orange, yellow, and blue swirls inside. I told her about it being standard game size, and pointed out the signs of it being decades old, possibly dating back to when an elementary school had shared the now-high school site. Our eyes met again and she asked, ‘Would you like to have lunch together?’. I of course agreed immediately!

“Not knowing anything about any of this, I instinctively clasped her hand as she held hers out towards me. I truly tried to concentrate on what she was saying as she led us along, but all I could do was steal glances of those glorious glutes and her soft hips bouncing around!”

Tara cuddled deeper into him, possessively and with a huge grin.

Barb crossed her legs, hoping at least one of them would notice that she was rolling commando.

What even John didn’t know to this very day was that back then, Jenny had been as flustered as he was, babbling things she didn’t remember even later that day as her mind scrambled to Not Screw Up with the first young man who’d expressed interest in her—a smart, cute one that made her feel wobbly inside!

He continued his retelling, “She led me to Lovers’ Alcoves, a heavily-landscaped area in a corner of the campus away from the classrooms and most other buildings, other than a side of the administration building which couldn’t really see anything that direction because there were so few windows and they were for utility closets and the like. Whether intentionally planned as make-out spots when it was landscaped with tall, dense hedges I can’t say even today. The original intent was clearly to look beautiful from the street, since this exposure faced the two major streets leading to the school and is the first impression a lot of people would see, along with the large painted concrete name of the school right up near the corner intersection.

“Someone figured out that upper class students would find some place to neck, and that they might as well put faux marble bench seats in each hedge alcove and let people do it there, where they’d be exposed to anyone driving by on Hillbumple or walking along the sidewalk or over the distance of the interceding 35 give-or-take meters of lawn between the curb and each alcove seat.

“I didn’t know anything at the time other than the general nature of the area, the name Lovers’ Alcoves, and that Jenny Patussi was leading me there, holding hands! We sat down next to each other awkwardly, stealing all kinds of glances of one another. She had a pretty medium-pitched voice I felt I could listen to forever. We got started on our respective bagged lunches, keeping small talk safe by discussing what each of us had, why we did or didn’t like it, and so on. I didn’t understand at the time that her pointed comment that ‘I make my own lunches’ was intended as a selling point regarding her domestic skill set, and not a competitive boast that she was more adult than me because my mom still made mine. This was the mid-1970s after all. I don’t know whether that makes it first, second, or third-wave feminism. All I know is that patriarchal society still called it women’s lib, and kept trying to frame it as a fringe extremist group of malcontents and uglies who couldn’t land husbands, and that most of us of high school age with any interest in romance or related desires were trying to figure out the rules of engagement, often operating with different sets of them.”

Barb got up, claimed Tara’s empty plate, and assembled a second round of comestibles for both of them as John continued with his story, so Tara could remain cuddled into him so adorably. She also refilled everyone’s sparkling wine flutes.

“We moved back to the marble, which she ill-advisedly held in her right hand as her leftover meatloaf sandwich which needed two hands fell apart in her left. I set my peanut butter sandwich down and claimed the marble, answering her questions about how I was estimating its age via pointing out the pock marks and other signs of wear and so forth, along with finer points of glass manufacturing I’d been reading about. To me it was nothing special to know these things, but she looked at me like I was some kind of genius. Those eyes… oh those eyes!”

Tara decided she needed to get him gazing into her eyes, giving him the best glitter-eye look she could, caressing his face with a downward motion to get him to look at her.

“Yes DubLove, I can gaze into your eyes and your whole face for the rest of eternity with gratitude and joy.”

Barb smiled and batted her eyes furiously until someone noticed.

“I haven’t studied your eyes long enough at close range to have a sense with you. You don’t need the likes of me to tell you that you’re visually compelling in many ways on many levels.”

That was good enough for Barb, who took another sip of the wine.

“Anyway, back then I didn’t know either of you, and this was my first half hour of sexual awakening, so there were only Jenny’s eyes. I don’t know whether Jenny generally ate fast the way I did. On that day she seemed to be splitting the difference between matching my inhale-devour pace and her idea of ladylike eating. I must’ve seemed like quite the barbarian to her, the way I picked my teeth once I was done with my lunch, the way I always did without thinking about it. She asked me what I was into, probably as much to keep me there and talking while she finished her lunch as anything else, though she did appear interested.

“I had no idea why she was making such a grand ceremony of pulling a roll of spearmint Lifesavers out of her… oh what’s that word for a woman’s purse that doesn’t have any straps?”

“Clutch” Tara and Barb responded atop one another.

“Yes, that. She made a big deal of pulling that roll out of her clutch and handing me a piece, saying ‘Savor the flavor’ with a smile before putting one in her own mouth and making obvious that it was meant for a slow dissolve with licking. I had no idea if these things had drugs or what, or why else she’d insist I not chew mine the way I probably would have if nothing had been said. Her direct stare entranced me, even as all the visible tongue licking motions puzzled me.

“Once our Lifesavers had fully dissolved, she asked me to tell her what it was about her I found so beautiful that I felt the need to come over and tell her on that day. I told her that the shape of her ass and splayed hips as she bent over opened up an overwhelming floodgate of brand-new extremely powerful feelings within me, and that now that I’d studied the rest of her more closely, I felt quite sure that she was the most beautiful woman in our class, that I was feeling woozy and dazed being there with her, and that it would mean the world to me if she’d please sit in my lap.

“She happily sat down in my lap sideways, which wasn’t what I had in mind, but I hadn’t been more specific, and I did quite like seeing her face. It’s probably a good thing that there were at least 4 layers of clothing between my prong and her vag, otherwise I might have penetrated and impregnated her without conscious intent, lost to reality as I was. She obviously felt my erection, and quite liked it from all I could sense and what happened later. My hands instinctively moved to her hips, making her say with a sigh, ‘Mmmm… later. Kiss now, then it’s time for class’. She moved my hands around her shoulders, wrapping her arms around me in return. It had to be deep instinct that let me know that what she was doing with her lips was a cue to kiss, because my conscious mind sure didn’t know, and was totally lost anyway!

“Our lips met, and electric jolts of a kind I’d never previously experienced shot through me. I couldn’t think! I couldn’t do anything other than keep kissing her and struggling to understand what was happening.

“The kissing continued until she gently eased us apart just enough to speak softly and see the whole of each other’s faces. We were both dazed and losing ourselves to what much later I would recognize as passion-based love. She seemed to wait for me to say something. When I didn’t, she said, ‘Time for class. Let’s meet up right here today soon as 7th. period ends, so we can talk about what we want to happen next.’ Like the inexperienced idiot I was, I replied, ‘As long as you’ll sit on my lap, I will meet you anywhere and any time I possibly can that you want us to meet.’”

Barb couldn’t help snorting then laughing, which got Tara then John himself going. They decided it was a good time for another food and beverage replenishment break, and for John to enjoy some of what he still had on his plate.


Several minutes later, he continued his first love saga, “I’m probably getting too bogged down in detail.”

“Not for me!” Barb exclaimed. “I love a good love story!”

“And I’ve never heard this one” added Tara.

“OK. Let me know if it gets too draggy. Jenny was waiting for me by the time I arrived at Lovers’ Alcoves, leading me to a different alcove since another couple—a pair of seniors—was already in ours. She smelled different—more perfumy—and to my silent dismay had added wholly unnecessary gloss to her lips, but at least she’d left the rest of her face alone and not added any cosmetics there. She guided me down and sat back down on my lap, in the same orientation as at lunch. My hands instinctively went back to her hips—nearest hip and bun, actually. This time she clasped her hands atop mine, arresting their movement but not moving them away. She asked, ‘What do you want from me, John?’ I told her I didn’t know and that this was all very confusing and entirely new to me and that touching her hips and buns was magic and I yearned for more but had no idea what I was doing nor exactly what ‘more’ entailed, so if she did she was in charge and it would be kind of her to guide me. She smiled, massaging my hands with hers as they stayed where she wanted them to stay, getting us into a discussion of our class schedules and scheduled extra-curricular activities and so forth. Then we discussed what homework we had for the night, and how each of us normally scheduled working on that. I didn’t have anything due the next day and neither did she.

“She seemed to be thinking for some time, as though plotting her next move. I remained lost, and delighted that she was sitting on my lap! We both noticed various classmates passing by the opening of our alcove to check us out, some stopping and staring. Jenny brought my attention back to her by making her hands squeeze mine, which made mine squeeze her right hip and bun. She said, ‘I’ve been trying to figure out what to do with this marble I found today, to best display it.’ With little forethought, my mind jumped straight to, ‘It would make an excellent pendant, if you wanted to wear it’.

‘How would I mount the marble?’

‘There are all kinds of ways. Easiest is probably an artful wire wrap.’

‘Can you help me with that?’

‘Sure! I’ve got all sorts of supplies at my house. Can you come over sometime so we can go over what you like and don’t like in terms of materials and styles?’

“She was grinning so hard I thought her face might rip. She replied, ‘Let’s go now!’, taking my hand to guide me up as she stood up.”

“She followed me home in her car. I didn’t understand why she was trembling when she got out and rejoined me, until I asked and she explained that she was nervous about meeting any of the rest of my family. It didn’t seem to get any better when I told her that it was just my mother because Dad wasn’t home from work yet and that I was an only child.

“Mom was stunned to see me bring a girl home, and delighted that it was Jenny Patussi, because she and Dad knew Mr. and Mrs. Patussi from the PTA, and knew that Jenny was a good girl from a good family, of a caliber fit for her only son. Initially she did look askance at how pear wide and soft Jenny was, but let it go. She asked if we wanted any snacks, and I told her no thank you, because I’d be doing metalwork and other things and food would contaminate some of the surfaces plus we might ingest harmful substances if we handled them and ate without washing our hands, but maybe later. To me this was common sense. Jenny reacted quite positively, as though I was looking out for her well-being, which I suppose I was, but not as my primary conscious focus.

“Technically the house I grew up in was a one-bedroom. What was designed as a family room facing the back yard became my bedroom, with the living room serving as that plus how most people in the 1960s and ’70s used a family room. My bedroom was a big room, with lots of windows facing the back yard and the patio. It even had a fireplace backing the one in the living room, which I used as a micro blacksmith’s hearth for hot metal fab. Jenny was blown away with how big the room was, and how I had a whole workshop in there for model making and other forms of fabrication. The real heavy-duty stuff like the full-sized floor standing drill press and the band saw were out in Dad’s garage shop, but for things up to and including a small bench grinder and tabletop fine work drill press, those were in my room.

“She seemed even more amazed when I led her to the raw materials storage area and opened the drawer full of spools of wire. I pulled out a spool of clear-coated copper alloy wire, explaining how it wasn’t electrical-grade wire and happened by chance to be jewelry wire, intended for easy forming and staying shiny, and asking her if she liked how it looked with the marble, which she pulled out of a hidden pocket and agreed it did. I reminded her that because of metal fatigue, we’d need to try to sketch out the cage pattern before I tried to make it with the actual wire, which wasn’t cheap.

“There wasn’t anywhere to sit at all other than my bed and my work chair, so she sat in my lap once I sat in the chair, making me feel all woozy again. As before she sat sideways with her back to my left. This time when my left arm instinctively wrapped around her lower back and my hand rested on the juncture of the top side of her left bun and her left hip she didn’t move it nor put hers atop, even when with no forethought my hand gently massaged her there.

“She liked my rough sketch so much that she had no suggestions for changes. She wanted me to sign it and let her keep it, which I thought was ridiculous, but agreed to, once I was done fabricating. I told her I didn’t want her to stand up, but I needed full, free use of both arms to be able to work the wire properly. She stood up and stepped back enough to not interfere. I got into my zone and worked the wire into a 3D version in my mind of what I’d tried to draw in 2D. It didn’t quite match what I had in mind, but Jenny loved it and looked at me like I was some sort of magician. She didn’t understand why I reclaimed it from her until I pointed out that the wire needed some finishing twists then end clips and touches of matching lacquer for both appearance and smoothing the cut ends.

“While the lacquer was drying, we looked through the options we had for chains. Even I was surprised that I still had enough fine tight-link copper chain, left over from work on models of older structures in and near Salt Lake City, where copper is plentiful. The one thing I didn’t have was a proper jewelry clasp. My mother had one which was a little too big in scale and more bronze than copper which made me wince, but Jenny liked it and really wanted the necklace finished, so we went with it.

“Back in my room, I put it all together and made finishing adjustments. She was slightly annoyed that I put a dot of lacquer on the end of the marble cage loop after adjusting it around the chain, apparently not wanting to wait for it to dry. I kept her busy, showing her the tools and supplies and whatnot in all the drawers, plus pointing out details of some of the completed models up on shelves around the room.

“Once that last dot of lacquer was dry, I handed her the necklace. She became quite emotional, telling me that when I first mentioned making a cage for it, that she thought it would be some cute hokey thing made of linked paper clips or somesuch, but that I’d made actual jewelry for her, right before her eyes! She handed the necklace back to me, asking me to please put it around her neck and fasten the clasp. I felt all sorts of emotional power between us and in the room, not understanding what any of it meant then, and only some of the symbolism now, all these decades later.

“It looked really good on her. We’d done well sizing the chain length to get the marble centered on her breastplate, like pendants ought to be. We happened to be standing near my bed. To my total surprise, she pulled me into her for very passionate kisses like we’d shared at lunch, but more intense and frenetic. I couldn’t do anything other than let my instincts go, which made me kiss her back in kind and made my arms wrap around her low down, with my hands on her buns. She gently pushed me down onto the bed on my back, maintaining frontal contact and kissing, all of a sudden lying atop me. The kissing stopped suddenly when she pulled her head back and asked, ‘I’m not too heavy on you, am I?’ and I replied, ‘Not even slightly!’, at which point she resumed frenetic kissing. She didn’t stop me at all as my hands roamed around what I could reach of her buns and hips, which was a good area of them. Her hands roamed over me in ways I don’t remember, other than they found my buns and squeezed them similar to how I’d been squeezing hers. I didn’t then know if this was love or sex or what it was, but whatever it was, I wanted it to keep going!

“Again she pulled back her head suddenly, and the conversation went something like this:

‘You really like me, don’t you?’

‘Yes.’

‘You made a real necklace for me, for the marble I found today, because I’m special to you?”

‘There’s no one else like you, Jenny.’

‘No other girls?’

‘Not like you! I don’t notice them. They’re just there, a blur of people.’

‘Do you love me?’

‘I don’t know what love is, for sure. I feel all these extremely powerful feelings being near you and even thinking about you, which make me excited and swirly and woozy and confused, and make me want to be with you so we can be in contact and I can keep feeling them. Touching you, looking at you, listening to you, talking with you, having you sit on my lap, kissing you.’

That’s love! That’s how I feel about you! John: will you be my boyfriend?!

“I’d never thought about such a thing. It seemed to be for other people who were into that whole love and romance stuff I didn’t understand until all these powerful things on this first day started happening, and truly still didn’t understand but felt powerfully drawn towards. Not knowing if there were other options and knowing that classmates who were boyfriend/girlfriend got to hold hands walking together and kiss and stuff and I wanted those things, I replied ‘Yes. And, then, does that make you my girlfriend?’”

“She replied ‘Yes! And now we have to kiss on it some more, to make it official!’.

“We kissed and caressed for a long time, changing things only slightly via rolling so we were side-by-side, then a few minutes later she rolled me on top of her. I figured it was all part of making things official, and merely followed along, glad to have a first girlfriend who knew what she was doing.

“Eventually we sat up and cuddled. I offered her a snack; she said yes. My mother met up with us in the kitchen and together Jenny and I explained as we washed up what had happened and that we were now officially boyfriend and girlfriend. In retrospect I think Mom was relieved that we hadn’t taken things farther, especially to actual sex.

“Thus started my confusing adventures in love, romance, and sex, some of which still befuddles me to this day.”

“You can’t stop there!” Tara declared, poking him playfully.

“You’re not bored to tears yet?”

“No!”

“Neither am I” said Barb, “though I’m calling for another food break so you can eat, John, and Tara and I can have another go, with at least me opening another bottle of wine. For me it’s fascinating to hear an adult FA man explain in this much detail what his romantic and maybe sexual awakening was like. Most men I’ve known have been too busy getting with me for sex to talk about much of anything.”


They took a longer break, with Tara and Barb discussing the day’s dishes, topics related to the house, and select pieces of news regarding people they both knew. This gave John a chance to actually finish a plate of the appetizers and other delectable noms currently out, and his first flute of the now-barely-sparkling wine.

“Sure you want to hear more of the saga of me and Jenny Patussi?”

Yes” the women replied in unison.

“Alright. Fortunately most of the rest isn’t hour-by-hour, since I only remember that level of detail for that first day, and a few other momentous events.

“I had no clue how to be a boyfriend, and wasn’t interested enough in learning to do much asking around and certainly no research in those pre-Internet days. Jenny seemed to know and I loved her, or thought I did, so I followed her lead. I quickly learned that it was important to be seen together as much as possible, especially around campus, holding hands. No hardship at all for me, other than we had only one class we were both in, making logistics challenging. She taught me how much staring at her ass and hips was good and how much was too much, and the best times for me to be doing that when out in public.

“Initially we had lunch in Lovers’ Alcoves when we could get an alcove. I get the sense she was training me to be a better boyfriend, in terms of what constituted appropriate and inappropriate PDAs. Demand was always high for alcoves so we didn’t always get one. Soon she apparently thought I was ready to sit with her out in the open in public at lunch. I quickly learned that we only had maybe a 50 percent overlap of strong interests if that. Thankfully conversation came easily to us and there was that other 50 percent, so usually we could find something we were both comfortable talking about.

“At first I was sad that she wouldn’t sit on my lap in public unless we were hidden at least in a Lovers’ Alcove or more so. The upside was that the subtle hip squeezes with my arm around her for which she’d taught me refinements for PDA times was a freely allowed boyfriend privilege.”

“What were you two doing in private?” asked Barb.

“At this early stage during the few remaining weeks of junior year, more making out or necking or whatever one wants to call the combination of passionate kissing, intimate cuddling, and fairly open caresses and gropes with clothes on. This went down most often in my room, but sometimes her room at her house, and once in awhile in one of our parents’ cars we were driving, when parked in some secluded spot. She mentioned more than once how she really appreciated that I was a gentleman who wasn’t pushing her to go all the way, when the reality was that I might have urged things that way had I known how, and how to do intercourse and related sex correctly. We’d had what passed for sex education so I knew about condoms and the basic mechanics, but the sex ed videos were so abstracted from actual human bodies, they left about as many questions as answers.

“Misunderstandings and squabbles started before the school year ended. I know now in late middle age that each of us had a lot to learn about not only love in the broadest sense, but civil behavior with other people. We also both needed to mature more. I lost count of the number of times I screwed up, usually acts of omission I didn’t know I was making, such as not calling her when she thought I should, failing to compliment her on some new outfit I had no way of knowing was new, spending too much time talking about her body, spending not enough time talking about her body. Very, very confusing!

“I recall we broke up once in junior year, about a week and a half before the end of the school year, but not what caused it. More literally she broke things off with me and I was left confused and hurt, as usual not truly understanding whatever it was that I did or did not do correctly, in this realm of no documented rules of engagement I could find or understand. Apparently following her lead was insufficient; I was supposed to be taking more initiative, did not know I was supposed to do that, and did not know how to do that. My parents counseled me, soothing my hurt feelings and explaining this was all part of learning how to love another person intimately, so I let it go and focused back on modeling, learning in and out of the classroom, and studying for finals.

“She came up to me about 3 days after breaking up, all apologetic and affectionate, handing me a poem she’d written onto nice vellum paper in a calligraphic writing style that looked excellent but was somewhat hard to read. It was a very emotional poem about love and us and forgiveness, which I didn’t fully appreciate at that time other than clearly she was sorry and wanted us to get back together. She made a point of sitting on my lap and having me caress her hips and buns when my hands were free all throughout lunch even though we were seated on one of the edge walls of the commons where hundreds of people could see us. Of course she wore her necklace, which she wore every school day and other times we were together, other than those 3 days where we were broken up. It meant a lot to her when she was over in my room a couple of days later to see that I’d made a frame for her poem—matting, mitered wood frame, UV-protective glass—the whole thing—and had hung it on the wall where I could see it every day. We made out for a long time that day, with her moving my hands up under her skirt onto her upper thighs for the first time ever. I didn’t know how to reciprocate, so I told her to go ahead and touch me wherever she wanted that she thought was appropriate. She snuck her hands under my shirt onto my lower back, explaining that once our junior school year ended, it would be summer and we’d be learning all kinds of things without going to summer school.

“Friction resumed soon after school was out. She was ticked that I’d taken a summer job in a hardware store, when she’d planned to have a restful, playful summer. Mr. Boltzmann, the hardware store owner, was actually happy when I asked about changing my schedule to work weekends and fewer days, given that weekends were his busiest days and a former employee had appeared out of nowhere, badly needing work and wanting to work weekdays. So I worked Friday through Sunday and had the rest of the week off to do things with Jenny or whatever else, which resolved that issue.

“Sexual passions between us went way up once summer started. Her parents both worked and she only had one sibling: an older sister who was a couple years out of college and into her adult life, not living at her childhood home. That meant we had the run of her parents’ house every weekday during working hours.

“She’d call me as soon as her parents left and I’d come over. With next-to-no time pressures, we made out for hours, more restfully than at school, immersing ourselves in the dreamy feelings. Footwear came off the very first day, given that it was getting warm and we weren’t going anywhere. She had a nice standard girl’s bedroom with a comfortable double bed, with a soft bedspread with furry 1 cm diameter piping in a crosshatch square pattern that made it even softer.

“Not even 3 days in during that first week, it was getting hotter and I’d experimented with bicycling over, so I was a touch sweaty. With a gleeful smile I still remember, she pulled my shirt off, cooing as she caressed my chest and the rest of my newly-exposed upper body. She told me how unfair it was that men could take their shirts off in public but that women couldn’t unless they wore a bikini bra or similar. I reminded her that we weren’t even close to being in public, offering to take her shirt off if she wanted. She very much wanted, and I did, gasping softly and reverently exploring her new surfaces. She wanted to take things further, asking me what I knew about women’s bras. I knew very little other than what I could see of the clasps, elastic and other fabrics, and general design of the one she had on. She demonstrated the normal range of stretch and the clasps, then had me take it off her. She got a bit upset with me that I wasn’t instantly all over her breasts, which were all well and good for U.S. 30Bs, but at any size weren’t my thing.”

{And apparently still aren’t} Barb thought to herself.

“I tried to explain, but things weren’t good in her world until I started talking about how nice their symmetry was, and asked her to please teach me how to pleasure her breasts, in case I was missing something being a rank novice in the broader sexual realm. I do have to admit that suckling stirred what I later knew to be sexual feelings within me, and that once she taught me how she preferred hers played with, I was able to keep her fairly happy, whether or not I was feeling moved for breast play, which after some initial novelty, I usually was not.”

Barb made a mental note to inquire into the biggest ones he’d ever handled, later.

“This is how things stayed until the following week. Oh—we didn’t just lie on her bed and make out all day every workday. At least once and usually twice a week, we’d get dressed and go out for a walk, or if Mom was staying home and I had her car, maybe to the mall or a record store—because this was pre-Compact Disc—or other places.”

“You didn’t have your own car?” asked Tara.

“Not then. Too much money sunk into all the modeling supplies and equipment plus no parking space. That would be when I started university.

“So that following week, Jenny declared to be Short Shorts Week: we’d each wear our shortest short pants. Mine were loose and not especially short, covering most of my thighs. Hers were tight and barely made it below her crotch, making me want to grab her hips and ass and squeeze her round mini-** belly. Apparently the first two of those three things was precisely what she wanted, given how she moved my hands to those areas within the first few minutes of the first day of Short Shorts Week. Very quickly my shorts weren’t quite so loose, as my growing erection filled them out.

“Everything was good until we were spoon cuddling with me as Big Spoon, and I squeezed her belly through her pants.” He got back into reenactment:

Hey!

‘What?!’

I know I’m fat! You don’t have to remind me!’

‘That’s one of the things I love about you, Jenny!’

‘You love my fat?!

Yes! That’s what so much of your hips and buns and thighs are made of, which gets me so excited touching you and being near you!’

‘You’re gross! Get out!

‘Jenny–’

‘–Get dressed and go!

“Such was a typical argument between me and Jenny. I put my shirt, shoes, and socks back on and left, as she demanded. Short Shorts Week was a very short week, in terms of me and Jenny spending time together. She didn’t come around until Thursday afternoon, when I already had plans with friends then my 3 days of work. This too set her off afresh, which puzzled me since she had friends too, and it seemed like a great opportunity for her to get with hers as I got with mine.”

“Your friends hadn’t met each other yet?” asked Barb.

“I hadn’t received any sign that that was part of the dating protocol, so no. Jenny always framed it as we were a capital C Couple, and everyone else was secondary.”

Barb shot an “If the shoe fits…” glance at Tara, who shot a “Nuh uhhh!” look back.

“Much as I loved all the tingly arousing enthralling feelings when things were going well, all this drama was getting tiring. I was beginning to understand all the songs and other social references regarding IIR difficulties—or so I believed at the time. She apparently remained ticked at me the following week, making no effort to contact me. I didn’t believe I’d done anything wrong and certainly had no reason to get back together with her if she wasn’t OK with me admiring her fat body parts, so I made no effort to contact her.

“She mailed the necklace back to me, with a break-up letter telling me how awful I was for being a fat admirer, and how she was going on a diet to slim down and get a better man.”

Tara and Barb shared knowing looks and smirks.

“Yeah, you’re jumping ahead in the story, but diets didn’t work long-term any better back then than they do now, and being more primitive, probably worse. More precisely, she didn’t literally mail the package: she apparently dropped it in the mailbox herself, given that there was no postage on it. The letter hurt a lot, especially back then when it seemed like I was the only fat admirer in the world, given how fringe it was and there was no Internet to bring us all together. Part of me took it to heart, but I knew that curvy soft wobbly fat butts, hips, and to a lesser degree bellies were the only aspects of a woman which unleashed all those intense feelings I’d later be able to label as sexual passions. Without that I didn’t sense any reason to bother with all of the drama and having to figure out how the rest of love worked. So I let Jenny and love go, refocusing on learning all I could about the material world and the materials which made it up, human-made and natural.”

“More food, anyone?” Barb kinda sorta interrupted.

Everyone agreed to take another break and get some more.


With fresh assurances that Tara and Barb wanted to hear the rest of the story of his first romance, John continued, “Given what could be called irreconcilable differences and the finality of her letter, I truly thought Jenny and I were permanently done. Therefore you can imagine my surprise when the doorbell rang one weekday morning barely a week after she’d dropped off the package with the letter. She was standing right there wearing quite-snug running shorts, a snug cotton t-shirt with no bra, and what passed in those days for running shoes. Not that much time had passed, so if she’d dieted at all, it hadn’t been long. To me she looked deliciously fatter: more hip spread and a bigger belly **, though again in such little time, the change was barely visually perceptible as she stood there.

“As I’m staring at her wondering why she’s there and what the heck is going on, she explained, ‘I told my parents about you and what you’re into. They told me that you’re a chubby chaser, and that that’s an unusual but legit thing to be. So here’s the thing: if you truly are a real chubby chaser, you have to chase me!’

“She ran away about halfway down our adjacent front walkway and driveway as my mind struggled to parse this new reality, stopping on the driveway part, looking over her shoulder at me defiantly as she aimed her curvy butt straight at me and bent as far over as she easily could. That was what my primordial urges needed to see. I ran straight towards her as she took off, laughing wildly and loudly. Almost caught her when she ducked into our front yard garden, not quite a jungle but certainly not an open lawn space like most people had. She did admirably well dodging the hazards and finding her way through the maze of plants she’d only been in once before to my knowledge, when I was giving her a full house and property tour. I had the home field advantage, seizing an opportunity to jump back a couple of steps to the only exit point she had. She crashed right into me, laughing as I threw my arms around her to capture my ‘prize’ and she did the same. We needed to keep our lips occupied with make-out kisses for awhile before taking some air, giving her a chance to apologize and ask to please go inside the house and work things out.

“It was just the two of us, since Dad was at work as usual and Mom was out at her once-a-week volunteer job with the historical society. I offered her something to eat; she accepted. She wanted us to share some sour cream-based onion dip with ridged potato chips, and each have a beer.”

Barb stood up and soon delivered the very similar onion dip she’d made and ridged potato chips, both which had been sitting out on the dining table awaiting consumption. No beer was out, but she most definitely had some, supplying each of them with a bottle of amber ale.

“The onion dip was a packaged mix, not deliciously homemade like this tastes, and it was Pabst Blue Ribbon, not a nice microbrew like this, but yes, this was the basic idea. I didn’t normally drink beer nor any other alcoholic beverages until well after college and I doubt Jenny drank beer at home, but my parents had let me try beer one time when I asked, so I figured there was no problem. I was too excited being close to her again to be thinking rationally about anything anyway.

“We took the food into my room, with me putting down a towel on the bed in case we spilled. She made sure to sit in my lap, saying, ‘It’s OK now for you to feel any of my fat when we’re alone like this, but please don’t out in public. Keep it to my hips and buns with tact, like before’. As I tentatively rested my hand on her belly bulge, she explained how horrible her life had been as the plain, small-boobed fat girl, with all the teasing and hate and no one loving her before me. She admitted she hadn’t really started the diet, because not eating delicious food and drinking tasty beverages felt like torture to her and that she was always going to be chubby, so now that she knew that chubby chasers were OK, she felt especially grateful that I was one, and wanted us to get back together. I did learn an important lesson when she told me that it hurt that I didn’t pursue her more and that she felt she always had to chase after me. I asked her what I should be doing because I truly didn’t know, and she said, ‘Call me and tell me you love me sometime on your work days or nights. Or send or drop off some sort of note, so I know you’re thinking about me, the way I think about you when we’re apart. Love me enough to lead the way now and then with what we do on our days together, instead of always leaving it to me to decide.’

“So then things got a bit weird again when she asked, ‘You haven’t been with anyone else, have you?’

‘“Been” like what?’

‘Dated anyone. Gotten intimate with anyone. Kissed anyone.’

‘No on all of those. Just going to work and working on models, and researching which colleges and universities are best for materials science. I haven’t even gotten this love thing right with you, not to mention I still haven’t encountered anyone else who makes me all heart-racing excited giddy bubbly like you.’ That’s when she introduced me to the so-called Eskimo nose-rubbing kiss, which blew me away.

“We were starved for one another’s company, especially feeling one another’s bodies. She didn’t force me to feel her fat, but she made it ultra-clear that it really was OK, no doubt feeling how extra turned on I got when she pulled her belly fat out of her running shorts and lifted her shirt a little, so it sat right out in the open. She almost certainly felt more hardness as I caressed and squeezed her now-naked belly. She responded with shivers and ‘Ooooh!’s, as though I was tickling her, so I slowed down and used a firmer touch, just letting my hand rest there at many points.

“She had us take our shoes and socks off, then almost immediately our shirts, to get us back where we’d most recently been as a couple during our intimate times. It meant a lot to her that I squeezed her bare breasts, which from my end was to discover whether they felt heavier since they looked bigger. I explained again how to me as a fat admirer, her breasts were OK, but I got excited about big fat curvy wobbly butts, hips, and bellies the way other men got excited about big breasts. I offered to demonstrate, explaining that I had little control over my erection’s magnitude, and that it was a decent time-delayed indicator of my arousal. She assented.

“I narrated as I went along, telling her first that I was thinking only of her breasts, as I stared at them and fondled them. Needed to do this for a couple of minutes, to give my body time to make changes. They were hers, they were nice, and I loved her, so there was some tumescence, though not as much as a couple of minutes prior.

“It took barely a minute from when I moved to her bare belly and announced that was where my focus was before we could both feel me being much harder. Then I moved to her hips, still in her running shorts: about the same, maybe a bit harder. Kept my focus there for about two minutes, then moved to her buns: a little harder. Then I explained I was now going back to normal admiring all of her, letting my hands roam where they will. That made me hardest of all, which really touched her when peak hardness was around the time I was again gazing upon her face, my caresses migrating mostly over her buns, hips, and belly, though also other places.

“She asked what would happen if her butt and hips were as exposed as her belly. I told her I didn’t know. We were basically done with the dip and as much as we wanted of the chips, so she set those aside on a table at the foot of the bed. There wasn’t much left of her beer, which she quickly finished off, setting the bottle on that same table. I finished mine and put it well out of the way on the floor next to my overcrowded nightstand. I will never forget what she said next:

‘Let’s get naked, John. You’re a chubby chaser, and I’m you chubby sweetheart, whom you caught during our chase.’

“I had no reason to object. For that matter, at that moment, I had no reason. She took off my pants first, very excited by what she saw through my tight undies. I tentatively reached for the waistband of her shorts; she enthusiastically nodded, eyes lit up and smiling. Down they went, making me gasp softly, seeing more of her deliciously fat hips.

“She was nearly hyperventilating with excitement as she reached for my underpants waistband. When she looked up at me I knew the thing to do was smile and nod the way she had. She let out a loud gasping moan that several years later I would know was one of arousal and pleasure soon as my mostly-erect penis was freed and bounced out. She almost forgot to pull my undies the rest of the way down in her fascination. I gathered it might have been the first live in-person one she’d ever seen. If not that, there was something about it she found compelling.”

Barb watched with interest as Tara eased her hand down onto that part of John, on the exterior of his pants. She apparently found something compelling about it today.

“She begged me to touch it, with panting and a pleading look and tone the likes of which I’d never heard before. I encouraged her to explore it however she wanted, as long as she’d stop if I asked her to stop, such as if she started to bend it some way it wasn’t meant to bend, when it was erect. This was the first moment of my life when I experienced what I can only guess she and you two and probably most women experience when a lover, most likely a man but not necessarily, fixates on a particular body part of yours. In my case at that time, I felt special and deeply honored. She held them—the penis and the scrotum. Squeezed them, penis mostly, scrotum gently. Caressed them. Kissed them, which blew my mind. Apparently having forgotten all about herself still wearing panties, she whimpered ‘I have to!’, promptly putting my penis in her mouth.

“The sensations were so intense I told her ‘That’s all good what you’re doing Jenny, but I’ve got to sit or lie down, so I don’t pass out’. She stopped long enough to help ease me down onto the bed, then went right back at it. I could hear and see her getting more excited as I got harder from her stimulation. I didn’t know anything about sex and this was back when porn was in paper magazines sold in seedy shops in the bad part of town and several years before home videocassettes, so I was lost and along for the ride, thinking how lucky I was to have found a young woman who knew so much about sex. She didn’t actually, as I’d find out later. Just going by instinct, as I was. I had no idea why anyone would want that thing in their mouth, but she clearly loved it! She didn’t stop when I told her I was going to cum, keeping going until I blew up in her mouth and she started coughing, looking surprised and lost when she pulled her mouth off of me.

“I thought she was going to throw up in the bathroom, but all she did was rinse her mouth out, then come back to me all wide-eyed, still looking lost and now frightened. I became frightened, opening my arms to her and asking, ‘We’re good, aren’t we?!’. She rushed to me, just about leaping into my arms and wrapping hers around me, kissing me over and over. I kissed her back, hoping everything was still OK.

“Once she said ‘I think we just had oral sex. Or I did. Or maybe you did’, I got the strong sense that she didn’t know much more than me about what we were doing, which was both frightening and exciting to be more her equal. Then she said, ‘I want to do that again sometime, please’. I said ‘OK’, and asked whether it was my turn to see her naked yet, and if so, what was and was not OK. She said yes it was my turn, and that I should follow my instincts unless she said to stop, because that’s what she had done.

“My first instinct after pulling her undies all the way down and off was to wrap my arms around her middle: hips, buns, and belly. Since I was on her front side I kissed her belly and pressed my head into it. I shifted around her, hugging her from each side, kissing both hips and her buns. Got lost in her butt, burying my face well into her crack until things got anus smelly, then I pulled out and wiped my face on my shirt, even though I didn’t think then and knew for sure not that much later that nothing brown was on me.

“Jenny had what I can now describe as a standard somewhat fat muff mound, proportional to her body. At the time I’d never seen a woman’s vulva that I knew of, in pictures or otherwise, given the deep abstractions I mentioned in what adults back then considered sex education in public schools in the U.S. It had some hair like I was getting around my penis, so I figured between that and the location on her body, it had to be her genitals. She gasped suddenly when I squeezed it with my hand, which made me stop. She said ‘No, go ahead. That’s nice’, so I did. It was even softer and wobblier than her other fat, which as a materials person, really made me wonder. I felt it more and let my index finger slide into its fold, at which point Jenny jerked suddenly. I froze where I was, asking ‘Good or bad?’. ‘Good’ she told me, ‘but go gently. Parts of it are very sensitive.’

“Long story short I learned to work her vulva with my hand, despite not having ever seen nor heard the word vulva, and only once or twice having heard vagina. I liked being able to talk to her and explore her other fat with one hand while working her genitals with my other. She taught me many useful things about how to best touch the various parts of her in there, to where I could arouse her without overstimulating her so it hurt or became unpleasant. I told her I loved her and I wanted to make her happy, which got her more excited. Between the two of us, I got her to what adult me would describe as high arousal through unintentional edging. I still don’t know from where within me the following sentence came out, but as some wiser part of me sensed that she was close, I said, ‘I hope you keep enjoying food, chubby sweetheart. Because any size of chubby or fat feels and looks great on you and delights me.’

“She groaned and writhed into a loud, seemingly intense orgasm. I was about to stop when she cried out ‘Keep going! Keep going! Keep going!’ So I did. I didn’t have anything else to say, so I kept working her vulvar insides and focused on the rest of her fat in my favorite places. She came again when I touched her just right down below as I gave her belly fat a deep squeeze and uncontrollably gasped loudly from the sensations. A couple of minutes later when I’d figured out how to loll my head around on her nearest hip and belly with my right hand still inside her, she had what to me seemed like another half orgasm then yelled out ‘Stop!’ and in a normal speaking voice ‘Hold your hand inside me perfectly still. Good! Feel all the throbbing?’

‘Yes.’

‘That’s my body recovering from the great sex you just gave me. Or I gave you. Or both, and I still don’t know. Relax your hand and pull it out slowly and smoothly, touching as little as possible. Aaaaggh!—slower than that please, honey! That’s good… nice and slow.’

“I studied the fluids on my hand far more analytically than sexually. Definitely mucus-like in consistency. She sent me off to go wash up, then come back so we could share this wonderful cuddly thing she’d heard about called ‘afterglow’.

“I washed up thoroughly many places on my body, and dried. I’d been feeling sleepy for awhile, and now she seemed like she wanted to lie down too. She told me that afterglow requires getting into bed naked and cuddling, and trying to fall asleep. I didn’t have to try very hard, and neither did she.

“We were still deep asleep when my mother arrived home. Having no idea whether or not I was home and none whatsoever that Jenny could even theoretically be there since we’d broken up, she quite naturally called out my name. I was so sleepy and out of it, I couldn’t tell what was dream and what was reality. It felt so good—so warm and cozy—cuddling Jenny that I didn’t wake up. She did—she told me later—having a moment of panic, then deciding that her best move was pretending she too was still asleep, given that I wasn’t stirring and she heard my mother’s footsteps getting closer. She closed her eyes gently and matched my breathing pattern. She said she heard my mother say ‘Oh’, stand there a moment, then she backed out and quietly closed my bedroom door. Jenny actually did fall back asleep.

“I woke up about 40 minutes later, to Jenny gazing at me with those sweet, heart-melting eyes and her gentle smile. Soon as she saw I was awake, she gave me nose-rub kisses, asking me, ‘What do you think of afterglow?’ to which I replied, ‘I think it’s a good reason that people get married. Or live together like marriage. Or otherwise find ways to literally sleep together after figuratively sleeping together.’ She then explained that my mom was home, and what happened. When I stiffened up she relaxed me with more of the nose-rub kisses, calming me down and explaining that she’d had time to think about it, and that the best thing would be for us to get dressed and for me to put her pendant back on her so we’d officially be boyfriend and girlfriend again, then go out together holding hands and fess up.

“There was drama with lots of tears on my and Jenny’s part when my mother lit into me for having sex without wearing a condom, until Jenny remembered that the correct term for what she and I had done was oral sex, and so the condom wasn’t needed because I never penetrated her. My mother was relieved, more so when we each assured her that we’d never ever ever done anything like this with anyone else, or even with each other before today. That was right around the time when Mrs. Patussi called, to find out whether Jenny was there and OK, and when she was coming home. Jenny and I needed to cuddle tight as Mom said Jenny was there and was fine, then asked Mrs. P whether she was sitting down, and got into the explanation of what happened. They kept things calm, agreeing to pool information once Mom and Dad had queried me and Jenny’s parents had done the same with her. Jenny and I kissed goodbye, and she went home.

“The after-dinner grilling felt like I thought an inquisition must feel like. They asked me all sorts of things about whether I forced Jenny into anything and why the beer and other things that confused and upset me and made me cry. I told them the truth about everything to the best of my ability. They gave me their combined refresher version of sex education, then admonished me not to do anything remotely sexual with anyone until they got back to me.

“Jenny told me later that she got more or less of the same inquisition and lecture. Our parents met up in person the next day I was at work. They came to an understanding which each set of parents shared with their respective young adult. The upshot was: no more alcoholic beverages nor other drugs; total, rigid monogamy between me and Jenny—not even kissing anyone else; no intercourse without at least one layer of birth control; only at one of our homes in the young adult’s bedroom; no bragging to friends. Subject to additional conditions and/or changes and/or cancellation at any time.

“Jenny and I both thought we’d made out like bandits: our parents were letting us have sex! She especially liked the forced monogamy clause; I still couldn’t imagine being with anyone else, so it was a non-issue for me. The next morning before work Jenny and I went to the drugstore to pick out a box of condoms together. She thought we should get the large economy size. I suggested we pick out a smaller, fun package to ensure we—mostly I—knew how to use them and that we both liked intercourse before buying big.

“Our first ‘all the way’ was my next day off, which was Monday after these other adventures. We lacked sufficient clues, she was a virgin down there, it hurt. No fun. We didn’t at all get why people bothered. She felt like a failure and so did I, but then I said, ‘Jenny: it’s just body mechanics. We’re smart; we can figure this out! Let’s go to the library and study everything we can.’

“Well, it wasn’t as easy as going to a public library, but the librarian tipped us off that because we looked college age, likely we could get into a research library at a local university, or even drop by their student health clinic for a more direct answer. That didn’t work out, but Planned Parenthood did, especially once I showed them that we already had the condoms and had already tried sex but it hadn’t been pleasant and we wanted to learn the mechanics. I don’t think the assistance was part of the Planned Parenthood mission, but the person helping us figured out we were going to do it anyway, so things might be better for the world for us to be informed.

“We tried again the next day: it was much better! To the point where we understood why people went to the trouble.

“Everything seemed perfect, and for awhile it was. We tried other forms of outercourse, with me begging Jenny to let me cum in her crack, which got me off best of anything, and saved us a condom. We found a copy of the Kama Sutra, and started checking off each position we’d done.

“Then for reasons which have faded into the mists of time, tensions arose and we started arguing again. It could easily have been that we were spending too much time together, especially for adolescents who still had lessons to learn about friendships and other adult human interactions. The pattern became: argument, several days apart, apology by whichever of us started it, reconciliation with hot make-up sex. We craved the physical contact—love and sex was indeed addictive, and we were addicted! And immature.

“Neither of us knew what ** stuff was, and from my adult hindsight I can assure you that neither of us were doing that. Jenny loved food, knew that I was what she then believed to be a one-in-a-million true chubby chaser, and had a lot of time on her hands over the summer with no summer job and not being into getting together with her other friends. Then there was the unspoken fact that the fatter she got, the harder I got. We both knew it, and from bitter experience of having yelled out how wonderful it was during one particular orgasm and immediately descending into an argument, I learned it was forbidden to verbalize or in any other way draw attention to. Fat: OK. Fatter: Trouble. As a plumper of not much over 200 pounds, gaining 12 pounds in barely a month over the middle of summer was a big deal.

