Chapter 7 - Workday woes

Basil had gotten me home last night with just enough time to shower and eat dinner before bed, but, somehow, I was on time to work on Monday morning. I scrolled through my email in the elevator up to our little office and felt like I barely understood a word I was reading. There was nothing about gluttonous Tieflings, gourmet cuisine, or luxurious showers in here and certainly not a single word about multiple orgasms.

The world felt a little unreal without the immense solidity of Basil around. And yet, the simple, happy weekend I’d enjoyed had already had an effect on me. By the time I rolled into the office – especially on Mondays – my anxiety was usually at fever pitch, and I was doing breathing exercises to chill out. Today, I didn’t feel nervous at all. Well, maybe just a little, but nothing compared to the scope of how I usually felt.

I was hyper aware of my body as I went through the motions of the day. I answered emails, made calls, responded to donors and reached out to potential spaces to host events, just as I always did, but my mind lingered on the way my thighs pressed together, and I felt Basil’s stubble rasp against them once more. When I leaned forward and my breasts brushed my desk, all I could think of was Basil’s mouth hungrily sucking on my nipples. The belt around my hourglass waist became his meaty hand clutching me, the breeze through my hair, his caress. I’d been at the Green Fields Foundation long enough that, thankfully, my work didn’t suffer too much from inattention, but I had it bad, really bad. A level of bad that had no precedent for me.

Sadie fluttered over, her pink and silver wings flattened by the lousy office lighting. Her pastel pink hair was pulled up into a sensible ponytail, and her outfit was an equally sensible charcoal pair of slacks and pixie-modified crisp, butter-yellow button down. Her expression was anything but sensible. She looked like a cartoon of a besotted lover.

“I miss him already,” she moaned dramatically, and for a split second I wondered how she knew what I was thinking. *Duh, she’s talking about that Marcus guy she texted about.* Friday seemed like eons in the past. That part of my life was BB – Before Basil.

“How was your date?” I asked politely while sorting through folders. I was perpetually finding misfiled or improperly labeled information stacked by my coworkers which just made my job harder. Happily, I was a geek for organization and didn’t mind sorting things out, even if it was a mess I hadn’t made. It made me feel useful. “Did you have fun with Marcus?”

“He said it,” she said with starry eyes, as if she hadn’t heard my questions. “He said that he loves me AND has a new job in the city so he’s moving back!” She spun in midair with outstretched arms, her foot narrowly missing a colleague’s desk.

“Oh, that’s great!” I beamed. “You’ve been talking about him since we met.”

Sadie settled on the edge of my desk and leaned to the side to converse a little more quietly. “I know. He didn’t want a long-distance thing, but now that we’ll be in the same city, he wants to be exclusive.” Her little hands clapped together with childlike glee. “I’m so happy, I feel like I’ve been floating on a single wingbeat for days.” She sighed, and then seemed to remember I was more than just an audience. “How was the party? Sorry I bailed. It wasn’t too awkward, was it? Hestia’s super welcoming to humans, so I thought it would be okay.” She bit her lower lip in an expression of exaggerated guilt.

“It was good,” I shrugged, then my need to boast too came over me. I leaned forward on my elbows and said quietly, “I met a guy there, a fucking dream come true.”

“Shit, is he an Occult guy?” she gasped. I nodded and grinned, and she made a little squeak of excitement. “Awesome, to what family does he belong?”

“Uh, his last name is de Gras.”

“No, no, not his ‘family’ family, humans would say what type or species – wait, de Gras? As in the chef?” Sadie’s eyes went alarmingly big.

My ignorance showed me up again. “Well, yes. Basil. That’s who I met. You’ve heard of him?”

She rolled her eyes. “You do live under a rock. I have, like, two of his cookbooks at home and he used to be the host on The Big Cheese.” She made an impatient gesture, like this information would trigger a memory for me.

“I’ve never heard of that show,” I muttered, more than a little embarrassed. The family I had been with for the bulk of my early years had been heavily religious and entirely anti-pop culture. Though I’d started watching TV and movies once I’d left for college, I’d never caught up with the stuff I’d missed as a kid or a teen.

“It was about ten years ago. He was huge, but I heard he got even fatter after he left it.” Her tone was obnoxiously gossipy, not like her usual friendly manner. I gave her a surprised look, and her expression became chagrined. “Sorry, I know you like ‘em big, but he was really fat even back then. I just didn’t think…”

“That someone would find a guy that big attractive?” Her vaguely apologetic manner didn’t do quite enough to calm me down. I was feeling hurt, not just on my own behalf.

