Undertaker33
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Contest Entry 4: Take Responsibility
🕑 Added 2023-03-01 17:38:27 +0000 UTCHeya, it's been a hot minute since I could post another story for the contest! I've finally managed to dedicate some good review time to a fourth entry, and the author and I were able to get this submission fully fleshed out!
While they would rather remain anonymous for this contest, this author proves they have heaps of skill! Their writing contains a great sense of movement, weight, and can really lean into the princessly elements that perfectly befit a plump and well-fed redhead!
I especially enjoy the chubby introspection here, where plump fingers poke at a stuffed-but-soft waist. The story is very alluring, with an ending that manages to be both sensual and just heartwarming to read!
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Miku woke up Saturday the same way many young adults did.
Poorly rested and well past noon. Not that she knew the exact time…
It had been a groggy awakening, blue eyes blinking blearily at a dark gray ceiling that was mostly maintained by the bedroom’s blackout drapes. Her nose itched, her eyes begged to be closed. Through the jungle of messy red hair that covered her face, she watched her ceiling fan spin round and round in a lazy fashion.
Miku hadn’t set an alarm for herself all week and she wasn’t planning on changing that until she went back to work in two days.
Back to work in two days.
The redhead blinked her sleepy eyes. They focused on a strand of her bangs, a thick tuft that was still tickling her nose. Rather than banish it, she continued to stare at it.
Greasy…
She needed a shower.
She needed a nap.
She needed to get the heck out of bed.
The lightheaded redhead closed her eyes, mustering the will to get herself up and off the mattress. It took a bit longer than she’d like to admit, but she felt her fingers close on the sheet, felt herself take on a last hefty breath of fresh air and quickly sat up…!
*Arouughh*
“Ooouuuurrrrrggggg… bleh…”
…or at least tried to, before a sudden bellyache made her contemplate remaining where she was. Just a bit longer.
Potato chips and cola sloshed about in their flabby container, mixing poorly with the sleeve of cookies she just had to talk herself into eating. Tentatively, a hand slid under the comforter to a distinctly visible lump to give it a placating rub.
“Looks like you can add ‘just a handful’ to your list of broken promises…” the girl groused. The small, careful circles she made with her hand were far better than any antacid, but was far more embarrassing as a tradeoff.
The first time Miku had been hungover, the experience had been so awful that, from then on, she took care to pace herself when out drinking with her coworkers. That and… other changes, ensured she did not imbibe more than she could tolerate.
And yet, despite her gut feeling like a roiling, bubbling cauldron every time she overate like this, she continued to do it over and over… and over… and over.
What a troublesome paradox.
Speaking of troublesome, her tummy seemed soothed enough by her ministrations for Miku to at least attempt to get up again. Carefully, so as not to upset the delicate state of the vat of empty calorie she had strapped to her waist, the girl pushed her legs to the side while lifting the covers off with the other, right hand never leaving her gut.
Her gut.
She had a gut.
Not a pleasantly plump little pot belly, not a portly paunch. Miku was rubbing her overfed, ‘sticks out further than her chest,’ gut.
The awkward lift came with a crinkling of wrappers, like how the ruffling of foliage announced the arrival of an elephant. She could feel its doughy warmth spread across her thighs, plopping fatly in her lap and, as she completed the lift, starting the journey between her legs like a heavy drop of cream.
It announced its displeasure with another burbly *Ruuumg* that forced the glutton to stifle a belch before releasing it as a hot-tasting *Hoooughhh…” Her hand returned to her plumpness which, even in the midst of digesting last night’s binge, was still soft to the touch, plumping around Miku’s fingers as if the surface were made of quicksand.
Though a thin beam of afternoon sun peeked through the curtains, it was still too dark to see much and the temptation to keep it that way was palpable.
Even if her regretful reflection was nothing she hadn’t seen already.
Miku rubbed the last of the pesky sleep from her eyes and let out a big, opened mouth yawn that sounded more like a broken car engine than a noise a young woman should make.
“Every day, I become a little bit more like Ichika,” she grumbled.
Her bare feet touched the floor and she attempted to heave herself up.
She seemed to be attempting a lot of things today…
Perhaps it was due to a desire to lie back on the pile of comfortable pillows she’d been reclining against, or perhaps the young woman’s sense of self had been warped by peaceful dreams of thinner days. Either way, Miku found her body wasn’t responding as quickly as she wanted it to.