“One day when I got a bit overzealous with fondling her fat, even though I hadn’t said anything aloud, Jenny jumped up in a rage, taking off her marble necklace and hurling it at me. I managed to catch it without harm to myself or the necklace. She struggled into her clothes, cursing at me repeatedly with each tug and yank as her fresh flab resisted being covered. Once dressed, she screamed ‘I can’t be this hugely fat when school starts! We’re done!’, then stormed off and out of the house and drove home.

“I figured this was going to be another of those short-term disappearances, and I’d hear from her or see her on my parents’ doorstep in a few days, maybe a week tops. Didn’t happen.

“Two weeks went by: nothing. After the third week, I tried calling her, several days in a row. Never got an answer during the day, so I tried an evening, and got Mr. Patussi. He explained that Jenny and her mother were at Lightning Loss Fat Camp, thanked me for being good to Jenny over our dating weeks of the summer, and wished me well in the upcoming senior year and beyond. I was devastated—she was gone, for real!

“Other people noticed my gloom, including at the hardware store. Mr. Boltzmann was wise enough to know that what I needed was something to take my mind off my loss. He invited me to join him to learn procurement and other aspects of the hardware business beyond working the floor and registers, the way I’d been doing and continued to do. In a few weeks once I understood how much turnover he needed for a product to be economically worth stocking, I was able to suggest a couple of specialized grades of sheet metal and plastic which were becoming popular enough that he could sell enough, and hadn’t yet made it into the typical hardware store. He gave me the go-ahead, including handling advertising amongst hobbyists already using the materials and so far having to special order them. One of the sheet metals was a borderline seller, but the others were big movers, bringing in hobbyists who hadn’t been to Nuts & Bolts, Man! Hardware before. It wasn’t that easy to cure a love and sex addiction as I’m certain you both know, but it definitely helped.”

They took another food break, and a bathroom break.


John continued the story of himself and his first love.

“I barely recognized Jenny the first day of senior year: she’d made herself thin. Now she was just another of the several hundred-some girls in my class. She was more than that in terms of our friendship and the under 50% of things we had in common, but it had been a physically-driven IIR, and those aspects were gone for me. She similarly showed no interest in me, swishing around in her new thin-girl outfits.

“I figured it was the distortion of my internal biases from my bitterness making me believe that she looked more off-putting than before, kinda snarly-surly, if that makes any sense.”

Barb smiled and nodded. Tara just smiled up at him, still happily nuzzled into him at an angle close enough to upright to be able to eat and drink. Her huge right butt and hips remained on his lap, soothing them both (though John didn’t notice much, being so into his story).

“It didn’t take a whole lot of observation time on my part to catch her being snippy with her friends. Again I dismissed it as my own personal mental distortion, until my friend Paul told me privately that Jenny had apparently decided to be a real B as a senior, and how she was a lot nicer person when she was a chunkster and hanging with me at the end of junior year, and before that.

“Jonah the Gossip was not the sort of friend I chose to cultivate, however he proved quite handy for keeping me informed regarding Jenny’s several dating attempts and fails. Apparently she figured that being slender, or at least average, which is as slender as she ever managed when I knew her, was all she needed to be the hot number able and entitled to pick her man. She must’ve had her own denial, given how long it seemed to take her to realize that the common idiots still saw a plain face and small boobs—a good bit smaller than when she’d been thicker—and while her relative slenderness may be perceived as an improvement, the disagreeable personality was not, and the overall package remained a No.

“I was done with love, not over Jenny and far too busy focusing to do well in my classes and graduate on time. Whether Jenny violated our parents’ condition of not boasting about our sexcapades, or whether she in some other way let known her happiness, possibly near the end of junior year, her friend Maya made a play for me, which I recognize far better now in decades of hindsight than I did back then. She was decent enough, with thick dark hair in a stylish shorter cut, friendly personality, nice skin. She had basic women’s curves and had the gift of being voluptuous, but not plump, and certainly nothing beyond on the fatness scale. I’d now estimate she was carrying 32Ds on her chest—nice, but not my thing, and not even all that big amongst our class, for those seeking breasts. When her flirts fell flat, she worked the angle of wanting my help with a topo model of Mount Vesuvius with both destroyed historic cities like Pompeii and Herculaneum, and modern cities and towns in the same danger zone. It was a compelling project and I did help, but it was strictly business on my part.

“Back in the mid-late 1970s, weight-loss diets not working had yet to become common knowledge. Thus it very much caught my eye that Jenny seemed to be thickening back up. Her new outfits gave way to older ones I remembered, on the loose side at first, then a few weeks later, snug. I didn’t know what was happening with her, and I didn’t know what to think about it, nor how I felt about it, since it obviously wasn’t the outcome she wanted. We still weren’t really on eye contact terms with each other, much less speaking terms. Sticking with studies was what I needed to do, and did.

“In early November, Jonah passed along that the running joke was that Jenny Patussi had eaten too much Halloween candy, in hopes of turning into either The Great Pumpkin, or a stuffed turkey for Thanksgiving, depending who was telling the joke. She had indeed gained visibly, recently. From a distance it looked like a new peak high, but I couldn’t be sure without getting closer than either she or I wanted. Then there seemed to be a slight downward trend for a week, then back up, then back down. She didn’t come back to school after the Thanksgiving weekend, all the way through early December when they let us out on holiday break.”

“Wasn’t that a dumb system compared to what they do now?” said Barb.

“What do they do now?”

“Start in August, so the first semester is done by December instead of that awkward break where evil teachers assigned major holiday-wrecking reports, then coming back for a few weeks to end the first semester. School year ends in May instead of June. And on the subject of Thanksgiving, it’s time to clear some appetizer plates and bring out the next course!”


Specialty cheeses, good quality sliced deli meats (including ham and turkey, for anyone not wanting to miss out on traditional flavors), crackers, and fresh (and freshly) gently steamed veggies made their premiers. Barb produced a bottle of malbec wine, opening it after receiving approval.

“I can’t believe you two aren’t bored yet.”

“This is better than any romance novel I ever read” replied Barb. “More so because it’s a true story.”

“And it’s a fat romance story!” Tara exclaimed during the process of moving John’s most convenient hand onto her fat belly.

“That too. More veggies and wine and I’m all ready ’til my next food break.”

Armed with new noms (some of which Tara insisted John share before he resumed storytelling), the women were ready for more.

“I figured something was up once the December holiday break started. At different points on different days, each of my parents failed to subtly ask me whether I ever thought about Jenny, and if I did, what I thought. Each of them worded things differently in their vain attempt to keep things closer to subliminal, but that was the gist of what they both asked. My two answers were variants of: I don’t think about her too often, my romantic heart still hurts, I miss what we had together, I wish her the best, and maybe love is not for me, or at least not until I’m older.

“I’m quite sure in retrospect that they were field agents, reporting back to Mr. and/or Mrs. Patussi. Only about a day after the last of them asked, I received a holiday card from Jenny. Not having it with me, you’ll not be able to appreciate her beautiful writing on the visible fiber decorative paper she used. She had short sentences, one per line, centered as is common for card text. I can share the words, which I still remember well:

I’m very sorry about what happened.
I’d like to apologize in person.
All I want this holiday season is You.
And I don’t want to wait until the 25th.
Come to me, please.
Bring the beautiful necklace you made
that I should never have taken off
and should never, ever have thrown in anger.

“The feelings of passion and desire were stirred afresh, overwhelming the lingering hurt and doubt. I couldn’t imagine that she’d ask me over if she was relatively thin again, but this whole experience remained a string of surprises and mysteries. I showered and dressed up nice, and went right over.

“The first surprise was when Mrs. Patussi answered the door: she was now fat! I’d never seen her fat. Not huge, certainly not supersize—there hadn’t been enough time for that, short of a significant biological issue or extreme intentional fat gaining attempts. Still, her hips had widened deliciously, she had a visible paunch, and her breasts had grown big enough to be seriously stretching her top, with a little cleavage visible through the small neck opening. I stammered, explaining that I’d received a very nice card from Jenny asking me to come over, and that’s why I was there.

“I almost lost my breath when she turned around and called for her daughter, seeing how her buns had grown. A few seconds later I forgot all about Mrs. Patussi’s body when Jenny came into view. In the grander scheme of fat women past through present, she wasn’t huge. Indeed, at most she may have been about the size of either lower half of this amazing woman”—he hug-squeezed Tara—“around the time she started at Model Magicians. Maybe a little bigger than that, but nothing like the life-saving entity both sitting in my lap and next to me at the same time right now.”

He smiled at Tara, who smiled back and lolled her head over him, claiming his left hand and moving it back down to her belly.

He gave her belly some loving squeezes, then continued with his story, “Jenny was way fatter than the last time I’d seen her, or any time I’d seen her—a true BBW, and not a small one! Recalling that this was the mid-late 1970s and fat women’s clothing was in a vastly more abysmal state than it is now, there were very, very few choices for women in larger sizes. Men too, but this is about Jenny, so we’ll stick with women’s clothes. Have either of you ever seen what used to be called ‘bulletproof’ casual stretchy pants for fat women? The ones with virtually no fashion sense, which forthrightly followed and revealed every fat fleshy curve of the woman’s middle to lower body, leaving very little to the imagination?”

“Have a pair” replied Barb, “for when I want that look.”

“I’ve seen ’em, but as you know, I don’t do pants.”

John smiled anew at Tara, caressing each of her three upper thighs. “That’s what Jenny was wearing, in 1970s olive green.”

Barb groaned and shuddered.

“Not quite as revealing as being bare, but close! I gasped for air, staring at her wide, soft, fat hips, and very prominent and saggy fat belly, some in her pants, some in her shirt, part of her most prominent roll deliciously escaping both garments! She wore a soft fleecy sweater up top, which looked very nice and made her boobs look bigger, which I would soon discover they very slightly were. I gasped again noticing her new double chin and softer, rounder cheeks, which looked beautiful. Her eyes and the rest of her face retained that look which so many others called plain and I considered alluring and endearing.

“She was sighing too. I recall her chest heaving, which didn’t mean anything to me at the time. It was the look of want in her facial expression and her eyes that hinted that she wanted me at least a fraction of as much as I wanted her, if not more equally.

“I stepped into the house enough for Mrs. Patussi to close the front door, as Jenny walked towards me. The way her hips and belly bounced so erotically almost made me shoot off right there!

“‘Thank you for coming, John’ she said. ‘My holiday wish list is complete, especially if you’ll forgive me and we can work things out.’”

‘I forgive you and look forward to working things out, so we don’t have to go through more drama. You’ve got some cookie dust on the corner of your mouth. Let me get that for you.’

“She yelled out ‘Wait!’, planting her hands on my shoulders to get my undivided attention. Her eyes darted back and forth between each of mine as she urgently asked, ‘Have you been with anyone since we broke up?’

‘Not anything like what we were doing. Not even so much as handholding.’

“Her tone remained inquisitorial, ‘Not even with Maya?’

‘No. Nice enough young woman and decent person, of no romantic interest to me. No one but you, when you’re beautifully fat and we’re getting along.’

‘I’m definitely fat now. But am I beautifully fat?’

“I honked like the loudest, horniest goose ever when she let go of me and did a slow full circle, revealing what especially back then to me were huge globular buns—again, about like Tara’s when she started at the company… maybe slightly rounder.

“‘I didn’t quite get that’ she snickered as she completed the rotation.

“Just barely gathering my wits, I managed to say, ‘Please allow me to answer with a kiss.’

“I sunk into her, wrapping my arms around her and giving her a potent kiss of passion for the ages. I could feel signs of her arousal as she gasped and whimpered when there was a moment to catch her breath, then joined me in making the passionate kissing mutual.

“With adult hindsight I now know that both of us were mechanically ready for primal fucking sex at that point. Apparently so did Mrs. Patussi, who touched our shoulders to get our attention, then asked, ‘Have everything you need?’ making condom unrolling motions with her hands.

“Apparently Jenny thought that was a bit crude, given how she exclaimed ‘MoOOOom!’. I pulled one of the several condom packets I still had from summer out of my pocket for Mrs. Patussi to see, which made her smile. As I put it away I said, ‘With all of Jenny’s exciting new surfaces, I might not need this. She and I will have to talk about what will be the most fun for both of us, maybe try some experiments.’

‘Let’s go love each other and talk about everything since last summer, so we’re good and there’s no drama and we can all have happy holidays’ she said before towing me off towards her bedroom, with Mrs. Patussi standing where she’d been, watching us and chuckling.

“Turns out we did need a condom, soon as she closed her bedroom door and our clothes flew off. I very much needed it to desensitize me, close to my edge just looking at all her new luscious fat wobbling and jiggling. Even with it, pushing in to her new fatter vulva ensured I wouldn’t be going long before blowing up.

Don’t close your eyes!’ she yelled.

You’re too extremely sexy for me to hold back another moment if I don’t close my eyes and think of something else!

‘I am?!’

Yes!

‘Keep your eyes open and prove it!’

“No sense arguing with her. I opened my eyes back up, immediately going into my final sequence as I looked at her glorious body afresh. I’d been trying to go longer, based upon what I’d learned with her and elsewhere about women needing a longer warmup than men. That may generally be true, but on that day Jenny was all warmed up, going off into her own orgasm near the end of the time I was going wild with mine, and groping her fat like there was no tomorrow. Which, given her and my history, there might not have been.

“Before I even finished gushing into the condom down below, my mouth was gushing heartfelt scrambled accolades of her beauty and sexiness and general wonderfulness and, as far as I was concerned in that moment, perfection. She babbled things about me in return, which I’d wager she doesn’t remember any more than I don’t regarding what I said. It was more the feelings of the words that mattered than the actual words—a concept I still struggle with today. Once we’d each verbally enthused, we resumed passionate kissing, wrapped about as tight into each other as two people can be, nice and softly thanks to Jenny’s new corpulence.”

“Corpulence: that’s one of my favorite words for fat” Barb smiled.

“Mine too” added Tara. “Though John usually prefers ‘Magnificence’” she snickered, making him blush.

“More food?”

“We probably should” John sighed. “I keep thinking I’m done with the detail, then stay stuck in it.”

“Stay stuck. This is like listening to an audio book of a romance novel. Great way to spend Thanksgiving, as far as I’m concerned!”

Tara playfully moved John’s hands onto some of her most convenient fat parts. “And I like learning about important past events of my man’s life. Beyond the romance novel aspect, which I like too, I’ve learned that usually the more detail he goes into, the more important a subject is to him.”

They took another food break, getting into more of the current course. Tara and John declined Barb’s offer to steam more vegetables, preferring the meats and cheeses.


“Back to my unintended romance novel in spoken word form. Brief as it had been, fatter sex with Jenny was the best I’d had to that point. The kissing wound down and the sleep-inducing biochemicals were kicking in for me. She set us up sitting up in her bed cuddled next to each other, against what I called her ‘pillow mountain’: a significant collection of medium-to-large pillows of various firmnesses and all sorts of fabrics and patterns. Apparently Jenny liked softness, at least external to her own body. Anyway, it was comfortable to sit up in her bed when those pillows were properly set up. She explained that this was a special afterglow plus make-up session, so I needed to stay awake and pay attention. Honestly I was so excited and on-edge given our history plus so interested in understanding how she now we had gotten to this point, these other feelings swamped out the sleepiness.

“She explained how horrible it was to live as a fat person in our then-1970s contemporary world, and how she didn’t want to upset me and certainly didn’t want to disrespect my desires, but that if she could be thin and stay thin and be happy, she’d do it in a heartbeat. It took a long time for her to get me to understand that I was the only person she’d ever yet met who truly thought that fat was beautiful, and genuinely enjoyed looking at, feeling, and playing with hers—any one of those. I felt ashamed and weird, and must’ve started to emotionally pull away, because she paused her explanation to gently pull us into a deeper side cuddle and take a caressing break, whispering in my ear how being rare didn’t mean being bad, and for her meant quite the opposite.”

Tara interrupted his story with a gentle poke and a question, “Are you aware of emotionally pulling away when you do it?”

“Not usually. Do I still do that?”

“Yes” she smiled impishly, playfully poking him some more as she said, “Emotionally, we chubbies often have to chase after you!

He tickle-poked her back, “Thankfully for me, you’re well beyond chubby, young lady!”

“Don’t make me come over there and tickle both of you so you’ll tickle me back. At least not until the story’s done and we’re into the main courses or, better, desserts.”

“Despite Jenny’s best efforts, I still didn’t truly understand the trials and tribulations of life as a fat person in greater society, though she did well enough that I was a couple of steps closer. Her explanation of life at Lightning Loss Fat Camp I understood much better. To me it sounded like a true horror story and torture, and Jenny confirmed that her experience of living through it was basically that—especially the torture. She hated it, her mom hated it, but few other alternatives existed at that time and in our city, so they felt they had little choice, and no other choice promising the fast, dramatic results they sought.

“As primitive and awful as any of the three of us might find it today, the Lightning Loss people did have some of the psychological aspects worked out, such as having a Camp buddy going through the system with you. She also said that it wasn’t totally insane what they had people do in terms of food: they ensured everyone stayed hydrated, and the low-calorie vegetarian foods were apparently not bad for the era. Even so, they and others they spoke with at Camp all felt like they were starving, going through food withdrawal symptoms and having headaches and dizziness and other maladies. The exercise regimen was apparently intense, and nearly relentless. She spoke of some old 1960s Robert Preston exercise march song that they played every morning when they first started exercises at dawn, that her mom knew, she didn’t before going there, and everyone in the program quickly learned to loathe.”

“Oh gawd!” Barb chortled, “The chicken fat song!”

“You know it?”

“My parents had it! They made the mistake of playing it for me one time as exercise enticement. And you know, it worked! Soon as I had the chance, I ran outdoors with that small single record and flung it as hard and far as I could. It made a decent flying disc, which I used with my playmates for quite a few rounds of disc golf until it was so scratched it wouldn’t even play on Dad’s old kiddie phonograph made around the time that infernal record came out. Once it was too broken up to fly well for disc golf, it was part of a science show-and-tell experiment, where I demonstrated the melting point of small phonograph record PVC vs. other forms of PVC. For which I got an A–, ThankYouVeryMuch.”

“We should see if it’s online” Tara suggested.

Barb immediately objected, “Nooooo! It’ll ruin Thanksgiving! So Jenny and her mom survived fat camp and then…?”

“They graduated with the guaranteed results for which they’d signed up: nearly 40 pounds lost in Mrs. Patussi’s case, and almost 60 for Jenny. They went straight from camp out shopping, all excited to be in the smaller size clothing racks with the better, more fashionable options. This was only a day or two before the start of senior year of high school for Jenny and me and the rest of our class, so Jenny was all psyched to be the hot ‘new’ girl, as I think I mentioned.

“Reality hit her hard the first day of class: average-slender in a nice new outfit was an insufficient condition for automatically drawing strong notice from desirable male classmates. She explained that she didn’t know she was being disagreeable until well into the semester. From her vantage point, she was starving all the time, and the post-Camp ongoing low-cal diet wasn’t doing it for her. It hadn’t actually been doing it for her in camp, but she hadn’t paid attention when told that she’d have to stay on it once she was out. Seeing other students eating all the crazy junk most of us ate back then and really wanting to get back into doing so and knowing she could not further put her on edge.

“She had trouble getting inexperienced and somewhat self-centered young me to understand that it was not all bad post-fat camp, especially at first. People, especially strangers, often treated her better, or at least as a person rather than someone invisible. The greater clothing options were significant, and important to her self-esteem. I didn’t think she’d been big enough to have trouble fitting places, though apparently even her former just barely pear-wide width made some seating tight.”

“You’d be amazed how small some seats are” Tara interjected, with Barb nodding. “Any seats you found cozy snug with no wiggle room may have been too small for her in junior year.”

“I’ll have to pay more attention. I know airline seats in coach class have usually been as narrow as possible in the last 3 or 4 decades if not longer, and that antique seating made for smaller humans is often tight for modern humans. In any case, that was an upside for her when she was relatively slimmer.

“She started crying and I needed to hold her when she explained that she felt like a literally giant failure for being unable to stick to the diet. At least she wasn’t alone—her mother had trouble as well. Both of them tried and tried to not cheat on it, but temptation was too strong. And as we didn’t know then and do now, very strong signals from our little friends in our intestinal microbiome, all but ordering us to eat things they need to survive in our gut. I wish I’d known that back then; I could’ve done better consoling her and not having her needing to blame herself. The least worst I could do was have her get into greater detail about the foods on the diet, making faces and telling her truthfully that I’d have trouble staying on that diet. That of course brought up the fact that I wasn’t fat, and could eat what I wanted. I countered with the whole thing of we’re all different, there have always been fat people throughout recorded history, only really since the 1920s in western society have fat people been derided, that we just happened to be living in a time when fat wasn’t admired, and I was doing my little part to flip that around, since I couldn’t help finding fat women’s bodies profoundly desirable to look at, feel, cuddle next to, have sex with, and so on. Her crying wound down and we cuddled awhile, taking a break. I studied her breasts, squeezing each and confirming that actually they were a bit bigger. This observational confirmation made Jenny very happy, to the point where she hugged me tighter and kissed me.

“Both of us wanted to finish working through our time apart stories and finish working things out, so she continued hers. The food tension grew stronger and stronger, getting more out of control as she and to a lesser degree her mother would oscillate between rigorously sticking to the diet and cheating on it, sometimes bingeing. Exercise was more of a gradual fade than an oscillation, mostly. Colder days, less daylight, schoolwork in Jenny’s case, work in her mother’s case—all these factors made something neither of them especially enjoyed doing into something they didn’t do.

“The real killer for Jenny was when she was noticeably fattening back up and still mostly on the diet and doing at least half the exercising and was still starving hungry most of the time andwas being shunned as the class bitch. Nothing close to any dates much less a new boyfriend the entire semester, and she had to get back into her older, bigger clothes. A few days before Halloween she concluded that she’d utterly failed and that everything was downside the way she was currently living. She threw a fit at home, ranting about how she was a big fat failure and couldn’t do any of the fat camp stuff any more. Her mother confessed that she herself was within a day or two of dropping out entirely, at which point the two of them purloined Mr. Patussi to take them out for a nice big steak dinner at Big Deke’s.”

“Mmmmm! Makin’ me hungry, John” said Barb, immediately slathering a big slab of brie cheese onto a thick baguette slice. “Hurry up, clock! The barbecued pulled pork needs another half hour, and I’m ready now!”

Deftly with her left index finger, Tara wiped some nascent drool off her lips. “If it wasn’t Thanksgiving and we didn’t have all this great food here, I might suggest we go.”

“One of those classic steak houses that was supersizing portions long before it was a thing” John noted. “Back then it kicked off the end of Jenny and Mrs. Patussi’s fat camp adventure—or so it seemed. Jenny went wild, devouring anything and everything she could get her hands on and felt like eating. She discovered the night of Big Deke’s that her capacity had been reduced, but it was back to its former high glory within under two days. She felt like absolute shit about herself, but at least she was no longer hungry. In the same way she hadn’t truly noticed she was getting surly and disagreeable until it was pointed out to her, it was others who thanked her near Halloween for being nicer, the way she used to be.

“Then the fat hate came roaring back—the Great Pumpkin jokes and all that, reminding her why she’d felt the need to go to fat camp in the first place. She threw things in reverse, throwing herself back into exercise and as much as she could stand onto the diet again. Her mother helped by making the diet meals for Jenny, but was having none of it nor the fat camp exercising for herself. Jenny struggled, trying to strike a balance between all these conflicting factors that she could live with, ideally one where she could feel proud and successful for doing all she could, even if she wasn’t as slender as she wanted to be. This was that period of weight oscillation in November up until Thanksgiving. On this day—Thanksgiving—all those years ago, Jenny Patussi had a breakdown. Faced with a cornucopia of amazing food—as we have here today, though likely all traditional fare—she threw in the towel. She told me she ate all day long, into the evening and almost ’til bedtime. Then again on Friday. Then again on Saturday. Then again on Sunday.

“By Monday morning she was so bloated with food, water weight gain, and new fat, she couldn’t get into any clothes and refused to go to school. Her mother called the high school, framing it as a mental health crisis that was being dealt with. That may have been so, but Jenny had no intention of going back for any of those final 10 days of class before the December holiday break. She wasn’t eating quite as intensely Monday onward mainly because there wasn’t the cornucopia of food. There were, however, freshly-baked holiday cookies and other treats, both from the hands and oven of Mrs. Patussi (who intended to indulge herself) and others—neighbors, extended family, work. Jenny and her mother found themselves colluding or being co-dependents or whatever, working together to make tasty treats and festive meals, starting well before school was over. Mrs. Patussi made arrangements with Jenny’s teachers to track where they were in the curriculum, collect homework assignments and distribute completed homework, and otherwise act as an intermediary for these 10 days. Mr. Patussi helped with this as well. Jenny told me he claimed that he honestly didn’t care who was or wasn’t fat, as long as his wife and daughter were happy and the family could afford food and clothes and the two women in his life still living at home could function normally in the world.

“On the night of the last day of class in December, when Jenny didn’t have to deal with going back to school until January, she got up for a snack after having gone to bed and caught her father squeezing her mother’s hips as the two parents stood in the kitchen in a loving embrace. She made a point of telling me that he was squeezing her mother’s hips the way I squeezed hers. She accused him of being a closet chubby chaser, to which he allegedly responded, ‘Well, there’s not much chasing with your mother since we got married and both live here and share the same bed, but yes, I suppose I do enjoy her extra softness’.

“That pretty much brought Jenny’s story up to the then-present moment, with the two of us bare in bed together. The only other aspect of the story was having gone out with her mother so they both could buy stretchy ‘fat girl’ clothes, especially not knowing which direction Jenny and her body would be going the rest of December. She got tearful again, telling me that the only way that she wouldn’t feel like an abject hopeless failure was having me as her loving boyfriend again, going wild over her and reminding her every day that she was good and OK and worthy and lovable. She got me really excited when she went on to say that she really wanted to celebrate all December long, eating and drinking as much or little of whatever she wanted that was available, and not have to worry at all about how fat she might get. This of course made me hard again, which compelled her to go down on me, with my penis apparently being what she wanted to ‘eat’ at that moment.”

“One of your favorite sex acts, I take it?” Barb grinned.

John found the visible tongue lick move she did afterwards eerily like what Jenny had done all those years ago. “Not really, to be honest, which I gather makes me unusual amongst men.”

Tara nodded, smiling.

“The many times we did that it was because Jenny wanted it. I didn’t mind and I’ve had it done to me enough other times since to know that she was good at it, but then and now it wasn’t something I liked enough to ask for.

“The last part of our important discussion, which was held back in bed cuddling after she was done, was what would happen when the holiday was over. Jenny was certain that she’d be fatter than she’d ever been seen at school before, whether it was around what she was at that moment, or even more so. She told me she’d absolutely crumple if she didn’t have moral and emotional support, imploring me to go above and beyond mere boyfriend and really be there for her as her special best friend when people hurled fat hate her way and she felt like a failure inside. She emphasized that I couldn’t be a closet chubby chaser: I had to own up to how I loved her body and all of her, visibly in front of everyone, including my other friends. I told her I thought I was already doing that at the end of junior year, but that I’d redouble my efforts, and seek suggestions for improvement from her. I guess she thought that I wasn’t truly listening, because she re-phrased things, saying that I’d be visibly dating the fattest girl in our class, maybe even the high school, and possibly in the history of the high school, and that I needed to be unflagging in my loving support for this to work. This naturally led me to ask how we were going to handle disagreements between us, so they didn’t become arguments which broke us up. She said she didn’t know, but that if we stayed true with one another and didn’t seek others, that love would find a way.”

Barb rolled her eyes and palmed her face.

“The last step in reconciliation was my putting the necklace I’d made back on her, officially renewing our boyfriend/girlfriend coupledom, according to Jenny. She promised me she’d take care of it the way fine jewelry deserved to be cared for, would never again throw it in anger, and would always be wearing it when she was out of the house as well as when she was home and had clothes on, other than if she was doing something like helping her parents with yard work where it might get damaged. She took it back off when the ceremony was done, since we were bare in bed and she fully intended for us to stay that way—at least the bare part—and get into various positions where it might hang and get in the way or tangled.

“So started the most amazing December holiday season I’ve yet had in my life. We were all over each other for sex and related intimacy. I felt I could feel Jenny’s self-esteem improving as we both kept on having a great time. Stayed for dinner, helping make it. Stayed overnight, sleeping with Jenny in every sense of the phrase. Cooked and baked with her the next day, when both Mr. and Mrs. Patussi were back at work.

“We were inseparable, and getting along great. We mostly went between her house and my house, rarely going out in public or meeting with other people, both because we wanted as much potential naked time as possible, and because Jenny wasn’t ready to parade her fatter body around where people might know her. Every day she was slightly rounder and fatter, that much more amazing and perfect to me, driving our physically-based love that much harder.

“One of the days of the first week of our December bliss when she was having a bad moment in terms of her self-esteem because we couldn’t do one of the positions in the Kama Sutra because her belly was too big, I pointed out that she now had more surfaces for sex than when she had been relatively thinner, or than any thinner-than-her women had. That meant that we had more sex position options, not fewer. I suggested we make our own Kama Sutra of Fat Sex, with me doing the drawings and her writing the text with her beautiful calligraphic writing style. It would also be documentation of all the positions we’d tried, as we were doing with our Kama Sutra checklist. She loved the idea, digging out a really pretty bound writing book, so far unused. She wrote the title out beautifully on the cover, and I did OK drawing illustrations of us holding hands side-by-side underneath.

“You asked a couple of minutes ago about whether a woman going down on me was one of my favorite sex acts, which I explained it wasn’t” he directed at Barb. “The one that Tara knows well is one of my very favorites is one I discovered with Jenny: placing my penis deep within her butt crack but not penetrating any orifice, rubbing back and forth and just enjoying being hard in there, until I’d eventually cum. Basically it was sexualizing the spoon cuddle position, with me as Horny Big Spoon. Jenny wanted to please me and was quite good with it as I just described. When we added me reaching down and into her vulva to caress her there in various ways and especially attuned delicate sensitive touch on her clit to maximize her arousal she was great with it—outstanding with it, truly. While we remained highly motivated to experiment and keep trying different things and did indeed do so, this became our default sex act. I couldn’t hide the fact that it turned me on more than anything else we did consistently, for one thing. It was also a natural cuddle position for sleeping, the very easiest one to transition from sleeping or just-awake cuddling to sex, or sex to falling asleep comfortably. This was something else we got into earlier in the holiday break, initially on account of having run out of condoms at night and not wanting to go to a store.”

Barb crossed her legs the other direction, resisting the urge to touch herself or seduce John and/or Tara.

“Apparently one time in the middle of the break when we were sleeping over at Jenny’s, we were noisier and more inspirational than we realized. After some great early Saturday morning first light sex, we heard sounds we’d never heard before emanating from her parents’ bedroom. It was Mrs. Patussi moaning loudly with pleasure as Mr. Patussi humped her. Our eyes were wide and I at least had a touch of fear instinct before I figured out what was happening. Jenny and I wrapped ourselves into each other protectively, a little stunned and quite fascinated. ‘Let’s get up and go listen closer’ she suggested. We got into the absolute minimum of clothes we could get away with: me in undies and a pair of warm sweat pants, her in a really big tent-like t-shirt which was long enough to just barely cover her butt if she didn’t bend over, and to my delight no longer long enough to cover the lowest part of her belly hang.

“They were still going at it when we quietly padded out to the kitchen. From there one could hear Mr. Patussi’s panting and some of the intercourse sounds, being closer to the master bedroom and its open doorway. We quietly got into some soft leftovers which wouldn’t make crunching sounds as we ate, being careful not to clink dishware nor utensils.

“From the sound of things Mrs. Patussi had a very nice orgasm, with Mr. Pastussi grunting one out soon thereafter. To our breath-holding surprise, the two of them came out into the kitchen barely three minutes later, grinning like bandits and holding hands. Mr. Patussi wore nothing other than a bathrobe, looking to me quite like Hugh Hefner. In that moment, I idolized him the way many do or did Hef. Mrs. Patussi had nothing on other than a sheer negligee that no longer fit. She was flashing more belly and hips than her daughter, and the lower part of her buns as well. It was totally easy to see her body’s outline through the thin fabric, including all details of her fat-swollen breasts and her big belly button—not as big as Jenny’s had become, but relatively big versus what most people had and she’d used to have. She didn’t seem to care at all that I was staring at her like that; nor did Mr. Patussi. They started making coffee and doing their usual morning routine, same as other days when they were fully dressed.

“Jenny blew me away when she said out loud, ‘That wasn’t a very long afterglow’. Her father replied, ‘We’re looking forward to having another round in a little while, after a light breakfast.’

‘Light for you, maybe’ Mrs. Patussi replied, slathering a thick layer of cream cheese onto a day-old bagel she’d just refreshed in the microwave oven.

“That was the unforgettable Saturday when both Mr. and Mrs. Patussi and me and Jenny had sex nearly all day long, in our respective bedrooms, with the doors wide open.

“We and our families worked out that Jenny and I would spend Christmas Eve and the overnight at my house with my parents, then all of us would go over to the Patussi’s to exchange gifts and share a big buffet meal, similar to what the three of us are sharing now, though nowhere near this level of grandeur.”

Barb smiled at the compliment.

“To me the gift was giving caring love and receiving family togetherness, with both families celebrating Jenny’s and my love bond. The highlight for me was watching the delight on Mrs. Patussi and Jenny, the two different moments each of them opened a gift of clothing. Mrs. Patussi’s was a nice cocktail dress with stretchy fabric. None of us had ever seen an attractive, eye-catching cocktail dress in that size. She was so excited she rushed off to their bedroom and put it on. She truly did look hot without looking what got judged then especially as slutty, and it fit well. Jenny was thrilled to receive a white cotton tie-dye above-knee dress which was sized just slightly large for her current body. What really made it great was the rope belt, easily adjusted as her size might change and giving the dress—and thus her—shape, rather than tending towards being a small tent the way it was before the belt was tied. There were no belt loops, so it could be adjusted higher or lower depending what worked on her body and what she wanted to emphasize. She too rushed off to try it on, impressing all of us both with how good it looked on her, and how happy she was in it. It hit the multipurpose dressy/casual dichotomy on the nose. She could easily wear it out and about just about anywhere that didn’t involve dirty stuff like yard work or intense exercise, giving her a spectacularly superior option to her ‘fat girl’ stretchy pants and t-shirts.

“It was a great day. Seeing Jenny’s self-esteem soar as her fat body was embraced in non-sexual ways and by people who mattered to her beyond me was worth all the drama we’d gone through earlier in the year. Despite being fatter than ever, between this new dress, a new pair of dressy shoes for her bigger feet, and knowing that there weren’t that many days left of the holiday break, Jenny was very ready to get out of our houses and be seen in public—with me at her side. She got over some last-moment nerves when, at her suggestion, we went to the mall to stroll around as the after-Christmas shoppers sought bargains. I dressed nicely to match her level of dress. A few people in our class who were doing their own mall cruising spotted us, often whispering and pointing at us, or at least Jenny. I was so proud to be with her, it was easy to radiate pride and joy as we did our hand-holding or arm-loop-locked stroll, each of those at different times. My unflagging love and devotion apparently helped her stay positive and strong when she faltered, which may be why some of the wide-eyed pointing had what I considered tinges of admiration.

“Jenny Patussi finished off that extremely special December holiday season weighing 292 pounds as of New Year’s Day, with an ass and hips to die for—at least for me at the time, when it was my reference for huge fatass—and a belly that could not be hidden and didn’t take kindly to being contained fully within two-piece separate top and bottom outfits. Given that she’d been a bit below 200 pounds when she and I first got together only about 7 months earlier, this was truly extreme! It also wasn’t all fat/muscle/bones/etc., since through New Year’s she continued to eat and drink a lot, having a lot of food inside her at any given time. There was also a lot of fluid, related to her body’s tendency to retain more fluid than average for most women when her sodium intake was high, as it had been.

“All of us—me, Jenny, and our two sets of parents—found it difficult to let go of the holidays, more so than usual. The holiday baking and special feast-ish meals did taper down, though Jenny and Mrs. Patussi in particular weren’t ready to let go of them entirely. Jenny and I started to mentally adjust to returning to school in not that many days, shifting away from quite as much playful sex more towards heart-to-heart conversations whilst cuddling. She needed repeated assurances that I truly would be there for her as a strong supportive loving figure, as classmates reacted in shock to how hugely fat she’d become. She also begged me to help her dial down her appetite, encouraging her to have water when she needed something and to get out and exercise a little more, even if it was just walking around the neighborhood. I had to admit I felt sad that she’d be losing weight, at which point she pulled me into her naked butt and pulled my arms around her as we lay in bed, telling me that while she did want to lose some, it wasn’t likely to be a lot and she might not be able to lose any at all, and again pleading with me to be her support in public, at school especially, no matter how more or less fat she became.

“We drove to school together, got out of the car together, strolled to our lockers together, and stayed together until about two minutes before first period started, given that we had different classes in different rooms. I had to do a lot of running to make it to my classes on time, then back to her at our pre-arranged meet-up points between classes. She was nearly in tears between first and second periods, telling me how there was no way she could fit her giant fat ass into those one-size-fits-some desks with the chair and book rack built into the desk tabletop.”

Barb and Tara ranted for several minutes about how much each of them hated those, with all three of them having another round of food and beverages.


“I assured her that she had so much beauty and magnificence, the desks couldn’t contain it all. When that didn’t go over especially well, I promised that I’d help her enjoy a lunch of water and small bits of other things or whatever else she wanted, and that no matter what happened, I loved her and was there for her.

“She did a little better the other periods through lunch. For lunch she told me that the most important thing was for me to focus on her with deep love, like nothing else beyond her in the world existed, demonstrating my desire for her with light, PDA-appropriate sexual touch. She might as well have asked me to breath normally, because what she was asking for was my automatic tendency anyway.

“Once our classmates got over the initial shock and had their gossipy whisper-fests of which Jenny and I were blessedly unable to hear, most of them adjusted to the new reality of Jenny’s fat body. She was eating less, moving around more, shedding both the mass of undigested food weight and a good amount of the water weight. Seeing the scale numbers go down and being able to tighten the rope belt on her dress and not have so much of her belly try to escape her fat girl stretchy pants while at the same time still being able to eat more or less what she wanted and with me remaining devoted in love with her filled her with joy and hope.”

“Did it bother you seeing the numbers go down?” asked Barb.

“No, for several reasons. One: this was before even BBSes connected like-minded fat appreciators online, and I was too young and totally disconnected from anything like NAAFA, which I wouldn’t even know existed for another couple of decades. Thus I felt shame for being so hot for fat, sometimes more, sometimes less shame. Two: I loved Jenny and wanted her to be happy. She never truly liked being fat, mostly finding places of acceptance when she felt the need for my deep love, and when for reasons apart from me, she was going to be quite fat anyway. She was thrilled, so I at least needed to be at peace with it. Three: she remained a lot fatter than she’d been junior year and over the summer, and continued to let me go wild loving her fat when we were alone. She was great, I loved her, and I didn’t have any other alternatives anyway. It’s worth repeating: her parents and my parents let us freely share responsible non-procreating sex! I highly doubt that happened with most late teenagers still in high school! Four: both she and I needed to focus on learning and school work, to be able to graduate on time and make it into our preferred institutions of higher learning.

“Jenny remained what I’d now call neurotic throughout most of January. I was beginning to get tired of having her plead with me to stay with her every single day, especially given that I still ran to be with her between every period and always had lunch with her, other than a few rare times friends who’d still deal with her wanted to have lunch and talk privately. I don’t remember how the idea got into my head, but somehow I decided, or society subliminally convinced me, that she needed an additional symbol of our commitment beyond the necklace—something both of us wore. I turned a pair of multi-stepped rings, out of aircraft aluminum, one sized for her and one for me, identical other than diameter, due to her having delightfully fat fingers.” He looked down to Tara, “Have I mentioned how wonderful it is to hold and squeeze a fat-padded hand?”

“No” she smiled, eyes glittering. She looked at her left hand, “I didn’t think mine were especially fat.”

“They’re not especially fat. They’re nicely padded.”

Barb held hers up, “So you’d call this something nicer than an attached baseball glove?”

“I’d call yours excellent: plenty of soft padding for receiving deep squeezes that would hurt delicate hands.”

“Come on up and squeeze me sometime” she voiced in her best Mae West impression, which was pretty good.

“The next time Jenny went off on an especially intense needy-clingy plea for my unrelenting undivided love, I pulled out a double-wide flocked jewel box I’d been carrying, presenting it to her and asking her to open it. She didn’t know what to make of the rings, given that they weren’t at all like standard jewelry, other than being rings, in a jewel box, and looking nice. I explained my reasoning: the nature of the high-tech aircraft aluminum, the way its matte finish would never blind anyone the way most shiny jewelry does, that there were no other rings in the world like this, that I’d made them for us and would wear mine every possible moment it wouldn’t get damaged or lost, and that if she did the same, it would be obvious to anyone with reasonable eyesight that she and I were an indivisible couple—like the matching wedding bands married people wore, but without us needing to be engaged or get married, until some future time when we were adults when we might decide to make our commitment more permanent. She kissed me so hard and long I wondered if I was going to have bruises or any skin left on my face!

“The rings were a smashing success, which had I known, I would have made and presented before our first day back in school. I enjoyed explaining what they were, both the symbolism and all about the material and how I’d made them. She did too with those who asked, especially her friends, focusing more on the symbolism. She told me a couple of friends were jealous that Fat Jenny had such a talented, committed boyfriend and that we got to have sex in our parents’ homes, which Jenny admitted she’d leaked out some months prior.

“Jenny and I did pretty well getting along, second semester senior year. We still had plenty of disagreements, but the ring commitment and my always being there for her helped defuse the tensions. Also, each of us had at least the start of maturity to discuss things with our parents or friends instead of directly escalating with each other. This is where I started to get the idea of how I could be unreasonable in some ways, and might want to rethink my stance on certain issues. Sometimes I did, impressed with how it could take the wind out of what otherwise would have been an argument.

“We did have one big blow-out argument in late March, which seemed like it was going to kill everything. We were out at the mall and I happened to spot a huge pear-shaped fat woman, looking just a few years older. I couldn’t tear my eyes off her: her body was too amazing to watch, in all its sexy motion! Jenny’s jealousy + faithfulness response tripped all the way off, getting us into a big, noisy scene right there in the mall. She pulled me down onto the mall seating and off we went into what seemed like an hour of yelling at each other, starting with the immediate trigger issue then going into every little or not-so-little thing that had been irritating either of us since we got back together.

“Once we’d worn ourselves out, we looked at each other apologetically. The woman I’d seen was long gone, and after we stopped yelling at each other, I’d been looking over Jenny, no one else. This went on for a few minutes, as we each settled back down, feeling feelings of desire and need for one another again. I eventually broke the silence with, ‘You know why your ass is better?’. Her hackles went right back up and she yelled ‘Why?!’. I said ‘Because it’s your ass! And I love you. And I’m wearing my ring, and don’t want to take it off. And we’re here together, and I want to work things out, because I know you and I love you and I don’t know her at all and don’t want to, long as I have you.’

“We spent another half hour give-or-take smoothing things out, arguments almost flaring up again when I pointed out that I’d seen her checking out other men—which she vehemently denied—and it hadn’t bothered me that she looked, as long as we remained the couple or re-negotiated. She reluctantly agreed that it was human nature for eyes to track other people’s movements, that at least some of these other people each of us might find sexy, and that as long as we looked and didn’t take things past looking, it would be tolerated. She did emphasize that I needed to stare at her ass as intensely and for as long as I had that other woman’s, starting right then and there when she made me walk behind her. She told me she wanted me to pervy stare with laser intensity she could feel, all the way to the food court, where I was going to buy her a fattening treat to ensure her ass would re-fatten a little and I’d keep preferentially staring at it. This was on a weekend, and we had very intense, primal make-up sex that night.”