“Hey, sorry. I didn’t mean to be a jerk. I bet he’s wonderful, he’s super generous and does loads of charity.” She paused and thought for a moment. “Maybe you could get him to commit to a project with us!”

I agreed vaguely, and the conversation rattled onwards, but I kept thinking about how he just didn’t get it. Even knowing my type, she thought that Basil would need something else to be hot. I couldn’t wrap my head around it, and I was almost grateful that I couldn’t. His warm, soft, generous body and soul were more than I had dared to dream of, and yet my closest friend saw him as a huge freak. It wouldn’t surprise me if she saw me that way too.

Another thought occurred to me. Sadie was usually kind and sweet, but we really had little in common beyond caring about work and making the city a more hospitable place to all. Maybe I needed actual friends, not just the people I happened to know through work.

“Do you think we could take a look at the accessibility blueprints for Feather Hill? I was just thinking that we could use some larger seating to accommodate larger Occults,” I said, interrupting her stream of consciousness narration of her date.

Sadie pulled a thoughtful moue and tapped her finger on her chin. “Yeah, we can do that.” She paused and grinned. “Thanks for pulling me back to work, I would be in the clouds all day.” She flew off to get her laptop, leaving me sitting pensively at my desk.

***

-Hey princess, how’s your day going?- Basil’s text arrived at the same time the cashier called, “One salad to go for Millie!”

Though I usually ate lunch with Sadie and a few other women at work, I felt like I needed some time alone to think. I also worried about Sadie’s gossipy side. It was new to me, and I didn’t feel like having my love life dissected by people I didn’t know well or like that much.

I found a bench outside – noting that it was much too small for Baz – and took a seat to enjoy my Niçoise salad in the serene setting of Lilypad Park. -Greetings Your Majesty. ❤️My day is better after a text from you!-

Three little dots floated up right away. -Anything I can do to put a smile on that pretty face?-

-What would you think about getting together tonight? 😊- I squirmed, my salad forgotten, heart and sex alike burning with desire for my big, fat man.

-Oh, Millie, I’m sorry. I can’t do tonight. I have a very boring dinner with boring investors where I will eat a boring amount of food and attempt to seem as boring and small as I can. 🙁-

-That sounds awful! 🙁I hope you have enough snacks to satisfy you afterwards.-

-I have plenty, though there is one snack I am dying to enjoy again. 😉- The image of him lounging shirtless, texting me from bed rose up irresistibly. He told me that he still kept chef’s hours, late to bed, and late to rise. Basil might still be mussed from sleep, his glasses on the bedside table, black hair tousled, bare, swollen belly curving out before him and filling half the bed with cozy, sweet, warm lard. It formed an arc that was perfect to curl around, fondle and kiss.

I squirmed even harder, heedless of what I looked like to passersby in the park. -Funny that, I was just thinking there was a ride I’d like to go on again.- The memory of his lips on my breasts and his gut between my thighs was so powerful it almost eclipsed the real world around me.

-Could I see you tomorrow night? If you’re not sick of me yet…-

Tingling excitement bubbled through me. -Not even a little! I want to see you again so badly.-

-I’ll send Barry to get you after work. Unless you’d want to be picked up at work?-

A little frown twisted my lips. On the one hand, I wanted to shout my feelings from the rooftops. On the other, being interrogated by the office gossips sounded less and less pleasant by the second. This morning had been difficult, more so than I’d imagined. I’d never had anything interesting enough to gossip about and avoided their interest for years. -That depends. There are a few nosy people in my office, and they might talk.-

-Fuck them. I’ll send the car to your apartment then. Talk is something these boring investors hate. 7 good for you?-

-I could be home and ready by 6 😉-

-6 it is, princess. I’ll have dinner ready for you when you get here. ❤️ -

Basil wasn’t tired of me at all. I wasn’t too needy, or too poor, or too human for him. I held my phone to my chest and closed my eyes, letting the warm fuzzies wash over me until tomorrow night.

***

Dinner was magnificent, though I expected nothing less from Basil. On the small circular table in his vast kitchen, two roast chickens sat stuffed with lemon slices and rosemary and served them with a huge beet salad and a mélange of roasted root vegetables. It was a simple, pastoral, and hearty spread.