‘Or maybe a bit more like Nino…’
With a huff of effort, Miku rocked in place a bit to build the proper momentum, standing up no longer a thoughtless action for her. There was too much heft clinging to every inch of her.
A louder thud signaled that the chubby sweetheart had managed to shift her weight to the floor. The excess adipose fell victim to gravity as she practically peeled herself off the bed using one of the posts as leverage. A last great heft, the final push of her legs off the mattress, and the girl thundered down onto her feet, the impact jiggling her like a wobbly plate of strawberry flan, all the way from her chubby toes all the way to her plump cheeks.
At least you’re standing now…
“Not for long if this keeps up,” she hissed glumly, giving a sad little pat to her well-fed middle that soon transitioned into a thoughtful rub. She could feel herself more than hear it now, the bloated pang of overstretched skin… or could she hear it? A certain sloshy mix, if she swayed from side to side just right…?
Bracing herself, Miku carefully pulled the blinds apart as sunlight was allowed into her little womancave. The mirror she had placed on the door to her domicile helped the natural light flood into the room.
It would also let her assess the damage she’d done, if she was brave enough to meet its fierce gaze.
Today was one of those days and after only a moment’s hesitation, she began to walk towards the mirror.
She again noted that whisper, that sloshy sensation, and realized then that she was waddling. The soft result of her limbs mushing together, an awkwardness she felt down in her knees. This realization caused her to nearly falter on her approach, internally cursing herself and the pressure she felt upon the floorboards beneath her, but it was harder to stop than it was to continue, and the girl waddled up to reality with legs like pudding and a dread like lead.
Six heavy footfalls and she was face to face with cold, hard reality.
Or warm and soft reality in this case.
Just about the only things that hadn’t changed about her were her eyes. Still as beautiful and shimmering as those of her mother and siblings.
Though the slight bags from stress, exhaustion and overwork were certainly new…
“Unpleasant truths,” Miku mused quietly. “Let the mirror reveal all.”
Tiny and hard to notice though the circles were, they sprang from the same source that was responsible for the myriad of more… substantial changes.
Her hair was stringy and greasy. Filled with split ends, it clumped together in strands rather than flow past her shoulders like a natural waterfall. Not helping matters was that she had grown it out more, all the way down her back, making the unkempt mess look almost as bad as her noisy gut felt.
At least it could hide the fleshiness of her face, long and wild as it was now. At work, where she was forced to keep it in a neat bun, the newfound plumpness in her cheeks was left full on display.
Poking her soft chin, she recalled a warning from her sister, Ichika. ‘Once you put on facial weight, it’s all over. No amount of sweat and tears can burn that off!’
Miku found herself glaring fiercely at the memory, and then found that her glare only served to make her face look even more softened. She certainly hoped that her bulging double chin wasn’t as noticeable as it appeared…
Experimentally, she probed it with her fingers which thankfully hadn’t yet thickened. Probably…
Hopefully…
She’d have noticed that, right?
She wasn’t that fat.
Even if she did have two chins now.
It was a bit surprising to Miku that she had gotten so heavy in the face. She had expected… Well, she didn’t know what she expected. She certainly hadn’t expected to become so…
Her eyes drifted down, down, and they looked over the worst of the areas. The whitest, the flabbiest, the doughiest, roundest, butter-and-sugar-and-cookie-packed fattiest parts of her body… the bottom-heavy fatty that she’d turned herself into.
Miku knew what she had expected.
She had expected that she’d never be forced into a waddle. But even a slight wiggle made her hips and her thighs and her fatty gut wobble.
The girl was being unfair. It wasn’t as if her chest had been snubbed, she’d burst buckles on several of her faithful old bras, but it was hard to compare the ripened melons on her chest to the church bell of blubber that her hips had become. Her chub clearly had a preference, and whether it was her age or genetics or her sedentary lifestyle, one thing was certain.
Miku was on pace to outgrow her entire wardrobe.
She couldn’t wear pants, her thighs would rub the fabric raw. She couldn’t wear leggings for a similar reason, not that anyone even made them in her generous size. It was skirts and dresses, but skirts had clasps or buttons to burst, and dresses weren’t built to withstand the jiggly heft of her rear and gut. Any vertical seam would be subjected to endless strain, the pincer attack of plushness from the war on two fronts!