Barb sipped some more wine, contemplating what her life would have been like with a devoted, steady boyfriend in high school, cleared by both pairs of parents to share regular sex. Then she remembered that on account of her parents alone, this never could have happened.

“The rest of our last months of high school, Jenny Patussi and I continued to grow up, and grow apart. What kept us nailed together was our addiction to physical love and sex, and her still being fat and still needing my support. It wasn’t arguments; more of a cooling off. Likely some burnout from having been so close for so long, though as Tara can vouch, I’m very high up on the clingy-needy-ongoing intimate contact scale.”

“Feature!” she smiled.

“That’s generally what Jenny thought as well. We were well-matched in that sense, but lacked the maturity to make it work reliably over years and years. We needed what each other had, but we also needed more life experiences with other people. The day-to-day reality was that we spent more time apart, which hurt the one of us who hadn’t made that decision for a given occasion. We did OK and didn’t argue much at all about anything.

“Part of this distancing and these changes was also knowing that separation was inevitable: we were going to different universities, many hundreds of miles apart. No Internet, no video chats—nothing other than travel, voice phone calls, and paper letters. At that point, we couldn’t face this reality, not able to even talk about it.

“What we did talk about and focus on in terms of our ongoing lives together was senior prom. I was likely the first person to have asked my prom date to prom, having asked Jenny during one of her down moments back in January. We were an anomaly, having in many ways already lived together almost like adults, having already gone through many of the experiences proms were intended to give to up-and-coming young adults for the first time. I told her I wanted her to be proud of me and being with me every moment, asking her to please consult with me on my attire. The ruffled front blue suit was more disco or fru-fru than I would have chosen on my own, but seeing her eyes again light up as they had in December was all I needed to know for making that my choice. She wanted her outfit to be a surprise to me, promising me I’d not be disappointed.

“Excitement and tension built as prom drew nearer—not that either of us had a lot of time for that, given school work we needed to do. I spent some quality time with my parents, asking them many things so that I could be the best possible prom date for Jenny. While others in our class might have been dancing around topics of sex and borrowing a car and so on for prom with their parents, I’d been there, done that. What I wanted was hints on maturity beyond my years, and blunt discussion of areas where I was immature, with ideas on how I could mitigate those factors.

“Things went great, from the moment I picked her up. Yes, I was definitely surprised, which I’ll explain in moments. Her parents were delighted, wishing us a great night.

“Into a well-decorated large multipurpose room filled with 17- and 18-year olds awkwardly making their first steps into formal adult social behavior in most cases walked a couple who in many ways were already young adults. Many eyes turned to us in awe, some in envy.

“My suit fit perfectly, making me look far more the part of an adult than usual. My face was clean-shaven perfection, having carefully used my father’s blade razor all week rather than my usual electric shaver with getting-dull blades. My hair was perfect, my posture nearly so.

“My arm was looped with a woman. Young woman yes, but a woman—not a girl playing dress-up, like so many others appeared and acted. Jenny discovered that having a big body the size of a fully adult woman meant access to a prom dress that fit exceedingly well. She had curves for days, and this tailored dress fit them all, showing off each to full advantage. Yes she was fat—very much so. Yes, this was still the mid-late 1970s, when fat hate was virulent. Many little girls and boys in the room whispered childish put-downs to one another, covering up their envy that each of us somehow managed to find a wormhole to adulthood that so far eluded them. There were some busty women in our class so she wasn’t the only one sporting cleavage, but in that prom dress that fit so well, she had real, natural cleavage, which no one including me had ever seen before. She liked having people stare at her boobs—thrilled at it, actually, which was about as close as she came to immature behavior that night. Her fat ass and belly were obvious, shown off to best advantage and making her look older than her age in the best possible way for a late teenager. There were other nice asses on display that night, but none were even on the same scale as Jenny’s, being at best minor planets to her Jupiter. My necklace from the previous year was part and parcel of her outfit, as were our machined aluminum rings for both of us.

“She must’ve had a conversation with her parents or someone along the lines of mine with my parents: I was engaging with an adult woman, every step of the way. I believe I did my part to be the least-worst adult man I could be at that point in time, and apparently did very well indeed. Many other couples watched us after the shock wore off, seeking hints and ideas for how to behave.

“We danced like a single precision machine, not because we’d practiced—we hadn’t—but because we were so attuned to each other and so used to walking and otherwise moving together as one. We served each other and ate food like refined adults, with our best manners and not having to think much about them. We carried on conversations with anyone who approached us civilly, even those who’d been mean to either or both of us in the past.

“Most participants were bringing their A game, even if their A might be a B or C for us and some of the others with greater maturity and/or experience. A few needed more time to mature, and weren’t truly ready for this, other than being seniors by chronology. One individual named Sean Sattabak couldn’t keep his immaturity to himself, saying out loud ‘I don’t understand why anyone would go out with such a huge fatass’. Before Jenny could get very far into her instinctive tensing up and emotionally circling the tents and closing down, I responded, ‘Sean! Haven’t you heard?! With a woman like Jenny there’s more to love! Including more cushion for the pushin’.’ Trite cliches I realize, but remember that Jimmy Carter was U.S. President, punk and disco were duking it out, and I was barely 18. My knowing smile first at Sean then turning to Jenny signaled her to put on her own knowing smile matching mine, at which point we kissed just a bit past polite, towards make-out. It totally shut Sean Sattabak down, and made a number of minds whir who’d heard the exchange.

“This being the bad old days with traditions which picked winner-take-all winners and marginalized everyone else, there was judging for a prom queen and king. Notwithstanding our excellent presentation, neither of us thought we’d win, given that it was basically a popularity contest. We were wrong: we both won in our respective categories. I still to this day don’t know how that happened. At our school back then, the newly-crowned prom royalty did a solo dance together as others watched, and please don’t ask me why nor whose idea that was, because I don’t know. From the all-too-limited selection of records from which we could pick a song, we settled on Electric Light Orchestra’s Boy Blue. For two people who had no idea about any of this before it happened and neither of whom had been involved in the drama program—our real-life romantic drama notwithstanding—I believe we did a credible job making up an elaborate dance. It was the full album version, with the baroque fanfare and all that at the beginning, giving us ample opportunity to act out stereotypes of ancient formality at the sort of dances which likely inspired modern-back-then proms. Whether or not anyone else liked it, our focus on each other’s faces and moves moved us on a deeply emotional level. Thankfully there weren’t other royal responsibilities, beyond continuing to act as adults, as we were doing anyway.

“There was no official after-prom, and most of our class were hot to go pair off and do it, with a number of them anxious to lose their virginity before graduation. A few clusters of friends made plans to go out and celebrate, but we weren’t amongst them. There had been food at the prom, but it wasn’t an all-out meal. My surprise gift to Jenny was asking her out to Darmond.”

Woooh, you must’ve had a fat paycheck from the hardware store that week!” Barb exclaimed.

“One day a week does not make for a fat paycheck, even if it was Sunday, since thankfully we were hourly and not commission, which would be insane in the hardware business. But yes, I had been saving up to take her and myself out to that expensive high-end date night formal eatery.

“Here was yet another opportunity to act as full adults, and again we did well. So well in fact that our waiter presented us with the wine list. Jenny didn’t entirely keep her eyes from growing wide, but by the same token didn’t let her eyebrows shoot up to her forehead. I motioned the waiter over and whispered ‘Thanks, but we just turned 18 and we’re here for a nice post-prom dinner. We’ll definitely consider having a look at it in a few years, when we’re of legal drinking age’. He blushed really brightly, thanking me and suggesting some very nice and special non-alcoholic beverages we could consider having instead.

“It was a great multi-course meal, dazzling the tastebuds of my beautiful fat foodie basically-adult girlfriend, and doing me well enough. She asked discreetly whether I had enough money for dessert, which I did. I don’t recall the name of what she had, but it was a work of art with chocolate, glazed caramel, nuts, and much more. Eating it was the one point during the evening and night while we were out where she almost slipped out of polite adult behavior into lusty adult behavior. Had we been eating in private at either of our homes and especially in one of our bedrooms, I have little doubt that she would’ve gotten off to that dessert. I was delighted, struggling to stay in the moment and savor it when my mind preferred to think about how that dessert was going to help keep my gorgeous fatass girlfriend fatassed.

“We were already feeling a touch let-down as we headed back to normal life after dinner, scheduled to sleep together in my room at my parents’ house. When we got home, after greeting us, taking pictures, and asking about how things went, my parents surprised us: they were taking a date night out of their own, staying over at a nice hotel they wanted to experience. We had the entire run of the house, and they’d cleaned up their master bedroom and put fresh sheets on the bed, in case we wanted to carry the adult experience further and sleep together in the master bedroom. We accepted, slightly shocked. They promised they’d not be back before noon the following day.

“We absolutely did share some great sex, like many of our peers were at least attempting. For us it was more bittersweet, since all this adulthood symbolism couldn’t help but bring our minds to our rapidly-forthcoming future of being separated by our disparate higher educational needs and goals. We got a bit weepy in afterglow, reminiscing about our time together even though there was no reason for it to be over yet. It had been such an amazing beautiful pinnacle day and night, it was difficult to feel that we’d not just jumped the shark, as people like to say.

“Sadly, senior prom did indeed turn out to be the final pinnacle moment of my and Jenny’s IIR. We continued to get along OK and sleep together through the end of high school and into the start of summer, but we both felt the distance growing between us. We were young, and truthfully we really didn’t have enough in common beyond sex and related physical love to maintain a life partner-style bond measured in years. Summer jobs kept us apart longer, and absence did very little to make our hearts grow fonder. Each of us had freak-out moments where we couldn’t handle the change, running to the other to re-light the passion and intense intimacy. Only once did those few events occur at the same time for both of us, leading to a passionate, tearful cling- and sexfest, as we struggled to find an alternative to the dreaded and nearly always love-fatal long distance intimate interpersonal relationship.

“By the start of July, Jenny was losing weight again, this time on a less-worse diet and exercise program that wasn’t promising huge nor fast losses. She explained she wasn’t doing this to hurt me, but because I wouldn’t be there, and she needed a fresh start. That and, as always, deep inside she didn’t truly want to be fat, even if it meant earning a wine list whilst underage. Our love cooled further. Each of us needed to, and did, focus on preparing to move away to university.”

John started to get emotionally worked up and weepy, compelling Tara to set aside her current plate and flute of wine to focus on him and soothe him.

“It was…”–he had to stop to wipe tears from his eyes–“… the start of August, when Jenny informed me that I needed to start removing my belongings from her bedroom and elsewhere at her house, and she needed to do the same over at my house. It was (sniff) difficult… for both of us. Being with each other at least for me remained necessary, but (sniff) always felt like a dirge, with no good ending!

He burst into tears, needing several minutes of sobbing before he could compose himself. Tara was there for him like no one else in his life had ever been, including Jenny Patussi.

Barb watched events unfold, so fascinated by each of their behavior and their interactions that she wasn’t even eating anything.

“The final day… (sniff) was the 12th. of August. She had us meet at Harwether Meadows, where long ago during happier times then again one other time when we were struggling, she and I had walked together for heart-to-hear conversations. The stiff breeze blew the huge meadow of grasses seeming to go on forever every direction so… beautifully. It was late in the day that clear, sunny day, about an hour before sunset. No one else was there. She took both my hands, facing me and saying, ‘You are a beautiful, wonderful man, John Mercer. You have a great life ahead of you, filled with exciting possibilities. So I’m hoping do I’–and I agreed with her. ‘We’ve lived and loved like almost no one our age have, sharing amazing, unforgettable events and times. But at the end of the day—where we nearly are now on this day—we want and need different things. Life is seeing to it that we find them, forcing us to part so we each find what we need for our next stage of growing up, and becoming who we each need to be.’

“Here, she got a bit weepy too. ‘I would not have survived well without you and your amazing love and support. I’ve been delighted to be your huge fatass girlfriend, having mind-blowing sex with you that many of our peers have yet to even taste. But I’m ready to be something and someone else… I need to be someone else. You don’t necessarily: you are good as you are, as a true chubby chaser and fatass addict. There are many fat pear-shaped women out there who need you and your pure love, the way I have.’” He was barely able to finish, crying again as he portrayed her saying, “‘Fly, John! Fly to the future—the bright future!’

“Then nothing for a few moments as we both cried, still holding hands. She let go of mine, taking the double-wide flocked jewel box out of her pocket, which made me bawl like a baby. Indeed, she opened it and slipped her ring off, carefully placing it in its slot.

‘Would you like our rings to live together forever in this box, either with me or with you? Or do you want to keep yours and have me keep this one?’

“I was too busy crying to answer, eventually slipping my ring off, placing it in the box, and gently pushing it at her to convey what at that moment I could not in words: that she should keep it. She kissed each of the rings as they lay in the box, closed it, and slipped it into her pocket. I wish she hadn’t said ‘One final kiss, John. For eternity’ but she did. What she actually meant was one final session of passionate kisses, wrapped tightly in each other’s arms, the breeze blowing across us as the sun descended further towards the horizon.

“We went at it for quite awhile, 10 minutes at least. While I didn’t like to see Jenny cry, it would’ve been worse for me to be the only one. She very gently separated us, doing her best to smile as she unfastened her necklace for a final time. ‘Do you want this, to remember me?’ she asked, to which I yelled across the vast meadows, ‘I can never forget you, Jenny Patussi!’ She cried some more, hugging me again as she held the necklace.

“A minute or two later she pulled back, pulling the jewel box back out of her pocket, opening it and carefully placing the necklace inside next to the rings, kissing the marble in its cage. She closed it back up carefully, sliding it back into her pocket.

“‘I will open that jewel box and look at those beautiful jewelry items you made for me whenever I’m down or lost or lonely, needing to remember what we did for each other to make each other’s lives better, especially yours with mine! Whenever I want to remember the amazing things we’ve shared. Whenever I may be losing hope in humanity, needing to know that this all happened, and that you’re out there somewhere making it happen for someone else, who needs you as much as you need her.’”

Tara was getting weepy herself, from the combination of the sad story and her and John’s own almost tragic story. She felt the need to get his attention and make eye contact with him, to ensure he knew that Jenny’s prophecy meant her!

“She led me by the hand back to our respective vehicles, guiding me into my parents’ car in which we’d gone to prom. The last thing Jenny Patussi ever said to me was ‘Please drive home safely! And truly, have a really great life!’ One final hand squeeze, and she turned and left for her car—her parents’. The delicious fat ass that meant the universe to me bounced and wobbled away from me for the final time, into the driver’s seat of the Volare.

“She waved me forward, wanting me to drive off first. I didn’t understand until she followed me, apparently very worried I wouldn’t make it home OK.”

Tara clutched him close, totally understanding why Jenny may have felt concerned to that level.

“She followed me home, waving once as she rolled by and kept driving to her home. And that, my two beautiful, intelligent, amazing friends, concludes the overly-long, overly-detailed story of myself and my first love.”

“You never contacted her again?” asked Barb.

John shook his head, still struggling to let go of the dredged-up, still-hurtful memories.

As Tara soothed her man, Barb grabbed her tablet and did a little research.

A couple of minutes later, she held it out towards them, “Is this her?”

John claimed the device, staring at it, eventually looking up to make eye contact with Barb, “Yes.”

It was a website for Forever Fit, a health and fitness organization for women of size who wished to be a smaller weight and size. Jenny herself looked to have dropped back to what gets called average size in the undated photo.

John tapped to the About page, then About Jenny. The page explained how Jenny had overcome her fatness in her 20s with reasonable, ongoing exercise and a balanced diet meant as a forever lifestyle, not a limited, finite duration. She’d kept the weight off all these decades, and helped many others do the same. He felt shellshocked.

Tara moved his hands so she could get a better look at the screen. Once she’d had time to read what he’d already read and studied her photo (same one as on the home page, larger), she said, “She’s happy, John. She became who she needed to be—the same as you did. You told us several times she wasn’t genuinely happy being fat, and now we know for most of her life, she hasn’t been fat. Judging from her smile in the photo, she’s at least mostly genuinely happy. But some of us love being fat, and have fat asses and love that you’re a fatass addict—and love you! Isn’t that the best possible outcome for all of us?!”

He had to agree, hugging (and squeezing) her (fat) super-tightly. She carefully handed the tablet back to Barb, freeing that arm to join her other in reciprocating the super-tight embrace.

“Much as I loved hearing that entire story, remind me not to ask about the rest of your loves prior to Tara.”

“I couldn’t get into any of the rest of them in that detail if I wanted to. Overview is thus: kinda sorta dated a couple of beautiful fatasses in college, as in only going out a few times. I was way too pervy and fat-obsessed for them. Too busy struggling to get a business off the ground after graduation to have time to date.

“Saw a number of sexy women out and about as I went through life in my 20s. Being shy, I wasn’t one to strike up a conversation, the way I hear many men back then did.

“A sales rep named Raquel caught me taking a fancy to her big, bouncy rear. I wasn’t sure whether she was trying to sell her company’s line to me via sex, or if she was into me. Once I’d refused her company’s products, she came back to see me a few days later near the end of the day, in very hot street clothes. She showed me she had not one shred of company literature nor anything else on nor with her, and asked to go out so-called ‘dutch’ to dinner.

“We hit it off. Went back to my place; she stayed over. We dated another dozen times over several months, plus a few long phone calls. She stayed over a weekend; it was great. A few weeks later she took a week’s vacation and stayed an entire week—even better. Not as fat as Jenny at her peak, but close, and with devastating curves that she knew how to work. Quite orally fixated, she’d had issues with smoking, and was either going to have a cigarette in her mouth, or food or beverage. The cigs weren’t doing anything good for her health, her bank account, nor her career, so she went back to food and stayed with it. She wasn’t trying to gain, but it was obvious to both of us that it was inevitable.

“We lived together about 8 months before things went south. We’d never been as close as I’d been with Jenny, though close enough we thought that living together made sense. She’d remained in sales and traveled a lot, and got with other men without telling me and without allowing me equal opportunity. That put a big dent in things, but what killed it straight out was when she complained that she was getting too fat and needed to turn things around for her job. I’m sure she did, but as with Jenny, that took away at least half of my attraction to her. We parted amicably with no drama, and surprisingly few feelings—at least for me, and she already had a new man in a different state.

“My 30s were very hit and miss. I was running a company, of a sort which didn’t need to go to trade shows, with very, very rare exceptions. Fatass sales reps weren’t common, and after Raquel, I was wary of them anyway. As you may know, starting and running a business often means living and breathing that business nearly every waking moment. That was my realty, and I was fine with it, though it did mean I wasn’t meeting new people much at all.”

“Were there any delicious fatasses working for you?”

“Not until I hired Tara” he smiled at the person in question. “Even if there had been, anti-sexual harassment polices were in place for a reason, and it was my company, where my leadership set the tone.”

“Present tense, Sweetie” Tara prodded him.

“Almost by accident a few beautiful women walked into my life in my 30s, leading to a few more scattered dates, usually ending with them thinking I was far too fatass-obsessed and weird. One named Ann did an FWB thing with me, years before I’d ever seen that abbreviation. We only got together once every couple of months, when she was in heat as she put it.

“Only one woman in my 40s: Alenne. Supersized BBW with steatopygia making her buns even bigger, and beautiful medium-dark brown skin. She much preferred actual P.I.V. intercourse to my cumming in her crack—‘Hot dog and rolls’ as she called it, but we worked out a compromise where if I gave her foot and leg massages all the way up to her crotch then licked her to at least one satisfactory orgasm, she’d gladly let me do hot dog and rolls. We did other stuff too, to keep it fresh. After dating awhile she moved in with me. Our love grew stronger, and well past physical sex. As we passed the two year mark of living together, I thought maybe she was The One, or A One who could work for years.

“Unfortunately we didn’t make it to year 3. She developed ovarian cancer, which her doctor insisted was related to how fat she was. I didn’t buy it, but kept it inside and supported and loved her in every possible way, staying with her at the hospital for the surgery, driving her to her chemo and other appointments, etc. Her personality changed as she shed weight—not the surly nastiness Jenny had exhibited, more a spaciness and loss of libido. The cancer went into remission, for which we were both grateful, but she shrank to where she only had a small fraction of the butt I’d fallen in love with. Worse, while we remained friends and ran the household together still, she had absolutely no interest in any form of sex, with me or anyone else. Her mother heading into a prolonged slow death process was a compelling reason for us to part. I helped her move back in with her mother, several states away. Our goodbyes were as friendly as with Jenny, with precisely none of the emotions.

“That was it for me until Tara saved me. Despite what common wisdom says about men and their sex drive, my libido grew throughout my 50s. The tragedy for me is that I was busy running my company, not meeting people, and now a middle-aged man. Seeing fat asses out and about drove me to distraction, with no outlet for me other than self-pleasuring at home.”

“This had to have been over the past decade. What about online dating?” asked Barb.

“Tried it. Creeped a lot of women out with my ass obsession, well before ever even a voice call.”

“FetLife?”

“Didn’t know of it. Tried several of the fatlovesex sites, with the least-worst result being actual women who were on the given site who very much wanted me to come to them, and lived on other continents. No pears who were into me who lived anywhere near here, nor were willing to relocate.

“Gave up, got more frustrated, especially seeing Tara’s life-affirming near-double asses every day. The more they grew and fattened over time, the more frustrated and hopeless I got, all the way until I couldn’t take it any more and tried to end my life.”

“Had I had any clear idea of your attraction to me and how much it meant to you, it never would have escalated anywhere near that far!” Tara loudly insisted, again upset with how close things had come to the world losing John Mercer, and her never having experienced his amazing love. She decided she needed to wrap herself around him tightly yet again and kiss him passionately like she owned him… because in a way, she did. She also ensured that his hands were on her fat buns, knowing such contact went far beyond mere pleasure for him.


Drained from the detailed romance story as Tara and John himself were, Barb struggled to figure out how to change things up to get back to the happy Thanksgiving she’d envisioned. “Will someone who’s not a walking fire hazard like me please make us a nice, safe fire in the fireplace?”

Tara led John up by the hand, to help her make one. She could do it on her own just fine, but that wouldn’t be as romantic as doing it with the man she loved so deeply. Nor would it allow them to remain in close contact, so she could be sure that he was OK, and that she was OK. The thanks she gave every day regarding being with him as his lover, life partner, and closest friend resonated at a whole new level after hearing the story of him and Jenny.

Barb’s main course of Barb’s Barbecued Pulled Pork was finally ready. She consolidated and cleared some plates from the previous course and served, as her invitees (it was hard to call Tara a guest, when it was Tara’s own house, where she still had many possessions) built and lit the fire.

“Great on a pretzel onion bun, great on its own” Barb said of her barbecued pulled pork, as Tara and John approached the dining table.

All three of them chose the bun option, making nice sandwiches. It amused Barb that John’s sandwich had at least as big a heap of meat as hers and Tara’s.

“John, Tara: may I sit next to John opposite you, please?”

“Sure.”

“I’m honored! Don’t you want to be next to Tara?”

“Later. Right now I need man proximity, and want all of us to be able to look directly at the fire.”

Tara and Barb alone filled the couch, and that was when they were cuddled close. John wasn’t that wide, but even a little more width meant very intimate seating.

Huuuaagghghhmmmmmhhh!” he exclaimed, as Barb sat down next to and into his right side.

“Hope that’s a good sound. What does it mean?”

“May I be blunt?”

“I prefer it.”

“The warmth and softness of your generously fat ass fills me with life-affirming energy. As Tara’s doing on my lap and my left side.”

“Thank you, John. Given the three of our relations to one another and your hardcore ass addict nature, I sincerely consider that statement quite a compliment.”

Her extremely soft, fat arm around him felt equally nice, with his arm sinking into her soft back fat intimately close.

Tara stiffened up, feeling John’s silent protective enveloping energy field diminish enough to no longer be covering her left side. Unaware of it as he almost always was, he’d unconsciously shifted it to cover Barb. The whole process worked down on a primal level, and she was a new affectionate sexy USBBW sharing her intimate love energy with him. Tara wiggled a bit, engaging a playful pixie mode she hadn’t exhibited in many years if not decades, which John hadn’t encountered before. It manifested as a playfulness in her expression as she ran her hands over him.

The energy field shifted. Barb noticed its sudden partial absence. Like Tara, she now felt half-covered nearest him, half out in the cold. She was more attuned than John was, and less than Tara to these sorts of energy fields. Seeing what Tara was doing, she took her own approach to getting his attention back. She claimed his right hand, placing it on her hip fat, “You have consent to explore my body as you wish, and not just today.”

The field moved to again fully cover Barb.

“John Love: you need to expand your protective loving energy field.”

He didn’t know what Tara meant. “Huh?”

“Close your eyes and look straight ahead. Feel all of my body, including my far side, in your mind and body.”

“OK.”

“Now do that with Barb.”

“Mmmmm” Barb sighed.

“OK.”

“Now do that with both of us at the same time, covering all of us.”

It took him a few tries and some more coaching. Eventually John Mercer was able to keep his expanded loving energy field covering all of both of them, even after he opened his eyes.

“Is this energy field thing at all related to how you sometimes seem like you’re trying to crawl inside my body when I’m feeling withdrawn and closed off?” he asked Tara.

“Yes! When you get like that, your protective love field collapses, likely because you need it to protect yourself. The issue for me is that I’ve become as addicted to being inside your field as you are to my asses. So when I’m deprived, it’s like you not being able to feel my butts for more than a couple of hours.”

“That’s not good.”

“No it’s not. So when you feel like that, please let me get as far into your collapsed space as possible. Or else expand your field enough to cover me.”

“I’m not aware of it and until about 10 minutes ago I didn’t know it had a range, or that the range could be controlled.”

“We’ll keep practicing. Help us out with that today, Barb?”

“Sure! I need somebody’s love field, whether it’s his or yours or both.”

Several times over many conversations, more of Barb’s Barbecued Pulled Pork, quite a few of Tara’s Tenders, and the course of the next hour, John’s protective love field shifted or contracted. Each time it happened to Tara, she interrupted the conversation in progress to say something and work with John to get it fully covering her again. Barb did the same when she noticed, which for her was not every time his field failed to cover her.

“So you’re not just into huge BBW for sex?” Barb asked John, in the middle of a conversation.

“Not at all. While it’s true that I find you exciting sexually and there’s that tension between us—at least I feel it, what I’m mostly feeling since you sat down over here is soothing tranquility. I’ve always felt that with every woman I’ve been with, proportional to how well we’re getting along and how fat they are. I feel safer, more comfortable, and more relaxed with you intimately cuddled into my right side. Peaceful, similar to very effective meditation.”

“And with Tara too, I assume.”

“Without question! The ‘getting along’ part has a factor for the depth and duration of the bond. I very quickly stop functioning well as a person when out of contact with Tara for more than a couple of hours. The comfort and relaxation from your and my cuddle is a worthwhile enhancement. That which I’ve been getting from direct contact with Tara since we got here is fundamental to my ability to function.”

“Wow.”

Tara doinked her nose into John’s shoulder to get his attention, “Field’s not covering my far rear corner.”

He looked straight ahead, closed his eyes, and made it expand slightly in that direction. “How about now?”

Much better” she smiled.

“I don’t know that I truly believed in this energy field stuff before the three of us got into it here today.”

“You’re innately very good at it, and as I mentioned, that’s one of my primary addictions to you. You’ve almost certainly had it your whole life, and I think everyone from Jenny onward benefitted from it, even if, like you, they didn’t know what it was and/or didn’t believe in it. Keep believing and practicing, so you can keep me covered and sometimes have room for special others like Barb.”


Lots more food and wine and lots more conversation filled the afternoon. Most but not all of the time, all three of them tended to get up off the couch together for their next round of noms. In John’s case, he wasn’t going anywhere unless Tara got up off his lap. All the soft fat flesh meant plenty of opportunities for friendly sensual rubbing passing by each other as they refilled their plates, bowls, etc.

Over the hours they switched around the seating order, first with Tara in the middle, John under her left butt, Barb cuddled into her right.

“Don’t you get worn out from all her weight on your lap for so long?” Barb asked John.

“No, in large part because a majority of the gravitational pull on her mass vectors down through whichever side of her is basically fully seated next to me. Even when she sits centered on me with her middle bun directly over my centerline, there’s enough of a load being carried by her outer buns to keep her from being overwhelmingly heavy.”

“Wanna try me?”

“Sure!”

Tara wasn’t 100% sure, but like her with the invitation to this event, John answered on her behalf with no effort to consult with her—unusual for him. She nevertheless got up with Barb and let them share the experience.

John felt a rush of passion, seeing Barb’s huge rear widening as she bent to sit—on him!

Barb set herself down slowly and gently. “How we doin’?”

“MMMmmmmm!”

“OK, I’m all the way down now. Are you alright?”

“Yes. Just about all your weight’s going through me, so you feel significantly heavier than Tara. I hope we can both enjoy this position for awhile, though I wouldn’t likely be able to enjoy it for hours at at time as I can with Tara, with her wider width and what I just explained about not all her weight impinging on and through me.”

He massaged Barb’s hip fat, working his way back to her buns, then forward to her belly, then up to her breasts (which, being huge, had horned in on the belly massage).

{Now that’s more like it!} she thought, regarding his turgidity. But it still wasn’t as much as she expected. {Maybe he’s small?}

About 10 minutes later, John had had as much of Barb entirely in his lap as he could handle at the present time. They shifted around to Barb being in the middle, John to her left, Tara into and partly onto her right.


“I haven’t eaten this much since the last time we were together when you actually still lived here” Barb shared, between bites of Tara’s Crunchy Onion Waffle Potatoes.

“MMmmm…. Me either. And I just want to keep going and going and going!”

“Me too. This slow all-day eating pace suits me.”

Filled to his far lower capacity, John wound up doing more fetching and clearing as the amazing beauties relaxed and ate, still with so much to share with each other covering their time apart.

By design, there was overlap between courses: anything which had not been fully consumed and would not spoil from a previous course was left out, as long as there was room for it. When there wasn’t, the items would circulate back to the kitchen counter.

Barb and Tara were all ready for desserts to start appearing, making no commitment that they were done with the previous courses.

Passions, which had been on a low idle or below for some time, shot up very suddenly. Barb was in the kitchen checking the doneness of her homemade apple cinnamon crumble cake, bent very far over as she did the toothpick test.

Delivering some used dishes to get into the cleaning queue, John only needed one look at that delicious derriere aimed straight at him and spread from feminine hip splay to totally lose it. He didn’t quite throw the dishes at the counter—though close—as he honked out “Haaaaannnnngggg!”, barreling straight at Barb’s butt.

She quickly closed the oven and braced herself, startled more by the massive hardness of his erection—easily felt through their combined 3 layers of clothes—than by the impact.

I’m sorry Barb!” he cried out in what sounded like torment, both his hands groping her ass and hips like there was no tomorrow. “I saw you bent over, and AAAuuugggghnnnnnnmmmmmmmmmm!

“A little more sudden and rough than I expected, but you did give me warning, and I don’t mind. I consider this part of the blanket consent I gave you to explore me.” {And you are not at all small.}

Tara came out with some more empty dishes, to find out what was going on. She didn’t mind what John was doing, other than she wasn’t part of it and his protective loving field wasn’t covering her. Soon as the dishes joined the others in the cleaning stack, she resolved that issue via backing her butts up into their sides, rubbing hers up and down vertically.

“This is all well and good, but wouldn’t we all be happier with our clothes off?” suggested Barb.

As much as she liked the idea in abstract principle, Tara wasn’t so sure. “It’s a little cold for that, don’tcha think?”

“Not if we keep John lit up and stay intimate with him!”

“He’s going to want to get inside you with penis and tongue, and very likely kiss you passionately on the mouth, which I’m vetting is totally safe, but we have no proof. Meaning: if you let things go that way with him and/or me, you’re suspended from the poly group unless and until you and those of us who share fluids with you all get tested and pass.”

John’s ongoing moans and sighs and fondling suddenly morphing into an affectionate hug won Barb over. “I‘m willing to take that risk. Let’s serve up the first set of desserts then get nekkid!”

Given that it wasn’t the season for ice cream nor other cold fare and none of the desserts had to be eaten warm or hot, putting them out and having them remain at their peak was easy.

Results took precedence over enjoyment of the process, thus each of them took off their own clothes without making a show of it. Each of them made their own pile, set on a table near the front door.

“Let’s try that initial greeting hug again” Barb grinned at John, her gorgeous fat arms already spread welcomingly wide.

This time their deep hug came with kisses, the first one kicked off by him, deep and passionate. She could easily feel through her belly that he was more than halfway hard, but no more. As an experiment, she eased him away, turned around, and pulled him back into a deep embrace with her bare backside. He hardened all the way in seconds, his love log and balls feeling massive to Barb as they pushed into her crack.

“Absolutely amazing” she muttered more to herself than anyone else.

“He’s a total ass addict, as both he and I have stated previously. If you happen to be wet and internally expanded enough and both of you want to do it, he’s had a vasectomy and is currently sporting that ‘first new fat ass’ extra hardness penis people often have with a new lover during their first time.

“Yeah, I’m near enough. Wanna plunge me, John? With permission to go hog wild over my fat ass?”

“YeaaaaaasssSSSSS!” he exclaimed, his reply getting wilder as she spread her legs to more easily take him in.

It felt like taking in a log. Barb now had a whole other experiential way of understanding what it was about this man that kept Tara away all these months and had her drop the poly group during that time. Not quite into menopause yet, boinking bareback was a real treat!

It was a great ride. Barb didn’t care that it only ran about 7 minutes, since he’d managed to rub her well enough along with everything else that she had a nice release. That and the apple cinnamon crumble cake was done, and she confidently figured this wasn’t going to be the last time, even during this visit.


Interpersonal dynamics were different, immediately after Barb and John finished up. Tara clung to John in a way familiar to them both which was brand-new to Barb. He split his attention between a form of working afterglow with Barb and re-verification of primary lover status with Tara. When they all sat back down on the couch together in their original threesome lineup (Tara–John–Barb left to right viewed from their seated position), John felt that suddenly he had two amazing USBBW lovers—at least on this day. Barb quite liked her first sample of John, wanting more and equally wanting Tara back as a lover. Deep inside, Tara had highly mixed feelings about John and Barb being lovers, and whether losing her exclusivity with him was truly OK or not—not at all how she thought she’d feel when she suggested Barb have a go with him.

Something Tara had thought she’d noticed months ago and had even alluded to earlier this same day out loud became much clearer: John’s protective field had broader coverage the more contented he was—especially sexually. His field was currently so strong as he sat bare with her and in sexual afterglow with Barb, it felt to her like it entirely saturated the room, possibly even reflecting off the walls, ceiling, and floor. Not overwhelming… delightfully immersive. She tested her theory, getting up to go get some of the Piggy Noggy Pudding. Sure enough, rather than weakening to almost nothing soon after she physically detached from him, she felt protected all the way until passing through the archway to the dining room, where the sensation diminished but did not entirely disappear. Earlier in the day when they’d all had clothes on and he was more worked up over the retelling of the story of his first love, she’d felt none of his protective field whatsoever in here when he was on the couch, and not even consistently when seated right there on his lap and next to him. His field at home was always stronger when they were bare than when they had clothes on.

Food and the joys of fat were safe and happy subjects, carrying them through dessert and beyond.


It had been nearly dark back when Barb and John were sharing their sex boink. An hour later and not even all that close to 6 PM, it was totally dark outside. Tara and Barb’s ongoing nibbling and nonverbal playful flaunting and enjoyment of their and each other’s fat brought sexual tensions back to a high level.

“No more wine for me, thanks” John smiled at pourer Barb, covering his glass with his hand. “Otherwise I won’t be able to drive home.”

“You’re going home tonight?!” she asked both him and Tara, wide-eyed.

Amazingly, given her vastly higher body mass and having eaten vastly more food than him, Tara was currently more ** than John. So was Barb. Much of this was due to the two of them nearly single-handedly plowing through 1 3/4s bottles of sparkling wine John didn’t have time to drink, the whole time he was telling his first love story. “Well, it dependsssss!” She turned towards John, running her hands all over him with caresses. “He’s going to have to be immersed in his favorite double asses, wide belly, and all three of the legs he prefers to caresssssss!”

“There’s nothing stopping that from happening here! And both of you get another fat ass! More than that, I’m thinking he may not have had the joy of sleeping on a boob pillow, and I know for sure that you’re worse off for not having done so for half a year!

She stared at Barb’s huge breasts with deep desire, not having her own big pair. “Well then you’re going to have to convince him to let you pour more wine for him then both of us, so we’ll have to all sleep together in bed naked, with crashed inhibitions!”

He held out his wine glass, “Go ahead. I have no reason to object.”

The Thanksgiving party continued on into the night. It wasn’t so much the alcohol as the stated intent to let their passions run free that had all three of them playfully rubbing, caressing, and squeezing each other as they finished up what they wanted to eat and drink, and worked together to clean up and put away the few leftovers which were still out and needed sealing from air or refrigeration. A whole other bottle of sparkling wine was the last food item out, shared by the three of them by the light of the renewed fire in the otherwise nearly darkened room.

“I’m grateful this day has gone the way it has” said Barb, breaking a restful silence. “I honestly didn’t know how well, or even if, we’d all get along.”

“I’m grateful that the hurt between us related to my sudden and long absence doesn’t seem to be permanent.” Tara felt sufficiently moved to get up, come around John (in the middle again), and share loving and passionate kisses with Barb.

John waited until their kissing wound down. “I’m grateful for so many things! Two on my mind presently are that Tara’s and my deep, essential love appears not to have destroyed the beautiful, powerful love between you two. The other is what a great honor and delight it has been and continues to be to get to know you on so many levels, Barb. Including biblically.”

His conclusion made both women laugh, and decide to pull them into their ongoing embrace.


Getting in bed together bare was exquisite for all three of them. Tiredness and inebriation made for slow, sensual sexytime between all three of them at once. John found himself in vulva heaven, scooted down in the bed plunging his head into each of Smooth, Furry, and Barb’s stubbly one. He found it extremely exciting that Barb’s mound was even fatter than either of Tara’s.

While John was busy pleasuring them down below on vulvas and sensitive inner thighs, Barb and Tara were making up for lost time loving each other face to face up above, kissing endlessly and immersing themselves in breast love and warm, snug cuddles. Tara felt overwhelmed feeling throughout her being how much she’d missed Barb’s love. And here she was with Barb’s and John’s love, at the same time, with all their loving fields saturating the room! It was amazing, making her hungry for more!

It was also amazing that they managed to turn the lights off and reorganize themselves into positions amenable for sleeping, given how lost to love and lust they all were.


Odd as it may have been, the first words spoken by anyone in the morning were by Tara, to John: “You didn’t get up during the night to go to the bathroom, did you?”

“Dehydration plus a sleep-inducing chemical like alcohol can do that” he smiled.

Barb was awake as well. Her first words were, “Will it hurt either of your feelings if I cuddle Tara? I find myself aching from her absence.”

Both agreed it would not.

John went off to the bathroom to make it easier for them to get started. Upon his return, he cuddled Barb from behind, pressing his hardness into her crack. A little while later, he went around the perimeter of the bed to do the same with Tara, to her bed-closest rear.


The remainder of the Friday after Thanksgiving was all about nudity and love of every sort, with as much eating as the women could manage without putting on clothes and going out shopping.

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Loving More

“Anything else for you, Pillow?” asked John.

“Get over here and sit down, you! You’re overdue on ass time!”

“Not to mention that we’ve got too much fat to play with on our own, and need help playing with it” Tara cheekily added to Barb’s response, grinning impishly at her favorite lover.

 

It had been quite a few exciting, life-altering weeks since Thanksgiving. Friday evening the day after Thanksgiving, John and Tara had invited Barb over to visit, directly related to grocery shopping being required no matter where they were located. She happily accepted… and never left.

More precisely, the three of them were too in love with one another to part. They switched off between the two houses every few days, not at all sure whether they were in the midst of a long flight of fancy fling, or something deeper and more permanent.

Barb kept on working at Bioteronimo, as John and Tara did at Model Magicians. At home, Barb and Tara happily fell back into the pattern of eating a lot, already fattening back up towards their former peak over half a year earlier when Tara saved John and stayed with him, thrilling all three of them. They had a new helpful assistant: John. Without consciously intending to do so, he proved quite the effective enabler, doing more and more baking and cooking along with his loves, in addition to serving (which he’d done all along) and leaving treats out.

 

Their sex was creative and diverse. Even so, like John loving “hot dog and rolls” more than anything else, they had a favorite 3-way position: Tara on the couch or bed, spread open and lifting her very wide belly. Barb bent over kneeling on the floor, rubbing her nipples against Tara’s clits, as they’d loved doing for so long. John plunging Barb from behind, grabbing her mighty hips and ass with deep desire. Seldom did this get old, and everyone got what they most wanted, or at least one variant of what they most wanted. If and when anyone got tired of it, they changed things up and got into other positions.

 

Being candid, neither Barb and John nor Barb and Tara were into each other as deeply as Tara and John. In a practical sense, this meant that every now and then Barb would spend time contentedly alone at Tara’s house and Tara and John would revert to a day or so of immersive one-on-one love. It wasn’t a problem for any of them, and indeed it helped keep their lovers’ triad stable.

Most of the time Barb loved having two live-in lovers sharing their lives with her and vice-versa, especially the physical aspects, which never left her wanting for caresses or sex.


Weeks turned into several months, through most of winter and well into the new year. Nothing’s perfect and neither were any of their lives, however the truth of it was that nearly all the issue were external: tax and price increases; arrogant, meddling, elitist politicians grandstanding to constituencies to get re-elected with no regard for harming other citizens they allegedly represented; corporate and government malfeasance; crime; hate and bigotry; shitty maddeningly buggy software from some of the wealthiest corporations in the world; failing appliances and tech devices; and so on. They found power in unity, weathering these storms better together than in the past each on their own.


Many times Barb got home before John and Tara, the latter of whom tended to work long hours, as company owners do—and make no mistake about it, Model Magicians had legally been converted from a sole proprietorship to a limited liability corporation. Tara had a full legal 47.5% stake, as John now did. Both of them had better legal protection than with the former sole proprietorship. Barb was on the board of the LLC, holding the remaining 5%.

Minority stakeholder Barb held out a letter for Tara which had arrived in the day’s paper mail, and had nothing in any way directly to do with Model Magicians. “The day of reckoning is upon is” she dryly stated.

John cuddled in behind her as Tara claimed the letter and read it. It was a very beautiful We Miss You! letter from the poly group, inquiring whether she had any intent of returning, and hoping the answer was Yes.

Tara very much needed immersion in John’s protective energy field (which she had at that moment), emitting a deep, loud sigh.

This letter wasn’t the first notice—not at all. The Licks had been in regular contact with Tara, and more recently Barb as well, wondering what happened and what they could do to entice each of them back. Several other individuals from the group including Jed, George, Don, Sheila, and Curly Joe had contacted one or both of Tara and/or Barb unofficially, as individuals expressing their love and how much they missed the person. Gretchen had expressed similar sentiments directly to Barb at work. The difference with today’s letter was that it was official: if a member declined to come back in good standing within a reasonably brief period of time, they would have to re-apply as a new inductee, should they wish to come back in the future.

 

Tara sighed again. She truly didn’t know what she wanted to do. Part of her was fully contented with how things were with their threesome. Part of her missed the sexual variety, friendships, and camaraderie, and wanted John and Barb to enjoy those things as well!