I dug in enthusiastically, starting with the salad. Crumbled chevre added a creamy, tart contrast to the crunchy, sweet beets with pepitas adding a bit of salt. It was a perfectly balanced bite, and Basil’s expression as I fluttered my eyelids blissfully was adorable.

He grinned as he filled his plate with a king-sized serving of salad. “I’m glad you enjoy it. I think beets are underrated, personally. Raw or roasted, I use them a lot at Pasture.” His fork looked like a doll’s in his huge, plump hand, yet he loaded it with more salad than on my whole plate. Basil stuffed it in his mouth with a tidy, neat gesture before loading up his next forkful. He swallowed and added, “So, what was going on yesterday at work?”

I chewed a few times before answering, giving myself time to think. The last thing in the world I wanted was to give him a moment of doubt in his own gorgeous power, but I had an unusual urge to be open with him. He’d said that investors didn’t like “talk”, and perhaps he might need to know if there was gossip out there about him. I sighed and girded my metaphorical loins to try this whole openness and honesty business. “My coworker – the one who invited me to Hestia’s – made some comments about your size.”

“Oh.” His eyes went wide behind his glasses, the magnification making them positively owlish for a moment. “You told your friend about me?” He shifted in his chair and sat up a little straighter, pushing his belly against the table. It bulged over the edge alluringly and distracted me for a moment.

I reached over and stroked that curving fat with the back of my hand. “Of course I did, though…” My words trailed off as I was again faced with the conundrum of how to relay my co-worker’s fat-shaming words without hurting his feelings.

Basil’s expression grew rueful, a hard, twist of a grin. “Did she ask how fat I got after The Big Cheese ended?” My expression confirmed his guess. “Occult pop culture rags used to, ahh, how shall I say this? My weight was a big money maker for them. For a few years I barely left the house because of the fucking Fae paparazzi. Sneaky as hell.” He rested his elbows on the table and stared off into space gloomily as if seeing the tabloids in front of him right now.

“Jeez, I… I didn’t realize your size was so controversial.” I took his hand in mine and kissed his knuckles. They and his fingers were dimpled with fat, and the hinge of his wrist was buried in a deep crease of plump flesh. My own hand looked so small, pale and thin in his huge, red paw. I kissed and caressed his hand until I could feel the tension leave his body and his gaze finally returned to the room.

His wide shoulders heaved in a dismissive shrug. “The Big Cheese was the last time I could see my hooves regularly and I was miserable and hungry the whole time. The way I see it is this: I can be fat and happy in myself, but get shit from the outside world, or I can starve myself to be slightly less fat and still not be thin enough for the rest of the world. Either way, the world will buy my cookbooks and go to my restaurants yet find me and my body…” He made a grim gesture that encompassed his whole, overfed frame, and every impulse I had was to adore it.

“Gorgeous?” I said, finishing his sentence in quite a different direction than he’d intended. “Irresistible? Lush? Maddeningly hot? Insanely touchable?” As I went on, his posture relaxed more, and a new grin spread over his lips.

“Thanks, princess,” he said, kissing my hand in return. “I’m more sensitive than usual, I think. This new place I’m trying to open up is… not being received well by the folks who’ve invested in my other restaurants. It's, ah, well, *you’d* like it. I want to cater to big Occults and have at least one place they – we – can go and find a chair that fits and won’t break and portions that actually fill a big ol’ monster up.” Basil slapped his belly affectionately and gave me a wink.

I bit my lower lip as the vision of a restaurant full of fatties happily feasting overtook my brain. “Yeah, I do like it. But I can see why you’re having a rough time getting everyone on board for it, people get weird about fatness.”

“Right, like someone might catch chubbiness off me if they brush my belly,” he said with a snort. Baz stuffed another bite of salad in his mouth, then a third, then it was gone. He reached for the platter with the roast chicken and began carving. “Well, there are no judgmental investors or small minds here, but you are. So, what would you like to do after dinner?” He placed two neatly carved slices of chicken breast on my plate and added some deliciously seasoned parsnips, yams, and purple potatoes. Having served me, he began piling his own plate high with the rest of the food.

I watched, fascinated as always by his appetite. “Damn, you really do have a no leftovers policy,” I teased and stroked my foot under the table against his fattened thigh. “It’s a shame, I wish I could eat your cooking for lunch.”