A sudden distraction, Miku stopped watching her hips wibble and blinked up at herself, noticing another object in the mirror just over her shoulder. The wall scroll that was proudly displayed over her bed gestured gently from her ceiling fan’s wind, and the chubby girl found herself letting out a soft, pleased, giggle.
A war on two fronts. Who said she wasn’t living like a Sengoku era warrior?
“Move like a thunderstorm…” she read from the scroll, letting her eyes drop back to her lovehandles and where a war of marshmallow had claimed her thigh gap, “…indeed.”
She’d refused to stop wearing proper bottoms, before. A stupid sense of stubborn pride. She didn’t want to feel like she was forced into wearing only looser clothing, and so would cram herself into pants with no button, or leggings which she’d torn through the waistband. As long as her hips didn’t show, as long as her thighs would behave, she’d be fine.
But they didn’t behave
Because she didn’t behave.
Miku snorted, a self-deprecating huff. She’d been more stubborn about her clothing than she’d been about maintaining her diet, but that was par for the course, wasn’t it? She’d always been stubborn over ‘sillier’ things ever since she was a teenager. Always putting off what she needed with a bevy of excuses or other restrictions.
Why actually put effort into losing weight when she could crowd her closet with clothes that didn’t even fit? Surely she’d manage to go down two sizes, she’d bought all those nice outfit. She’d fit into them soon. Any day now, and she’d be down to a size…
Fifteen? Was that what it had been?
No… that couldn’t be right. That was already too chubby… wasn’t it?
Oh what did it matter? It hadn’t changed. None of it had changed.
“Well, you’ve changed.”
Miku’s gloom didn’t’ last. A small drip of amusement formed a soft smirk on her cheeks, noticing how her hand had come to rest on her belly. It hadn’t been the first time she’d noticed the tick, her stomach was just such a natural resting place and the subtle little motion was something she’d caught herself doing when especially stressed or exhausted at work.
No, not her stomach.
Her gut.
It was the first part of her that entered a room and the first thing people noticed about her no matter how lovely her personality might have been or how pretty she otherwise was. Currently, it was testing the limits of the blue pajama shirt that Miku had worn since high school, pulling the few remaining buttons taut and threatening to burst were she to put too much pressure on them too quickly. Frankly, she hardly even noticed their plight.
So much of her simply hung free. The waistband of her pants couldn’t hope to contain both her belly and butt, so she wore the garment beneath the fold of her belly. Even then, it left a red mark across the tender fat on her hips, but it was better for her stubbornness to simply ignore the desperate condition of her once stretchy, now over-burdened, outfit that she’d once believed could last forever.
But, while she might overlook her clothing, it was impossible for her to overlook herself. She watched in the mirror, wondering if others would notice. In, out, the simple act of breathing. The slight jiggle, the little swell.
How did she make breathing look so… fat?
She turned to the side, looking at her profile. Then she had to adjust to try and fit properly into the mirror frame.
She couldn’t
“Hmmmggghhh…” she puffed, both disappointed and, frankly, surprised. She’d gotten used to her hips being too wide for the frame, she’d even gotten used to standing slightly further back for that. But this?
From the swell of her butt cheeks, porking over her pants, to the tip of her tummy, sagging just out of frame, Miku’s fingers traced a long, weary sigh before her lips spread in a tired grin.
Her hand followed the curve of her fat belly, cupping its warmth and softness as the adipose dripped beneath her fingers.
Another thought came to her in Ichika’s voice. ‘Imagine your belly’s like a really demanding movie director!’ Miku imagined her saying. ‘She can help set your diet!’
A diet of soda and cookies?
‘She’ll provide a wardrobe!’
A wardrobe of popped buttons and burst belts?
It was a quick mental exchange, but it was one that made the girl giggle and jiggle. Somehow, she didn’t think her and her sister would see eye to eye, or tummy to tummy, on her little hurdle.
Almost as if a final jape for the issue, Miku imagined her sister suggesting, ‘If all else fails, you could just suck it in!” So she tried that.
…and immediately regretted it.
Wincing, the girl remembered her digestive situation. Utterly stuffed full of junk food and cheap, carbonated beverages, her poor tummy was in no mood to be compressed or flattened. It came rushing back out in a surge of taut blubber that would surely have burst several buttons had they not already pinged off to the great tailor in the sky, and left the girl wheezing and holding herself up with the side of the mirror.
“O-okay…” she hissed. “That’s enough of that.” She forced herself straight and tried to feel strong, then turned away from the mirror with such force to have her hair whip behind her as she dramatically turned… and plodded away in a buttery waddle.