 

Individually and in all combinations of pairs and all three of them, the deeply bonded lovers did a lot of soul searching over several days. Over the weekend, partly to help them think things through in their own mind as well as for his own curiosity, John asked Tara and Barb to each describe what they liked and did not like about the poly group and its members.


“Seems to me you’ve each described significantly more positives than negatives” he observed, during their concluding wrap-up discussion near the end of the weekend.

“Yeah” Tara sighed. “It’s a great group.”

“So why not get back into it?”

“I’m not the same person I was. You and I have bonded like the gravitational pull of a double star, with Barb tightly in our orbit as well. Anything which might disrupt what we have is not OK with me.”

“You’re missing the obvious option” Barb told Tara.

“Assuming the curvy women of the group were OK with ass attacks from him, I might have jealousy issues if he found one or more of them more enticing than mine.”

HA HA HA Huh huh!” John burst out in a giant belly laugh. He bent over and wrapped his arms around her butts (as best he could), hugging them and saying, “Each one of your asses is a compelling delight which keeps me alive. No one else has two!

“How do you deal with it in terms of me?” Barb asked her.

 

Tara had to stop and think. “Probably because he and I are nearly always all together.”

“There ya go.”


ClapClapClapClapClap—Gretchen clapped loudly, to get the group’s attention. “Quiet down, kids! The time has come to find out which of the rumors circulating amongst us for the past week or so are bunkum and which are at least partially real. We have two introducers today, presenting the same one inductee candidate.”

VRRREEEEET!” George loudly whistled.

“Don’t make me come sit on your face to shut you up, darling—that’s after the meet and greet is over.”

“Awww!”

Per Gretchen’s head-motion signal, Alain planted a massive smoochy kiss onto George’s mouth, to quiet and hopefully settle him down.

“Are we ready now?”

The rest of the group nodded and murmured affirmatively.

“Come out come out and present!

 

The room exploded with applause and whistles as first Barb, then Tara, then John appeared (since the portal from the other room was only big enough for one USBBW at a time). Per arrangement, John positioned himself in the middle between Barb (house left) and Tara (house right), the three of them holding hands.

Those who weren’t busy staring at John, attempting to suss out what it was about him which made him so compelling, were mostly studying Tara’s intense gaze of admiration at him. Few conclusions were reached.

His energy field covered Tara and Barb, but not much beyond.

“Introducing the man who completely captivated Tara over half a year ago, then more recently the two of them captivated me, John Mercer.”

The group applauded politely, still seeking signs of what it was about this dude that made him special.

Tara took the introduction from there, “I’ve worked for John for many years–”

“–With me” he interrupted.

She glared at him with a smiling snicker, giving him a hip check and continuing, “John and I have worked together in the front office of Model Magicians, a full-service modeling and prototype shop John founded and continues to run–”

He gave her a look as though he was about to interrupt again.

“–along with me, related to my very recent near-half ownership. But for most of the past decade on the org chart I was working for him as the office manager. Office manager in a broad sense, like my double hips: revamping, modernizing, and managing internal logistical tech and telecom systems as well as being probably the world’s fattest receptionist.

“Like most companies, Model Magicians has had a strict anti-sexual harassment policy since before I started. Good leaders must lead by example. John is an ass addict, getting more excited the curvier and fatter a woman’s butt is.”

 

Several of the women amongst the group made a show of turning around and looking at their “assets”, murmuring and snickering amongst themselves regarding whether any of them had enough versus Barb much less Tara to grab this guy’s interest.

 

“I had no idea beyond a vague sense that he liked looking at me from behind. Always a true gentleman, he never once hit on me, nor in any other way explicitly made his feelings known. Totally unbeknownst to me, this became a huge problem for him, seeing my near-double asses every day for large spans of the day, getting larger and larger as I fattened. Inexplicably and unreasonably bereft of any love interest whatsoever, he suffered in silence until he couldn’t take it any more, and….” She got too emotionally worked up and tearful to continue, cuddling into his side.

John picked it up from there, “Very seriously attempted suicide. Not just toying around with it to get noticed, but fully intending to make my unbearable pain stop the only way I knew how. Plan A, a deliverance cocktail, didn’t work. Tara literally bust into my office through the locked door and at the very last moment aborted Plan B, which was a pistol to the temple.”

“It’s quite the story, if you ever hear the full version” said Barb.

“Obviously I stopped him in the nick of time. Soon as he explained that he was trying to kill himself because his unrequited deep passions for me were eating him alive with anguish, I disposed of his life-ending aids, locked the office door, and sat him down for a cuddle appointment where he had full access to as much ass as I had.”

“Just cuddling?!”

“Just your asses?!”

ClapClapClap Quiet down, please!” called out day’s moderator Gretchen. “Those and many other questions you’re welcome to ask after they finish the introduction, and we move to the meet-and-greet segment. Go ahead please, Tara.”

“Initially it was all about saving his life, and giving him what he needed so badly. We did move to sex before leaving his inner office for the day, which we both enjoyed. Being honest, I thought at the time we’d have a summer fling, then he’d be back on his feet and stable, and I’d be back home with Barb and here with the group. All of that changed by the next morning, having slept with him overnight. Yes the sex was and is great, but there was and is so much more! I love pretty easily and I believe fairly deeply, at least with those where we have enough in common and there are strong mutual feelings for things beyond the physical. What I’ve felt with John ever since that first moment is a bond so deep and all-encompassing, it takes my breath away. From that first morning awakening together, I found I needed him—to be with him, always—as much as he needed me. That hasn’t changed, and I don’t think it ever will. Nor do I want it to change!

“This naturally led to a great deal of soul-searching, related to all of my love life as I’d known it up until the day of his attempted suicide. There’s still a selfish, greedy part of me that’s not sure I want to share this treasure of a man with anyone else. A different greedy part of me that all of you know well doesn’t want to give up responsible curated sexual variety as we practice it in our group. My time sharing love and sex with John and Barb in a threesome between last Thanksgiving and now convinces me that second greedy part is the one to listen to and follow. Rumors that the three of us are living together are absolutely true, making for the happiest span of my life so far.”

“And mine” added John, then Barb with the exact same words. She decided she’d lean into him for a cuddle as well, as Tara was still doing. Ironically this is when Tara chose to straighten back up. Barb’s intended cuddle instead became a brief side-hug.

“The ultimatum notice for my membership in this group made Barb and I really stop and reflect on what we most wanted. We three love each other deeply, and especially between me and John, I don’t want anything to impede that. Barb and I discussed polyfidelity and our group at length with John.” She stopped and looked over at him, to continue.

“The most important thing to me beyond not losing Tara’s nor Barb’s love was their not losing their connection to this group. While I have no track record prior to this past Thanksgiving for any real-world poly living, I am none of jealous nor possessive nor in any way feel a sense of ownership or rights over those I love. Like most people or at least most men as society claims, I certainly have an appetite for new experiences, thus new-to-me women consensually sharing their curvy butts with me.”

Alain raised her hand. “Do you like anything besides anal?”

“Actually I don’t do anal, giving or receiving.”

Pat, Sheila, and Curly Joe all groaned in disappointment.

“He most likes P.I.V. from behind, that frottage variant where his hard, thick, big wand and sack are humping your butt crack, and grabbing hips and butts for hearty fondles and massages” Barb clarified.

Tara added, “And when he’s in a gentler mood or the butt owner prefers, he’s all over kissing and licking buns and genitalia. Oh, and fat bellies!”

“He’s versatile. Just don’t expect to get a rise out of him from boobs.”

Shirley was stunned. “Seriously?

Barb nodded.

“The point I’m struggling to make is that I believe myself to be compatible with the mission of this group, and that hopefully my lack of real-world track record other than with Barb and Tara can be counterbalanced against their satisfaction with our 3-way living together love, and their credibility amongst you. Honestly, even if no one is into me enough to share intimacy with me, I would like to be a member of this group so that you all know I’m following your rules, so that Barb and Tara can remain members in good standing and get what they and all of you who share love with them want and need. And maybe I can look at some nice rears.”

“If you’re into him and he’s into you, you want to do him” Tara surprised even herself by sharing aloud.

Barb nodded in agreement, pointing at his crotch and adding, “Vasectomy.”

“OooOOOOooooh!” arose from several of the younger and still fertile women in the group.

“That’s really about it for the introduction–”

“–One thing you need to know:” Barb interrupted Tara “Do not ask him to tell you the story of his first love unless you have an hour or so to spare. It’s a beautiful love story that made me weepy with its poignant ending, but it’s hella long. You’ve been warned. That is all.”

“Take it, Gretchen.”

“Quite the presentation. Thanks to all three of you, co-inviters Tara Pelvig and Barb Bloom, and inductee John Mercer. We now move into the meet-and-greet social segment of tonight’s gathering. Thanks for your patience, now have fun!”

Wait! One more thing” Tara called out. “Curvy women: please don’t bend over with your ass aimed at John until such time as he may be accepted and we’re having one of our usual bare gatherings. Even then, be aware that you’ve just waved a red flag in front of a raging bull. We’ll hold him back tonight, and he won’t actually touch you without your consent at any event, but it’s very hard on him, and may distract his mind from questions others are asking him.”

John blushed sheepishly as several in the room chuckled and the group started mingling.

 

The first couple of people who approached the inviters and inductee were one of the group’s couples—a couple both Tara and Barb knew quite well: the Licks. Except they didn’t recognize them at first because of how fat they’d both gotten! Formerly slightly thick and curvy Linda Lick had grown into a fat pear with big, round bouncy buns, wobbly fat hips, a generous belly sticking out in front of her bobbling around unapologetically, and soft, bouncy breasts lusciously larger than those she’d sported half a year prior. Lou Lick had somehow turned himself from an average-build average to above-average fitness middle aged man into a true BHM—with breasts!

“Surpriiiiiiiiise!” Linda grinned, hugging Tara.

“Look what you’ve been missing!” said Lou, taking over hugging Tara as his wife moved over to hug Barb.

With Linda and Barb getting into a conversation, Lou moved next to John, extending his hand. “Pleased to meet you, sir. Lou Lick.”

“Delighted to meet you, Lou.”

“Very refreshing to hear your comments about not being possessive. Many of us in the group feared that you were of a conventional mind in terms of that, holding Tara into monogamy, possibly against her will.”

“Never ever! Not with anyone! One reason I believe Tara and I are so close is sharing similar outlooks on issues such as this. No matter how desperate I got—and as you heard, I was desperate enough to end my life—not for one moment did I seek nor expect asserting any sort of claim of possession or dominion over another person. The delay in getting to this point has mostly been Tara making her own decision regarding the life she wanted to live with me.”

“Hi John! I’m Linda Lick, and I’d like to hug you.”

 

The hug was soft and deep, warm and wonderful.

Hands on my hips, please. Squeeze if you’d like” she whispered.

I’ll get hard.

That’s what I want.

He followed her request, his erection going through staging to raging very swiftly. She could feel it well, pressed into her fat belly.

“Has Tara told you about us at all?”

“Yes. About how you two and she are close—have been—and how blown away she was that you two built a very nice outdoor restroom just for her. Although she never once mentioned that you were a BBW nor Lou being a BHM.”

“That’s because we weren’t last time she saw us. This is all dedicated self-fat-gaining and feeding between then and now. We didn’t used to be into fatsex, but we’re totally into it now, loving it!”

“And?” Lou asked her.

Linda turned to him, giving him a subtle nod that told him everything he needed to know.

 

Others approached, Alain and Dante at the moment.

 

Everything was going well, and continued to do so through the conclusion of the event. John liked to really liked everyone he met. The incumbent group members felt the same about him.


Yessss!” Barb called out.

“What?” asked Tara.

“Check your email.”

 

She, Barb, and John all had email messages from the polyfidelity group, requesting a comprehensive STI test for each of them and rigorously not engaging in any risky contact outside the three of them until potential acceptance (back) into the group.


Tara was nervous until all the results came back, just in case John had something he didn’t know about, from who-knows-what, since all too many STIs can be transferred in ways beyond sexually.

She had nothing to fear: he was clean. As were she and Barb.


AAAAAMMMNNNNGGG!

So the whole room heard at the first regular gathering of the poly group since admitting John Mercer as a new member.

Linda Lick heard the call increase in volume until she felt the boomp! of impact when John’s hard hot front met her soft warm rear. A second later, his hands wandered all over her fat hips, buns, and what he could reach from behind of her belly.

“Sex please?” she asked. “You inside of me?”

“Don’t you want more warmup?”

“No thanks, I’m very ready.”

 

They rocked each other’s worlds, him rocking hers more than once when post-coitus he got down on his knees around front of her to kiss and lick her belly, then do the same with her deliciously (and still newly) fat vulva.

 

“You need to come visit between events” she urged him during their afterglow cuddle, which included Tara on his opposite side, even though she’d not been a part of John and Linda’s lovemaking.


HHHNNAAAAGGGHHH!

Same event, a little later.

“Hi John!” Sheila’s entire voice smiled along with her expression as she felt him pressed deep into her bent-over rear, the moment after impact.

“Hi Sheila (huff, pant). I had no idea you curved this much when you bend over (huff, huff).”

“I’m blessed with the curves. No love for the big, pendulous boobs hanging within your reach?”

He’d long ago learned that even if he wasn’t especially interested in a woman’s breasts, if he wanted to be on good terms with her and she went to the trouble of offering, he should accept. Which he did.

“Mmmmmm!” The boob fondles felt nice, though the receding hardness did not. “Tell me the absolute truth.”

“Always.”

“You’re truly not into boobs, are you?”

“Not especially, in terms of my own desires. To me they’re mildly fun. I’m aware that most men and many women value them highly, with big, well-shaped ones like yours being the pinnacle. For that reason alone it’s a great honor that you offered me this chance to feel yours, which do indeed feel very nice.”

“But not make-you-hard nice.”

“No. I have to be focused on a woman’s curvy middle body, or deep in love with her and kissing mouth to mouth passionately, for that sort of response.”

“Well in that case, you go ahead and move your hands anywhere on me that excites you.”

Immediately his hands moved back to her hips. Currently she was skirting the voluptuous/plumper boundary, so there wasn’t a major accumulation of delightful hip fat. Bent over as she was and driven as he was, he found every molecule of hip fat she had, massaging all of it.

His growing hardness between her buns pleased her.

She tensed up when his hands jumped to her belly. She’d developed a slight paunch in the past year or so, amplified by her bent-over position. She wasn’t fond of it.

“Sorry!” He instantly moved his hands back where they’d been on her hips.

She moved them back. “No, that’s OK. It startled me more than anything else. I did say ‘anywhere on me that excites you’, so if my not-flat belly is in that category, be my guest.”

 

The pleasant sensations of his massaging hands (plus being inside his protective loving field, which neither of them noticed) made her rethink her categoric disdain of something this man quite liked about her body, and the feelings she could feel from it.

Both of them needed a long build-up—the better part of half an hour—before they were ready for intercourse. Despite not being a breast man, when he sensed she was highly aroused, something inside John Mercer directed him to pinch Sheila’s nipples. Her orgasm (from surprise as much as the great feelings) contractions helped him get going enough to get off.


Ooooohhhh!

Bent-over Alain proved irresistible. Her over-the-shoulder “come hither” smiling expression didn’t hurt either. She’d often felt fortunate that her sex drive was as high as it was, given that she was built for sex, with just about every attribute which pushed every possible evolutionary mating instinct button of the typical heterosexual male. Even if there wasn’t much she could do to tone down the unwanted attention in the outer world (other than perhaps project anger and surliness, and wear extremely unflattering loose clothing), here in the group was a safe place to play hard with men she liked.

John found plenty to grab onto and explore. If forced to choose he’d rather have his hands and the rest of his body on/into Tara, or Barb, or Linda (in that order). In this context of not having to choose just one or two or even three loving women, Alain was a stirringly novel treat.

As with Sheila, they enjoyed a long, gradual build-up of fun sexy touches, caresses, fondles, kisses, and more before agreeing that penetration and humping would be nice.

 

“Settle down, girl!” Linda said to Tara. “I’ve never seen you so neurotic! I’ve never seen you neurotic at all, for that matter. What’s got you jittery like you just drove from Boston to Kittery?”

“He hasn’t been feeling my butts in any way, shape, or form for nearly an hour and a half!”

“John?”

Yes. And he gets withdrawal symptoms without feeling me.”

“Well I wouldn’t know about that, but it sure seems like it may work the other way around, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

 

The realization hit her like a desktop computer tower full of old heavy full-height 3.5” hard drives thrown out of a third story window: she needed his contact!

 

As soon as she joined John and Alain in their afterglow cuddle and got her butts up against John and atop Alain (who was sitting in John’s lap), the room filled with the invisible warm glow of John’s protective loving energy field.

Alain didn’t know what it was, other than obviously John and Tara loved each other profoundly deeply, and it was a very soothing 3-way cuddle.


During the course of this first event for him, John enjoyed some form of sex (usually intercourse) with over 3/4s of the group’s women in attendance. No one involved had any regrets. All of them looked forward to sharing love and sex in the future.

 

Worn out as they all were, Tara felt the need to get John pressed into her left butt crack once they were home and settling into bed for the night.

Soon after commencing the cuddle, she felt his whole body relax, along with a deep sigh: “Hhhhhhhhhhh”.

“What does that mean?” she asked.

“I’m home.”

Barb smiled, seeing the two profoundly deeply bonded lovers doing their best approximation of melding into one. She turned out the light and joined them, easing her profoundly soft front into John from behind, offering him a boob pillow, which he gratefully accepted.

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Butt Birthday

Hee hee hee!” Giggle. Snicker. “Mmmmm!” “Me too!”

 

Slightly over half a year later, John Mercer was off probation with the polyfidelity group, no question, no concerns. It also happened to be his 61st. birthday, coinciding conveniently with the group’s monthly nearly-full membership get-together. Stretched out on a big bed in the bigger of the two communal homes, he was smothered in curvy feminine ass, fat where possible.

“I can sit on his face! There’s room there.”

“He’s gotta be able to breathe, Edie! Go sit on his arm.”

Seeking stimulation, Edie opted to sit on John’s right hand. Several of the group had made the shocking (to him) sacrifice of intentionally gaining fat for his birthday. Edie was one of those. Like the others, she didn’t do it solely for him. She craved new experiences, and wanted to know what it felt like being chubby. So far she liked it enough that she had no immediate plans to dial things back nor stop. It wasn’t a huge gain, taking her from average-build to softer all over, and the start of a fattening muff mound. This latter attribute encouraged John to give her what she wanted from her seating choice, gliding up into her to explore and stimulate her with his hand.

All his regular lovers plus anyone in the group with whom he’d shared sex had at least some part of their ass(es) pressed against some part of him. He was stretched out and on his back, not directly on the bed. Tara was underneath him, face down so that his two buns would interleave intimately between her three. Barb and Laura, the two next biggest, carefully sat themselves on his feet early in the proceedings, for basically the same reason Edie sat on his hand, and also to allow easier access for the many other smaller women in the group to get their asses somewhere on him. He did not disappoint either of them.

 

No one disappointed anyone, amongst all of those participating. All these months since joining, John Mercer had been the group’s official ass man. If a woman wanted her rear end loved and/or wanted to be slipped into from behind, he was the go-to choice (unless someone wanted anal play or penetration, in which case others amongst the group were better options). He was also a good option for vulva licking and kissing, hip massages, and fat belly love.

Tara Pelvig remained a star of the group, once again happily sharing Smooth and Furry, and the rest of what she had, always attending with John and virtually always with Barb as well. At a new peak weight of 710 pounds, there was a whole lot of Tara to play with!

Barb Bloom set a new personal record for being huge, within sight of the 700 Pound Club at 689 pounds with only one lower body. Her still-growing breasts moved closer to biggest ever (though they still had a good ways to go before reaching that record-setting pinnacle), then, now, and forever extremely popular amongst the group, and Tara at home, and herself. Not that she was solely gaining on her breasts: she continued to fatten all over. For both Tara and Barb, their fat gains were slight and ongoing, not so noticeable over short spans and quite obvious over longer ones.

 

It was a spectacular (and very long) group orgy, and John’s best birthday ever!


Linda and Lou Lick were well on their way to eating themselves to supersized, arguably already there. They loved what was happening with their own and each other’s bodies, dialing their couple’s love life from simmer to high boil. There were indeed some of the familiar issues, such as being passed over for promotions at the places each of them worked. Their joy of fat was so great, they didn’t much care.

Tara, John, and Barb visited them often at their home between group meet-ups, and occasionally they visited the threesome. All of them had a great time.

 

One of these visits was only about a week after the whole-group get-together on John’s birthday. Soon after Barb, John, and Tara arrived, they and the Licks sat together bare in the covered patio looking out into the lovely back yard (and at Tara’s Restroom), enjoying the warm summer day in the shade, getting into warmup flirting and other conversation.

Linda was currently standing behind her husband as he lay very comfortably and fatly on part of one section of the reinforced outdoor couch, giving his boobs a nice flax seed oil N.B.E. massage as he gave one to her heavy hangers.

John happened to be sitting right next to Lou on the right, with Tara’s left butt on his lap, right butt sitting to his right. Barb sat next to Tara on her right, caressing Tara’s right hip with her left hand and eating rectangles of meat pie with her right. John became fascinated with how Lou’s very fat belly wobbled all over the place, related to what his hands were doing with Linda and what hers were doing with him, all up above. Other than being hairier (and Lou wasn’t especially hairy), his soft, hugely fat belly didn’t look much different than SSBBW bellies he’d seen and come to know. He was equally fascinated with what lay below Lou’s belly: Lou had a fat mound about the size of his wife’s!

“Like what you see, John?” Lou teased.

“Yes, honestly.”

“Thinking about joining the rest of us enjoying the fat life?”

“His body doesn’t do that” said Tara.

“I didn’t think mine did either, until Laura and I together made concerted efforts to eat more and exercise less. At first nothing really happened, then gradually there was a slight change. Then there was some multiplier or cascade effect where my increased eating capacity had me hungry more often, thus eating more often, even if it was just a snack.”

“Same with me” said Linda.

“From there it’s been pretty easy to build this fun body” he grinned.

“May I please… feel your belly?” John tentatively asked.

Lou was surprised and delighted. “Sure! Belly, fat pad, boobs… I’m an open book.”

“Why is it called a fat pad on a man and a mound or muff on a woman?” Tara asked, leading to an interesting discussion that struggled to reach any conclusions.

 

During the discussion John remained fascinated with Lou’s supersized, slouching body—or at least parts thereof. Lou smiled in the most friendly, gentle way possible when John started squeezing and caressing his belly, as conversation amongst the rest of them went on.

John couldn’t help himself, reaching down and feeling Lou’s mound. Being on the polysexual spectrum and having shared some forms of sex with other men before (and definitely having been groped), Lou remained relaxed.

Tara didn’t know what to make of how hard John was getting (feeling his erection directly into her left butt crack as usual when her left side sat in his lap).

 

Once the fat pad/mound conversation wound down, with John currently feeling that part of Lou by whatever name, Lou asked, “So what do you think?”

“It feels amazingly like Linda’s or Barb’s or either of Tara’s mounds: softer fat, thinner skin.”

“That’s my conclusion too.”

“I don’t suppose there’s any way you can describe what it feels like to you to have it.”

“Probably not that will have much meaning to you. Soft, warm, fat, padded. Stimulating to rub against. Since mine’s coming in from up above, it doesn’t especially pad my balls, nor truly swallow my cock as you can see. It’s like an extra-low extra-soft belly hang that much closer to my wang, but since you don’t have any belly hang of your own, that too likely is difficult to imagine sensation-wise. I love it and would never willingly lose it, which is true of all my fat.”

 

John had a whole lot more opportunity to reach over and feel Lou’s belly and mound fat as Lou humped Smooth and he humped Furry, with Tara licking Linda and Linda licking Barb.

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  • 2 weeks later...

The Past Comes Calling

Another year had passed. It was now two years since Tara Pelvig saved John Mercer’s life, going home with him and changing both their lives forever, for the better. It was also roughly 1 1/2 years since Barb joined them to make things a 3-way, again changing all their lives for the better.

 

Strangers seeing Tara for the first time never ceased to gape, more from how fat she was than her third leg, though both. She figured she must be the happiest 743 pound woman who’d ever lived, or at least one of the top 5. Inconveniences such as not fitting places and having trouble finding seating able to hold her when out and about she considered minor issues compared to the joy of living in her body every moment. Clothes were beyond inconvenient, yet with John and Barb helping out (and John and Tara helping Barb with her very large clothing), the situation remained manageable. 743 pounds was not that bad across 3 legs and two pelvises, allowing Tara to continue to enjoy full mobility with no significant issues.

Tara and John remained inseparable, both of them delighted with always being together, or at worst apart for a few minutes doing different things at work, or with one of them using the bathroom or similar. No matter how rare that might be, it was their reality. Their joy reflected fully at work, with Model Magicians doing extremely well. Employee morale remained high, with the flat, minimal hierarchy and high autonomy of individuals and groups helping. Tara’s huge body did sometimes distract some employees from their work. Kind soul that she was, she occasionally let a few of them feel what parts of her extremely fat body felt like—always with John present—to defuse the mystery and become less distracting.

 

Barb Bloom hadn’t bloomed as much with fat, currently around 712 pounds. Had she been the same height as Tara, proportionally she would have been much fatter, having only one lower body. Being taller—about halfway in height between Tara’s 1.65 m and John’s 1.81 m—like Tara some of that weight was more bone and muscle and so on, just going up in her case instead of sideways with the extra lower body in Tara’s.

She enjoyed being stared at, having more than enough attitude and moxie to keep potential abusers at a distance. She was on the same page as Tara in terms of getting far more pleasure out of her hugely fat USBBW body than inconvenience. Proud of her huge breasts, for her the view never got boring looking down. She loved her very fat belly, hips, buns, and thighs and all other well-proportioned fat parts of her nearly as much. Many were surprised that she could still reach around herself to do lab work, but she did, doing so well enough to earn promotions in line with colleagues such as Gretchen. Life at Bioteronimo was excellent, as with Model Magicians. In the case of the former company, there were exciting forthcoming patents, related to minor and not-so-minor breakthroughs, some of which directly involved the work Barb and Gretchen (amongst others) had been doing.

What truly had bloomed was Barb’s other-than-sex love for John and Tara, especially John, given that she’d already loved Tara more than she’d realized before Tara was gone with John. The bond was now so deep between each of them that the departure of any one of them would hurt the other two deeply. That’s not to say Barb wanted to be around either of them (and it was in practice always both of them) every moment, the way John did with Tara and Tara did with John. Barb needed time apart, enjoying it during working hours and sometimes additionally by going to the other house where Tara and John currently were not (usually Tara’s owned house with the other two at John’s owned house, though sometimes the opposite), or visiting the Licks or other friends (and usually but not always lovers).

 

As if life couldn’t be any better, exciting developments over the past year within the poly group made them so.

Lou and Linda Lick continued to be heavily into mutual feedism/fat gain, and Natural Breast Enhancement. They did crazy, dangerous things like intentionally weight loss dieting solely for the setpoint kick and gain-back of softer, jigglier fat. So far no major health issues, quite likely related directly to the joy each of them got from being fat and getting fatter, plus their rock-stable marriage and working lives, with retirement coming soon. The Licks got together with Tara + John + Barb at least once a week for really great fatsex.

Edie decided she liked being a plumper enough to stick with it permanently, getting an especial thrill out of thumbing her nose at society for wanting her to do otherwise. There were plenty of clothes in her size and she and her lovers quite liked the extra boob, hip, and bun flesh, even if they were less excited about her round, soft belly (about which she herself was neutral).

Alain hadn’t had a choice: once she intentionally gained for John’s 61st., she discovered the fat weight wouldn’t come back off. After half-heartedly trying a little bit then giving up, she made peace with being a small BBW, just past plumper. While it further hyperfeminized her already hyperfeminine body, she found it advantageous: even to this day, fewer cretins inappropriately hit on “fat chicks” out in public. The main consideration was that she’d always loved food and loved cooking, and loved it more than ever now. Some in the group privately mourned the loss of her slimmer figure, with the fat contingent (John, Tara, Barb, and the Licks, and to a degree Edie) celebrating.

Sheila found that getting a little fatter was way easier and safer than a boob job to give her the bigger breasts which she craved. Husband Don quickly learned to tolerate and more and more over time embrace her small fat belly, bigger, saggier buns, cheesier thighs, and slightly fatter hips for the benefit of over 3 cup sizes of boob growth. Others in the group also liked the tradeoffs, with the fat contingent loving all of the changes.

 

The usual outside world factors of politics, crime, failing automobiles/appliances/technology, climate change, extended family issues, work issues for some of them, and so on ensured that no one had a perfect life. Even so, everyone’s love life and certainly sex life was nearly as good as it could get.


61-year-old Jenny Patussi heard little more than her own breathing, in the stark silence of the otherwise-empty house in which she’d grown up. Her father had died about 3 years earlier of cancer. With the recent death of her mother from significant complications of osteoporosis, her older sister Colleen was putting their childhood home on the market. Given what had happened with Jenny’s life, she very much could have benefitted from moving back into this house. Given how Colleen held her largely to blame for their mother’s death, how Jenny herself felt responsible for their mother’s osteoporosis being as severe as it was, and other family issues, negotiating to inherit or otherwise receive the house at even a single penny below market value was not going to happen.

As with most responsible adults, Jenny had decades ago moved a majority of her belongings out of this house, into her adult living space of the time. As with many adults from societies which often get carried away with material possessions and/or have a long chain of inheritance of tangible objects, she hadn’t taken everything.

Being forced to confront so many old memories during this time of grieving was in no way helping Jenny’s outlook on life. Still, there was an impending deadline to have all her possessions out of there and off the property, thus she forced herself onward.

 

Her childhood bedroom had been converted to a guest bedroom decades ago, soon after she got her first big apartment and moved most of her belongings out. What remained was all in the closets, compressed together to make one tall hanging closet section available for guests. She had not been a part of that consolidation process, thus things were scrambled versus how she’d stored them.

Some things, such as her Pet Rock, did not retain strong feelings and no longer needed to be part of her life. These she was ready to let go of. Other items brought back memories of various degrees of desirability through undesirability. Most of these she no longer needed in her life, others she wasn’t yet sure. A few things she’d forgotten about and some she remembered well brought back strong enough memories of whatever sort that she wanted them to remain in her life.

There it was: an item in this latter category. One she knew she had, and had tended to keep towards the front before things got rearranged. It was a very special box, roughly the size of a shoebox other than being wide enough to hold standard U.S. writing paper lying flat. It held everything related to her first love: her high school sweetheart John Mercer.

Right up on top was the double-wide flocked jewel box. Just as she’d impetuously promised him during their final moments before separating for the remainder of their lives, she had indeed opened it and admired her necklace and their matching rings several times over the decades when she’d been visiting her childhood home, often but not always having a difficult moment in her life, and in all cases wishing to take a moment to remember what had been, ever-longer ago.

Emotions were more powerful than they’d been since that decades-ago day of their youth, when she’d placed the necklace and her ring in this box and he’d added his, unable to speak, pushing the box towards her to tell her she should be the one to keep it. She reverently lifted the box and opened it up. Everything looked as fresh and perfect as the moment they’d been stowed in the box. {That aircraft aluminum alloy is amazing stuff} she thought, studying the wholly untarnished matte finish, non-glinty shiny as the day he slipped her ring on her finger.

She caressed the rings with her fingers, overwrought with memories of everything in her life between then and now. She held the marble in its cage between her thumb and forefinger, impressed with how it too seemed not to have aged a day when she’d aged decades.

Overwhelming feelings welled up within her. Carefully closing the jewel box and taking the entire box with her, she knew what she had to do.


The one other time over the decades Jenny Patussi had been curious enough about the life of John Mercer to make even the most basic inquiry had been around 1999 or 2000. Then-still-new Google had the website of a model making company whose name she’d forgotten as its top result. She vividly remembered being proud of his success and not at all surprised that his adult field of endeavor so closely mirrored his primary avocation in their high school years.

The overwhelming desire to find out what his life was about as they entered their 60s drove her to look him up again, this time on DuckDuckGo since Google had become so Big Brother evil. There it was: Model Magicians. She recognized the name as soon as she saw it again, these many years later.

She tapped up the site and looked around. It was a very modern, appealing site that worked well and looked good on her iPhone. The pictures and videos of the types of work they did and some of the things they’d made with their plastic and metal additive-material fabrication systems blew her away, making her wonder what teenage John Mercer might have made for his fatass girlfriend had he had a 3D printer system way back then, or they’d been high schoolers now.

It took several taps and some careful looking around to find information about the people, rather than the company and what it and its people did. Eventually under History she found a brief mention of John Mercer having founded the company and still being its head and within the last year or so, co-owner rather than sole owner.

The Contact page had several methods of contact, with no further information on who worked there, nor who would receive the results of submitting a web form, emailing the company at the direct email address listed on this page, or phoning the voice phone number during regular business hours (listed on this page). It was Sunday afternoon—definitely outside of regular business hours.

 

She did quite a bit more research, eventually finding what appeared to be a viable mobile phone number for him, quite different than the company phone number. Anxiety overtook her, wondering whether to call, whether not to call, vacillating back and forth.

 

She tried to go on with life, attempting to return to clearing things out of the closets. Suddenly everything she saw reminded her of him, whether it truly had any relation to him or not.

 

She couldn’t stand it any more. She sat down comfortably on the family room couch (where her cell carrier’s reception was good) and called.


Tara side-cuddled with her man, in their (legally his) living room. “Doesn’t it feel good to have the room all cleaned out and the formerly-rotted picture window frame all thoroughly redone?”

“It does. But then I get tired thinking about all the work to redo the front yard irrigation and landscaping and the driveway, much less anything after that!”

“That’s why we stay in the present!” she grinned, throwing her arms around him and pulling them together for a string of kisses.

“That looks like fun” said Barb, who’d just entered the room and decided to squish into the two of them and join in.

 

The three-way kissing and standing hug/cuddles reminded each of them how much they loved one another and how great it was to all three live together.

“Wouldn’t this be more fun with clothes off?” Barb asked during a breather break. “And taking things further?”

“What are we doing for dinner?” asked Tara.

Before Barb could answer, the generic telephone call ringtone on John’s handheld sounded off.

“I thought you had those go to message.”

“I like to at least look at the number. Not every single person to whom I wish to speak is in my contacts” he replied as he pulled out his device.

He didn’t recognize the number, and let it go to message.

 

Unlike most times this happened where there was no message or it was very short, the delay before hearing the new voice message alert was unusually long. He decided to play it back.

“Hi. I hope this is the number for John Mercer. This is Jenny Patussi, calling you out of the blue after all these years—decades! I know this might not be a good time—are messages like this ever at a good time?—and that you’re probably doing things with your family, maybe resting or making dinner or… I donno… just rambling. Anyway, I’m… really thinking a lot about you these days, wondering what your life’s been about, and what you’re all about now. Mine has been an adventure that doesn’t belong on anyone’s voice message storage. So… I’d really love it if we could talk, maybe get together in-person and catch up. At the moment I find myself with an extremely open schedule, so with maybe a couple hour’s notice I can get with you any day, time, and place you specify. It would be so wonderful to see you again, I have no words.” She went on to recite her contact information, in every flavor she had, thanking him for listening, apologizing for the length of the message, then finally urging him yet again to please reach out and contact her.

 

Tara and Barb heard it all, standing right there with John.

Tara’s hug became more akin to a death grip, between what she perceived as an imminent threat to the stable 3-way love they shared, and John’s unstable protective field: not quite absent and not solidly covering all of her. Weakening then strengthening randomly.

Barb didn’t so much notice what John’s protective love field was doing as what Tara was doing. “Settle down, Kitten.”

“She’s his first girlfriend! With that long, romantic love story he still remembers vividly!”

“That was 43 years ago!” John protested.

It didn’t seem that Tara’s grip could grow tighter, but it did. “Yes, and you still remember it like it was yesterday!

Barb clamped her hands atop Tara’s. “She’s. Thin.”

We don’t know that!” Eyes wide, Tara was on the verge of hyperventilating.

John belatedly cranked up his protective love field, as he hugged Tara back more snugly. “I have plenty of love with you two, not even counting our poly group!”

You know how you get with fatasses, especially BBW pears! You can’t help yourself!

Tara!” Barb softly yelled, feeling the need to gently shake her favorite female lover, “She runs a health and fitness operation for permanent weight loss through permanent exercise and dietary changes! She’s an expert at not being fat, because she didn’t like it. That’s the foundation of her whole adult life, the way modeling is with John! On what planet would she suddenly be fat again?!”

This one! Or why else would she be calling?!”

“Some people sometimes like to catch up with people who were important to them in their past. When both of them were younger, different people. He doesn’t have to meet her alone; you’re going to be right there if or when they meet up.”

Only at this point did Tara begin to calm down.

Barb noticed, and went with that line of reasoning. “You will be embedded into him, with at least one of your butts on his lap and at the same time cuddled into his side, the way you two spend nearly every waking sitting moment at home and to my amazement never seem to get tired of. Let’s say she’s gotten a little thick, maybe even into the BBW range—which I very, very highly doubt. If she has, she sure ain’t gonna be in the 700 Pound Club! You’ll outweigh her by double at least, John loves you more than anything or anyone including himself, you are the only living woman with two full sets of genitals, and a significant percentage of your 743 pounds will be pinning him down as you sit at least one of your butts in his lap. No one can compete with that! Alright?”

Tara now felt both Barb’s and John’s loving force fields, and their comforting hugs. Realizing Barb was correct, she slowly let her concerns go, finally relaxing enough to dial down her death grip of John to normal hug level.

 

With nothing scheduled other than making and consuming dinner, Barb urged John (and indirectly Tara) that calling Jenny back same day sooner than later would get things over with that much faster, without waiting and wondering (and Tara being anxious). Having felt an internal pull to call back, John was happy to oblige, and Tara was still wound down enough to be OK with it. He got comfortable on the couch, Tara latched onto him, and Barb headed to the kitchen to get dinner going.

 

“Hello?!” a breathless, excited voice answered.

“Hello Jenny. It’s John Mercer, returning your call.”

Thank you so much, John! It’s… been a very long time.”

“Most of an adult life, by my reckoning.”

 

Jenny’s nervous flirtatious feminine titter did nothing to enamor her to Tara, who was hearing everything John said and most of what she said.

 

“What perchance has you reaching out this particular late afternoon-becoming-evening?”

“Mom died recently, Colleen inherited the house and is going to sell it, thus I need to get my stuff which is still here out.”

Very sorry to hear about your mom! What happened?”

“Fatal complications of advanced osteoporosis” she sighed.

“I hope she didn’t suffer long.”

Any suffering is too long. Though in the greater scheme of things, no, it wasn’t protracted.”

“I take it from Colleen inheriting the house that your father’s out of the picture?”

“Dad died right about 3 years ago from esophageal cancer.”

“How did that happen?! He never smoked, that I knew of.”

“He had a severe acid reflux problem which went unresolved for too long.”

“I’m truly sorry, Jenny!”

“Thanks” she sighed. She needed more than just words. “So anyway, to answer your question, I was cleaning out the closets in my old bedroom this afternoon, and came upon the box with our love letters and the double-wide jewel box with the necklace and rings you made. Which, by the way, look exactly the way they did when I closed that box on… our final day.” Her most recent sigh was hitched with emotion.

John was getting emotional himself, instinctively cuddling more into Tara.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve opened it since that day! I kept it near the front of the closet for easy access, and I most definitely did open it up and remember, the way I said I would! I’ve had a good life—mostly—so far, yet in every life there are rough spots… trials and tribulations. Most of the times I looked into that box at the jewelry you made were times like that. Other times I just happened to be at my parents’, and wanted to remember… you and me back then, and our amazing adolescent love affair.”

“What sort of time was today?”

It felt like his hand somehow stretched through the phone, touching her chest over her heart… maybe going all the way in to touch her soul. “May I come over please?” she weakly whimpered. “It would mean everything to see you again—alive!

Daggers shot through Tara, both from the thought of Jenny Patussi so badly wanting to get together in person with John, and from her all-too-vivid memories of the day almost exactly two years ago when without her door-busting kick and quick action, no one ever again would have been able to see John Mercer alive.

“Let me check with the two women in my life, starting with the one right here cuddled into me who saved my life, literally within under a minute of my blowing my brains out.”

No! How?! What?!

“That and much more we may soon be able to discuss in person. How about we end this for the moment and I call you right back once I’ve asked them?”

Two women in your life?”

“By great fortune, yes. The three of us are polyamorous.”

Shocked that he’d share that, Tara elbowed him hard. It would’ve hurt if her elbow hadn’t been padded with fat.

“Polyfidelotous actually, I’ve been corrected. Call you right back in a couple of minutes, OK?”

“Please! I’m… not in a good way, and… it would be better for me to be around people tonight. Caring… at least one of whom knows me.”

“I promise I’ll call back. Keep your phone charged and in a strong signal area, and we’ll be fine. Bye for now.”

 

No” Tara answered before he even directly asked.

“Why not?”

She’s your first girlfriend!

“Yes, and that was 43 years ago. As I recall your first was Artie. You’d want to check with Barb, but I personally wouldn’t have any issues with you and Artie getting together, especially with me along too.”

That was one fuck versus a year and a half torrid romance with hundreds of fucks and lovingly handmade jewelry!

 

Hearing the commotion, Barb wandered out just in time to hear John calmly reply, “A year and one quarter, and I’m not sure we made it to hundreds of fucks, especially depending whether one’s counting just P.I.V. intercourse as a fuck, or more general sex. Should we instead be discussing how many exes you have who may want to catch up with you, versus my precious few?”

“We should catch moi, your ultra-busty dinner maker, up with what in the world is causing all this brouhaha.”

She’s gunning to come over!” Tara ranted.

“She’s outgunned” Barb snort-laughed, holding up her chest cannons from beneath (having her hands disappear from visibility).

I don’t want to meet her!

“What if I want to meet her?! I think it would be a blast to see what she looks like now, and blow her mind with just how opposite we are to what she dedicated her life to make possible for herself and others.”

“I would like to get together with her” said John. “She sounds to be in some sort of crisis at the moment, possibly related to grieving the loss of her mother very recently. Tonight is good for me and for her. I am totally open to where that happens—here, the other house, her house–”

“–Oh no! Not even!–” Tara interrupted.

“–a restaurant” he blasted on, getting annoyed. “You two name it, she and I can do it. I’d love to have you both present, but certainly anyone who doesn’t want to meet her can opt out and let me and if applicable the other of us go through with it.”

Here with all of us so Barb and I can keep you two apart!

John couldn’t help chuckling at Tara’s hyperbole. “What’s your vote, Barb?”

“Here, with popcorn. Because unless someone who doesn’t wear panties gets hers out of the big bunch they’re in, there might be more romantic drama than binge watching 27 soap operas.” She poked Tara then pulled her into a hug, in an attempt to settle her down.

John joined in, between the two of them assuring Tara that nothing bad could possibly happen on their home turf with all 3 of them together. He called Jenny back, inviting her over, giving her all the needed contact information to get there.


“I’m gonna go ahead and serve” said Barb. “Maybe her car broke down, or she changed her mind.”

 

An hour and 10 minutes after Jenny got the all-clear to come visit, she still wasn’t there.

 

“I think she would’ve called if something like that happened” replied John.

{My amazing energy powers are keeping her away} Tara irrationally and haughtily thought.

 

This of course was the moment the doorbell rang.

 

John trucked right over, his heart racing.

Tara, who’d freshened up and dressed in one of her nicer, sexy-for-public outfits, followed close behind, with Barb (also changed into a nice, sexy outfit) a few steps back on John’s right.

 

He opened the door, and there she was.

“Hello John.”

 

He couldn’t believe his eyes! Average-build heath and fitness expert Jenny Patussi (per her website photo) was wearing the large BBW-sized white cotton tie-dye above-knee dress she’d received that one special Christmas they were a couple, and filling it out! Not only was she fat again, she was fatter than John had ever seen her!