He raised an eyebrow and looked smug. “As it turns out, princess, I had a similar thought. There are boxed lunches waiting for you in the fridge. All healthy, all in human-appropriate portions.” With great self-satisfaction, he shoveled a huge bite of chicken into his mouth and chewed with a smirk.

“I thought I was here to serve you,” I said in my best purr. For me, dinner was quickly becoming an afterthought, but obviously my man needed every morsel.

Basil wiped his full lips with a crisp napkin and his smirk deepened. “Oh, you are. But as your ruler, I must ensure that my princess has everything she needs to make her happy.”

“Such a benevolent king,” I teased. I inched my seat closer to him. “Would my lord like to be fed by his adoring servant?”

He gave me a teacherly look of rebuke and indicated my plate with my fork. “I worked hard on that, Miss Millie. You could at least try it.”

“Sorry! Of course.” I hastily nibbled on a parsnip. The humble root vegetable nearly melted in my mouth, caramelized onion, roast garlic, and a dash of something spicy melding into a creamy, warm flavor on my tongue. My eyes fluttered in pleasure and Basil chuckled at the sight.

“I hope you’re not just stroking my ego,” he laughed.

My head shook with violent denial. “Not at all. I’m, ha, not much of a foodie but your cooking is a revelation.” The chicken was equally delicious: bright with lemon, savory with garlic, pepper, and thyme, and perfectly juicy.

“Good,” was all he said until I finished my dinner. I sighed happily and gave him a sweet smile, my question obvious without words. Basil patted the table next to his plate, and he picked me up to sit there. He handed me his knife and fork, then sat back and grinned. “Go on then.”

At first, the utensils sufficed to feed him, but they felt increasingly distant and clumsy. I wanted tactile connection. “Can I feed you with my hands?”

“Mmm,” he said with a contented rub of his belly. “Don’t be surprised when I lick your fingers clean, then.”

“Oh, Basil,” I moaned and presented him with a thick slice of roast chicken. He took the whole thing into his mouth, chewed, swallowed efficiently, and opened for another. I fed him bite after bite of meat and veg. My fingers became slick with schmaltz, oil, and spices while my whole attention centered around his mouth, his lips, and constantly working jaw.

I felt more and more like a slave girl feeding my captor – Leia and Jabba if he weren’t a damn slug. Basil shut his eyes, trusting me to feed him just the way he desired, trusting in my love of submitting to his every whim. His hands roamed his filling belly, stroking and massaging every inch he could reach. Soon, his upper belly looked full and firm, yet he still beckoned for more. There was half a chicken and a third of a tray of roasted vegetables left. The thought that I might have to fetch more food to properly stuff him occurred to me and excited me as well.

His eyes opened in a heavy-lidded expression, sleepy, luxurious, and decadent. The fullness of his gut swelled further into a generous bulge and the last bite of yam slipped down his gorge with a hard swallow. He seized my hand, slippery and spiced, and sucked my fingers into his mouth. I whimpered with lust so pressing it hurt, my clit and pussy yearning for the same firm tonguing he gave my fingers. Basil licked my hand clean, and, once finished, regarded me with a prideful, possessive look.

“Full yet?” I asked with a trembling voice. My hands itched to massage his belly while my body screamed with need for his power and size.

He sighed and patted his well-fed tum. “I still have room, but there’s something else I’d like to eat before dessert.” Basil’s eyes twinkled, magnified by his glasses, and left me squeezing my thighs together.

“As nice as that sounds – and it sounds very nice – I was hoping for something else.” I pushed his plate away and slid in front of him, spreading my legs to frame his belly.

Basil looked intrigued and dropped his hands onto my thighs to give them a squeeze. “What might that be?”

“I didn’t get to give you a blowjob, and I really want to.” I gave him my best and shiniest puppy dog eyes, pleading with all my heart. The idea of shoving my face into his fat pad, kissing those fattened thighs and soft, bloated belly occupied my mind in every spare moment.

A hesitant smile appeared on his face and grew brighter and brighter before he pulled me against him and stood. I was draped over his belly, my arms around his neck, and like this he walked us off to his bedroom. Basil whispered in my ear as his gut shifted under me with each step, “Hope you’re ready for some heavy lifting, princess. Your dessert is more than a little hidden.”

I groaned at his words and sank into his softness for a deep, passionate kiss. Heavy lifting was exactly what I wanted.