Her body was art

chapter 2 - potential

"I'm... fine." The man said, "I'm quite alright, although if you are unhurt yourself, I'd appreciate if you were to get off of me so I could take inventory of my supplies."

"Oh yes of course!" Mary said, slowly standing up, she felt a slight twinge in her lower back as she rose, likely a strain from pushing her body so hard after an extended period of disuse.

"I'm Mary by the way, I'm so, so, sorry. I've probably ruined your clothes and..." Mary stopped, suddenly realizing she didn't know exactly she ruined. Given the amount of blue paint she'd splattered on both herself and the thin, tall man she expected to see some paint canvases scattered around, but all she saw was bottles of blue paint, and an expensive looking camera bag that had, miraculously, managed to be flung free of the paint.

"The 'art' is thankfully out of harms way." He said smiling. "I was just carrying my supplies back to my flat across the street." He said, indicating the apartment complex opposite where they were.

"I'm Phillip by the way." He said, extending a paint stained hand.

She took his hand and asked inquisitively. "Your art is out of harms way but you said you're heading home now. Were you making a delivery?" She asked out of a sense of curiosity.

"You see... I work with living canvases!" He said smiling and retrieving the camera from his bag.

He switched the camera into preview mode and Mary and Emily were amazed by what they saw.

Men and women, in various states of undress, posed and coated in an array of bright colors, lines of paint accented unique features of their bodies and drew focus to their uniqueness.

"The "art" is someone I just finished painting in the next complex over." He changed the camera to a middle aged woman, covered in geometric patterns, and posed seductivly. Mary noticed the woman had a c-section scar that was both painted over, accented and replicated over the course of her body.

"I like to accent the unique features of each of my models. I'm quite popular on social media." He said smiling, "and if you don't mind me saying... I think you have potential. Have you considered being a model?"

Mary began to stutter, taken aback by the suggestion. "Me? Are you sure... with all due respect aren't I a little... um..." She said, trailing off and unable to address her present... condition.

"Fat?" He finished after observing her struggle to say the word. "Pardon my bluntness, but that's quite obvious, and I wouldn't have made the offer if that was something I was concerned with. I've quite honestly never worked with someone with your body proportions before... and I find myself inspired. I would love to paint you." He said.

Mary was thankful that she was partially covered by blue paint to hide the fact she was turning beat red. "You want to paint my body... because I'm fat." She said, tears welling up in her eyes.

"No offense was intended!" He said, clearly not expecting this reaction.

"C'mon!" Emily said, grabbing her bigger friend by the arm. "This creep has said enough, let's get you back to my place and try to get this paint off of you."

"And watch how you talk to my friends you creep!" She said, flipping the bird to Phillip as they walked away.

___________

Later that night

The paint wouldn't scrub off, at least not entirely. While she no longer looked like a smurf, Mary's body was a bluish hue everywhere her skin had been exposed. Her borrowed workout wear had to be thrown away, unable to be salvaged. Mary was silently grateful. It had been such a struggle to squeeze her portly figure into it and she wasn't ready to admit to her friend they couldn't share clothes anymore.

She shuddered thinking about the events of the day. Somebody out there really wanted to see her like this? She pondered to herself as she lifted her belly and gave it a shake.

She noticed some contrast in the faded paint , like a little bolt of lighting running down her belly to the right of her navel. She realized soon after that she'd developed another stretch mark.

She thought about herself, naked, lying on somebody's floor and feeling the cool wetness of the paintbrush, tracing her mark down the natural curve of her engorged stomach. Did her body really have potential to become art?

She shuddered, and the silence of her apartment was interrupted by the sudden growling of her stomach.