Tara was incensed! One could almost see the steam shooting out her ears. She shot a serious death glare at Barb literally behind John’s back.

Barb struggled not to smirk, shooting a “You’d better behave!” stare back at Tara, putting on a show of eating a kernel of imaginary popcorn.

 

“Welcome, Jenny. Come on in!”

She looked around as she did, very on-edge with the surly mega-pear glaring at her from behind John on her right, hoping John and the friendlier-looking USBBW with the giant breasts that she could see behind him to her left would keep the peace.

“Hug, please?” she asked, soon as John closed the front door and they were almost hugging as it was.

Without consulting with anyone, John opened his arms welcomingly. Jenny went straight in for the hug, the years melting away as they embraced deeply.

Tara panicked, rushing in to side hug both of them.

“The amazing woman who appears to be cuddling both of us literally saved my life, and makes every moment of living worthwhile. I’d like you to meet my True Love and life partner, Tara Pelvig.”

“Thank you for hugging me, Tara. I was very afraid, from the look you gave me a minute or so ago.”

“He’s mine!

“I know. And I’m not here to change that. Being honest, I had fantasies that John would be alone, lonely, and struggling like me, and that he’d put the necklace back on my neck and the ring on my finger and his ring on his and we’d magically pick up from where we left off. It was delusional thinking at best, and obviously not remotely related to his and your reality. His love for you is obvious. I can’t compete with you, and I’d never try.”

Why? You’re beautiful, you’re fat again, and you were his first love!

“Do you really think I’m beautiful? I’ve always felt so plain.”

“No, that’s me. I’m the plain one.”

“No, I don’t think so. From what I’m seeing you’re attractive head to toe. And looking at your three legs, I get the strong sense that you have something no other woman has.”

 

Tara couldn’t help it: she lifted her skirt and belly for the win.

 

Can’t compete. Somebody hold me.” Jenny weakly stated.

Even Tara became concerned with how rapidly the life force seemed to be draining out of Jenny. She joined John, renewing her embrace.

Barb squished in to the embrace from the other side. “Hi Jenny. I’m Barb Bloom, John and Tara’s other True Love and life partner.”

“Hello Barb. Thank you for being at least neutral to me upon my arrival. I’m fragile, and I don’t mean anyone harm. A woman in deep need, reaching out the only way I know how.”

“As long as you don’t attempt to steal John away from Tara or myself to have him exclusively, there is no problem.”

“The sadness I feel at not being able to do that on account of John not being alone is deep. But I’m not an idiot. The love he has for each of you fills the room. At best I can only hope for the leftovers, enough to keep me going… help me survive.”

“I welcome you here.”

“As do I” John added.

Tara startled all of them by admitting aloud, “I fear you, like a jackal. John and I both will be utterly destroyed if anyone interferes with our eternal love.”

The three of them could feel Jenny’s life force contracting. She wilted in their arms. “I mean no harm. My needs brought me here, to the only place I know where I can get them fulfilled.”

“There are thousands of male FAs without anyone, dreaming of someone like you!”

“It’s not that simple!”

“Ladies” Barb interrupted, “My fellow women of size: let us all, with John, please sit down and share an honest, non-contentious conversation. I at least am feeling some of Jenny’s world of hurt. Even as a stranger to her, I care enough about her to want to let her explain what’s happening in her world which brought her here. Don’t you, Tara?”

 

She didn’t answer.

 

“My past with Jenny was essential to making me who I am, and I care deeply about her well-being” answered John.

“You sit over there” Tara directed Jenny, pointing out a small couch opposite the one where the rest of them usually sat. “I’ll be sitting in his lap, my giant life-affirming asses owning him!”

I apologize for Tara’s behavior” Barb whispered into Jenny’s ear. “She’s not normally this irrationally possessive.

Thank you for letting me be here” Jenny whispered back. “I truly am in crisis.

 

John almost lost it seeing Jenny’s big, round, bouncing buns as she took her seat. Small compared to Tara’s and Barb’s, their newness and the fact that they were Jenny’s made them compelling. His protective love force field engulfed both Tara and Jenny, not truly covering Barb, who in the moment was out in the kitchen anyway.

Jenny was distracted by Barb’s massive body bouncing and wobbling all sorts of directions at once as she returned from the kitchen.

“Would you like some home-fried chicken?”

“Yes please. It all looks delicious!”

“Would you like to have the whole platter?”

Uuunnnggh!” Tara cried out, squirming.

You stop it, Tara! I made a double batch. There’s a whole other platter for us.” She turned back to their guest, “Sorry, Jenny. I’m the chef tonight, I made this, and I’m offering it to you if you want it.”

Blushing brightly and drooling slightly, Jenny replied, “Yes please.”

Barb handed over the platter with a smile, rushing back to the kitchen.

 

Within a minute, she was bouncing back, delivering the second platter to Tara, claiming one wing piece for herself before sitting next to Tara on the right, who was centered atop John, nearly making him invisible other than his feet and head.

 

With no one else making a move to do so, Barb got the conversation started. “Roughly a year and a half ago, on Thanksgiving, I met John for the first time. He shared with Tara and myself his and your love story, going into extreme detail and describing things with deep passion, as though they’d wrapped up a month prior. It was a beautiful love story that moved all three of us deeply.”

Jenny looked at each of the three of them with wonder, dwelling on John.

“At that time, I looked you up online, finding your Forever Fit website. You appeared to be average-sized, happy with your life, happy having a career helping fat women find health and fitness, usually reducing their size, from what I recall reading back then. Obviously things are different now, at least for you. Obviously you’re under no obligation to share anything you don’t want to share. I’m very confident that I speak for all of us when I ask: what happened? How did you get from there to the person seated before us?”

 

Jenny took a deep, somewhat noisy breath, licking her fingers. “That picture and what you read were accurate for several decades of my life, from roughly college through the start of my 50s. I was happy in my life and my body, in a career helping others find health and peace with themselves through self-improvement. Mostly happy in my life. Focused as I was on my career, friendships, and activities of life, I had little interest in romance and sex. When I was interested, the men I found disappointed me. Most of them were good men—decent people. They and I did our best, and the sex sometimes rose to pleasant, but never the sort of fireworks I felt with John.”

Tara moved his hands to her hips, holding them there. She was in no mood to share her prized lover with anyone at the moment. He squeezed them repeatedly, subtly, to ensure she knew he got the message (and for the more fundamental reason of living to be able to have the joy of squeezing her there!).

“Didn’t feel attracted to women, so didn’t try getting intimate with them. Affectionate, romantic love wasn’t worth the time to me. I was busy, and had many friends with whom I could share most of the sorts of things I figured lovers share. Everything else was great! No fat hate directed at me, no one ignoring me like I was invisible or too hideous to be acknowledged, able to fit just about anywhere, every possible type of clothing in my size, no worries about destroying furniture, decent medical care with no bullshit—all the thin privileges were mine—and there for people I was helping who stuck with the program!

“Things seemed good through my 20s and 30s. The pinnacle of this period was when my mother signed on to my program, right around when I hit 40. John will remember that she’d gotten fat again along with me after an ill-advised fat camp we attended in when he and I were in high school.”

♫ Go you chicken fat, goooooo! ♫” Barb sang.

Daaaaaaahh!” Jenny cried out at the refreshed memory.

Barb felt the need to heft herself up to go over and touch Jenny’s hand as a gesture of friendship. “My parents had that record, and the bad judgement to make me listen to it once when they wanted to motivate me to exercise. As I shared with Tara and John, it worked: first chance I got, I turned that little record into a flying disc.”

Jenny high-pitch laughed.

“Got a lot of exercise flinging it for disc golf with friends, scratching the bejesus out of it until it would never play again. Didn’t mean to interrupt; just wanted to share.”

“No problem; great story. The point I was making was that Mom wasn’t at all interested in what I was doing for the first couple of decades I was doing it. She remained fat and gradually getting fatter, more or less to the point where I am right now. I was thrilled when she told me she was signing on with me and my program on my 40th. birthday, swayed by the many success stories—the majority of my clients by far at that time—and tired of all the hassles and problems of being significantly fat.”

“What did your father think?” asked John.

Jenny sighed, looking down, then back up at him. “He wanted Mom to be happy. He stuffed his FA feelings so that she could follow her dreams, knowing well that each of our opinions of our own body trumps anyone else’s hundreds of times. Mom did well, and he truly was happy that she was happy, and supported her without undermining what she and I were doing.

 

“Trouble was on the horizon by the time I reached my mid-40s, but I didn’t see it. New sign-ons started to taper off. I had no idea at the time why. The fitness business is always cyclical and has plenty of ups and downs, so it took awhile to notice the consistent decline without the usual recovery. Follow-ups were part of what made Forever Fit successful: I didn’t escort people to the door for a forever-goodbye when they were done with the active in-person part of the program. I followed up with each client, ensuring that they found a way to work exercise and the forever diet into their ongoing lives. Success and compliance did of course vary all over the map, and not everyone wanted to be followed up upon once they left at-class attendance. Most clients appreciated the caring of them and their ongoing success, responding positively to follow-ups.

“One upsetting aspect of the follow-ups was learning how many women were suffering from osteoporosis. At first I saw no connection whatsoever to those diagnoses and my program. Indeed, it took until just about 6 years ago for the numbers to become so overwhelming and obviously atypical for the greater population that I suspected a problem. But back a decade and a half ago in my 40s, it seemed like nothing other than a sad coincidence for a few participants.

“The follow-up told me nothing about the decline in new enrollment. About 81% of clients reported being extremely satisfied with the program and their outcome, which is an amazingly good, high number.”

The others nodded in agreement.

“10% were satisfied, 4% were neither satisfied nor dissatisfied, 3% were dissatisfied, and 2% were extremely dissatisfied. Those last three categories, adding up to about 9%, made me very unhappy, but I was doing all I knew how to do, and the few who left any constructive feedback were unhappy about things beyond my and the program’s control. Further, these percentages were similar a decade earlier, when attendance was higher.

“I had to slice and dice the enrollment data all sorts of ways until I finally spotted the pattern: fewer younger people were signing on. Now I knew from just looking around that there wasn’t suddenly a shortage of fat 20-somethings, so the question became: why? What changed? Once again it took me a long time to figure it out, but finally I did: being fat and getting fatter had become cool! Young women who in former years would’ve been likely to sign up were instead more likely to be fat web models, often gainers, making money rather than paying me or anyone else. There was absolutely no way for me to adjust my business model for this unanticipated change, so all I could do was stay the course, fine-tune the program to be the very best that it could be, bring my A game every day, and hope that ongoing societal fat hate would be sufficient to drive enough women to my door until it came time to retire.

“The change bothered me for a long time. I didn’t understand it at all, because I couldn’t relate to it from my personal experience. I kept seeing more and more women, mostly in their 20s and younger though some older, just letting their fat bellies stick out and bounce around inside their clothes without the slightest attempt to hide them nor suck them in. Just like it was no problem whatsoever, which I gather for most of them, it wasn’t.

“Menopause was my trigger for a mid-life crisis, right around my mid-to-late 40s. So many of my friends were married or otherwise hooked up with someone ongoing, the majority of them having had children. I gravitated more towards other friends living the happy single life I thought I was living. It came as a harsh shock that those amongst them who, like me, had an active libido were having as many dates or hookups as they wanted, and at that point I had precisely zero. We—these sexually active single friends and I—went over my appearance, demeanor, tactics, and so on. Unlike what John remembers in first semester senior year of high school, I wasn’t being a B, nor arrogant. I was more plain-looking and had smaller breasts than my peers, who at worst had only one of those two attributes.”

“It’s always like that!” Tara complained, startling herself as much as the rest of them with her sudden empathy for the situation Jenny described.

Jenny needed to eat another piece of chicken to stuff down her upset seeing John kiss and cuddle Tara so she’d feel better, when she so badly needed someone to comfort her!


Finished with the chicken and again having licked the tasty coating off her fingers, Jenny continued, “The girls helped me change up my street wardrobe and gave me a makeover to dial down the plain. This plus guiding me to superior options for finding single men got me the action I sought. Not a lot—I was busy and had a full life—but what I wanted and needed. Other than, once again, no fireworks. Mostly, and the exception was the start of where the wheels started coming loose with my life.

“In my 40s, looking 35 if that, armed with all these then-new mostly Internet-based ways of getting with people for sex and love, I was seeking new experiences. Tall men. Short men. Dark men. Foreign men. Artistic types. Different yes, none of them magical, for me. I couldn’t help thinking about John, leading me to try scientific types who were good with their hands: engineers, technicians. Easier for me to relate to most of them, but again, no sex magic.

“Then one night when I really wanted cuddles, a fat dude around my age responded to my Craigslist post, with a well-written message explaining how he was made for cuddling and we could or could not take things further as I wished. His picture simultaneously repelled and intrigued me. I held him off for last place. Other than him it was a night of slim pickin’s, and as mentioned I quite wanted someone.

“We agreed to meet up at a safe, public space: a high-end coffee shop which had overstuffed chairs and a couple of couches. He was even fatter in person than he looked in the picture he sent—SSBHM—which, in person, fascinated me more than reviled me. He was also a total sweetheart and gentleman, with sincere, loving eyes. Bought me a latte and himself a cappuccino, and we hightailed it to one of the couches which had just opened up, so we could get the cuddling going. He was really warm and soft—truly built for cuddling. Memories flooded back of when I’d been built like that, and how comfortable it was many times living inside, as well as for John when he and I cuddled. Now here I was experiencing it on the opposite side, enjoying the warm softness without having to carry around the fat and deal with all the issues. We spoke of many things, as people on something date-like tend to do. He was friendly, urbane, intelligent—really great guy in many ways.

“Time flew by; the remnants of our coffees were cold. Things were going great between us. I wanted more, and felt safe taking him home. Picking up where we left off with clothes-on sitting-up cuddling kept us in a shared comfort zone, easing the transition. Over a moderate amount of time—not too fast, not too slow—each of us dialed up the flirt. Hands wandered. Passions rose. STI discussion. Lots of kissing. We both wanted sex, so things moved that direction.

“His confidence diminished as we took our clothes off. He shared that some women had been upset or disappointed when they saw his genitals, and how if that was the case with me we could call things off or do whatever we agreed that he could manage that would please and satisfy me. As I mentioned, he was supersized. I’d seen plenty of fat mounds on women clients over the years, mostly through clothing but not always. Until that point, I had never seen a man’s fat mound or fat pad. His was huge! Being a man, his penis was in there. On him when I first saw him, just the head stuck out—no visible shaft at all. And it had become one with his scrotum, encasing his balls in fat. I was fascinated, and very excited! As he relaxed and saw my signs of arousal, it grew bigger and started growing out of its cushion. He was getting frustrated and upset that the condom didn’t have enough shaft to hold onto even when he was hard—which he became less as this happened. I went over the STI stuff again with him, deemed him acceptably safe, and explained that I was no longer fertile, so we could go bareback. This got us both really excited again. When we discussed positions he told me that cowgirl worked really well with his build, keeping his substantial weight off me, giving better penetration, and giving me a lot more control over the fucking.

“It was amazing! Easily the best I’d had since you, John. Truly shook up my world: why was I attracted to someone fat?! He stayed overnight, and I thought for sure I had a new boyfriend, or was well on my way. Well, turns out he was fine with getting together now and then for cuddles and optionally for fucks, but didn’t want to commit beyond that. Threw me well off-course, given all the noise he’d made the night before regarding how long it had been since he’d been with anyone. I thanked him for his candor and we parted amicably, with ‘Maybe someday again, but don’t wait for me’ status.

“Just like the Creedence song, someday never came. I moved on, getting few responses for men with really big fat pads, and not liking the rest of the man for those who had them. Tried one other dude with a decent mound but situated above his down-low genitals. Didn’t feel the magic. Better results with one or two other fat men when I asked for SSBHM in general without any mention of mounds: good for conversation and cuddling, but still no magic in sex land.

 

“Dating was getting to be too much work for too little return. I dialed it back, rather than totally stopping it, not that it would have taken much more dialing back to reach full stop. Problem was as I got into my 50s, my sex drive went up, not down. Business was still on the decline in terms of enrollment, so I needed to pour everything into that, going all-out to keep everyone I had and ensuring everyone got good results and thus Forever Fit got good cred.

“More pressure at work, a higher sex drive, and no outlet other than solo was a bad combination. Found myself subconsciously staring more and more at clients’ crotches, looking for fat mounds. Stopped whenever it broke through to consciousness, wondering what the heck I was thinking and what sort of help I needed.

“Then the lawsuits started, about 6 years ago: osteoporosis due to woefully insufficient calcium and proteins on the Forever Fit diet. I freaked! Took a long, long time to find an MD expert witness willing to represent my side, holding that the plaintiffs failed to follow the exercise part of my program once leaving active participation at the clinic. Would’ve been screwed even getting an attorney, had it not been for a successful client who was delighted with the program and had no osteoporosis issues being one and being willing to represent me pro bono.

“Forever Fit had always been a one-woman company. With all the distractions and time sink of the legal wrangling, I was stretched far too thin, at my breaking point. The lawsuits got consolidated, which helped in terms of time, but became a big winner-take-all. We fought hard, but the jury sided with the plaintiffs. Even with malpractice insurance covering a lot of the payout, it nearly broke me financially, and did break me spiritually. This was about 2 years ago that this finally came to trial and got resolved.” She paused to eat a chicken breast, visibly enjoying it significantly.


After the chicken breast and a round of tea delivered by Barb, Jenny continued her story, “Forever Fit’s rep was badly dented, leading to an even bigger drop-off of new clients. I had no idea what to do to turn things around, still too far away in both age and especially savings to be able to retire with any financial security. I became numb, carrying on as always, helping those still with me.

“Life wasn’t done whacking me around yet. Started getting severe migraines. For whatever reason they put me on Prednisone. Bye bye relatively thin Jenny!” She seemed nearly at the point of tears, taking a time out for another, smaller piece of chicken.

 

“If I thought it was difficult to get people into my program before, no longer looking the part of success was a deal-killer. Only a few who were already in the program dropped out because I plumped up, but it nearly ended new clients signing on. Even after the course of Prednisone was over, the damage was done: my out-of-control drug-induced stress-enhanced appetite refused to be dialed back.

“Two of the last clients were a mother-daughter duo, of whom I’d had countless pairings over the years. The problem with Reece Divens was that she didn’t get along with her mother, thus there was no teamwork. Kay Divens did fine; her daughter did not. Reece needed a lot more work, thus she was at the clinic all hours, often when it was only me and her. One of those evenings when it was just the two of us, she wasn’t even trying, and I’d had a bad week, I lost it: I grabbed her fat belly and shook it, yelling ‘Is this what you want to be carrying around the rest of your life?! This big ham flam flab slab?!’ Her eyes got all fluttery and her breathing shallow and excited. While I was struggling to recover from what I’d just done, in a super-breathy voice she said, ‘Tell me more what a fat pig I am, Ms. Patussi! Tell me how everyone’s going to laugh and point at me as my ham flam flab slab gets bigger and bigger!’.

“I could not believe what I was hearing! I said, ‘Are you serious, Reece?! Do you really want to be this fat?!’

Yes!

‘And have people fat-shame you?!’

‘Yes please! Pretty pretty please?’

“Now, given that Reece was 21, my life was hell, I was horny, and she had one of the fatter muffs I’d seen to that point on any person, I made probably the poorest decision of my adult life. With a wry smile I reached down lower, grabbing her mound through her workout pants and undies, shaking it as I had her belly and saying, ‘You grow this thing any fatter, and people will be able to see it from outer space!’. Reece came suddenly, exclaiming ‘Keep going! Keep going!

“Against any shard of common sense, I did, leaning in closer and grabbing both of her widely-spaced hips. “I’m surprised you’re not out on some construction site or in some factory, being used to measure wide doorways.’

“‘Auuumm!’ she came again.

“I went behind her and grabbed her huge buns, ‘Are these attached? Or are you storing beachballs in your pants?’

Haaaannnngg!

“I ran my fingers down the fat slopes on her back. ‘Nice that your back fat forms these built-in drainage channels, for all the sweat that drips down when you exercise heavily. Such as, oh say, waddling your obese form from the couch to the kitchen.’

Hnnnngggg!

‘Why is it that you have thighs growing out of your–… oh wait, those are upper arms as fat as thighs!’

Nnnnnaaaggh!

‘Sorry hun, that’s all I’ve got. I’ve never done this before. No one’s ever asked me to.’

“She hugged me, saying, ‘It was Awesome, Ms. Patussi! Now what can I do for you?’

‘For?’

‘To get you off.’

“In for a dime, in for a dollar: I told her how I actually was fascinated with her fat muff, and how I kind of knew what it was like when I’d been fat as a teenager, but mine was never anywhere near as fat as hers. She never knew I’d ever been fat before my then-current drug-induced plumping up, which I’d explained to all my clients so they wouldn’t think I was slipping or failing. She got all excited, so I took her into the office and dug out some old film photo prints I had, mainly from prom night, actually.” She looked straight at John with a smile during that last observation. “Reece saw you and thinks you’re cute.”

Tara’s eyes grew wide. She re-tightened her arms around her man.

“Now there’s a young woman you’d do well to keep away from John, Tara. Wish I’d been that wise. I wasn’t, at all. Suddenly it was like Reece and I were best friends. She pulled her pants down, happily letting me explore her mound. My touch got her worked up again, which got me worked up, which allowed her to get off again and me to let go of a whole lot of over-long pent-up tension.

“She noticed the pent-up aspect. We discussed how long it had been for me, and some of the factors involved regarding why it had been so long. She asked me if I’d ever done it with a woman, which I hadn’t, other than what we’d just done. She promised that she’d actually try a little harder to follow the program to make me happy, re-iterating that she honestly didn’t want to lose any weight at all, and was only there because her mother was making her go. She begged me to please schedule more of these one-on-one after-hours sessions, so she and I could have more good times and I could get the release I needed and wasn’t getting.

“In for a dollar, in for ten: I did just that. Wednesday evenings became Reece’s and my playtime. Going against nearly every instinct I had, she trained me to fat-shame her more and better. What quickly became different as early as our second time together was that while my statements and tone were those of fat-shaming, my touch was on the range of playful to reverent, instead of anger-driven as the first time. Both of us appreciated the irony, with my reverent touches turning on Reece even more. I was tapering off the Prednisone as instructed by my doctor, but my appetite didn’t go away, and I got a little fatter. One evening Reece turned the tables, gently fat-shaming me, with caresses which were obviously reverential and backed by deep desire. I still didn’t truly get the whole joy of shaming thing, but in that first shocking instant of realization of what she’d just said along with her touch on my fattening hips which was anything but negative, I experienced a burst of passion, and how it could be a turn-on.

“Our touch became more and more sensual, then sexual, that same evening. Passions burned bright. Our clothes came off. She flattered me regarding my body and my appearance, seeming genuinely shocked that I was months away from age 60 rather than possibly pushing 45. She kept me relaxed and focused on sexual passions, gently leading me into my first sex with a woman. It was magical, in the same way that sex with Jess, the man with the giant fat pad, had been—and nearly every time you and I shared sex as teenagers, John!”

 

Already cuddled close and still sitting centered atop his lap, Tara tilted her head back to make smiling eye contact.

Barb silently reviewed in her mind lovers over the course of her life. She’d had the fortune of many who rose to or near the level of sexual magic, and had to agree that John Mercer was definitely one of the best she’d had.

 

Jenny continued her saga, “At that point in the arc of my life, I was out of control. Clients continued to dwindle. I had no plan for recovery. I was struggling with my own body image, once again at the border of plumper and BBW. I told myself then that it was all due to the drugs, but in brutally honest hindsight, I’d rediscovered the joys of food… and was starting to rediscover the joys of being fat. More literally for me, discovering for the first time some of the joys of being fat. Reece played a significant part in this, gently encouraging me to stay fat and get fatter for my own pleasure, the way she was. We spent a lot of time when we were together discussing life as a fat woman back in the mid-late 1970s when John and I were in high school versus modern times. She was shocked at how bad things were back then, having read some people’s reports about fat hate and especially the near-wholesale lack of support for fat people outside of NAAFA during that decade, but not having it driven home and become real until I—her mature lover who lived through it—made the same points and was right there for back-and-forth discussion. I felt a deep longing and sense of loss when she went into detail about how even though fat hate and discrimination remained significant, serious problems, things were so much better now in terms of visible appreciation of fat people as whole people with whole lives, who were as skilled and attractive and sexually adept as anyone else, and arguably more so in some ways. She could tell how wistful I was, and how much a part of me wanted to live through the good parts of this current era directly, rather than vicariously through her. She assured me that it wasn’t too late, and that perhaps the effects of the Prednisone and decline in enrollment related to her generation and even older generations deciding that being fat wasn’t bad, and indeed could be an excellent lifestyle were Gaia’s ways of urging me to take a new direction in my life.

“As if I hadn’t already irrecoverably messed up my life, I took things further. Reece and I continued our trysts, but my near-end-of-50s stronger than ever libido plus fears of getting older and losing interest in sex drove me to try others. Neither Reece nor I had ever discussed being exclusive with one another, so I figured it was OK. Having sampled women and found magic, I sought another. One of the few things I managed to do correctly was provide the gentlest hints of flirt with the ever-fewer clients to whom I felt an attraction. One of them, Carrie, picked up on this and responded favorably. Carrie was one of my classic success stories: she’d shed well over 150 pounds, pretty close to halving her weight, going from almost supersized to prime-spot average-healthy. She was thrilled, thought everything of me—even with my fat gain which I told her and she believed was solely from the meds and would go away, and thought that my sudden hints of attraction to her were directly related to her success at fat loss. Both very excited, we scheduled an evening together alone at the facility, the way Reece and I did things. She was somewhere on the polysexual-pansexual spectrum, attracted to certain individuals regardless of their birth gender, current gender presentation, and so on. Well… there was no magic, at least not for me. She seemed way into me in a way I just wasn’t feeling for her once our clothes were off and we got into things. She felt horrible, like somehow she’d failed me, or was still unattractive. I felt really horrible, not only being a bad date, but undermining the success of a client!

“Right in the middle of that one date-gone-wrong with Carrie, I realized what it was: I’d become a Fat Admirer. I was attracted to fat, on both cisgender men and women, and quite possibly beyond.”

 

She paused and ate another piece of chicken, to let this sink in.

 

“Explaining that brand-new literally in-the-moment realization to Carrie was one of the hardest things I’ve yet had to do in my life. She became very confused around the dichotomy of how I could feel that way and run the business I was running, and what truly was an optimal way for her body to be. I had to work hard to reassure her that her success and what Forever Fit had always been about was supported by society and nearly every MD of every stripe and specialty, and that my sudden realization and desires might well be yet another side-effect of the medication, likely requiring me to undertake some mental health work to straighten things out. I assured her that people not having mental health issues as I seemed to currently suddenly be suffering would be thrilled to experience her new slim body, and that everything about her future was bright. We got our clothes back on and she consoled me for awhile, doing her best to cheer me up that this apparent phase I was going through would resolve sooner than later, and that she’d be sharing her smashing success with any woman she knew well enough to have intimately personal discussions who had a weight problem, doing her part to ensure new clients would be coming my way.

“The situation with Carrie worked out OK, yet did nothing to help me out of my and my business’s tailspin. I was horny, I was still getting slightly fatter, Reece and I were carrying on. The world had changed, and my program had not. For sure after the lawsuits I’d modified the diet to include more calcium-loaded veggies with preparation instructions which would maximize the calcium, and many more lean proteins. Additionally I’d added very visible disclaimers in the ongoing lifestyle maintenance section making it clear that osteoporosis was a problem for many women whether or not they’d participated in Forever Fit, and that all bets were off for avoiding those issues if the client failed to keep up with ongoing weight-bearing exercise, as during the time they worked with me at the clinic. Between the reputation damage issue and the societal changes with more women choosing to remain fat issue and my still having no idea how I could possibly modify Forever Fit to bring in more clients, the changes hardly mattered.

“Then came the final death knell to life as I knew it, and especially Forever Fit. Reece and I had a falling out. The excitement of newness had worn off, and we had no substance in our IIR to have anything left. I thought we could just wind things down and go back to client-counselor relations, but oh no. She blamed me for our faltering passions, specifically for not letting myself go all the way back into fatness the way she ‘knew I needed to do’. I railed against her insolence, reminding her of the nature of the business I ran, and the need to keep up appearances. She yelled back that Forever Fit was a joke and everyone knew it and no one of her generation wanted anything to do with it nor any similar program, having moved on to body acceptance from antiquated concepts of working so hard to change one’s body to suit lamestream society’s whims.

“Whether or not any of Reece’s points had or have merit, I soon discovered she had no integrity, and neither did her mother. She listed her age as 21 when she signed, up, with her mother listing 41. After our argument, she went running to her mother, weaving a tall tale of how I’d seduced her and was forcing her to attend the after-hours Wednesday sessions where we had sex against her will, and—get this—I was forcing her to eat fattening treats, to stay fatter and have to stay in the program longer!

“Within a few hours the police came knocking, questioning me then arresting me for sexually assaulting a minor! Turns out that Reece was actually seventeen years old, and her mother was 45! Obviously her mother’s age was and is irrelevant, other than proof that the woman lies, as does her daughter. Forever Fit was open to any adult 18 and up, and any adolescent 12 years of age or older accompanied by a parent or legal guardian as a fitness partner and signing the contract on behalf of the child. No reason for Reece to have lied!

“Beyond being shattered at the lies and accusations resulting therefrom, in no way had I recovered hardly at all from the last round of lawsuits related to the osteoporosis claims. I accepted a plea bargain to register as a sex offender, avoid all contact with Reece and her mother—that part was easy!—and cease working with anyone under the age of 18, regardless of whether a parent or guardian was right there with them or not. Mother-daughter teams were nearly half of my remaining client base! Some were both adults—so they said, but others the daughter was underage. That was it for Forever Fit: I closed the business, helping the precious few still with me make the transition, providing a few refunds where necessary, though most people did pay-as-you-go rather than up-front payments.

“That was about 10 months ago. Since then I’ve been an unemployed wreck, living off my meager savings and what I could make selling equipment and furnishings from Forever Fit, plus garage sale pocket change selling clothes I’m too fat to fit into, and whatever other miscellaneous bric-a-brac can keep me off the streets awhile longer.

“And then, just in this past month, my nominally fit and slender mother started snapping bones like overloaded toothpicks. Severe osteoporosis, not diagnosed until she was already so deep into a cascade of fractures that there was no hope. There… wasn’t anything left, in terms of strong bone structure. She had no remaining quality of life. We barely got hospice set up for her when she died.

“So there you have it! Jenny Patussi, former successful health and fitness entrepreneur who became a fat unemployed sex offender with no future and rapidly facing homelessness who unintentionally killed her own mother and who knows how many others via being misinformed regarding dietary needs of the human body! Yay me!” Her eyes filled with water, “So that’s why… I needed somebody to talk to tonight. Someone who knows me and believes in me, who might withhold judgement until hearing my side of things.”

 

Tara couldn’t stay threatened-defensive towards someone who seemed like a genuinely nice, kind person in such a world of hurt. To John and Barb’s surprise, she got up off John, and walked over to Jenny. Jenny joined the two of them not knowing what to think when Tara set aside the near-empty platter of now-cold home-fried chicken, claiming her hand. “Come” she said softly.

In a river of tears, Jenny stood up, allowing Tara to lead her over to John, who stood up to share another hug with his troubled first girlfriend. Tara gently guided him back down to seated on the couch, thereafter guiding Jenny to sit sideways in his lap, the way she initially had all those decades ago that very first time. She eased herself down to John’s left, gently cuddled into his left side and more than that into Jenny’s huge globular buns. She gently and affectionately caressed each of them, to let them know things were OK.

Barb felt moved to bring out another round of tea, taking an intimate seat to John’s right. She added her own friendly caresses of Jenny, her expression exuding compassion and caring.


Peaceful, wordless, caring love continued for quite some time. Jenny’s sobbing wound down in about 10 minutes, peacefully quiet for a couple of minutes before crying swelled back up, then back down. The three residents had all kinds of time and plenty of ongoing love to give to their grieving guest, along with their usual love of and for each other.

 

After about half an hour, Jenny and thus the group found tranquility. All still cuddled together in the same positions, gentle shy smiles broke forth.

“‘Thank you’ does not even begin to convey my profound gratitude at being accepted amongst you tonight” said Jenny, breaking the extended verbal silence.

“I’m sorry, but you got fucked over by those osteoporosis lawsuits and that lying cunt who framed you and ruined you for her own selfish ends” Barb ranted. “The osteoporosis issues are sad, and tragic in terms of your mother, but if you were doing your level best and didn’t know, I don’t see how you’re in any way culpable.”

“You’re very kind, Barb. All three of you are.” She reached into her surprisingly (to John especially) full chests, pulling out her handheld. In a few moments, she had the picture she wanted to share. “This is Reece Divens, liar. Stay very, very far away from her! This is her mother Kay, either blind to her daughter’s flagrant lies, or complicit with them and a liar herself. Whichever way, stay away from her as well.”

What John hadn’t noticed when she pulled her device out, he did when she put it away: she couldn’t help smiling, of necessity feeling her breasts during the process. She’d been small-breasted like Tara in their youth, despite her mother tending towards busty once she fattened. Currently Jenny’s breasts appeared to be a little smaller than her mother’s at the peak John had seen them, which was vastly larger than he’d ever seen on Jenny.

Jenny smiled and blushed, having noticed him noticing. With tears for now over and Tara showing no signs of being on the warpath towards her, passions between her and her first boyfriend swelled.

The other two noticed. Barb decided to say something. “I realize this is not the time to ask you about future plans, or where your life is headed. Be that as it may, is it safe for me to ask where you are in terms of your own body, Jenny? Specifically: fatness versus the so-called average body in which you lived for so many years until recently?”

“I can’t go back, Barb, for several reasons. One is that the Prednisone changed me permanently. That alone probably wouldn’t be much, but it would take a herculean heroic sustained effort to get back into the average-sized body I had, rather than a minimum of chubby or plump. It was never easy nor automatic to maintain that body, which was the crux of my Forever Fit program: diet and exercise for life.

“Another is that between the great tastes of foods I’ve denied myself for decades and an increased appetite which again would take considerable effort to reduce, I’m at least somewhat of a foodie now. I don’t have enough decades left of life to want to deny myself.”

“Have you been checked for osteoporosis?” asked John.

“Yes, and no, it’s not an issue for me. I attribute that to ongoing extensive routine daily weight-bearing exercise until these last couple of years with the meds and the fattening, and since that time knowing well how critical a good diet is to maintaining bone density. Obviously I’m genetically at risk, but if I keep moving around and exercising reasonably as I can, keep the diet as good as possible, and continue to refrain from smoking and excessive alcohol consumption, I should be OK.

“Probably the most significant issue keeping me from even trying to move back to not being fat is resenting feeling left out of the societal changes whereby being a fat woman is now a desirable thing to be. You have no idea how much I want to get into some sort of age erasing machine and suddenly be, oh say, 22 right about now, thriving in this new environment where BBW are ever-more desired as people and as objects of beauty and sexuality. Young, desirable, able to start over. I feel cheated, so I’m inclined to do what I can: be the least-worst beautiful and sexy BBW I can be at my advanced age.”

“61 is not that advanced an age” said Tara.

“So says the 31-year-old!”

“Add a decade and three years.”

“Whether I look old or young to you or whatever, for the record Tara and I are the same age” Barb shared. “We were in the same grade level in school.”

“You’ve known each other a long time!”

“Friends since 5th. grade, out of touch for decades. It’s a long story I’d love to share, but right now I want to stay with you and your story.”

“If John told you our love story in great detail, between that and what I just shared, there isn’t a whole lot more.”

“I meant about you and your body, right now and going forward. You just finished making clear that there’s no going back. What I’d like to know—if you’re comfortable sharing—is how you feelabout that. Does being a beautiful and sexy BBW—which you are—feel like what you want to be? Or something circumstances have forced upon you, as with your former career?”

“I want to enjoy being fat, very much so! But all these years later, I still have trouble. One reason I rushed back here to John was that I’ve never felt truly worthwhile, beautiful, and sexy as a fat woman other than when he and I were lovers.”

“Not even with Reece?” he asked.

“She was getting there with sexy, less so with beautiful, and not really addressing worthwhile. So no.”

“What about Tara’s good point regarding there being thousands upon thousands of FAs—all genders—out there seeking a good BBW such as you’ve again become?”

“I never stopped loving you, John. The time of our youth was especially awful to live as a fat person, and I knew well that each of us needed to go to different universities to finish growing up and learning, to become the adults we needed to become. I have no regrets about breaking things off with you when I did, because that’s what needed to happen for both of us to have our best lives. I have no regrets about how I lived my life up until maybe my 40s or 50s, where I wish I’d picked up on the growing trend of BBW respect and admiration, and wish I’d made even the slightest effort to stay current on medical developments or consulted with an MD who stayed current and had been able to correct the flaws in my diet protocol.”

She turned to face Tara, then Barb, “I’m not here to wreck anyone’s home or love life. Thankfully each of you are far too awesome and what John has always lusted after for me to do so if I wanted to. I’m here because I’m desperate. I’m here because I foresee no future for myself. I’m here because I don’t know how to love myself and my fat body without John loving me and it. If you hadn’t let me come over tonight, I might have reached the breaking point and done something very rash that might have ended my life.”

Oh no” Tara insisted, clamping her hand on Jenny’s forearm, sternly staring at her. “No one in this room or otherwise a part of my close life is going to take theirs!” She let go of Jenny, surprising everyone by unbuttoning John’s shirt and pulling it wide open. She surprised them further when she claimed Jenny’s right hand and moved it onto John’s now-exposed chest, just above his barely-soft belly.

Jenny became flustered, passion exploding through her. “I’m… confused.”

“Live in the moment, Jenny, and listen carefully. Two years ago almost to this day, the man you’re currently touching—your first boyfriend—was within seconds of blowing his brains out with a handgun, in his office. Feel the love… let it flow. Because he almost wasn’t with us. At that point I’d worked with him a decade give or take, in the outer office as office manager. He and his company had been going downhill a long time, and I didn’t know why. I did know that it was extremely unusual for him to lock his inner office door, and that the few times he did, he’d at least respond to my emails or text messages when I had an urgent question or something he needed to know. He wasn’t doing that, and I heard ** sounds. That was his Plan A: a so-called deliverance cocktail, that failed to deliver him when his body hurled it back out.

“Yes: lean into him. And me, because without me, he wouldn’t be here at all, and it’s unlikely the rest of us would be gathered together. I used my massive USBBW weight and the convenience of my third leg to rush and ram his office door, smashing the strike plate out of the door frame, forcing the door open. He stared at me in shock, holding a gun to his temple. Instinctively I charged him, knocking the gun out of his hand. Fortunately it didn’t fire.”

“John… why?” Jenny asked, some new tears rolling out of her eyes.

“I had no one to love. My lust for fatasses never went away, and if anything kept getting stronger as I aged. No one to even touch! And Tara right there—the dream woman of my life, both in terms of her body and her mind… and everything else about her as far as I knew. Two asses fattening, by all signs contented in her body and her life, and totally out of reach as my employee and direct report.”

“I knew John liked looking at my rear view, but had no idea the depth and breadth of his desire for me, nor how desperate he was. We can tell you the rest of this story in a little while or some other time, but we’re at the point I want to make: given what happened, I am extremely sensitive to anyone threatening suicide, or similar high levels of self-harm. I understand that we each have a right to dominion over our own bodies and from that many extrapolate the option for each of us to end our own lives, but I personally have issues with that. None of us in this room are shits like Reece, and even Reece Divens deserves to live. All of us absolutely deserve to live, and in my opinion need to live. I don’t have answers for you for how you can get your life back together. I do know that if you truly feel you can’t go on without John’s love, we all have to work with that at a minimum, until the time comes where you can go on without it.

“My need for John’s love and his for mine is at least as deep as yours. All of us have to take things one moment at a time—not even one day at a time, for now. Love him, Jenny. Love her, John. Just both know that for not even one fraction of a second is it OK for him to stop loving me, or Barb.”

“Actually I can handle a few seconds here and there, maybe longer. But much over a few hours without his love would be bad.”

Tara continued speaking to Jenny, primarily. “Whether you feel any affection or anything else towards me and/or Barb is less critical. I feel a whole lot different about you having heard your story versus when you first arrived. Chances are basically zero that you’ll be spending time alone with John in any context, and absolute zero that you and he can resume being a monogamous couple. If you can continue to handle my intimate presence the way you have so far, we all have more options in terms of what you may be able to do with him, to get your needs met without blocking ours.”

“I’m overwhelmed with your kindness, Tara. If I could get past my fear of you from when I first came here tonight, I could be very comfortable being intimate with you, with or without John.”

“Are you still attracted to women sexually or romantically?” asked Barb.

“Fat women it seems so. Anyone of any gender with a huge mound, definitely. I don’t know how nor why I became an FA, but it’s happened. And at least in the case of John, my ongoing love for him continues, as he is.”

“Is there any more for dinner?” Tara asked Barb.

“There’s all kinds of things, mostly waiting on hold until we’re ready to eat.”

“I submit that we’re ready. Would you care to join us for the rest of a late dinner, Jenny?”

“Oh, I couldn’t! I’ll eat you out of house and home!”

Tara moved Jenny’s hand to her belly, then patted Jenny’s. “We don’t skimp on portions, honey. I know well what I’m likely getting us into with my invitation to you. Join us… accept your appetite. We won’t leave you hungry, and you won’t leave us food-deprived.”

“What may I do to help?”

“You three stay there, or do whatever else you agree upon” Barb replied. “I’ve got everything all ready to go, with bits of more cooking, then serving.”


By the time Barb returned with some freshly-steamed organic broccoli, all three of Jenny, John, and Tara were smiling. Tara and John were caressing Jenny’s big butt and fat hips through her lovely tie-dyed dress, with John’s right hand additionally caressing and squeezing his first girlfriend’s belly. Jenny alternated between various parts of John, and what she could reach of Tara.

“We eating here, I take it?” Barb asked.

“Might as well” responded Tara. “No sense pulling any of us apart when we all have intimacy needs.”

She handed off the broccoli bowl with ** holder to the combination of Jenny and John. “We certainly all do have intimacy needs. I’ll be addressing mine later.”


“Eat your dinner, John” Tara chided. “You’ll be able to squeeze, caress, and otherwise play with Jenny’s and my hips later.”

 

The seating had changed. Jenny sat as cuddly-close as possible to John’s left on the couch, her soft, fat right hip riding up slightly upon him. Tara’s Furry left side was in John’s lap and her fat left hip pressing slightly into the side of Jenny’s fat belly and right hip, Tara’s right butt seated next to John on his right as usual. Barb sat intimately close to Jenny on Jenny’s left.

 

“How do I know I’ll have a chance to explore any of Jenny later, when we’re taking things one moment at a time?”

“Because the main impediment to you and Jenny taking things as long and far as you might want is me, and unless she’s lying about not being here to claim you monogamously or has some sort of breakdown that drives her that direction, the love I’m feeling between the two of you and I believe maybe myself as well isn’t going to diminish all that quickly. So in this moment please eat your dinner with the rest of us and enjoy three of the most beautiful and sexy fatasses in the world—four if you count my two separately—including your very first-ever girlfriend being here with you loving you.”

“And vice-versa.”

“Bump that protective love field up so we can all feel it” she teased, giving him a momentary tickle.

“Another impediment would be fluid sharing and STI status, related to our poly group” said Barb.

“What?” asked Jenny.

