Chapter 4 - larding up

Julianne poured a double shot of the digestif. The dark liqueur helped Danny’s meals go down, and he’d just finished one of the richest meals he’d had in a while. She grabbed the jar of coconut oil she’d been warming, and headed for the den. The corridors in their home were wide, and not a door in sight. As she approached, she could hear her big man groan. She watched him slowly rub his taught, tender stomach; the great fat of his belly spilled between his legs and trembled by his heavy, creasing calves. The serving cart stood next to him, empty plates all but licked clean. “Hello, handsome,” she smiled as she entered the room.

Daniel smiled back at her, “Hello, angel.” He was shirtless and drowsy, his head nestled in his thick cushion of double chin. She handed him the drink then sank in beside him and set to work rubbing oil into his vast rolling belly.

“How was supper? Still hungry?”

“Oof,” he sighed, “no way.” He adjusted his mountainous body and Julianne watched his rippling blubber with glee. “Food weighed a ton.”

“Well, dinner’s going to be light.” His belly soaked in the oil, softening quickly.

“What’s for dinner,” he asked, his eyelids drooping.

“Soup, salad, sushi,” her eyes twinkled back. She knew it was one of his favorite pigouts.

“Awesome,” he smiled.

“Yeah,” she kneaded his rock-hard stomach and could already feel it relaxing. Eating machine. “So I thought I’d lard you up with the heavy stuff now; especially since you were nice and high.”

“Good thinking.”

“How did it all go down,” she asked. Her tone had dropped slightly; a bit more serious. “I saw you slowed a bit with the pot pie. Was it okay?”

“Delicious. Just so rich, after fettucine , German chocolate, butterscotch milkshake...”

She jiggled his belly playfully, “Okay, okay.”

“I scarfed that maple cream cake, though.”

Julianne let out a quick, low laugh, “I saw that. You really picked up.”

“Maple cake, out of this world.” He licked his lips as if he could still taste it. Then his eyes closed, and he felt her massage, fingers kneading through his layers and layers of fat. A belly they had both worked hard to grow, and to maintain. A life together they had both dreamed of, and were making happen. It still astounded him; it was all so wonderful. He opened his eyes, then reached out and stroked her dusty red hair. She looked at him, then leaned over and kissed him, deep and long. Their lips parted; she stayed in close, and whispered, “Hey, fatso.”

“Hey, pervert.” They both smiled, and she relaxed into his pillowy body. She still had her shirt on, and it bugged her; she sat up, pulled it off, and undid her bra. Daniel watched happily. In their years together Julianne had indulged herself, softened, and plumped out considerably. She liked to think it was beyond her control; part of Danny’s glamour, an intangible influence he just gave off. So fat was he, he made all around him fat. For Daniel, her gain was a lot more straightforward: his beautiful wife was slowly becoming his fat and beautiful wife, and he loved it.

She reached around his rolls and squeezed herself against him; he playfully smacked her round ass, packed tight into her jeans. Her head lay on his draping tit while her arm roamed around his belly. “We’ve got an hour before dinner. Do you want to nap?” She felt his body shake as he grunted yes and nodded; his double chin brushed against her hair. He was already halfway to sleep.

“Thinking about you earlier,” his heavy, tired hand caressed her soft hip.

She smiled as her fingers danced in his blubber. “Yeah? What about me?”

Daniel grinned, sleepy eyes closed. “Our favorite buffet...”

Julianne blushed. “We haven’t been there in years, piggy.” Her fingers walked her hand down as far as she could reach, and she was still only tickling the great canyon of his belly button. She smiled, and listened to him fall asleep. His breathing grew slow and deep, echoing like a great bellows. Deeper down, she could hear his churning, gurgling gut - the fat-making factory, tirelessly working to turn food into flesh. In the distance she could hear the low, steady thunder of his heartbeat. Her husband was a bear, a hog, a tank, a whale. He was an entire world; his belly an undulating wonder. And oh, was he eating big: six meals a day now, followed by a gainer shake night cap just before bed (the gainer shake was his idea, she liked to note). Snacks were always within reach in case he got peckish between meals, though Julianne was proudly cooking up such huge portions that between-meal time was getting scarcer and scarcer.

The fat life was better than she’d ever dreamed; and she had almost blown it all that day at the buffet. She was such a wreck - she was sure that she’d torn any chance when he busted her gawking at him. Her relationship with Theo had left her so insecure her social skills had just derailed. She was certain he was offended, scared he might even scold her - most of all she felt like an asshole and wanted to disappear. Then she noticed that he wasn’t upset; he didn’t seem fazed at all. He wasn’t ignoring her, but he certainly wasn’t letting her get to him - it seemed like he was actually just a little disappointed. He got up and strolled right back to the food, and started gathering his dessert with a simple, secure confidence that she couldn’t resist. Soon she was by his side and they were smiling at each other, talking, just like normal people. She fed off his stability; she felt in orbit around him. Carrying his chocolate milk gave her peace.

But her favorite part of that day came after the buffet. Daniel had finished the last of his dessert and had settled back in his seat. They’d been chatting happily, the conversation bouncing from topic to topic, but nimbly avoiding the subject of fat. Sometimes they’d talk about how good the food was, but Julianne was always quick to change the conversation. Mostly, she was afraid if she let herself talk fat then that would be all she talked about - it was, after all, all she wanted to talk about - and he would think she was a nutjob.

“Want something else? I mean…” She immediately backed off. It was less an offer than a shrug.

He shook his head, “I’m going to let this settle.” She nodded, holding back a dozen things she wanted to say.

“Besides,” he said with a conspiratorial wink, “I want to have room enough to hit Coldstone later on.” At that, Julianne’s fattest desires raced through her, desperate to find some expression: a quick laugh, a playful remark, a flirtatious belly pat. But it was just too much; all she could assemble was a startled guffaw, a slack jaw that bucked her teeth, and a throaty, thoroughly goofy, “Uh, can I come with?”

The Coldstone was just across the parking lot, as if laid out by some gluttonous city planner. Daniel had offered her his arm, and she had tucked herself right up next to him. As they walked her eyes fixed on the belly before her, wobbling like a giant water balloon. He liked that she admired his belly, and liked that he could show it off for her. He also liked that she adjusted her pace to match his slower gait, and kept the conversation going as he got more winded by the end of their walk.

Julianne could barely contain her excitement. She had grown up near this strip mall, and years ago that Coldstone had been Imperial Wear, the local fat men’s store. Gigantic overalls used to hang in one window, a cheerful advertisement for their sizes (“Up to 80 Inches! --Special orders available--“). They were amazing; her mind struggled to conceive of someone so huge. Sometimes she would go in to look at them; once she even asked if anyone ever bought them. The answer - “Oh, sure.” - had boggled her young mind. She started to hang out at the arcade on the corner just to be near them. And now here she was with this wonderfully obese man digging into a five-scoop sundae, seated at a table by the very window in which those overalls used to hang. Daniel was still some gain away from an eighty-inch waistline, but God, he sure felt like an eighty-inch waistline kind of guy. She could see the old arcade space, perpetually empty; she could feel herself young again, throwing quarters into a game so she could stare at her half-understood fat fantasy. She smiled to herself as she licked her strawberry cone.