Tara leaned forward, to make eye contact with Barb, “Did you really need to make things more complicated before their time, Pillow?! Here we’re having a nice, intimate, loving dinner with the four of us, finally at a calm point where we can all enjoy the meal and each other’s company and digest well, and you need to bring up complications which are not relevant at this time, nor possibly soon?!” She pulled back, giving Jenny’s arm a friendly squeeze, “I’m sorry for raising my voice while talking across you, Jenny. I guess I’m so attuned to at least a couple of us being fragile and wanting all of us to continue getting along well, I’m getting overprotective.”

“Jenny has already said as much that if you and I weren’t in the picture and it was just her and John with no conflicting love in John’s life that he would’ve already put that necklace back on her and they’d be wearing their rings. Given their vibrant sex life at a time when I was barely experimenting and certainly had no clearance whatsoever from my parents to have sex, plus how she’s shared that her and John’s long-ago sexcapades remain top-of-chart toe-curlers, plus the sexual tension I sense between them, I don’t think it’s much of an extrapolation if any to predict that unless you stop them, they’re going to be sharing sex. Ergo I raised a relevant and valid point.”

“I don’t want my deep, unfulfilled needs to cause trouble!” the woman under discussion declared.

“Let’s all please keep having dinner and enjoying the cuddles and caresses” Tara urged. “Unless Jenny has to leave, we’re likely to have a late night, with plenty of time to discuss things in an open forum. Please for now let’s enjoy the sexual tensions and touches, but keep the conversation to non-sexual or less-sexual topics. Sensual is different and OK, so talking about how delicious Barb’s bacon cheese quiche is I would consider non-contentious.”

“It really is a great quiche” said Jenny.

“Guess it’s a good thing there’s another” Barb smiled.

“There is?!

“On-deck and ready, waiting for you and/or any of us to be ready to enjoy it.”


Tara, Barb, and even John learned things about the lives of Jenny’s parents and much-older sister. Once she learned that Tara considered non-sexual discussion of her unique body to be non-contentious, Jenny had all kinds of questions for her. She also wanted to hear more about Tara and Barb’s childhood friendship, with each of Tara and Barb temporarily tabling discussion of how they re-met each other as adults.


It was a long, filling, tasty meal, currently in its extended dessert phase. Jenny couldn’t get enough of the creamy and decadent chocolate pudding, getting more aroused than she thought she should be getting when Barb explained how much there was, and that if Jenny and the rest of them managed to finish that and Jenny wanted more, it wouldn’t take terribly long to assemble another batch.

Tensions rose as dessert wound down, each of them wondering what would happen next.

“How are you doing, Jenny?” asked Tara.

“Brimming with gratitude for the kindness and hospitality the three of you have shared with me today. Comfortably full from one of the best dinners I’ve had in my life. Being honest, having trouble staying one moment at a time, so full of need and so unsure what’s possible, both now tonight and going forward.”

“It’s late, and we are at a point where we need to start discussing what’s going to happen tonight. I urge us all not to get carried away farther into the future than absolutely necessary. The possibilities are many, and some of them may delight you, as well as John and quite likely Barb and myself. I’m still coming to terms with what life might be like with you as John’s girlfriend again, along with myself and Barb as his True Loves.”

“What’s the difference between a girlfriend and a true love, as you define the terms?”

“We use capital T True and capital L Love for what others call living together like a marriage without being married. Romantic and sexual cohabitation. Life partners in all ways other than a marriage license or church sanction. There are already the two of us and I’m not saying you might not someday be True Love number 3 at least for John, if not also Barb and/or myself, if mutual intimate feelings between us run strong enough.”

“I’m delighted and overwhelmed, unsure how someone heading to homelessness whose life savings were eaten by lawsuits and more recently the demise of her only career can possibly qualify.”

“I have ideas and no answers, and that’s the old proverb of putting the cart before the horse. Am I correct that you would like to share love and sex with John, including but not necessarily limited to kissing, bare intimacy, possibly P.I.V. intercourse and/or licking?”

“As many of those things as possible would heal me more than you know. You all would be saving a life. And, again being honest, I’m more than a little curious to explore either or both of you, should you feel attracted to me in that way.”

Tara looked down, sighing deeply. “What do you need to not harm yourself?”

“Hope, including immediate or very soon help with feeling validated as every letter of BBW, via touch and admiration I can feel more than words, but those too.”

“All these cuddles and caresses we’ve been sharing aren’t doing it for you?”

“They’re a great start, and I do very much appreciate being here with all three of you. I’m finding comfort being near you and Barb, both when in contact and merely being three quite fat women together, the two of you with your long history of self-acceptance. I’m both sexually hungry and needing sexual validation in addition. I find myself running hotter rather than cooler as the relentless passage of time dumps me into my 60s. Your apparently stable threesome love fascinates me, and makes me more than a little envious. My fantasy would be to somehow magically be accepted amongst you, and all share a consensual sex orgy together.”

“You’re into me and Barb sexually enough for that?”

“You for sure, based upon your having two mounds, likely very succulently fat. On the presumption that Barb’s may not be drastically smaller than yours, that alone would have me wanting her.”

“Bigger” Barb grinned.

Jenny’s face flushed. “Then, unlike John, I’m quite into boobs—my own, now that I finally have some, and others’. On that basis, Barb’s body is a treasure trove adventure.”

“What about me?” asked John.

“I told you I never stopped loving you. As long as there haven’t been major changes to your equipment or their operation, it’s not even a question I want to have a lot of sex with you.”

“Vasectomy some years ago and some snow down below, otherwise should be as you remember them.”

“I’m well past fertile, so the vasectomy is neutral to me. Even talking about this with the three of you is getting me very excited—and hopeful!”

“Stay with the hope, moderate the excitement” Tara advised. “Here’s where we need to get into what Barb mentioned earlier tonight: the poly group. All three of us have large sexual appetites—four, if we include you, but this is about the three of us who already live here. Being built for great sex and able to take two different people at the same time, whether for penetration or licking or whatever else one may wish to do with a woman’s genitals, plus having had a strong sex drive my entire adult life, I’ve had quite the sex life. Most friends have been lovers, and vice-versa. In my early 30s, myself and some lovers at the time hooked up with a polyfidelity group. Know what that is?”

“No.”

“Sharing open consensual sex and often other forms of love with a finite, limited group of vetted people, each of whom restricts such activities to people within the group. Group monogamy is a misnomer, but it conveys the correct idea. There’s currently about 20 of us, freely sharing sex and love with each other in the group when pairs or triples or other combinations of us have the time and inclination and all consent to whatever specifics we want to get into. Polyamory is similar, but without the hard restriction to stay within a known group.

“Barb and I met up as adults when by happy coincidence, another member of the group who worked with her brought her into the group. There’s a whole vetting process, including everyone currently in the group attending a clothes-on no sex meet-and-greet, to evaluate personality and compatibility along with sexual allure. Once a person clears that, they need to take a comprehensive STI set of tests, which needs to come back clean. Then they’re in the group, but on probation for half a year, and everyone forever has to behave well with others and generally not be an asshole or other form of trouble.

“Once Barb was introduced to the group, her and my friendship blossomed anew. We felt a strong sexual draw towards each other, and became lovers. This was before I had any idea how much John wanted me, and I merely worked with him. So, Barb and I lived together as lovers, and were part of the group, neither of us having sex with anyone outside the group.

“Then stuff happened with John. I fell madly in love with him, far beyond anything I could have imagined, and very fast. And here’s the key point: he and I shared fluids. That automatically removed me from being able to get intimate with anyone in the group, including Barb, since John had not been STI vetted. For awhile it didn’t much matter to me, because I didn’t want to be with anyone other than John, and Barb and I were estranged.

“Then Barb was ready to meet John. It happened, love and sex happened, and now Barb was effectively out of the group, at least as an active participant. The group really wanted us back–”

“–Wanted you back” Barb interrupted.

“Wanted us back. But whichever way, since I was not going to let go of John, what that meant was that John needed to at a minimum pass the group’s STI requirement and maintain strict fidelity with me and Barb, even if he was not going to participate in the group or was not accepted. What actually happened is that Barb and I nominated him to join the group, he was accepted, then all three of us needed the full bank of STI tests—his as an initial set, ours to re-prove that we were still clean, since we’d strayed.

“All three of us remain active in that poly group, which means none of us can share fluids or otherwise do things raising STI risks with anyone outside the group. What this means for us tonight is one of a couple of options. One is that if you join any of us doing sexy intimate things, there cannot be any fluid sharing. Meaning that no matter how lost to passion you become and how much you want to suck face with John, that can’t happen. Same with him licking you. Same with him pronging you without protection. Same with any of those things with Barb or myself. Another option, if you can handle it, is for nothing to happen tonight, and for you to get the bank of group-required STI tests and their results as soon as you can. Assuming you clear that and assuming the three of us can trust you to maintain total sexual fidelity with us only, then any of the three of us can share any consensual sex we wish.”

“What about me and the group?”

“It’s too soon for me to think of nominating you, when I’m just getting to know you. John could, but I would advise against it unless and until Barb and I are on board. If all three of us nominate you together, while that doesn’t guarantee acceptance, it’s a potently powerful indicator that not just one or two members but three existing members all feel strongly that you’d be good for and in the group. Again, this is a far future Maybe, which you’re welcome to consider, but I urge you not to get wrapped up into when you have your work cut out for you ensuring I trust you not to steal John away, and that the four of us might be able to get along as me, John, and Barb have been doing. Every added person tends to destabilize a loving group, so all of us have our work cut out for us if that’s what we truly want.

“Back to the here and now, how would you like to proceed, Jenny? Take off tonight with some great memories and dreams of the immediate future and stay temporarily celibate and get STI tests so there are no limits? Or get into things tonight and hold yourself back from fluid-sharing activities?”

 

Jenny needed several minutes to think about it. It wasn’t in any way an easy decision.


“It crushes me to say this, given how desperate I am for physical love as soon as possible, but I’m going to have to go with leaving you amazing people and getting the STI tests. Given how sexually open John and I were in high school and my powerful memories of that time, it would be too easy for me to get carried away and kiss him out of instinct, momentarily forgetting the passage of decades and the fluid sharing prohibition.”

“Your candor is appreciated” said Tara.

“Don’t be crushed” John tenderly added, placing his hands on her shoulders. “Think of it as the very start of a new beginning, not an end.”

Jenny let out a deep sigh. “I hesitate to ask, not wanting any misunderstanding or in any way to harm possibilities. It would mean a lot to me to repurpose the rings John made for us, for short-term use to help me keep going. I would like to reset their meaning and symbolism as follows: my wearing mine is a symbol of my commitment to you three, and the poly group: no STI activities with anyone—easy, as there’s no one currently in my life—and the promise that I’ll be able to come back to you amazing people once the tests are passed for the love I desperately need. I will ask, but will not require, that John wear his, to complete the circle of promises between the four of us. Is this or something close even remotely possible?”

 

The three residents looked between one another, saying things with their eyes instead of their mouths.

 

“As long as you’re 100% clear that the rings in no way symbolize any sort of renewed monogamy between you and John, I have no problem with it” said Tara.

“Nor do I” said Barb.

“It would be my honor” was John’s response.

“I’m not here for monogamy” Jenny clarified. “That got wiped off the table the moment I realized that John was thankfully not living the truly single-without-anyone life I’ve recently been stuck with. If we had rings for you two and you deigned to wear them, that would be great, and possibly more accurate. Maybe it’s a stupid sentimental request, but those are amazing rings, and it would be nice to have them out of the box, even if only temporarily during this transition. Oh—what happens if any of my STI tests come back with issues?”

“That would be bad” replied Tara. “The upshot would be case-by-case.” She put her hands on Jenny’s shoulders, “If that happens, come talk to us before even thinking about doing anything rash! And just don’t think about doing anything fatally rash, ever!

“OK. So what’s the final word on the rings?”

“Go ahead.”

“You have them?” Barb wondered.

Unsurprisingly, Jenny pulled the double-wide jewelry box out from beneath her breasts, with a half-grin. She opened the box for everyone to see, especially Tara and Barb.

 

Damn!” Barb exclaimed, looking up wide-eyed towards John. “You made those yourself, in high school?!

“Well I made them at home, but yes, it was during my high school years. I’m not even sure that that particular alloy is available any longer.”

Tara was favorably impressed, but not especially surprised, knowing well of John’s fabrication talents. She was more interested in the necklace, which she reached in and picked up, causing Jenny to gasp as though there’d been a violation. Hearing the gasp she set it right back down, apologizing. “Sorry! It’s very beautiful.”

“Everything I’ve ever seen John make has been.”

“Ready for the ring symbolizing commitment to a new life of some sort amongst us?” John asked with a smile.

Very ready!”

 

It felt almost like the first time, when near-senior citizen John Mercer slipped the ring he’d made so many decades ago onto the finger of near-senior citizen former classmate and first girlfriend Jenny Patussi. Her left ring finger was close enough in size to what it had been back then that the ring fit decently well.

“May I please?” she asked, regarding his ring.

“Yes” he smiled.

She had a huge loving smile as she slipped his ring onto his left ring finger. Having not changed much if at all in terms of hand size, the ring fit just fine.

He lifted her hand to his mouth, kissing the ring and nearly making her cry with passionate loving emotion—hardly different from the ring presentation in adolescence. She reciprocated.

“Why couldn’t we have had first loves like this?” Barb asked Tara.

“The path of our lives was different. Never forget for a moment, Jenny: it’s not just John any more. It’s him, me, and Barb—always.”

“Or at least John and Tara, if I’m taking a break, which for me does happen even if it never does with these two.”

 

Jenny closed the jewelry box, putting it back where it had been. Deep hugs were shared all around, then with an equally deep breath, she turned towards the front door and started to leave.

Standing in the doorway, she turned back to say, “Thank you for allowing me to be here tonight, and everything that transpired. You all have saved a life. Goodnight!”


Barb squished into Tara soon after Jenny departed, putting her arm around her. “I’m proud of you for bagging the raging jealousy and being so open to new possibilities.”

“It wasn’t easy.”

John squished into Tara’s other side, adding his arm. “But you did it! I’m profoundly impressed!” he punctuated with a kiss.

“Now you: every time you think about her, even for a moment, you must include me in your thoughts.”

“It’s a rare moment that my thoughts don’t include you.”

Good! Keep it that way. It’s especially important for dreams.”

“Aw come on, Tara!” Barb ranted. “People can’t control their dreams like that! I’ll bet you tomorrow night’s dinner that you have on occasion dreamt of Lou or Linda Lick without including John.”

“We’ll never know” John said. “Until such a time as something can sense and record our raw dreams and turn them into things waking humans can comprehend, dreams remain a private world. Any of us can say anything about them. We might not even remember them as they happened.”

“I’ll know if you’re thinking about her” Tara confidently stated.

“How?”

“You’ll be mindlessly fondling your ring, the way you are right now.”

John’s instant cessation of touching the ring and blush and Barb’s then Tara’s ensuing loud laughter appeared to prove Tara’s point.

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The Fourth Fat Ass

Taking the STI tests then waiting for the results, while probably the most stressful current event in Jenny Patussi’s life, was far from the only one. She remained under pressure to put the rest of her life in some semblance of order, with the current largest pressure being from her sister to clear out everything she had from their parents’ home.

She and her sister had never been close, both from the large age difference and personality differences. Colleen, naturally average to slender in body build and consistency, categorically blamed Jenny for their mother’s premature (Colleen’s opinion) death, disinterested in hearing any excuses from her younger sister. That alone was enough to alienate them. The sex offender status was the final nail in the coffin of their being able to deal with one another amicably. Colleen wanted nothing further to do with Jenny, and wanted her out of the house and her life as soon as possible.

Perhaps out of spite, Jenny stayed in the house several days past clearing everything belonging to her out of her former bedroom. The excuse was that items of hers were scattered around the premises, and she needed to find them all, especially since Colleen was highly unlikely to save any and let her get them if any were left behind. Living several states away and busy with her own life and family, there was little Colleen could do about pushing Jenny out, other than ranting in text and voice messages.

 

It meant a great deal to Jenny that Tara of her own volition placed a friendly call to her to check up with her and ensure she was OK. John and Barb each called other days and times, Barb with brief well-wishes and positivity, John for what turned into more of an in-depth conversation of soul mates.


Availability of the STI test results happened to coincide with the day Jenny was finally ready to forever leave the house in which she grew up. She invited Tara, Barb, and John over for the results reveal, a tour of the house for the women, and John joining her in a final goodbye to a building where they’d shared so many formative things, including a lot of young love and sex.

“Congratulations!” Tara smiled, sharing a hug with Jenny at the front door.

You don’t know yet!

“Your beaming smile tells me that you do, and that there’s no bad news.”

“Get in here all of you, please, and let’s make it official.”

 

She led them over to the otherwise-cleared dining room table, pulling out the results and handing them to Tara, who seemed to be the lead of the threesome in these matters.

 

Tara studied the documents carefully. “Good. Good. Good…. Yes…. Perfect!

She passed them to John, who didn’t need as long to reach the same conclusion. He passed them to Barb, who thought it was silly for her to additionally review them, but did so anyway to keep the others happy.

This time it was John who said “Congratulations, Jenny! As long as you rigorously keep your fluid sharing to us, and maybe some future time to other members of the poly group, we’re all free and clear to share all sorts of consensual physical love!”

She surprised all three of them with her first move, “Permission to kiss you on the mouth, Tara?”

“Ssssure.”

 

The tight hug arms around each other passionate lovers’ kisses threw Tara for a loop. She looked utterly dazed when Jenny pulled away. “Wow!” is all she managed to say.

 

“Permission to kiss you on the mouth, Barb?”

“Bring it” she grinned, opening her arms.

 

Their exchange was even more passionate, with Barb an equal participant in the kissing.

 

“John? Permission to kiss like we used to?”

“Permission granted for anything we used to do, and most likely anything new you’d care to discuss.”

 

Jenny and John’s mutual passionate kisses were on a whole other level. Suddenly they were back where they’d been at Harwether Meadows: picking up right where they’d left off, kissing each other deeply, sensually, passionately, lovingly for all time.

Barb nearly had Tara laughing with her miming eating popcorn and watching.

 

The kisses Jenny shared with each of Tara and Barb lasted perhaps a minute or so. Once those between her and John passed the 5 minute mark, Tara grew uncomfortable. This was no ordinary love, akin to how her own love for and with John went far beyond the ordinary. Her concern of the moment was whether John’s and Jenny’s went further than hers and John’s.

By 7 minutes, she could stand it no longer: she cuddled firmly into the sides of both Jenny and John. Without even breaking lip contact and seemingly without coordination, each of the passionate kissers wrapped their nearest arm around her, easing her in closer. Before she knew it, she was part of a 3-way passionate kissing session!

Barb didn’t even need to see a full minute of that before announcing “Brace yourselves” and squishing into the open side of John and Jenny. The two Js had no trouble repeating what they’d done with Tara, making the event into quite the 4-way kissathon, with piles of front-facing fat flesh squishing together warmly.

 

“Awww, I was just getting warmed up!” Barb complained when the others eased apart, around the 12 minute mark for Jenny and John.

Jenny turned to her, giving her another especially big, loud, smoochy kiss. “There’ll be more where that came from, long as you’re down for it” she assured Barb. “Let’s focus on looking around the modern incarnation of this house in which I grew up, and John and I shared a very active late teenage sex life.”


Seeing the layout of the house and the interior of what had been her childhood bedroom added a whole new set of dimensions to Jenny’s and John’s youthful love story, as related in detail by John to the (at the time) two women he most loved. It was a nice house in a nice neighborhood, but not special enough to justify any of them haggling with Colleen to exchange or upgrade from what they (at least Tara and John) already owned.

Jenny had done an outstanding job finding and claiming anything of hers that she wanted. John could neither find nor suggest a single thing she’d missed.

 

Saying goodbye to the house this final time was bittersweet and wrought with emotions for John as well as Jenny, though more for her. In the hesitant moment of locking up once and for all, with tears streaming out Jenny’s and John’s eyes, Tara whispered to Barb. The two of them were about 10 paces ahead, along the driveway. They turned together to face the tearful couple, arms open wide.

Jenny didn’t know what to think when John suddenly kissed her hand, let go of it, then quickly rushed over to his two existing lovers. Rather than hug them as she’d expected, he positioned himself between them, also holding his arms open wide in Jenny’s direction. “Your future is this way!” he called out over the distance.

Being small supersized and able to run, Jenny ran to them, landing in John’s arms, with Tara and Barb wrapping around at roughly 120° angles from him to give Jenny full immersive hug coverage.

I need you all!” she weakly shared, through her tears of appreciation.


Technically, John’s house, Tara’s house, Model Magicians, Bioteronimo, the communal poly group homes, and John’s and Jenny’s childhood homes were all in the same large metropolis. In a practical sense, they were in different cities, varying distances apart. The childhood homes were furthest, easily 45 miles if not more away from the other locations (themselves often 12+ miles apart) through densely populate areas with heavy traffic.

John didn’t visit his mother (his father had died a few years earlier) often, between the traffic logistics, being busy running his business, and more recently being busy with Tara and Barb. Given that they were in the area, and that it had been decades since Jenny had seen Mrs. Mercer, they decided to all drive over, John + Tara + Barb in their vehicle, and Jenny in hers.


Mrs. Mercer had met Tara twice: first during the initial few weeks she and John had become an inseparable item, then again about 9 months later, which was also the first and only time she’d met Barb.

As was his way, John led the group into the house via his own key, without knocking or ringing the doorbell.

His octogenarian mother was there in the entryway to greet them. She was stunned how much fatter Tara, first to enter behind John, appeared to be. “Welcome back, Tara” she said as they hugged.

“Thank you, Mrs. Mercer. It’s been quite awhile!”

“It has! Have you… put on more fat, the way I recall you said you like?”

“Yes I have, thank you.”

“Hello again, Mrs. Mercer” said Barb, going in for a hug.

She was equally shocked to see Barb even fatter than last time. “Welcome back, Barb. Both of you give amazing hugs. With you, it’s like lying face-down on a pillow-top bed.”

“Thank you!”

“That’s why Tara’s and my pet name for Barb is ‘Pillow’, Mom.”

“Mrs. Mercer! How are you?!”

“My stars! Jenny Patussi!”

The two of them shared a deep hug.

“It’s been decades!” Mrs. Mercer continued. “I don’t think I’ve seen you more than once or twice around town all the years since you and John separated to go to your different universities.” Her face took on a puzzled, slightly confused expression. “Pardon me if this is out of line, but weren’t you fairly slender, and running a health and fitness clinic?”

“Yes I was, for most of my adult life. But then things started to go very, very wrong, leaving me in a very bad place. It’s a long story and I’m not at a point where I’m comfortable talking about it, especially since John, Barb, and Tara have all heard it very recently. The bottom line for now is that my business no longer exists, my body is going to be fat due to a number of factors, and I wish to be at peace living in my again-fat body, now through the rest of my life. Which is really what led me back to John, which I discovered now means Tara and Barb too.”

 

The group moved in to the living room, where Mrs. Mercer had an urgent question, “John: I hate to be rude, but do you think the couch can hold all the weight?”

“I’ll sit on the love seat, Mrs. Mercer” Barb volunteered.

John rushed over to ensure the cinderblocks were in place. “All clear” he smiled at her.

 

Mrs. Mercer served a ** of tea and a bevy of cookies, handing out individual plates then offering the cookie tray around after having poured everyone’s tea. Eventually she claimed her own, and took a seat in a chair facing the rest of them.

“Please none of you think I’m going senile, but I’m very confused. Jenny and John’s high school romance I remember vividly. That, I understand. When Tara amazingly saved my only child and won his and my hearts, their love I understood. Then I was introduced to Barb, made to understand that each of the three of you were lovers of one another—ménage à trois, basically. Wholly outside my personal experience, but I’ve read about it, and you three seemed to be doing it. So now we’re all here today and Jenny’s back in the picture, wearing the commitment ring you made for her and you’re wearing yours. I am completely lost, regarding who’s related to whom and how. I can’t imagine you, John, are dumping Barb, and I don’t think Tara would let you dump her.”

Tara heartily agreed, cuddling into her man deeper.

“I think I can explain, Mrs. Mercer.”

“Please, Jenny.”

“The rings don’t have the same meaning they did when John made them for us in high school. You’re correct that back then, they were monogamy commitment rings. When I recently came back into the picture, all 4 of us re-designated them as group fidelity commitment rings.” She turned to John, “Does she know about the poly group?”

“No” he blushed.

She quickly adjusted her explanation. “Basically the rings represented the commitment that I would be able to come back over to love John and, if we felt so moved, Tara and/or Barb, once my STI tests documented that I’m not carrying any sexually transmissible infections. As I’m sure you know, that’s important with any couple, and becomes more so with each additional person.”

“So… you’re going to be another girlfriend of John’s, in addition to Tara and Barb?”

“That would be my dream, to be able to love John the way he and I did all those years ago, other than equally with Tara and Barb. The three of them are still lovers and friends as they’ve been. My presence remains new, subject to further negotiation and all of us getting along. Indeed I’m projecting my desires—there has been no promise that I might be anything other than a guest in their lives.”

“The three of you on the couch look like you all love one another, and I’m sure if the couch had the room and weight capacity to support Barb as well, that would apply to all four of you.”

“I’ve never seen a love as powerful as that between John and Jenny, other than my own love of John” said Tara. “I agree with everything Jenny said, though as long as she doesn’t try to steal him away from me, I doubt she’ll be very far out of our orbit.”

 

The conversation moved on to other topics. Once the topic of Mrs. Patussi’s death came up and Jenny collapsed into a pile of tears, John urged them all to move things forward to a house tour.


Several years after he first moved out as a young adult, taking all his tools, materials, and completed projects with him, John’s parents reverted his former bedroom into more of its intended use as a family room, other than the large couch folding out into a guest bed, to make it serve as a guest bedroom the house otherwise lacked. History lived again as Jenny went on in glowing detail about where the bed of John’s in which they’d made love and slept together for sleep used to be, where his work table had been, where she stood when he made the necklace, and more. Her detailed descriptions plus their intimate knowledge of John and his work setups (in Tara’s mind especially) made things easy to visualize.

 

On their way out, Jenny had John join her to somewhat re-enact the chubby chaser chase the chubby event. Besides Jenny being fatter and not in proper shoes nor shorts to run, the yard had been re-landscaped in the intervening decades, losing its jungle maze aspect that made the chase so exciting. Jenny’s and John’s descriptions of the foliage and whatnot were colorful and detailed enough to give Tara and Barb a pretty decent idea what it might have been like.


Jenny Patussi struggled to maintain focus on her drive over to John’s, Tara’s, and Barb’s house (legally John’s). Feeling like a giant pit of Need, the possibility of getting many of her most urgent needs met within the hour had her highly excited. She was also worried that she’d inadvertently do something to wreck this chance at love and acceptance she so desperately needed.

 

Both vehicles arrived within half a minute of each other (John’s car leading), allowing all 4 of them to enter the house together.

“Someone’s excited” Tara smiled towards Jenny.

“I feel like I’m about to explode!” Jenny looked it as well.

John wrapped his arms around her, sharing a long, passionate, tender kiss that made her weak in the knees. “Don’t explode, please. What do you most want?”

Sex and validation!

“Would you like an orgy with the 4 of us?”

Yes, but I’ve never done more than one person at a time.”

“We’re pretty easy, I believe. Just ask consent, be clear regarding what you want to do, listen carefully regarding what others want to do and be sure each person understands and consents, and that’s about it.”

 

Notwithstanding her concerns and fears, Tara knew better than to interfere with the extremely intense energy between Jenny and John. Their disrobing one another through a flurry of passionate kisses and hugs almost got her off just watching.

 

“Am I big, John?”

“Yes!”

“Am I beautiful?”

“Yes!”

“Am I one of your women?”

“Yes, I hope!”

 

Jenny was beyond ready. She pulled away so she could turn around and bend over. “My ass is fat again for you, John—for us—all of us! And if I can help it it’s never going to be small nor thin again. Take me!

 

He really didn’t need the verbal invitation. Once he saw her bare bent-over ass, so huge, so wide as it spread with her being bent over, he had no control. He plowed into her, grabbing her fat hips with a firmness just barely safely below bruising level, squeezing and fondling her like his life depended on it.

She was already panting and moaning, so wet, so needing this!

 

Tara hadn’t even noticed Barb taking her top and industrial-strength huge bra off, focused as she was on the white-hot sexual fireworks going on in front of her. Not until she felt Barb’s massive breasts on the side of her head cutting off her hearing did she notice anything beyond John and Jenny sharing some of the most intense sex she’d ever seen.

She took her own top off, pulling Barb into a standing side cuddle. “He’s not thinking about me” she whispered.

No one can think about someone they love every possible moment.

Am I fucking up, letting them have each other?

No. You’re staying safely out of the way of passions beyond this earth. You have them with John too, probably even greater magnitude. Your task is to accept Jenny, and form a love with her that’s as pure and deep as possible. And please, for Gaia’s sake, don’t leave me out!

 

John couldn’t hold back, cumming well before Jenny was ready to let herself go. She was starved for sex—ravenous!

Tara started to make a move towards the couple; Barb held her back. Once Barb had done that, Tara realized her amazing favorite female lover was correct: John wasn’t about to let Jenny down, and they had a long-dormant protocol to address her needs. Not to mention, for Jenny, being and remaining highly aroused was at least as good as release!

He led her to the living room couch, both of them in a cloud. She slouched down and spread. He languorously kissed his way up each of her inner thighs to give her time and space to be wholly excited before plunging his face into her succulent fat vulva.

 

Seeing the intensely passionate licking going on, Tara grabbed Barb’s fat arm, “Lick me now, before I go insane!

Their bottom-half clothes flew off, and that’s what happened. Actually what happened is that Barb licked Smooth and rubbed her nipple against Furry’s clit. The lengthy arousal was delicious!

After Tara’s first orgasm, Barb switched sides.

 

John helped arouse Jenny until she came, over and over and over. She never wanted the ecstasy to stop! She never wanted to go back to a life without John and her as lovers!

 

Now!” Barb softly told Tara.

The two of them cuddled into each side of Jenny and John, rubbing their sexy body parts against the long-separated lovers, who were currently drifting towards afterglow.

You’re saving my life” Jenny softly shared with them.

“Be saved, Jenny” said Tara. “No mere mortal should get in the way of the intense other-worldly love you and John have. Just know that his and mine is at or beyond your level. We have to all be together. There is no other way.”

Barb and Tara took Jenny back to the land of joyous arousal, then eventually through several more orgasmic releases, as John lost himself in all their heavenly love and flesh.


Barb made the sacrifice of foregoing afterglow to make dinner happen.

Tara, Jenny, and John found that positioning themselves with Jenny again sitting in John’s lap and Tara pressed deeply into both their sides from the left (Jenny’s butt end) was what they needed.

I need this” Jenny was barely able to gasp out.

“We know” replied Tara, with John nodding.

I’m unworthy.”

“You’re fine.”

“My life is a shambles.”

“One day at a time. One moment, when necessary. Kiss me, so you know you’re worthy.”

 

The steamy, passionate kiss went on for nearly 2 minutes.

 

“Let’s all enjoy dinner” urged Tara. “One moment at a time.”


Both during and after dinner, the group of 4 retained their pattern: Jenny in John’s lap, sitting sideways with her back facing to John’s left. Tara cuddled into Jenny’s back and John’s left side. Barb cuddled into John’s right side with her and Jenny’s belly fat getting to know each other well, when Barb wasn’t serving. This time everyone was bare, amping up passions as well as fundamental tranquil comfort with one another.

 

After dinner brought serious conversation.

“We know your history” said Tara to Jenny. “Tell us about your life as it is right now, and your projections for the future.”

“Bleak, in a word. No clue regarding a new career. Savings running low. It won’t be long before I can’t afford the mortgage on the property I bought, back when I saw no end to the stable good times with Forever Fit.”

“A house, I take it?”

“Condo. I’d love to be rid of the homeowners’ association. But I need a place to live, and renting makes even less sense.”

“If you could have your perfect future, what would it be?”

“Being lovers with you all and having everything be great between us. Loving John passionately and deeply, because I can’t stop. Learning from and leveraging your and Barb’s experience and wisdom as fat women who enjoy being fat, to find my own way to that place. In my perfect dream somehow living with you all, though I don’t see any physical space for me here, in the bedroom and so on.”

“Let that last part go, for now.”

“I’m so needy and such a resource drain as opposed to a contributor, I can’t imagine how I can possibly be worth anyone’s consideration.”

“I have some ideas, but they won’t work unless you truly love Barb and myself at least 2/3rds. as much as John.”

“All I can think about and feel right now is sexual desire, for all of you.”

“That’s an OK place to start. You’ve already done John, and you’ll be doing him again I’m quite sure. Are you feeling anything for me or Barb?”

“Both. Your body fascinates me. It would be an honor to plant my face into either or ideally both of your fat vulvas, licking you or doing whatever else you want that gives you what you want.”

“Lick me on whichever side you prefer and touch me on the other side at the same time, and chances are we’ll form a loving bond.”

 

Jenny’s intense passionate licking and touch caressing of Tara’s two sides floored her. Suddenly life with Jenny Patussi as a lover was no longer optional. Jenny’s sexing left Tara too drained to move, after her powerful orgasms.

“John?”

“Yes Tara?”

“You’re sharing Jenny with me. Oh my gosh!

“I want some, please” said Barb.

“I love big breasts” Jenny admitted. “I’m going to want to suck your nipples, ideally really hard.”

Barb presented her boobs to Jenny, “Make my day, if you think you can handle all of me.”

 

Yet again, Jenny’s intense suckling aroused Barb more than she could have imagined, leaving her gasping for breath after a couple of powerful orgasms.

“May I lick you down below, please?”

“You may do anything you want, Jenny.”

 

Jenny’s deft work on Barb’s fat mound left Barb reeling. Her kisses on Barb’s fat belly rendered her temporarily immobile.

“I don’t care what you two do” Barb told Tara and John, “Jenny’s my new lover.”

 

Somehow they all four made it into the bedroom, becoming an orgiastic pile of sexy flesh on the bed. Sex and making out continued until the last of them was exhausted. Mutually too worn out to discuss much of anything, they all fell asleep together in their sex pile.


“We need to get another bed in here, to make this one bigger” Barb suggested in the morning, once all four of them were awake.

“Oh I don’t know” replied John. “I think this is perfect as it is.” One reason he thought this was that he was able to kiss some part of each of them without moving hardly at all.

“One moment at a time, please” Tara admonished. She caressed Jenny’s nearest hip, “How are you doing this morning, Jenny?”

“I’m deeply in love with all of you sexually, and I’m quite sure more than that. No question of that with John.”

“How about all the disagreements we used to have?” he asked.

“We were young. I would think it would be less of a problem now, but I don’t have an iron-clad answer for that. My need for what we’re all sharing right now is so deep, I’m having trouble getting past that.”

“Precisely why we’re focusing on this moment in the here and now” said Tara. “Three of us have to get up soon and get ready to go to our two different places of work. What do you have planned for today?”

“My life has few plans any longer. If there’s anything at all I’m able to do to improve my chances of remaining in your lives as close to live-in as possible, that’s what I’m doing. Other than that, I suppose I’ll go home and continue the exercise in futility of figuring out how to find or make a new career, now that I’m out of the home I grew up in and have the major boost of all of your love.”

“Today I don’t think there’s anything in particular you can do to cement yourself in our lives as a live-in. We’re all clear that at a minimum, we each want you as our lover, true everyone?”

Barb and John agreed.

“I submit we all need more time with you before getting into live-in commitments. What I would like is for all of us to meet over at the other house tonight, which for Jenny’s benefit, means the house that I grew up in and now legally own, where Barb and I were living before John came into my life as a lover.”

“The bed’s no bigger over there” noted Barb.

“No it’s not. The point is for Jenny to see the house, be with all of us in a different environment, and know where it is in case she’s looking for any of us and for some reason we’re out of communications, say with a dead mobile device. That and the usual reason of at least one of us being there so there’s a living human presence there. Any objections?”

There were none.

“Jenny: plan on an overnight with us there, very much like this one just now wrapping up.”

She confirmed.

 

It was time for everyone to get up, and the three employed workers to get to work. As with many people, there wasn’t time for a big breakfast, especially having awoken later than usual.

The “goodbye for now” kiss John gave Jenny as they all left nearly incapacitated her, for driving or anything else. She pulled things together and pulled her car out of the way, freeing the exit of John’s and Barb’s vehicles.


“This is nice!” Jenny exclaimed, already thinking that about the location and exterior, and now verbally sharing the observation with her first view of the interior as she entered the house.

“Thank you” Tara smiled, thereafter puckering her lips for a kiss.

Jenny needed no further hint. She embraced and kissed Tara like the new lover she was.

John, standing away from the front door, held open his arms. She rushed to him for some steamy make-out kisses.

Feeling shortchanged, Tara backed her huge butts into Jenny’s, rubbing them back and forth across hers.

Jenny got the clue, bringing Tara into the make-out cuddle and kissing session.

 

“Where’s Barb?” Jenny wondered.

Tara explained, “She’s coming from farther away, and sometimes her work days run long.”

“She’ll be here pretty soon” John was confident.

“Tara: let’s rub our fat butts against John the way you were just doing with me.”

“I’ll soil my pants.”

“Let’s save it for later, when we’re all bare. And let’s save getting undressed until after you get a full property tour.”


Having lived in the house her whole life, Tara had plenty of history to share, making for a fascinating and long tour.

John happily tagged along, sometimes holding doors open or moving things out of the way, especially along foot paths for two gorgeous women too fat to easily see where their feet were about to step.

 

During the tour, Barb arrived home. She had little trouble hearing their voices and catching up with them.

“Hey Pillow” John smiled, deep hugging and kissing Barb.

Tara did the same, then Jenny, with extra-twinkly eyes and delight.

“This is almost like having our own mini polyfidelity group” Barb grinned, once she and Jenny separated.

“So what’s happening for dinner?” Tara asked Barb.

“Beats me. I don’t recall any of us having discussed it.”

Tara sighed with annoyance and resignation. “Sounds like we’re going to have to live the cliché of pizza and beer. Unless someone wants to drive to Szechuan Sizzle or one of our other take-out options.”

“iNom will deliver anything.”

“Too expensive, and I don’t like the attitude of some of their delivery people with their soul patches in their black skinny jeans when they see how fat I am and that I don’t have the newest iPhone.”

“I’d rather not have Asian or fried chicken tonight” said John.

“One of us can pick up a Wimpey’s Snack party pack from Olive Oyl’s” Barb suggested.

“We’d do better ordering 8 of Snarl’s Jaw Jackers” Tara countered. “At least those come on onion rolls.”

“I still think they should’ve hired me for those bikini burger-eatin’ babe ads they ran a few years ago.”

“The lamestream world’s not ready for all the curves you have” John grinned, giving Barb’s belly and nearest breast friendly squeezes.

“I’ll drive anywhere you want and pick up whatever you want” Jenny promised, still desperate to make good with all of them.

“I’d rather not have any of us lose time picking up food which we could instead be using to get to know each other better, and continue our moment-by-moment trial of all loving one another” said Tara. “Would pizza and beer be too awful for anyone?”

“My inhibitions are already so low, I’ll be humping and licking and otherwise sexing all of you all night long, with alcohol in me.”

“Feature!” Barb grinned.

“On a weekend and ideally during daytime, yes” Tara agreed. “On a work night like tonight, not so much.”

“Pizza and tea strikes me as a wholly viable option, which takes close to no time away from all of us being able to interact” John suggested.

 

That’s what they went with. Tara called in the pizza order, then wrapped up the rest of the house/garage/yard/etc. tour.


Seeing the arrival of 4 entirely different extra-large pizzas excited Jenny almost as much as being with her three new lovers. Even more exciting and directly related to both these things was seeing these three lovers take their clothes off (and put protective big towels down on the couches) to eat dinner!

“We’d rather lick errant sauce and oil off each other than remove the stains from our clothes” Barb explained, picking out her first slice and getting settled.

“What about it being hot and burning?” Jenny wondered.

“We avoid playing around or getting into making out in such circumstances” answered Tara.

“Does that mean I can’t sit on John’s lap?”

“Not at all.”

“My turn sitting next to Jenny’s big beautiful butt, please” requested Barb.

 

The meal was delicious, the company sublime. Eating with other fat women whose appetites were at least as big as hers was calming and bonding, helping Jenny’s self-esteem. Doing so bare, sitting on her boyfriend’s lap was stimulating!


Once dinner was over and cleaned up, Jenny was all ready for sex! It didn’t take much to get John stiffened up and able to slip into her when she sat back down on his lap with his favorite view (her ass) facing him. Their cooing and sighs and soft moans as they humped let everyone know how great a time they were having.

Tara was having a far less great time: both sides of her wanted what Jenny was currently getting, and Jenny hadn’t even checked in with her or Barb before claiming John and going at it! Before John got too close to his threshold, she came over and tapped Jenny on the arm. “My turn.”

“But!…”

“You didn’t even ask whether myself or Barb had intentions of boinking with John tonight. Unless you and he are working together for men’s multiples, or you intend to get off but not have him get off so Barb and I can have some of his hardness tonight, you’re being rather selfish.”

Too shocked to say anything or do anything else, Jenny got up off John, who’d softened a bit from the confrontation.

 

Tara had no trouble getting him back up, aiming her rears at him, bending over, and asking “Smooth or Furry first?”

“Smooth first tonight, please.”

When he slid into Tara’s right side as she sat her hugeness down upon him (in the same butt-towards-face position Jenny utilized), John’s body and mind were instantly reminded of the sexual aspects of his and Tara’s essential love bond. He truly, deeply loved Jenny, about as much as Tara. Jenny was fatter than ever, and more excited to get with him and share sex with him than anyone had been for some time, and she’d been only during the pinnacle sex moments of their teenage love life. That being written, Jenny was far, far less fat than Tara, considering just one lower half of Tara for comparison purposes. It was like moving from the seat of a decently comfortable average large compact or small mid-sized car into the ultra plushness of a large luxury vehicle with the highest interior trim level.

 

Jenny could only watch, confused by the conflicting raging feelings coursing through her.

 

Tara had far more recent practice moderating John’s arousal—with his active help, which he automatically gave, based upon his own preference for long spans of intercourse. They gave themselves and each other a good ride of a few minutes, at which point Tara requested changing sides.

It was other worldly to Jenny to watch the only living woman with two full sets of female genitals lift her right set off him, move over a step, then go right back down on him with her other side.

 

Intending to set a precedent as much as enjoy sex, after a few minutes of John and herself pleasuring Furry, Tara invited Barb to have a go. Hoping to emphasize that there were no hard feelings, she put her arm around Jenny in a side cuddle, so they could both stand and watch Barb and John share sex together.

With so many differences major to subtle between each woman’s body, definitely including genitals, it was hard to say whether Barb was the same size, larger, or smaller than Tara in terms of lap-seated facing-away butt-centric sexual intercourse, or if it even mattered. It was easy to say that John was quite hard for, and inside, Barb.

“You feel (gasp… huff) fatter. Your (huff… huff) your ass” he ended quietly.

“Yes I’m quite sure my ass is fatter, along with other parts of me.” One could hear the smile in Barb’s voice without needing to see it on her face. “And since when is ‘ass’ a word that needs to be whispered amongst us? We’ve always used it as a highly positive synonym for entire butts, rear ends, et cetera—especially fat ones, like mine.”

“I– uh– I’m an ass addict!

She looked over her shoulder to share, “That’s one of several reasons I’m delighted to have more fat ass for you to indulge in and explore!” Along with her comment she thrusted longer and harder, fully intending to take his load.

John lost himself in the glory of Barb’s newly-enhanced body, giving her what she wanted as he enjoyed a nice release.

 

“How do I sign up to go all the way with him?” Jenny asked.

“Start by asking all of us if we have any plans along those lines, or at least stating your intent to blow him off before taking actions that lead to that.”

“I’m sorry I can’t do ejaculatory multiples for you all” John pouted.

Tara led herself and Jenny back over to him, caressing him. “You’re fine. You can’t help how you’re made, any more than any of us could help menstruating when we were in that age range, or how I can’t independently control my anal and urinary sphincters independently on each side.”

This was news to Jenny. “You can’t?!”

“No. Which is why I have the special toilets here, at the other house, and at work, and try to arrange my eating and drinking such that the timing of my output happens one of those places.”

“Or one or two others” added Barb.

“Let’s not make things complicated, please.” To Jenny and John she said, “You two go ahead and work out when you can give Jenny what I denied her tonight to make an important point, and otherwise make out and make good. Or three, if Barb wants to join in and you both want that. I need to go shower to be ready for work tomorrow.”

“You don’t want more sex with John tonight?” asked Jenny.

“Not tonight. More tired than horny. Now cuddles and kisses are another matter, and will happen in plentitude.”


Another night of mostly-happily tangled mostly-sleep. Another day of work for John, Tara, and Barb. Another day of struggling with her future for Jenny.

This basic pattern repeated an additional day, bringing the group to their first weekend together as full lovers.

 

The first discussion on Saturday morning was what to do about beds. After sufficient back-and-forth discussion and some measurements, John convinced the others (mainly Tara) that it was indeed possible to fit a second California King-sized bed next to the existing one in the bedroom of the house he owned. They started the process of ordering the custom-made bed from the local manufacturer this same day.

 

After breakfast, they needed to go grocery shopping. Always a big attention-drawing event due to how big and visually attention-drawing Barb and Tara were, having Jenny join them was yet another test of how she might work out as an ongoing member of the household (even though her being so already seemed like a foregone conclusion, at least at John’s house).

“How are we going to split the bill?” Jenny asked, with quite the worried tone in her voice and look on her face. “For that matter, what about me and utilities?”

“One day at a time, sweetheart” replied Tara, giving her quite the lovers’ kiss.

“You’re still in the gray area between guest and resident, and you’ve been financially and otherwise hammered” noted John. “I have enough to cover your costs for now.”

“Even my food?” She moved his hands to her belly and butt to make her point… or was that her round? (rimshot)

Especially your food” he emphasized, both verbally and with squeezes of her fat where she’d placed his hands.

“Let’s get going before the stores get crowded and more people than I can handle want to climb into my cleavage” requested Barb.


Jenny felt a whole lot more like resident than guest and was thrilled beyond belief when the group stopped at a hardware store to have full sets of keys made for each of John’s and Tara’s owned homes, for Jenny. Given that so far she wasn’t working and it might be convenient to have her able to be at either house and come and go therefrom when the rest of them were at work, the incumbent residents thought it made sense.

 

The remainder of the weekend was a pleasant mix of sex, other forms of love, companionship, and doing laundry and some house cleaning together as a chosen family.


During the following work week, Jenny made no progress whatsoever putting her life back together. Indeed, armed with her new sets of keys and alarm codes, she spent as much time as possible between the two homes (mostly the one John owned). Cleaning, washing dishes which needed hand washing, planning and making meals—anything which would keep her from having to face her uncertain future.

The three incumbents agreed amongst themselves that they all had the same new favorite question from Jenny: “What would you like for dinner tonight?”

 

“Hi Barb!” Jenny chirped as soon as Barb arrived home from work Wednesday evening. She came over to share a hug and a kiss. “Dinner’s ready when you are. John and Tara are washing up, having arrived under 5 minutes ago.”

Barb was so happy, she hugged Jenny tightly, giving her a potent kiss in return.

 

She met up with Tara and John on her way into and their way out of the bathroom, stopping them both. “I want this, every work night.”

“What?” asked John.

“Dinner ready and waiting, magically appearing without me having to do anything beyond answer our favorite question.”

“I’m thinking the same thing” said Tara. “If she’s willing to do this day in and day out on an ongoing basis, I submit that she’s found her next career. Please allow me to lead that discussion tonight after dinner.”


What actually happened was that Tara and John had enough time when Jenny was busy in the kitchen serving or clearing plates to work out a team effort discussion.

As usual all of them helped clear the table and clean up the kitchen before all sitting down together to unwind before bed. Yes, table: these past few days when Jenny had made dinner, she served at the oft-neglected dining room table, so that everything would be ready to eat the moment they got home, without having to work the logistics of balancing plates on bellies and where the utensils would go, and so on. The ad-hoc reinforced dining room chairs weren’t the most comfortable things for the women of ultra size, but were able to hold their mighty bulk without all that much masses of ass hanging off the sides unsupported.

 

This was another night where Tara sat her right rear on John’s lap, with Jenny cuddled into him on his right. On this particular night, Barb sat next to Jenny on her right.

“What’s happening with your plans for your future?” John asked Jenny.

She let out a deep sigh. “Absolutely nothing. In all honesty I’ve been playing around here and Tara’s house, cleaning up things I know I won’t mess up, making dinner, and all that. Playing housewife I suppose, to escape reality.”

“How would you feel about that being your new career?” asked Tara.

“At least the food-related parts” John clarified.

Jenny sat there and blinked. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“You have no idea how happy it makes me to come home and have dinner all ready, without my having needed to lift a finger other than maybe telling you what I want if you ask” said Barb. “I have never had that in my life since childhood, and rarely got asked as a child for my preferences. It’s worth it to me to pay some of your room and board to have you do that, if you’re OK doing that every or nearly every working weekday.”

“If you’re genuinely willing to be our homemaker, as I said at least for the food aspects, with cleaning and laundry and anything else being optional and something we can all discuss, the three of us agree that your doing so is a job worth at a minimum covering your basic living expenses living with us, and possibly more.”

“Does this mean… I can live here? As in permanently, ongoing?”

He looked around for any signs of disagreement. Seeing none he replied, “Yes. It may be prudent to keep your condo for awhile, in case we discover that day-in, day-out living together fails to work out in terms of you and any of us.”

“My mortgage isn’t bad, other than when I have no income.”

“Can you rent the place out?” asked Tara.

“I suppose. I’m grateful and delighted for this opportunity, but to be honest, at the moment I’m overwhelmed.”

“Alright, let’s do this” said John. “Assume that you’re going to move in with us and cook for us, and that things will work out. The only make-or-break right now is having dinner for us on work nights when we come home.”

“One or more of the rest of us or all of us will handle meals on weekends” Tara clarified.

“Yes. And by make-or-break, I mean that should be your main focus. If you fall ill or the oven breaks or something else happens, don’t panic—we can work together to work around the problem. Secondarily, go ahead and start moving your belongings over here.”

Where?” Tara demanded.

“We have to see what she has first, and how much there is. We added storage space for Barb’s clothes and whatnot when she joined us, so I don’t see why we can’t do the same for Jenny.”

“Show me where you plan to put another chest of drawers that won’t impede any of your fatass girlfriends from moving around this house.”

 

Even with this detour in the conversation, the upshot was that Jenny Patussi was thrilled to sign on as cook/baker/meal planner and maker for the family!


Emotions ran high, this particular early Saturday morning. The three incumbent lovers had a special surprise for Jenny.

“Is your necklace handy?” John asked Jenny, soon after each of them completed their upon-waking morning routines (using the toilet, etc.).

“Yes. Is this… symbolic of anything?”

“Highly.”

 

She rushed off to get the double-wide jewel box, rushing back to the bedroom and atop the new linked double California King-sized beds equally fast.

 

“Open the box, please” John requested.

Overwrought with emotions, Jenny didn’t question what was happening.

“Please hand the necklace to Tara.”

Wholly at a loss as to what was happening and somewhat upset that Tara would be handling her necklace, Jenny complied.

Tara smiled, holding up a small silver pendant.

At first glance, it was hard to tell that it was anything other than an odd-shaped hunk of silver with a loop to attach to a thin jewelry chain. Looking more closely, it was a representation of three thighs with two fat vulvas between them, the one on the left smooth, the one on the right hairy.

“This symbolizes me, and the love you and I share, now and hopefully forever more. Do I have your permission to add it to your necklace?”

Yes!” Jenny exclaimed, gushing tears of overwrought joy as the symbolism started to become clear to her.

Tara slid her pendant onto the chain, all four of them watching it slide down and come to rest to the left of the caged marble. She handed the necklace to Barb.

Barb held up another silver pendant, this one very obviously being a pair of big fat breasts, with prominent erect nipples. “This symbolizes me, and the love you and I share, from before now hopefully to eternity. Permission to add it to your necklace, please?”

“Yes please!

Down it went, bumping into the caged marble on the right side, opposite Tara’s symbolic vulvas, pelvises, and thighs.

Emotional intensity blanketed the room as all together as one John, Tara, and Barb reverently placed the necklace around Jenny’s neck, with John being the one fastening the clasp.

In pre-arranged synchronization, the three incumbent lovers said, “You are our girlfriend, and we are your” John saying “boyfriend” and Tara and Barb saying “girlfriend” atop one another. “Welcome to the family, Jenny!”

Jenny broke down, hugging and kissing each of them frenetically and unceasingly as tears of joy gushed from her eyes, for an entire half hour.

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Four Is So Much More

None of Barb, Tara, nor John could have imagined how much better their lives would be with Jenny as their peer lover and life partner. It was wholly counterintuitive that adding another person to the mix would make things better, but that was the reality of what happened. Jenny was a truly happy homemaker, undaunted by keeping two households running in tip-top shape. The profound relief of not having to stress over finding a new paying career made laundry and light cleaning fun. True, she wasn’t so much into heavier cleaning and maintenance, but that was no problem at all for the rest of them: they did that work together on weekends, when needed.

Renting her condo proved not worth the effort. Integrating her belongings between the two homes (John’s and Tara’s owned) took some time, though in the end it worked out far better and less disruptively than Tara had imagined. Jenny didn’t make as much selling her condo as she’d hoped, but it was now wholly out of her life and she was mortgage-free and debt-free.

Still sometimes uncomfortable living what she considered a life of blissful leisure whilst her three lovers worked in paying careers, Tara, John, and Barb each individually and together repeatedly assured Jenny that what she was doing as a homemaker and especially as their cook/baker was a career, for which they were delighted to cover all her living expenses in lieu of a paycheck.

 

Jenny’s favorite part of her new gig (besides being a lover to three amazing people!) was everything related to food prep. She came to love grocery shopping, meal planning, and everything else related to making meals happen. The rest of them encouraged her to spend as much time as she wanted on this, and let other housekeeping (except laundry) slide.

It wasn’t long at all before Jenny wound up eating most of the day, testing recipes, sampling ingredients, and just enjoying food and her free home life. It was inevitable that she fattened, and not just a little bit. By herself she likely would have been OK with this. With the very clear encouragement of all three of her lovers, she made eating happily and often ever more a part of her every weekday life, with joy.

 

“You’re spoiling us, making meals on weekends” Tara told Jenny, in truth blissed out being able to sit there and have Saturday brunch appear with no effort on her part.

“No, I want to!” Jenny insisted, swaying ever more fatly with a big smile as she delivered a platter of homemade Chinese pork dumplings with a new variant of a dipping sauce, combining soy, traditional barbecue sauce ingredients, and touches of sriracha.


One change in the life of the Mercer/Pelvig/Bloom/Patussi family related to the incorporation of Jenny into the family was that Jenny was all about family. She pretty much insisted that all of them visit John’s mother more than once every year or two.

On this particular day, all 4 of them rode in John’s car, with the newly beefed-up truck-grade suspension and braking system, able to carry and stop up to a one ton payload. Jenny and Barb were happily cuddled into one another in the back seat, with John as the driver and Tara up front filling most of the front bench seat as she always did.

 

Mrs. Mercer was delighted to see them. As usual, she was stunned how each of the women were visibly fatter—Jenny especially, since her fat gains were the greatest.

They all sat down together, with a huge ** of tea and lots of cookies.

“Am I correct that John at least has Jenny as an ongoing girlfriend again?” Mrs. Mercer asked the group.

“Jenny’s each of our girlfriend” Tara explained, “as we are hers, with John as her boyfriend, of course.”

“You’d better not alienate any of them, John, otherwise the palimony will bankrupt you.”

 

The three women exploded into intense laughter, all leaning into him.

 

“Thanks for working with me to get the new heavy-duty couch, Mom.”

“I do like to see you all, you know.”

“That’s why I made them come over here with me today!” Jenny proudly crowed.

It was John who’d specced, paid for, and had delivered the custom 3 meter wide (or long) couch, with the 8 stylish heavy-duty weight-bearing feet, wide enough to not mar the floor when a literal U.S. ton of flab (or anything else) impinged upon the floor through said feet. Tara and Jenny were closest to John, with Barb (seated next to Jenny) having enough sexy width for her breasts to make contact with John when she leaned past Jenny in his direction.

“I see all four of you are now wearing matching rings.”

“To my surprise and delight, I found I still had the pattern documents from when I’d made Jenny’s and mine. Using today’s closest equivalent to the alloy I used back then, it was straightforward to make rings for Barb and Tara.”

“It made my day” said Jenny. “I very much didn’t want to take my ring off, and with my beautiful new sweethearts now having their own matching rings, John and I didn’t have to.”

“No one feels shortchanged not having gemstones?”

“Actually Mrs. Mercer, these high-tech aluminum alloy rings are more precious than any gemstone” replied Tara. “Anyone with money can go into a store and buy a beautiful ring with whatever gems they like, and yes, from a raw economic standpoint, those would be of greater value. No one in the world has rings like ours, because John made them for us!”

“I’m not a ring nor commitment person” Barb shared. “Yet this one I get to wear is so unique and special in its significance and, as Tara said, made personally by John, it means a great deal to me. I don’t ever take it off, unless it or myself would be at risk with me wearing it.”

“This alloy readily withstands water and many environmental contaminants with no issues” he proudly explained.

Jenny exuded sincerity towards Mrs. Mercer as she said, “When the rest of them are at work, I often look at and touch my ring, thinking about them, hoping they’re having good work days, grateful for their love and all of us being integral to each other’s lives.”

 

All of them enjoyed some more cookies and tea.

“Permission to ask a question of curiosity, with no offense meant” said Mrs. Mercer.

Each of them responded with their own variant of “Of course” or “Sure” or similar.

“Jenny, you look a lot fatter than last time you were here. Unless I’ve totally misunderstood, Barb and Tara enjoy being fat and getting fatter. Then there’s you, and your former career with Forever Fit. I remain quite confused, reconciling your former life with what I think I’m seeing of your current one.”

Jenny shifted around in her seat, not quite squirming. “It’s not a short answer.”

“I have time if all of you have time.”

“Here’s the thing: everybody’s different. Barb has been fat her whole life, and from what she tells me, has no regrets.”

Barb nodded.

“Tara was always accused of being fat even though she wasn’t, so she got the fat hate just from having a unique near-double lower body. Then later she got fat, and people’s perceptions hardly changed. True?”

Tara nodded.

“I was fundamentally unhappy being fat when I broke up with John, only being good being fat when I was with him, and we couldn’t stay together at that time. I have no regrets—zero—having found a path via exercise and a mostly well-structured open-ended diet to an average-sized body. I loved living in that body, and all of my life at that time, at least in the early decades—no regrets. Some people who discover the joys of fatness wish they’d known earlier. Not me. I truly was happy as I was. There are and were all kinds of privileges to living life in an average-sized body, and I partook of as many of them as possible—no regrets.

“We now live in a very different time than when John and I were in high school. Irrational and ignorant fat discrimination still exists. What’s different is that there are many venues for support as a fat person, and fat people—at least women—are now more widely considered as desirable: beautiful and sexy. There are young women graduating from university or college making careersout of being fat and getting fatter, showing it all in pictures and videos, doing one-on-one chats and custom videos and pictures for paying customers.”

This was startling news to Mrs. Mercer.

“Others who aren’t into that or don’t want to take things that far still have plenty of attractive and, if they wish, sexy outfits that I never had back in the day. They go about their lives without hiding any of their fat in shame, as though being fat is totally normal and wonderful. If I truly wanted to, I could take things down to at least plump. If I worked super hard, I might be able to get back to close to the body I had most of the years I ran Forever Fit, up until the end. I’m not interested in any of that. I had the honor and pleasure of living like that for decades.

“This is a new era, and what my body has naturally always tended to be is now in fashion. I’ve told John, Tara, and Barb that I resent not being able to live in our current time as a 20-something, making money doing web modeling with my fat body, or if not that, being widely celebrated as beautiful as I am. The least worst I can do is be a happy, proud BBW late middle aged or young senior woman, which I consider myself to be, and need John’s and ideally also Tara’s and Barb’s ongoing love to be.

“Barb hates it when I say this, but sometimes I feel sorry for her, having only known the fat life. I’ve known both fat and average-sized. Very, very different experiences—at least for me. In this new age where I’m not automatically a pariah apart from John and his desires and needs, it’s fun being fat! I have vastly more clothing options, including what I’m wearing today. With a bit of work, I can find medical care where they respect me and don’t automatically attribute any problem I might have to my fatness. Once I started becoming fat again, I was reminded how extremely sensual it is—something I did not realize back when I was a teenager, attributing a lot of those feelings to John and his love. To be sure, that is one strong aspect of the sensual feelings, but this time around I’ve learned that I have them from being fat and living life in my fat body, apart from anyone else.

“Beyond being a sensual woman, I’m a sexual woman: I have a strong sex drive—far stronger now than when I was younger. I did not used to be attracted to fat nor fat people, but I am now, including fat on myself. For me, being fat makes sex so much better, I wouldn’t voluntarily go back. So many more sensual surfaces to be rubbed and caressed, leading to arousal. Too much information?”

“No. Just struggling to reconcile what you’re telling me with what I read and see on TV.”

“A great deal of what you read and see on TV is funded by the diet-industrial complex” said John.

“Very well. I trust the experiences of people I know and deal with in-person over printed and talking heads who are strangers to me any time. What I still don’t understand is how the pleasures you mention justify carrying around all that fat weight all the time.”

“It’s not bad. Did you know that Tara and Barb and to a lesser degree myself are all super athletes?”

“How is that?”

“We’re weight lifters, carrying around our weight every moment of every day and night.”

 

Mrs. Mercer paused to contemplate. “That’s logical.”

“We’re not just all fat” Barb noted. “We have more muscle and bone and nerves and everything else.”

“That makes sense. I still don’t fathom the upsides of carrying around all that fat overcoming the downsides, but that’s just me.”

“Have you ever been fat, Mrs. Mercer?”

“Not anywhere near the scale of what the three of you are doing. I had my pregnancy weight and much larger milk-filled breasts after giving birth to John, of course.”

“What was your experience of that?”

“It was all about raising a healthy child.”

“Nothing beyond that?”

“Well… John’s father and I did have some fun with him suckling my milky breasts, once John was in bed and done for the day” she shared, blushing.

“That’s very common you know, Mrs. Mercer” said Tara. “There’s a whole world of people into adult nursing intimate interpersonal relationships, and adult breast feeding.”

“My stars! What an amazing world we live in! But you all are happy carrying around your big breasts, even though you’re not producing milk? Or are you?”

John’s girlfriends laughed as he pretended to play with his nonexistent breasts.

“You who have breasts” Mrs. Mercer corrected, with a tone of annoyance as though it should have been obvious.

“None of us are making milk” Barb clarified. “Most of ours consist of fat. Did Mr. Mercer like playing with your pregnant body?”

“Yes” she blushed anew. “If my body had been willing, it’s likely John would have a sibling roughly 9 months younger. I can almost understand the attraction for a married couple in terms of bearing children, but it mystifies me what the fat attraction is without that.”

John stood up. “Mom, why don’t you come sit here where I’ve been sitting and feel what it’s like cuddled between Jenny and Tara?”

“Are you two OK with that?” she asked.

“Please come over to share some hugs, Mrs. Mercer” Jenny urged.

“We’re built for cuddling” added Tara.

 

Mrs. Mercer had no trouble moving over and sitting between Jenny and Tara. Relaxing was more of an issue.

“Just take a deep breath and enjoy” suggested Tara.

“I don’t want to mindlessly touch either of you inappropriately.”

“Where would you like to touch us?”

“Your fat fascinates me.”

{Just like your son} Tara thought to herself. To Mrs. Mercer’s shock, she pulled out her belly. “Feel mine skin-to-skin, so you’ll know.”

“Oh I know what this is like” she commented as she accepted Tara’s offer. “I had a round little fat belly after John, for several months. Same way I know what Jenny’s breasts—oh, you’re softer!” she exclaimed, after reaching over to gently squeeze Jenny’s nearest breast. “You two are so warm, and it’s so comfortable sitting here between you!”

“Stay there awhile, Mom. Hopefully you’ll better understand how they heal me and make my life worth living.”


“No Linda, we’re not going to abandon you all” Tara assured Linda Lick over the phone. “We do have someone new in our lives and, like John, she’s had a rough go of it, so for now we need to focus on our immediate family.… She’s already passed the group’s STI tests and is 100% exclusive with us.… Thank you for understanding. Please let everyone else know that we’ll be back when we can.”


Not just Jenny’s, but all four of the Mercer/Pelvig/Bloom/Patussi family members’ lives were as close to pure bliss as happens in the real world. Evening meals became not just dinners, but feasts! The food was great, and all of them enjoyed fattening. Even John was getting slightly soft!

 

In the same way John most preferred taking a woman from behind either in her vag or sandwiched in her crack (as she preferred on the given occasion) and how he couldn’t resist a bent-over curvy fat ass aimed his direction, Jenny had a very clear preference: she was as addicted as he was to fat mounds, by any name. Given the chance she’d always plant her face in Barb’s and either or ideally both of Tara’s, licking, nuzzling, kissing, and so on until they’d had enough (because she herself never had enough!). Sitting cuddly close and working a nice fat muff with her hand was about as good.

She and Tara had a very special sex act they shared which they both loved, especially when they wanted to sit and talk with one another, or just sit with one another. Jenny would set up a seat leg distance in front of Tara. She’d sit down, raising both legs, using her big toes to work her way under Tara’s belly into each of Smooth and Furry, playing with her clits. At the same time, as both her outer legs rested on the floor as usual when seated, Tara would raise her middle leg and work her way into Jenny’s vulva, rubbing her clit with either of her big middle foot toes, sometimes running all her middle foot toes across Tara’s nub, or penetrating her. Hand caresses of their lover’s calf(ves) or, reaching further over, thigh(s) often accompanied. Clit Footsie as they called it was an extremely arousing and bonding sex act they shared often!

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Whole Family Polyfidelity

FFFFFFPPPPTTTTTTTTT! blasted out of Sheila Portola’s neck opening, as she gave herself a loud boob blowfish to get everyone’s attention. She indeed succeeded, with peals of laughter rolling through the poly group. “Quiet down tiddies—I mean kiddies! Your favorite fatties besides the Licks have someone new they want us all to meet. Let’s please turn our attention to lead presenter and inviter John and co-inviters Tara and Barb.” She motioned for them to come out.

As always, not all of them could fit through the archway at the same time. Tara came through first, moving to house right. Barb followed, moving to house left. There was just enough room for John and Jenny to pass through together, hand-in-hand, standing in the center.

“Everyone: I’d like you to meet my first girlfriend ever, my high school sweetheart, Jenny Patussi.”

“Wait wait wait. Didn’t you run Forever Fit, Jenny?–”

“–Hold all questions until after the introduction, please” Sheila interrupted.

“But the whole group might want to know, especially if there’s a question of credibility” Janet Knight continued.

“We bring that up after the introduction, alright? Then if there’s an issue, we all communicate about it before moving the acceptance process forward.”

“May I speak to her point, please?” asked Jenny.

“Sure.”

“I did run a health and fitness clinic under the name Forever Fit for several decades, dedicated to helping fat women be less fat, and most of all, healthy. The program was basically sound, and did work. Not being an MD, there was an error in my protocol whereby if a person left active participation in the clinic and stayed on the diet and failed to keep up with weight-bearing exercises, osteoporosis could be a problem. This error killed my own mother and in addition I lost several lawsuits related to this issue, so I think I’ve suffered enough for that mistake of the past. I used to be fat when John and I dated in high school, then slimmed down through my university years and afterward, as I developed and refined my protocol, based upon the information out there in that pre-Internet time. I remained average sized for several decades, and helped many women.

“Then a series of life events including the lawsuits, declining enrollment in my business as being fat became more acceptable and popular, my mother’s death, and having to go on a course of Prednisone left me fat again. I closed down Forever Fit, helping the few still with me transition to self-sufficiency or other similar programs still in operation. Flailed, remembered John’s and my high school romance, reached out to him. Through a long series of events, he, Tara, and Barb accepted me into their lives as a friend, companion, and lover on an equal basis with what the three of them were doing, only after I had this group’s approved battery of STI tests. I have had no contact at all with anyone besides the three of them from before the tests through this moment. Whether or not you accept me into your group I will continue to abide by group policies so the four of us can remain lovers and the three of them may resume participation here with you in this group. My polyfidelity/polyamorous experience does not go beyond this past 10 months with John, Tara, and Barb.

“The basic Forever Fit program is sound and works, when the diet is modified for more calcium-rich and protein-rich foods, and when participants continue exercising. It was no longer something I wanted to pursue for myself. Thanks to my three lovers, I’ve rediscovered the joys of fatness in this current era where it’s far more acceptable to be a BBW than it was in high school. I’m enjoying being fat, and intend to stay this way. Thank you for letting me say my piece. Now back to our moderator or John or whomever.”

Sheila motioned towards John to continue.

He pressed into Jenny from behind, placing his hands on her shoulders. “This woman is someone it will be an honor for any of you to know, on whatever level. Intelligent, friendly, attractive, and unforgettable in terms of sex when there’s a strong mutual attraction. She and I were legendary amongst our high school class for being the only ones known to have a parent-approved underage ongoing sexual IIR—both pairs of parents. We openly slept together—as in sex—at her parents’ house in her bedroom and my parents’ house in my bedroom. If anything she’s even better at love and sex as an adult. Those of you with fat genitals are on notice that, given the chance and consent, she’ll be all over what you have. I don’t know that there can be any higher praise than that none of myself nor Tara nor Barb are willing to let her go, enjoying a far richer life with our own mini polyfidelity group at home amongst the four of us. All three of us present Jenny Patussi to you for your serious consideration as a member of our group.”

“Thank you John and Jenny. Let’s all move into the meet-and-greet portion of tonight’s program. If anyone has something else so unbelievably compelling that I in my sole determination as tonight’s hosting moderator believe it will be more efficient to discuss as a full group, I’ll blowfish my boobs again. Otherwise, ask Jenny anything you want one-on-one, or in small or not-so-small groups.”


Everything went stellar during the meet-and-greet.

Jenny’s application hit a snag during the background check when her sex offender status came up. Barb, via the online discussion group the group members used for internal communications, went on a tirade against the lying twerp who framed Jenny, urging all group members to investigate the background of Reece Divens and her mother Kay. Once they found a tax fraud conviction against her mother and pandering charges against Reece resolved via a plea bargain, the group agreed with Barb’s frame-up interpretation. The names and photos of the two Divens women were added to the group’s categoric exclusion list.

The strong recommendation from three beloved group members in good standing plus Jenny already having had STI tests and having already been following group protocols led to swifter-than-usual approval, notwithstanding the background check snag.


In no way tired of her three lovers, Jenny’s primary motivation for joining the polyfidelity group was helping ensure Barb, Tara, and John remained connected to it. She would’ve been fine having them lavish all that attention on each other and her rather than (other) members of this group, however over their months of living together, it became clear that this group had been an important part of all three of their lives—one they wanted to continue to have in their lives. Everything had been going great between the four of them, and she didn’t want to mess that up!

Once she joined her three live-together lovers for her first actual bare for-sex group meet-up, all that changed. Intellectually she understood the concept of how it worked. Presented in the moment with a bevy of bare people, many of them attractive to her, with whom she was free to get with for whatever forms of intimacy they mutually agreed upon, she was like a kid in a candy store. She happily took more different cocks into her mouth and vag, and vulvas into her mouth, and mouths into her own that day than cumulatively over the entire rest of her life. The Licks especially appealed to her, with Linda becoming an instant friend, via their shared love of genital licking and both being SSBBW. She was thrilled to know that they and Tara had been besties for decades, and that they’d be getting together between group meet-ups.


“When are we going over to the group house again?!” Jenny excitedly asked her three live-together lovers.

“I dunno” said Tara. “I guess the next time we all four have time and want to go over.”

“How about the Licks?!”

“Same with them” replied Barb.

“We should probably go over in a couple of weeks, if nothing else” Tara suggested to her.

John eased Jenny into a hug, “You know, you are a full member of the group, in good standing. You’re entitled to go to the communal homes during open hours or visit the Licks or anyone else in the group who invites you to their home once you let your interests be known, whether we’re with you or not. So as long as you’ve got the meal of the night covered, you could go over when we leave for work, play a few hours, then come home and make dinner happen.”

 

Jenny had no idea how horny she was and how she hungered for sexual diversity until she took John’s suggestion. She made many at the group homes very happy, and the now working-part-time Licks extremely happy.

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Consolidation (Epilog)

John Mercer slowly lumbered towards the wide reinforced chaise lounge chair next to Lou Lick. The chair groaned mightily as his 696 pounds slowly impinged upon it, during the slow, wobbly process of getting himself reclining as Lou was.

“Great day to be fat, eh John?” said Lou, grabbing a hunk of John’s nearest hip and shaking it.

Every day is a great day to be hugely fat, Lou!” he replied, woggling some of Lou’s sagging upper arm fat.

 

6 years after Jenny Patussi was accepted into the polyfidelity group and well over 7 since she’d become the 4th. fatass and last name in the Mercer/Pelvig/Bloom/Patussi household(s), many things had changed for many in the group, and all of them in what had been their foursome family.

All of Jenny’s amazing cooking and baking plus spending more time with the Licks and other foodie/fatter members of the poly group led to all of them gaining. Initially it was only Jenny and John showing much fat gain, since Barb and Tara were already so far out into the ultrasize realm, their bodies didn’t seem to have more to gain. Back then John still didn’t eat anywhere near as much as the rest of them and remained more active, making his gains moderate. Jenny absolutely blew up, easily packing on at least 60 pounds each year.

 

What really turned their world on its head was a series of discoveries in disparate fields at Bioteronimo and elsewhere, some going back many years, synthesized into an experimental protocol for a highly off-label use.

It had been known for at least a decade that the human intestinal microbiome had a huge influence on how fat a person was or was not. Recent research for curing obesity was yielding results in terms of how to shift the biome to eliminate excess fat storage. It wasn’t long before the scientists and medically trained members of the fatlovesex community figured out how to flip things around to get the opposite result, for those who were not fat and wanted to be. This close to guaranteed fatness, but not at all where the fat would be deposited, which as usual would follow the person’s DNA pattern and hormones.

Bioteronimo’s contribution, still in the late research stages, related to cell signaling, in a manner akin to hormones, but not acting as known hormones did. It still wasn’t known with certainty whether the under-development compounds were overriding the DNA’s signaling as a form of persistent hormone, or locally altering DNA. What was known was that it was currently possible to signal certain changes and have those changes stick, then replicate as cells were born and died during their normal life cycles. Human adipose cells were some of the better-studied, in part due to their available abundance for research. They could be turned on and off reliably, with less reliability in terms of area of coverage.


About 3 1/2 years earlier (2 1/2 years after Jenny joined the poly group), Barb and Gretchen were having one of their spontaneous playful moments in the lab. They’d been getting more daring over the years, and on this day, they each shoved their hand down the other woman’s pants between the plackets of their white lab coats, executing a muff grab that would make a certain ex U.S. President proud. What they neglected to consider in their spontaneity was that the gloves that each of them were wearing were contaminated with dust of some of the “adipose On” variant of the compound.

“We’d better go wash up, huh?” Gretchen suggested.

“Go ahead. It’s so little and applied topically, I can’t imagine it’ll do anything. Besides, I quite like the tingling sensation.”

Gretchen decided she liked it too.


The following morning, the first words out of Gretchen’s mouth for Barb when they started working alone together in their lab were, “We should’ve washed up.”

“Why?”

“My entire vulva is swollen, not just where you touched. Same with my inner thighs. Don’t you have something like that? Or would you not notice?—and you know I know what you’re into and don’t mean that to be mean.”

“Mound and belly, which you grazed on your way down, are bigger. It’s not swelling, it’s fat.”

What?!

“Think about what we’re testing. That was A On yesterday. Go ahead and feel the consistency of your ‘swelling’. I’ll wait.”

Gretchen did, not happy with what she felt. “Holy fuck! I gotta get some A Off on there!”

“Good luck getting any. That’s not on our test matrix this week.”

“Shit!”

“Now what you could do, and what I’m going to do, is let things be and document the changes. Live with a fat mound or at least vulva and maybe thighs for a week or so until A Off is on our matrix, then repeat the process with that to revert.”

“How do you know it works like that?!”

“I don’t, nor does anyone else for sure. That’s the current theory. We’ll be contributing to science.”

“We’ll be contributing to our own termination!”

Barb threw her hands up, “Do what you want. We accidentally wound up starting an off-matrix experiment yesterday, and I intend to intentionally carry it forward, with greater precision.”


The following Monday, Gretchen had a big, soft wobbly body part at the apex of her legs when she arrived at work.

“Lookin’ good, Gretch.”

She sauntered up to Barb, taking Barb’s not-yet-gloved right hand and placing it on her brand-new fat mound, then moving it to her nearest soft, thicker thigh.

“Niiiice!”

“If it stops, maybe.”

“A On just signals the adipose cells active, as you know. It doesn’t control amount of activity on those cells.”

“Yeah, that’s the intestinal microbiome, and I’m not messing with that!”

“You and I and everyone else mess with it every day, via the combination of everything we eat and drink, plus I’m sure some environmental effects. Really what it means is to the degree you might get fat from so-called overeating or whatever, the fat might preferentially land on your beautiful new fat mound and your thighs, rather than where it would usually land before the experiment.”

“I don’t need any more! I’m already getting stares.”

“Stares schmares. How does it feel?

“I got off twice this morning before work, feeling it” she blushed.

“There ya go! Biochem for the win!”

If it stops. You have the advantage that yours is hidden. What’s happening on you?”

“Come feel.”

 

Gretchen didn’t have to feel: Barb’s mound was visibly fatter by mere observation, by a significant amount—probably 4 times the size of Gretchen’s growth. She felt it anyway. “Fuuuuck!

“I won’t be applying any A Off” she smiled.

“I’ve been thinking since you mentioned this being an experiment last week: how are we going to report our testing without getting canned for flagrantly violating testing on humans protocols and playing with proprietary products still in early development?”

“Haven’t figured that out yet. Capture the scientific data as completely as possible as scientists now, play politics later.”


The following week, Gretchen had Barb apply A Off in as close to the same concentration and positions as with the A On, again using a contaminated glove to minimize the number of variables. The only real difference was Gretchen not jerking away playfully, leaving Barb to do a slower wipe across her thigh. Both of them were highly interested in what the results would be.

 

A day later: no change.

A week later: no change. If anything, Gretchen’s muff mound and thighs were slightly fatter.

“So much for the reliable switching of adipose cells” Gretchen sighed. “The A On worked great. The A Off, not so much.”

“Testing up until now has been in vitro” Barb answered. “We jumped directly to in vivo, which might not be working the same.”

“Goody for us” she sighed again, with resignation.

 

There was another batch of A Off going through for testing, so they tried that, again with the same application method and a very slightly higher measured dose.

 

Same results: A day later: no change, or slightly fatter.

A week later: no change, or slightly fatter.

 

Gretchen had more reason than ever to watch what she ate, now that she had a bright round-ish beacon of bobbling crotch fat where lots of people (esp. people attracted to women like her) tended to look. It was a very nice fat muff and felt exceedingly good to her, but it did look out of place unless she tried to hide it between her now-thick thighs. Besides the hiding not truly working unless she was bent over, if she did manage to do it whilst walking, the delightful friction would get her off, leading to a whole different issue for out in public. It was easier and not quite as attention-grabbing to let it bobble around and have some people stare.

She did go on a trusted, sane weight-loss diet for gradually losing small amounts of excess fat in a healthy manner. Indeed, her mound and thigh fat diminished, even if they didn’t get close to reverting all the way to how she’d been before the start of the experiment.

Jenny was saddened by the reduction of Gretchen’s fat mound, with other group members mourning the lessening of her thigh softness (which they’d found to be very sexy and comfortable). But it wasn’t any of their bodies, so they wisely (other than Jenny) kept their opinions mostly to themselves.

 

Jenny’s sadness over what was lost on Gretchen was more than compensated by what was gained on Barb. Having so much more of Barb down there to plant her face into was a dream come true! The tough part was Barb not being able to explain how nor why the sudden change happened, having to claim “It’s just one of those things”.


“I wish I knew what it was like to live with a huge fat curvy ass, the way you all do” John sighed one night, about two months after Gretchen and Barb’s originally unintended experiment. “I mean, I’m getting into having some belly and the mini moobs even though I’m not a boob man just so I have something, but… I can’t help dreaming.”

“What do you call this?!” Tara retorted, grabbing and woggling his penis. “I would love to have one of those, all fully functional like yours! We’ve been over this before: all of us have gifts others of us don’t have. We all share our gifts and let each other and our other group lovers play with them, as well as playing with ours ourselves.”

“I know, and I don’t mean to be selfish, but the imagination wanders. Heck, if there were any way to control where the fat went, I’d be into having a man’s fat ass, if I couldn’t have a woman’s curvy one. I’ve seen men like that so it should be possible for a genetic male, even if not for me.”

“I can relate” said Jenny, cuddling her huger-than-ever butt into his back—as big as Barb’s now, with rounder buns and more prominent hips. “Given how much I love fat mounds, the way John loves fat asses, and how Barb and others have dreamy ones, I often wish mine would get fatter. I mean it isnicely fat and I appreciate every bit of it, but it’s not an outlier like hers is becoming.”

 

Crazy, insane ideas had been flowing through Barb’s mind during most of this restful nighttime before sleep in-bed discussion. She had many things to contemplate, and dreams of her own.


The crazy, insane ideas nagged Barb for an additional two and a half months, routinely showing up in her nighttime sleeping dreams. Over that time, the ideas bouncing around in her mind seeking clearer form gradually seemed less crazy and insane, and more necessary.

She did a great deal of research, much of it at home, often bare with one or more and often all of Jenny, Tara, and/or John cuddled into/onto her. One such typical night as she researched in bed, Jenny contentedly rested her head on Barb’s very fat mound (and by proximity, some of her belly fat) whilst John restfully pressed his gennies into her crack, with Tara lying partially over John and Jenny, claiming Barb’s left breast as a pillow. When asked about what she was doing, she evasively replied, “Homework for work”.


Eventually Barb had a plan, one which she deeply believed would make her favorite lovers happy beyond their wildest dreams. It was a risky plan… dangerous, even. All her research had been about minimizing risk and maximizing positive results, but the whole thing was a grand experiment.

 

She spoke with her 3 live-together lovers, and separately with the Licks and several others in the group. In each case, it was difficult to get them past their extreme initial excitement to rationally contemplate the hard reality of what she was proposing.

The excitement never died down for any of them, with each of them on the spectrum between politely inquiring (Lou Lick, Tara) and badgering (Linda Lick, and especially Jenny) regarding progress towards making the possibility a reality.


This isn’t a party, people” Barb called out to the assembled group, “this is serious.”

 

Gathered together at the house Tara owned along with Barb were Tara, John, Jenny, The Licks, Don and Sheila Portola, Edie, and Gretchen. Clothes on (for now), no food nor beverages, asked to please stay focused.

The excited (other than Gretchen and Barb) group settled down.

 

“We’re on a time deadline related to the freshness and thus efficacy of the FMT component of the protocol, so we have to stay tightly focused if you all want your dreams to possibly come true. What we’re proposing to do is extremely risky, and technically illegal.”

“We’ve read and signed the forms, Barb” Lou Lick interrupted. “In the interest of time and efficacy, can’t we just get on with it?”

“I’m not convinced that all of you or even most of you can see past your lust and related desires to understand that this is permanent—not something you can get off to and take off until the next time you’re horny! Not only permanent, but we can’t guarantee you’ll get what you want. Neither Gretchen nor myself have developed medical problems from our experiment, but that doesn’t mean one or more of you might not have issues. And if you do, you can’t tell your health care providers about what you did, lest you want me behind bars. Are we clear on this?”

The group murmured agreement. Barb had already hammered these points home with each of them individually enough times that to a person they were sick of hearing about it. They’d each carefully read every word of the contract, understood, agreed, and signed. Going over things again seemed like an unnecessary delay, which Barb herself just admitted might reduce the chances of success.

“We have five minutes for your last-chance questions for myself and Gretchen, who did the hormonal analogue signaling part of the protocol but nothing beyond. Remember: opting out is the safe choice, and no one will be judged for making that choice.”

“Safe unless unrequited dreams crush a person’s spirits” said John.

“That’s an individual choice, for which none of us should judge another’s choice. Quickly now, questions for me or Gretchen, before those of us wishing to go through with this get started?”

Sheila had one, “Question for each of you: is there anything you don’t like about the changes from what you did to yourselves?”

“No” replied Barb, motioning towards Gretchen.

“My thighs have gotten so fat I can’t wear pants nor panties unless I make them myself, and people want to grab my giant fat cunt, neither of which I’m happy about.”

Don had one, “If you knew then what you know now, would you have done anything differently?”

Barb again replied “No”, needing no further elaboration.

“It would take me too long to reach a conclusion on that” was Gretchen’s reply. “It’s a complex mix of things I like and things I don’t.”

He had a follow-up. “Would you regret not having had the experience of knowing life in you altered body?”

“Can’t answer that. I would have had no way of knowing either upsides or downsides without experiencing them.”

 

Barb waited a moment through the silence. “Any other questions?”

There were none.

“Alright, here we go.” She and Gretchen went around passing out capsules from a refrigerated-cool bag. Everyone had some water to wash the pills down. Barb took one herself; Gretchen did not.

“What you’ve just consumed all but guarantees that you’ll get fat or fatter, more so for those of you who aren’t fat or aren’t very fat. If all works out well, your intestinal microbiome will be adjusted with bacteria and whatnot that are aggressive in terms of enabling fat storage. For them it’s life or death, so they’ll be signaling you to eat early and often. Those of us who’ve been fat for a long time or our entire lives have had at least some of these bacteria in us, and let me tell you, the signals to eat are hard to resist, because those suckers don’t want to starve and die! Remember: think positive thoughts all the way along, now and forever more. Our gut brains and skull brains and our entire bodies are one, working symbiotically with the parasites within our intestines to make us who and what we are.

“Now that we’ve dealt with that, we’re ready to move on to the other component of this experimental protocol: the cream. This is a mix of a number of ingredients, including the fat cell signaling compounds Gretchen and I have been testing at work, which none of you are supposed to know exist, much less put on your bodies. It is not magic and it does not in any way guarantee that you will gain fat where the cream is placed. Evidence so far is that the compound signals for fat storage in the vicinity of where it is applied, but there is no precision. All we can do is have you apply it over the whole area you’d like to have fat or fatter, and hope that that’s what happens. Think positive… believe. Don’t play with the cream! If you get it on other parts of yourself, those parts may or may not get fat or fatter also. Under no circumstances touch anyone else with the cream, other than helping them apply it where they can’t reach, or it’s difficult to reach. Don’t touch anything after application of the cream until you’ve thoroughly washed and dried your hands with the liquid hand soap we’ll apply so that you don’t touch the container, dried on the disposable towels we’ll hand to you.”

Everybody make your mounds fat!” Jenny cried out.

“Everybody do what you want—no more, no less!” Barb countered as she held out the container of cream, a mix of the latest iteration of Bioteronimo A On and other ingredients meant to encourage fat cells to store fat, and help everything migrate through the skin to where it needed to be.

 

If the excitement in the room could have been turned into electricity, it would have powered not only Tara’s house, but at least one other. Gretchen downplayed the extensive ongoing pleasures she got out of her huge muff mound, but each of them knew of it from sex with her at group meet-ups, and even just seeing her in the poly group context since the change. The four live-together lovers of the Mercer/Pelvig/Bloom/Patussi household all made sure to coat their genitals thoroughly, for themselves and their lover Jenny. This inspired the Licks, Sheila (Don was so far an observer), and Edie to do so as well.

John wanted fat just about everywhere, especially if possible on his ass and hips. All his lovers applied about as much cream as Barb and Gretchen thought would be effective to these areas, along with his thighs, belly, and already-decent moobs. Tara and Linda didn’t think that they could possibly grow more ass and hips than they had, going ahead and applying/having help applying the cream these places. Jenny was close to that point, yet she too went ahead with applying/having applied the cream.

Many of them were beyond the pale with boob lust. Sheila wanted more. Jenny, already as big as her mother had ever been and far bigger than when she’d been in high school, wanted to try for more. Tara’s small breasts had always been a sore spot for her, thus she wanted all her lovers to cream her up there. Mid-sized Edie got caught up in the moment, covering her 36E breasts evenly with cream. Linda was soft and jiggly on her chest(s) and wanted more. Barb couldn’t imagine that with her giant breasts already so hugely full of fat that any of the protocol would do anything, yet figured it wouldn’t hurt, might be fun if something happened, and would definitely be another aspect of scientific testing.

 

In rushed Alain. “Am I too late?!”

“Do you really want to get fatter?!” Barb insistently asked.

“I need to try the thing Gretchen did!”

“Take this now” Barb told her, handing her one of the last of the fat-inducing pills and a cup of water. “Now get your clothes off and apply the cream evenly all over your mound, as well as anywhere else you want to hopefully be fatter.”

“Just the mound. I have enough everywhere else as it is.”

“Perfect. Ask someone if you need help, and don’t touch anyone else nor any part of your body you don’t want to be fat—if things work out.”

 

To Barb’s amazement, Gretchen got caught up in the moment. She reached in for the last capsule, downing it with water, then applied cream all over her mid-sized breasts.

Barb gave her a silent look of “Are you sure about this?”

Gretchen already seemed to be having impulsive person’s remorse, but there was nothing to be done about it now.


The results were not especially fast, however they were relentless, where they worked. Everyone felt swelling (a layer of new fat) somewhere within a day or so. Over that same time span as the bacteria which hadn’t been part of their intestinal biome established themselves, their appetites grew, more so with those initially of smaller appetite, hardly noticeable for the existing big eaters.

 

Over time the results for nearly all of them were dramatic, bringing us up to the present, 3 1/2 years after the start of Barb and Gretchen’s unplanned experiment, around 3 1/4 years from the big top secret experimental dosing event.

 

The one single thing they all shared in common (besides having more fat on them somewhere) was each of them having fat genital mounds (or FUPAs or fat pads for those who prefer other terminology), ranging from very fat to profoundly fat. The hands of those in the original foursome living-together group (John, Tara, Barb, Jenny) had fattened enough that they could no longer wear their rings. Rather than make new larger ones, Jenny proclaimed that having a fat mound was equivalent, if not better.

To everyone’s amazement, Gretchen’s got even bigger. She looked fairly bizarre with a mound the size of a volleyball, though having hugely fat, soft, shapely thighs each of which were larger than her and most people’s waists reduced the shock a bit. Her butt wasn’t especially fat, being rather small. Really the only other especially fat/large part of her were her breasts: big enough now to draw plenty of attention in the outer world, though no larger than Sheila’s had been before this grand experiment. She’d generally thickened a little all over, ate a lot, and was slowly learning to become comfortable being an odd-shaped large in places BBW. She didn’t truly regret her spontaneous decision, despite the significant changes to her body and life. She rested her hands atop her huge muff mound often, whether clothed or bare. When bare and horny, she had a very special sex organ to play with, and did.

Alain had already been a hypercurvy BBW. She hadn’t intended to take the pill to get fatter, being OK with the balanced degree of fatness she had. Having taken it and still being the most active foodie chef/baker of the two communal homes, she got even fatter, by a significant amount. To everyone’s amazement, the fat distribution remained about the same, making her possibly the most extremely hourglass-figured large SSBBW who’d ever existed—and she was still slowly gaining! The one change was that she too now had a big, fat, and in her case somewhat hairy mound approximately the size of a volleyball hanging between her legs. Hers wasn’t as round as Gretchen’s. Her slot was unbelievably inviting, ensuring that her extreme desirability for people programmed to respond to her archetypal feminine body shape continued unabated. The live-in families of the two communal homes had been on the verge of comping her living expenses so she could cook and bake full time and not have to work; her fattening, difficulties out in the world with her dangerously sexy body, and an additional factor soon to be mentioned pushed things over the verge to accomplished fact. She did highly enjoy sex and loved everyone in the poly group to varying degrees, making becoming a full-time food prepper at the communal homes who sometimes worked bare (more often: bare with an apron) safe, enjoyable, and fun.

Edie was an interesting case. She’d mostly fattened up in her muff mound, with a volume close to Gretchen’s and Alain’s, yet with more saggy hang, making it even tougher to classify with a ball size. Without accompanying large degrees of extra fatness nearby, it looked even bigger, being immediately obvious to anyone who looked at her, no matter what she wore. She loved the outcome, thinking it was great! This of course wasn’t solely due to the look and exterior feel, and not all that much in terms of what others thought. As for Gretchen, Alain, and truly all of them, it was a brand-new unusual sex organ, giving her and her lovers all kinds of pleasure. She’d thickened up all over, but not really as much as most of the others. No one knew why, yet it was more hard data for Barb’s and Gretchen’s experiment. She was initially less happy with her breasts, which had indeed grown a good amount, but as big saggy sacks that preferred pointing at her thighs when not held in a bra. It wasn’t until others in the group showered her and them with affection and Barb and Sheila showed her some fun things to do with highly extensible and mobile breasts that she came around to enjoying them.

 

At the last moment back on the day of the dosing, Sheila Portola rubbed the cream all over husband Don’s genitals, with him going for her hips, buns, and slightly round belly—all areas where she had some existing fat, but not much. Both of them ended up triple-dosing her already quite big breasts, just to be sure.

Don hadn’t intended to participate at all, and hadn’t taken the microbiome-tweaking pill. Thus over the years his fat gain was mild and natural with age, concentrated mostly on his mound. It was strange having his penis nearly swallowed up in an odd organ which made him almost appear to have a vulva—or at least a big mound of fat with a slot. Fattening gradually over time he had plenty of time to get used to the changes, finding them sensual, comfortable, and pleasantly modest compared to the others who’d undergone the experiment.

Sheila hadn’t been pleased with the last-moment laughter-filled coating of her hips, buns, and belly, given that she was all about the breasts and felt she was already big enough these other places from her natural fat gain to enhance her breasts. As all these parts of her blew up with fat along with her larger-than-volleyball-sized mound and her breasts, she quickly came to appreciate the proportionality, and the joys of living in a full SSBBW body. Still nowhere near as huge as Tara, Barb, or in the latter years Jenny had been, her hips were wide enough to scrape slightly but not especially narrow door frames, her buns round enough to stick well out behind her, and her belly big enough for good symmetry and a comfortable resting place for her hands. To her, her husband’s, and everyone in the group’s delight, her breasts grew humongous—easily the size of Barb’s giants, before this experiment got started. Best of all, she was still eating heartily and getting fatter all these places!

 

Lou and Linda Lick hadn’t honestly expected much to happen, given how hardcore into fat gain they’d been for so many years. They were wrong!

Lou had already had a fat mound (or fat pad) going into the experiment. Over time it grew into a massive fat thing hanging between his legs down to his knees! It might have been more obvious if it weren’t for his huge, thick slab belly hanging nearly as far down. His breasts—the other area he and Linda had concentrated the cream on him—were very nice: very big, wide, and full. Until one studied the nipples and areolae, they really did look like fairly big women’s breasts. Moving his 800+ pound body around with all that belly fat and that huge mound wasn’t easy, which, kinky as he was, in itself aroused him.

Linda, already supersized with a big, fat, round ass, matching hips, belly, and breasts—very much like Sheila was now, other than back then her breasts weren’t as big as Sheila’s now—absolutely blew up into USBBW range, right there with where Barb and Tara had long been, and Jenny had more recently been. Same general shape, a lot more of everything, especially her giant basketball-sized mound!

 

Interestingly, Jenny and Linda were now fairly close in size and very close in shape, with Jenny being the larger woman. She had absolutely the biggest, fattest mound of any of them: basketball-plus sized, hanging to her knees. A person’s foot could get entirely lost in there, and she loved it!

 

Each of Tara’s mounds were just a bit smaller than Linda’s: basketball-minus, one could say (or write). Between them and her middle thigh fattening and pushing her other thighs apart, her hips splayed more, making walking difficult. This made her walk less, which made her more sedentary, which made her fatten more, not helping the problem. For now, everyone remained aware of the issue, taking no explicit corrective action at this time. Not that her double-wide ultra fat very soft belly flowing over and covering her mounds, wrapping well around her sides and part of her back and hanging past her knees made things any easier! Her buns and hips were a whole other matter making sitting and lying around a far better option than walking. Enormous barely began to describe them! Each bun was as wide as Edie now was, spreading her hips and legs that much further apart. Through the miracles of the human body, her pelvises had gradually widened over time to accommodate the changes. Given all this mass and having nearly two lower bodies as always, it wasn’t unreasonable that she weighed well into the 900s of pounds and could still move around OK, outside of the issues noted.

She loved the changes, especially her fatter mounds—a dramatic change. The most dramatic change and the one that Tara most appreciated was finally having big breasts, after a life of small breasts. It didn’t matter that they weren’t much bigger than Linda’s before the experiment: to Tara and the outside world, they were huge! She played with them all the time, and encouraged others to do so, which with some N.B.E. tricks from the Licks kept them big, full, and growing larger (which they would have been doing to some degree anyway from the microbiome shift and the gene signaling).

 

Barb truly didn’t think much if anything would happen: her microbiome already was optimized for fat storage, and she was already a USBBW who was fat pretty much everywhere. Well… that’s not quite how it went. Her mound had been fat for years and fatter since the accidental start of the experiment. With thorough coating of all of what she had the day everyone else joined the experiment, her mound fattened to around the same basketball-sized of giant as Linda’s, in a different shape (as was true for each of them, for shape). She and her lovers coated her all over, especially her breasts. She gained added fat all over, mostly not anything all that dramatic, except her breasts. Already the reference for huge boobs amongst the entire poly group, to her amazement, shock, and mix of dismay and joy, they grew life-alteringly record huge! With insufficient space for them out front to grow much more side-to-side, they wrapped around her sides, serving as partial built-in arm rests for her hugely fat upper arms (which also fattened further). They definitely grew out, even farther in front of her than ever before. Her areolae swelled to dinner plate sized, her nipples growing big enough to be seen through most fabrics when at rest. Truly, she could barely see anything past her boobs for quite a distance, and could not reach past them forward and to the sides! Having gained her 800s of pounds over time and having been a SSBBW then USBBW for so many years with well-developed and very strong leg muscles, she could move around OK, other than everything on her bounced and she couldn’t see the floor for at least a meter and a half in front of her and to her front sides!

 

Then there was John Mercer. In terms of dramatic changes, he was the hands-down winner. Starting from small BHM with nice moobs on the border of boobs on an overall enlarging body frame with a pleasantly fat small belly and other softness, he blew up with fat more than any of them—including Linda Lick.

His basketball-sized fat mound was absolutely amazing, along the lines of Jenny’s, Linda’s, Tara’s, and Barb’s, with several twists. His was far and away the biggest on a man—even bigger than Lou’s, who’d started out with a big one when John had nothing of the sort. It was soft and wobbly bobbly, also hanging down about to knee level, as with Lou. It was big and full. It acted as a parking garage for his penis and had absorbed his scrotum, giving him amazing rubbing sensations on his penis head nearly every time he moved! As with Lou’s, it looked quite like a deep-slotted fat mound that would have a vulva inside, as with the women. Indeed, John could take—and had taken—several of the other group penis owners’ (mostly men) penises in there, for an amazingly great rubbing sexy time that they all loved and got them all off.

Notwithstanding his disinterest in breasts, he’d been coated well by Tara and others, and they grew. In fact, they were not all that much smaller than Tara’s now! Having his own pair this big, bouncy, full, and newly sensitive made him reconsider the pleasures of breasts, though still and forever he would remain an ass addict.

By no means was it just his genitals and former moobs which had been coated well. All three of his live-together lovers led by Barb ensured that every millimeter of his hips, buns, thighs, and belly were thoroughly coated, especially the first two. Oh did that ever work! Symbiosis between the adipose cell signaling and the microbiome shift made things happen no one thought possible: John Mercer’s ass and hips were about the size of Jenny’s when she became a USBBW! He’d become huge! No, it wasn’t quite with the full feminine curves the cisgender women in his life had, but it was surprisingly close for a genetic male!

All throughout the process from when it started, he’d been amazed and oh-so-grateful! Now, he knew what it was like to live in a body with a ginormous fat ass and hips, because he had them! Nice and soft and wobbly, all full of fat as with his lovers, all the way back to Jenny in high school then more so Tara when she saved him. He could feel as well as see his ass spread when he sat, out behind him as well as to the sides! When his hands weren’t otherwise occupied, most often they were caressing or resting upon his hips.

As with his main lovers and now Linda and Sheila, there was plenty of soft, bobbly belly fat to give his body symmetry—and he was a lot fatter and bigger around than Sheila! He couldn’t stop grinning, having to carefully squeeze through doorways the way his main loves had long had to do.

Barb wanted him to have fat upper arms like her, so she’d also coated him there. That worked too.

Even with a fair degree of male rectangular chunkiness in the underlying genetics, when one gets into the ultrasized fat range, genders often do start to blur—especially with big 58H womanly breasts and some serious fat hips as well as buns! He’d become very soft rounded curvy, and loved it!

 

About a year or so earlier as John and all of them were still gaining to these mighty new pinnacles of glorious fatness, he passed through a range where he fit well into Jenny’s decades-old tie-dye white cotton dress, which hadn’t fit her since not a whole long time after she joined the threesome family to make it a foursome. While he didn’t feel especially motivated to change his gender identity, given how often people already mistook him for a large SSBBW/small USBBW with short hair until they saw his face (and sometimes even then) and given what his body was already doing with bigger breasts, he gave it a try. He grew his hair out, shaved really carefully, and wore the dress with pairs of Barb’s old shoes or sandals (her feet were about the size of his). They made all kinds of videos and took many pictures during this phase, which lasted several months until he outgrew the dress. There was not one single time he wore that dress out when anyone thought he was anything other than a cisgender woman—even at Model Magicians, the first day he came in like that! Fun as it had been, he preferred presenting as a man, and reverted.

He quite liked the ease and convenience of tent dresses, moving into a larger one Barb then Tara then Jenny had used (as they all fattened through its size span) which was more gender-neutral.


Part of the thrill for several of them was how seriously inconvenient it was to live in such hugely fat bodies of their specific configurations. This too led to significant life changes.

Every single one of the four Mercer/Pelvig/Bloom/Patussi family members were far too fat to drive anything other than perhaps some profoundly-modified heavy-duty vehicle they didn’t currently have. So was Linda Lick, with Lou being close if not there. Sheila Portola wasn’t far away, even though husband Don was unlikely to ever have this problem, thus it wasn’t entirely an issue for them.

Doorways which had been widened in John’s and Tara’s homes generally remained suitable, with those which had not—mainly ones John never expected his then-dream fatass pear lover to need to use, and some lesser-used utility-type ones at Tara’s—ranged from difficult to impassable. With John now in or soon to be in the USBHM realm, neither house truly had enough furniture to hold them all in their magnificent corpulence, other than the double California King bed set at legally-still John’s house, which still held them all with no room to spare… no room for the growth which was still happening.

Lou and Linda Lick hadn’t ever gotten around to widening most of their doorways other than a few essential ones through which Linda needed to pass every day. The Portolas had been getting into a similar situation as Sheila grew after the dosing.

 

Then there was work. The nature of Tara’s position allowed her to keep on working, almost no matter how huge she got, as long as she could get there and get home. John, nearly a generation older, was very near traditional retirement age. He could still do some of the work, but other things such as crawling around in tight spaces for building maintenance were completely off the table. Through all these changes, Tara and John still loved one another with a love like no other, and even after so very many years rarely spending more than an hour apart and usually not even a few minutes, they still wanted to be with each other every possible moment.

The Licks had it easier: they were both close enough to retirement age at their respective jobs to take early retirement, and did so.

Sheila Portola had been having trouble reaching around herself for awhile as she fattened. There came a point where between that and some members of senior management not appreciating her body size, shape, and consistency, they negotiated for her to take a very early pro-rated retirement, to get her out of there.

 

Barb and Gretchen’s work situation was the most complicated of all.

Even with her body becoming ever-more distracting as she fattened, Gretchen had no physical impediments to continuing to work (and she mostly worked in the lab with Barb anyway, not generally seen all that much nor all that long by others). Barb’s impediments were severe enough that she basically couldn’t work, once her breasts and upper arms fattened past where she could see in front of her and reach past herself. Unlike John and Tara, their work fates were in no way tied to one another: Gretchen could keep working even if Barb had to quit or try to retire unbelievably early.

Except their fates were tied together, by the very experiment that made Gretchen stare-worthy and Barb unable to work. There had been suspicion amongst several employees—but no proof—that something wasn’t entirely on the up-and-up in the lab where Gretchen and Barb worked. Testing errors happened, sometimes requiring additional materials under test, so initially no one noticed an issue. Bioteronimo had been doing well, and in pursuit of knowledge on a rapid time scale, staff sometimes played fast and loose. An audit a couple of years after the big dosing event related to an impending IPO revealed the aberrant consumption of under-development materials under test, A On especially. Reported as errors or spills in the materials log, there were no matching notations in the test log of these errors or spills.

Before Barb had fattened to where she absolutely could not work or drive herself to and from work, the day came where the internal auditors blindsided her and Gretchen with their findings, demanding answers. Neither of them had expected to be caught, so they hadn’t worked out any sort of plan for such a contingency.

Brash bravado came naturally to Barb. Along with her instantaneous decision being that honesty was the best policy, she straight-out told the auditors that after an accident where she and Gretchen each got some residue of the variant of A On being tested at the time, they noticed intriguing results on their bodies: fat deposits evenly throughout a body organ, even when only part of that organ had been contacted by the A On. They then chose to continue limited experiments on their own bodies, gathering additional data.

The auditors were legal and bean-counter types, not scientists. The legal ones nearly went berserk that they’d been doing unauthorized medical testing on themselves, in flagrant violation of company policies and federal laws.

Gretchen’s upper-body sway along with saying, “You don’t think marketing a product capable of persistent bust enhancement is worth pursuing?” may have been ill-advised, given how the legal beagles went after her for squandering company resources for personal gain, beyond the other violations.

 

“What the eff are we going to do?” Gretchen asked Barb, once the auditors left (to work out what would happen).

“They may be holding kings and think they’re gonna win, but we’re holding aces!

The high-stakes nature of what Barb had in mind gave Gretchen the willies. She had to admit it might just work, and that she sure had nothing even half as good.


Barely an hour later, Barb and Gretchen were “invited” by security to head to the president’s office. As expected, H.R. was there, along with the audit team.

After the usual formalities, the president explained the charges against them, asking them to explain themselves. Barb again went with the truth: they’d been playing around, contaminated one another, found an interesting result, continued the experiment.

“You don’t deny any of the charges?!”

“No. That’s what happened.”

“Can you give me one reason why I should not fire you both immediately?”

Here is where Barb started laying down aces. The president of Bioteronimo, Mr. Will Imo, was a scientist and a businessman, not a lawyer nor accountant like the audit team. “Because if you fire either of us, you’ll never get the data from our experiment, delaying or possibly preventing the further development and refinements needed to allow Bioteronimo to offer market-disrupting innovative products.”

“All research and data gathered therefrom undertaken by employees of Bioteronimo are the uncontested property of Bioteronimo!”

“Yes, legally, that’s how it works. But practically, the data is not in the Bioteronimo IT system, nor in any other format on these premises besides fragments in my and Gretchen’s brains.”

“I’ll sue!

“Sure… you can do that. Before you do, please consider the relative timing of my ability to transfer the knowledge to another party, possibly over the Internet, versus the speed of the legal system.”

“I’ll get a restraining order, right now!”

“What makes you sure that the data currently resides on equipment within the jurisdiction of the U.S. legal system?”

“This– this is outrageous!” he stammered. “You’re looking at bankruptcy!

“If the legal system ever gets around to that.”

You’ll never work in this industry again!

“Maybe not. The real question, Will, is will you?

What do you mean?!

“Remember all the brouhaha over at Uber, related to corporate sexism?”

Mr. Imo said nothing, looking first stone-faced then slightly ashen.

“Someone in the room with us who’s not you has been caught on video, groping several different female employees over several years.”

You have no proof!” H.R. Director Grant Feelup shouted. At the very same moment, the security guard known as Rock spewed, “It was only one time!

“Thanks for outing yourselves, guys!” Barb grinned. “And we do have proof, Grant.” She turned to the auditors, “Now how do you think that IPO is going to go if documented allegations of widespread sexual misconduct hit the news the same day, or before?”

 

She had Imo where she wanted him. The upshot was:

  • Barb and Gretchen were fired, for violation of policies.
  • A new contract between each of them as consultants and Bioteronimo was signed, whereby their consulting pay would be held in escrow during the course of their employ as consultants related to the experiment they’d conducted through two years afterwards. If either of them violated the contract, their pay would be released by the escrow company back to Bioteronimo. If Bioteronimo failed to live up to the terms of the contract, the escrow company would immediately release all accrued funds to either or both of them, as appropriate to the situation.
  • The auditors and others involved with the IPO who were not employed by Bioteronimo held top management’s feet to the fire to make them turn around the corporate culture in terms of sexual harassment.
  • Barb and Gretchen were paid a breathtaking amount of hush money then and there via direct deposit, to drop their aspects of any sexual harassment charges for a period of 5 years, and not confer with other employees on such matters during that time span.

Around the same time as the audit at Bioteronimo was when some of the issues discussed above really started to become problems, in terms of ability to drive, fitting through doorways, and others’ ability or inability to work. A final disruptor was the death of John’s mother. She died quickly and peacefully, in her bed during the night. There was now another house of John’s—one with great sentimental and little practical value.

The grieving process for the four live-togethers—especially John and Jenny, who’d been quite close to Mrs. Mercer—went along far better with all the ongoing loving support, and to be honest, the fattening, giving him (especially) hope for a brighter tomorrow.


“Did you hear? Did you hear?” wide-eyed Edie exclaimed to the poly group as members continued to arrive for one of their usual monthly get togethers, her adorable already-bare belly and breasts bouncing up and down erotically.

“I hear many things” Barb teased, slipping her tent dress off over her head.

“The Woodmuntzy house next door caught on fire, burning out several rooms. I just asked the caretaker, and they’re going to sell it!

 

This truly was big news! The house in question was a large 2-acre property immediately west of the two existing communal group homes. One of the first houses built in the area and nearly a century old, it had a great deal of floor space under its large single story bungalow-style roof.

The existing communal home residents didn’t truly need anywhere near that much extra space. More critically, they didn’t have the money for it. However, all the members who were close friends who’d participated in the fattening experiment and were each hitting critical points in their lives very much could make use of it! They wasted no time making plans to pool their resources to buy the property and remodel it as the third adjacent polyfidelity communal home for their needs, selling their existing properties to (eventually) pay for it.

Speaking of “pool”, an additional draw of the property was that it had a nice medium-sized in-ground pool in good condition. Neither of the existing communal homes had a swimming pool. Many was the time that a group resident or live-away member looked wistfully through gaps in the fence at the beautiful blue-green water of the extremely-seldom-used pool, thinking what a waste it was that they couldn’t make use of it. It wasn’t that the Woodmuntzys were mean people: it was that they were no longer healthy enough to live in the home, or when they still did, go outside to even say hello to the neighbors.

 

As interested as the Woodmuntzy estate executor was in earning top dollar for the property, the tangle of rules and regulations related to the fire damage and necessary upgrades during repairs plus a personal dislike of real estate people and finally a need for liquid cash motivated the executor to make a fair deal with the SquishLove limited liability corporation the group of would-be residents threw together to act as a unitary legal entity. Decently large portions of Barb’s and Gretchen’s breathtaking hush money payout provided the needed liquid assets to make it happen. The property never made it to the open market—SquishLove owned it!

 

Now it was a matter of getting the home remodeled to serve the present and future needs of its new residents. From the get-go, there were plans for a large, beautiful communal grand hall area, for both everyday living of the residents of this house plus visitors from the other two, and for group meetings.

The kitchen was designed to be quite large with lots of storage, for cranking out the mountains of food fat-via-eating ultrasized foodie people needed. An extension of the roofline over in the area where the core of the fire had been and the roof needed work anyway, it was very close to the kitchen of the existing communal house to the east, where Alain spent a good bit of her life. With a wide walkway between the kitchens, it wouldn’t be that difficult to work between them, or at least move ingredients, utensils, and so on between them.

Actual interior doorways were few, and only really for storage closets and the like. Everywhere else where there might have been a doorway were very large archways, allowing easy passage of usually two of the hugest bodies at the same time, in the same or opposite directions.

Closest to the grand room would be the truly gigantic master bedroom. Vaguely modeled after one of Hugh Hefner’s creations, it was a fat people’s and orgy lovers’ dream: an array of king-sized beds on a comfortable-height frame that really was as much an extension of the floor as anything else, raising the beds up to normal height and able to withstand truly huge forces from a houseful of rambunctious ultrasized sex fiends plus a whole bunch of their group lovers.

There were additional large bedrooms able to hold at least two if not 3 or 4 king-sized beds, for smaller groups, illnesses, privacy, etc.

Another masterful design and extremely large room was the bathroom. There only needed to be one, given the nature of this being a polyfidelity group. It far more resembled a dorm bathroom than a private home bathroom, with a huge tiled shower with many individual shower heads and controls, where one merely needed to walk in on the distant end over a small rise—no doors. Very open, very excellent for sexy group showers and very fat people helping clean each other off.

With amazingly giant asses still growing, it wasn’t just Tara who benefitted from specialty wide toilets. John finally had an opportunity to make use of the two spares he had in storage. As well, given the number of people, plumbing was specced to accept the unit in his house and the other design/other manufacturer unit older toilet in Tara’s house, once this remodel was far enough along for them to think about moving in and starting to ready the other houses for sale.


Over time, the reality of the new communal house matched the plans. Construction had its usual delays and occasional hang-ups. The Licks did a lot of the overseeing of the construction work, having just executed their early retirement.

 

As with many major projects of this sort, there wasn’t a clean cutoff to say that it was done. The closest approximation was when the contractors were done and the city inspector signed off on the project.

That was the beginning of a sometimes-mad, disruptive rush to merge furnishings and other belongings from each of their homes that they wished to keep, and get their legacy homes on the market and sold, to recover as much money as possible. Directly related were the significant costs for their extreme bedding, and other new super heavy duty furnishings for the grand hall.

By design every one of the group purchasers had some space in the new group home for personal areas, able to hold at least a couple of pieces of furniture they liked which others might not. Even without taking these spaces into account, there were pretty close to zero conflicts regarding what furniture would come over. The soon-to-be residents all made group trips to each other’s homes, one per day or every other day or so, to all remind themselves what was there for the big furniture and make decisions.

Once the agreed-upon big items plus must-have-for-sure items of any size were moved to the new home, they started a round of yard sales, one home per weekend, to clear unwanted things out and make a little more money. There was always a private pre-sale day where all the other group members could come by to pick out things they wanted, almost always for free, else discounted well below what the general public would be asked to pay.

All this work would be exhausting for anyone. Having to squish into vehicles where the driver barely fit and could barely drive, having to stand with one’s 6- 7- 8-hundreds of pounds of mostly body fat, and having to get into places which for John at least would have been trivial only a couple years prior and were now well-nigh impossible all took their toll. Gretchen, Edie, and sometimes others amongst the group who weren’t so massively fat helped as they could with driving and getting into these tight spaces.

 

Pia, a decently-conventionally-attractive average-sized slightly curvy group member who lived in the communal home farthest east (farthest away from the new house), happened to be a real estate agent. She was delighted to list all the properties, and handle the majority of the work for staging and otherwise selling the homes. Each of them selling a home (two, in John’s case) were fine with her taking a normal commission, to not have to do For Sale By Owner and to have someone they trusted to be on their side. Rather intrigued by the whole fat thing and very impressed with what the group had done to buy the Woodmuntzy property before it ever came to market, Pia wanted to stay on their good sides.


Everything in its time. The beds arrived, with the expensive super-custom mattress pads, sheets and whatnot either already there, or soon to arrive. Huge expenditure they’d all be using a very great deal of the time. Other new furniture which hadn’t yet arrived came soon.

Lots of fun fine-tuning the arrangement of the new and legacy-from-their-homes furniture.

The houses sold, starting with the Licks’, then the Portolas’. John’s family home was next. His personal adult home didn’t sell for as much as he’d hoped, related to work he’d meant to do and never got around to doing. The upside: the new owners were going to remodel the bathroom, so they didn’t care about there not being a toilet in there.

Tara’s home sold last. She didn’t realize how emotionally attached she remained to this house that she seldom visited until the sale was a done deal. The group of new residents made a fire in the revamped safe and relatively energy-efficient fireplace of their newly-remodeled home, then cuddled together bare with all kinds of tasty snacks as Tara let go via sharing her memories with them all, including residents of the other communal homes who dropped by to visit and listen. She naturally leaned back into John, feeling his protective loving field stronger than ever, at least some of it via his growing-plentiful soft warm fat.


This current day with giantly fat John Mercer settling himself next to Lou Lick came about 7 months after Tara’s house sold, which was as close as a point of finality as life offered. Mound House (as the remodeled Woodmuntzy home was being called) was finished, occupied by all of them, with all their retained belongings somewhere on the property (or in storage) and their legacy homes and other possessions sold off.

Feeling passions swelling in each of them, John and Lou started making out. Passionate mouth-to-mouth kisses were soon accompanied by fondling the other man’s mighty mound, working their way inside for some spectacular mutual cross-rubbing. John never used to be attracted to men sexually at all, and Lou’s attraction had been experimental and brief. Huge amounts of fat on anyone were just so diggity dog sexy, it changed everything. Never, ever interested in any kind of penis play after a long-ago mutual rubbing event which left him unmoved and uncomfortable not long after he’d joined the poly group, John’s new massive deep-slotted sex organ made it comfortable and pleasurable to take in one or more foreign penises to hang out next to his own, buried inside. He’d gotten into this during the phase where he presented as a woman, as an experiment in the closest he’d ever get to knowing what life with a vulva might be like on the inside.

 

Concerns about friction from all living together in one big house proved unfounded. For one thing, they truly all loved one another and were close friends—same as the adjacent poly group homes and their successes with everyone getting along. For another, it was a big house, with plenty of places to go for time and space away, definitely including the purpose-made smaller (relatively!) bedrooms designed with this intent. Nor were they restricted to just this house: other than overnight sleeping hours, any group member living in any of the three houses (as well as those living elsewhere and visiting) were free to roam the public spaces of any of the properties, always at least two living/family-type rooms in each of the houses, other than Mound House, where the Grand Room was truly so grand hotel common area huge that it effectively counted as two rooms.

Perhaps over time some of them might get bored and seek change. Not even a year into living together in this still-new still-fresh sex-positive ultrasized fat person’s dream home, it still felt like a permanent vacation: resting, relaxing, conversing, eating, and having as much or as little sex as any of them wished, of just about any type they may want.

As briefly mentioned, a surprising number of them shared the kink of being highly to extremely turned on by how inescapably, impractically fat they were, how this wasn’t going to change, and all the effort they had to go to in order to simply move around and live. Several of them were too fat to wipe themselves, now in this shared home always having a special friend and lover willing to go with them to help out, often timing their bathroom usage so they could help each other at about the same time. Communal rooms, the huge communal shower… this group was so into each other, even the toilets were communal: all 4 of the “Tara special” ultra-wide double-butt toilets lined up in a well-spaced row next to each other. Only the one on the end had a retractable isolation/privacy panel, which so far none of them used. Many times they carried on conversations seated on their individual porcelain thrones, did breathing exercises together, sometimes even flirted!


The passage of time and other factors meant more of them were retired, or retiring, or changing how they handled their work lives.

The Licks were already retired back when Mound House was remodeled.

Sheila Portola had already been urged into very early retirement. Husband Don, working elsewhere, wasn’t all that much fatter than many men out in the world, and kept working to keep income flowing.

Fat as she’d become, Gretchen was still smaller than Barb had been for many years, carrying on with the contract work to see it through to completion.

Barb was at the point of being so fat with breasts so enormous that moving around was becoming a challenge, and she’d already been unable to reach past herself without someone or something squishing her forward fat parts to allow her to reach. Gretchen took over her remaining consulting contract work which needed to be done physically in the lab, whilst she remained at Mound House. She spent a lot of time sitting at big dining-like tables, her breasts resting and spread out atop them. She set her boobtop computer atop her mighty breasts to work from home (or otherwise use the device). She ate off her breasts. Basically when it came to sitting up and needing a (relatively) horizontal surface in front of her, she lived off her breasts!

 

Work-at-home Jenny still loved cooking and loved Alain on many levels, including cooking and baking with her as a team and trading off the workload. Thing was that Jenny kept getting lazier as she kept getting fatter, spending more time lounging around and having sex most of most days. She felt guilty about it from time to time, despite everyone associated with Mound House enabling/encouraging her behavior. If Alain or anyone else cooking or baking truly had a problem or got overloaded, Jenny could still heft her massively fat self up and go help.


Everyone at Model Magicians was sad when John and Tara announced their retirement, despite it being obvious that both of them were getting so fat and in such a way that moving around was difficult. As one of the first steps from converting Model Magicians from privately held to employee-owned, the employees (not including John or Tara) voted for who would lead them. The elected president was Joni Monds, one of the four long-time senior employees John would have had to choose between at the time of his attempted suicide, had he not left everything to Tara.

It wasn’t at all a clean break, and that’s what everyone wound up preferring. Joni was 95% up to running the business herself, but still very much wanted John’s and Tara’s input. She and the rest of the staff missed them being around, and they missed being there, with nearly every employee being at least somewhat of a friend.

What wound up happening was that Joni drove and parked her car at Mound House, driving John and Tara in to Model Magicians in his built-for-fatasses sedan. It felt weird at first having someone else driving what had been his car for many decades, until Tara helped him focus on the joys of all his fat sloshing around and how great it was in retirement to be too fat to drive and need to be driven places, “forced” to enjoy his massive corpulence.

Retirement turned out not to actually be correct: it was more like semi-retirement, for both John and Tara. Initially, Joni drove them in two days a week. Wednesday was a working day, where they each helped out with the transition towards the future time they’d no longer be in at all, as well as with things they were especially good at. Friday was the second day, roughly split between work and afternoon socialization throughout the company for anyone interested and not on a hard deadline—a new feature the employees wanted and Joni implemented. Friday afternoons wherever in the building John and Tara were became known as Cuddles with Tara and John. Usually held in the inner office, though sometimes in the break room or elsewhere, it was an opportunity for any interested employee to cuddle up between them (the favorite choice) or with either of them. Equally good was visiting without cuddling. With so many people starved for physical contact, the cuddling was extremely popular.

Being generous people who had known the employees for years and liked them (at least), both Tara and John were very free letting staff members explore their bodies. Many had never in their lives touched a fat person, or if they had, not with explicit consent. As long as it was respectful, nothing apart from actual sex was off limits. Male staff members in particular were fascinated with John’s breast development, asking what it was like and at least one asking if there was a way he could manage it. John happily and regularly removed his shirt (and occasionally bra, the few times he wore one) to let them feel as he explained. All kinds of people wanted to know what was between John’s legs, many of them shocked once they found out. Tara was such a sweetheart, she let people who’d wondered for years what her two vulvas were like to see and, on the outside, touch for themselves. With rare, specific exceptions (such as John baring his breasts), they kept things away from sexually arousing or anything which the poly group would construe as sex (especially risky sex). Talking about sex was another matter, which they engaged in freely, when the subject came up.

This semi-retirement pattern worked well for John and Tara, and everyone else. There were times with specific projects where Joni would drive them in every day or nearly every day to help. Their skills and experience were appreciated, and many still working there full-time liked the explicit consent of squishing into them as they all worked.

 

Joni’s contact with the poly group and especially the residents of Mound House when picking up and dropping off John and Tara profoundly affected her. After a rather mundane, limited sex life and now in her 50s and lustier than ever, she found the idea of polyfidelity compelling. She’d been plump at points in her life and was presently again, so far without experiencing the sensual joys the Mound House residents to a person waxed on about when she met them. Greatly respecting both John’s and Tara’s intellect and tastes, she felt there had to be something spectacular about being fat for them to have gone to such extremes with their bodies.

With unanimous permission of all other employees, Joni sought to try out fatsex, first with John. She went through the poly group’s battery of STI tests first, clearing with no issues.

 

“You’re so (gasp) pillowy!” she exclaimed in the throes of intercourse (yes: John could still penetrate women’s vaginas, with some mutual effort. His very soft mound fat moved out of the way). “You’re like a warm bed and pillows and blankets and a sexy hard man all rolled into one!

Thank you, Joni!” he grinned as they humped. “The feelings living inside this body are indescribably delicious. And you are a quite fine lover, adding to your long list of credentials and positive attributes.”

 

It was a fascinating experience, leaving her with much to think about. Not attracted to women as far as she knew, given her fascination with what it would be like to live in a truly fat body, she and Tara shared some naked time together, for her to ask questions and explore beyond what happened at the work Cuddles sessions (though along the same lines).

“These big, fat muffs don’t get in the way?”

“Well they do, but they feel so nice and give me so much pleasure! It’s not like I have to walk long distances, nor run.”

 

Very much wanting more sex in her life no matter what her body size and actual attractions turned out to be, she inquired about joining the poly group as a member. John and Tara sponsored her application (and presented her), which was accepted. She was admitted as usual for her probationary half year, immediately able to share sex with any of the other existing members for which there was mutual interest and consent. She was also free to spend as much time as she wanted at any of the three communal group homes (during daytimes in the common areas, or invited to a live-in’s bedroom at night), as opposed to the brief and technically rule-bending if not -breaking visits she’d made when first meeting the denizens of Mound House when making initial arrangements for transporting John and Tara.

Safe, plentiful, free sex within the group proved addicting, ensuring Joni visited often. She spent time at all the houses, enjoying sex with most of the men. Given her closeness to John and Tara and already having met everyone there before she joined, she often spent her visits in the Grand Room of Mound House, when not getting with someone in one of the other houses, or getting to know residents there better. The high and near-omnipresent degree of sexual arousal fascinated her, and drew her in. She spent hours staring at what various residents were doing: Barb enjoying her breasts, John and Lou sharing sex their way, any two of them getting into Tara and getting her off. Then there were all those profoundly fat mounds that gave the house its name, and the amazing things Jenny and Linda did with them—others’ and their own. Clit footsie blew her mind, doubly so with Tara using her middle foot.

For a nominal fee to cover the extra cost of ingredients or pre-made foods, non-live-in members such as Joni could have meals at any of the houses. She started taking meals at Mound House, at first on the days she dropped John and Tara off after work, then weekend days. She found herself fattening naturally, without needing a microbiome-shifting capsule nor DNA signaling biochemicals. Feelings were mixed in the other two homes where many preferred more slender women. At Mound House, the support and joy were almost overwhelming! Over many months and ever-more-frequent meals at the House, she got big all over in a typical female fattening pattern, basically like Barb without her breasts being so extremely huge relative to the rest of her (though they were absolutely getting a lot bigger as the rest of her did). She was grateful that her mound fattened, making it easier for everyone to envision her as an eventual resident, even if hers was a typical tennis to baseball size of fat and not massive volleyball- or basketball-sized.


Tee hee hee hee hee!” Joni giggled. She was currently sitting naked on the floor in her new home: Mound House, in the Grand Room, playing fat mound footsie and clit footsie with Jenny, seated across from her. In only about 7 months of eating there regularly then an additional year and a half as a full live-in resident. Joni had blown up well into SSBBW range, and loved it! Still fat all over in the typical BBW shape Barb still had at a profoundly larger scale, she now had all kinds of soft, fat flesh to enjoy and share with others. As she and Jenny played, her fat, round buns kept her comfortable sitting on the floor, spreading to the back and pressing into John’s much fatter ass, as her hips spread to the sides and her fat thighs flattened comfortably and so artistic beautifully. Her very big belly was fun to play with, as she was doing now as her right foot remained deeply buried inside Jenny’s huge fat mound. Jenny’s right foot poking into her own cantaloupe-sized fat mound felt excellent: tickly playful stimulation. Average to slightly busty before, Joni quite liked growing fat SSBBW boobs proportionate to the rest of her body. Saggy, yes, but they looked and felt nice, to her as well as her many lovers. Her fat upper arms, her fat face—she loved all the changes.

Many of her many lovers were in the room with her, this weekend day she had off. John was seated on the floor behind her, each of them serving as a very comfortable backrest for the other. Tara was more or less on top of John, sharing make-out kisses fat face-to-fat face, their nearly same-sized breasts and very differently sized and shaped soft fat bellies pressing into one another’s (bare, as was everyone). Linda Lick was trying an experiment: straddling Tara’s middle leg over her huge butt crack, she attempted to rub each of her hugely fat buns against each of Smooth and Furry. It was too soon to tell how well or not this would work for either of them. Edie passed by, grabbing Linda’s right breast and giving it a strong suckle.

“Down below, hun” Linda requested with a grin.

Eager to please and in the mood for some deep labia licking, Edie donned one of the breathing snorkels the group shared when anyone was doing a deep face plant into one of the huger mounds (or any other places where breathing might be difficult) and went in to Linda’s deep, warm darkness.

Deciding he could use some exercise, Lou hefted himself up, waddled slowly and carefully over Edie with his front aimed towards her feet, then used his now-profoundly-strong leg muscles to crouch down and swing his mighty fat mound sack back and forth, rubbing across Edie’s BBW fat buns. Edie immediately spread her legs, hoping his huge mound sack would find bits of her squished-behind-her own. It did, and it was sublime for both of them, with Edie making an OK signal with her hand so she wouldn’t have to pull her face out of Linda.

Fatter and foodier-than-ever Don Portola was helping his mutual crush Alain make and serve lunch, each of them “stealing” (fully consensual and desired) feels and kisses as they worked together in the kitchen. Sheila Portola was seated across two big chairs along with Gretchen and Barb at the big communal table, all of them resting their bare breasts atop the table, sharing conversation, great food, and playing with each other’s bodies (especially their boobs). Gretchen was currently sharing how her young 3-year-old nephew Todd had a very nice nap lying down on her (clothed) thigh and resting his head on her very fat mound when she’d recently visited her sister Gracie.

“He wants to call me Aunt Bed Thighs” she snickered.

“Probably better amongst family than Aunt Pillow Mound!” Barb laughed.

“My young relatives, being older and thinking they’re clever no doubt, would likely name me Chesty Mc Chesterson” noted Sheila.

 

One of the residents of one of the other houses passed through, dropping off a plate of fresh homemade onion rings on behalf of Alain.

“Nice ass jiggle, Pia” Linda commented.

More plump than she wanted to be, Pia bent over and mooned everyone.

Despite hers being far and away the smallest butt in the room, John couldn’t help notice, starting his instinctual reaction.

With a big smile Tara moved his hands to the juncture of each of their hip fat, squishing herself and him such that his hands would feel some of his own and her outer fat buns. “Stay right here, Sweetie. Between us, we have allllll the fat ass we need.”

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