Miku tried to ignore her instincts, telling herself she’d just worry herself sick and it was better to nip her troubled train of thought before it could leave the station, but she’d already spent so much time looking.
She couldn’t resist.
Like an appearance-conscious Orpheus in the modern-day world, Miku felt the trickle of thoughts she’d been trying to ignore for minutes on end turn her head back and look at the mirror.
She stopped.
The breath had frozen in her stomach. The digestive burbling had stopped, her lungs had stopped, her heart had stopped.
Her massive ass continued to jiggle.
Miku’s eyes snapped forward, face bright with a crimson blush. Her denials had whispered ‘Your butt can’t be that big…’ and they had been right! It was even bigger. Without looking, she tried to untuck the wedged fabric from her buttocks, tried to tug her waistband up and cram her cheeks in. She hadn’t realized how bad it had been, but the look in the mirror had been so indecent that even her normal unabashed senses bubbled self-consciously.
‘Better not do anything that requires you to bend over!’ she heard her sister jibe, and the absurd picture broke her freeze. Miku tried to hide her pink face in her hands.
___________________________________________________________________________
As puffy and pink as the impromptu exam had turned the porky girl, at least it had been an excuse not to clean. Spent dishes from days past cluttered her desk, which had been its only use recently, besides holding her PC.
On her nightstand sat a three-quarters emptied bottle of the previous night’s much needed cola, while the nearly emptied bag of chips sat where she’d crinkled it on her bed sheets next to a rather greasy console controller.
Miku had immediately fallen asleep after binging on both an excess of sodium and digital media, eyes stinging and body calling out for rest that no amount of caffeine could entirely prevent.
Gaming or surfing the web until she passed out from exhaustion was sadly not a new experience for Miku. It was a bad habit that she partook of too often since even in high school, but it had never happened several days in a row until recently.
With no nosy sisters to check up on her and drag her out by her long hair if they felt she was being a little too gloomy, she could hole up in her room to her heart’s content. No rivalry, no warring for space or clashing personalities, she could use her free time to simply sit and… stagnate.
Suddenly feeling a bit woozy, Miku made her way to the desk chair. She pretended not to notice the struggling cry of the overburdened plastic when she dropped her softened bottom into the upholstery’s embrace. However, the powerful jiggle that spread from her thighs to her belly to her chin and the accompanying fat girl grunt that was forced out of her were much harder to dismiss…
Over five years had passed since high school.
Five years since five quintuplet sisters had their lives changed forever by one especially persistent tutor.
Five years since four sisters fell hopelessly in love with him.
Five years since three sisters competed for his affection.
Five years since Two had won…
Miku had competed just as hard as Ichika and Nino had. Miku had loved and she had lost, completely and utterly.
And it was because of that she was where she was now.
She hadn’t spoken to either Nino or Fuutarou since the two had been wed earlier that year.
Though to be fair, that was partially because the last conversation with her older sister had been rather heated and awkward. Neither wanting to touch the sensitive issue that they both knew was there.
Actually, she hadn’t really met up with anyone since the wedding come to think of it…
Everyone had just seemed so busy lately. And although Miku wasn’t the wallflower of her teenage years, sometimes asking someone to spend time with her could take a little bit of working up to.
It was more than that though… Being reminded of her first love, the most important man in her life had got her to thinking about where she was. Where she was going, where she wanted to be. It had filled her with questions, hard questions that she wasn’t sure she knew the answers to.
Not just yet.
That man…
That… boy…
That awful, terrible, wonderful, caring, horrible, boy.
But he wasn’t a boy. Not the boy she remembered, not the boy she knew. He was a man who was standing up there in his tux, side-by-side with a woman who looked just like she did…
Okay. Maybe not just. Maybe in Miku’s memory of that moment, Nino looked plump, with her dress pinching her lovehandles and a butt that made her look more like a bodacious bombshell than a beautiful bride.
Even if they had different bodies, each of the sisters still all shared their eyes. But the expression wasn’t Miku’s
She wished she had never imagined the moment, picturing herself on the podium instead of her sister. Everyone else was busy being happy, and Miku felt like she could remember smiling, but now all she could remember was wondering what it would be like to be up there.
Then another thought hit her, and she was forced to repress another self-depreciative puff. She leaned back in her seat and looked at her bare foot, wondering if she could possibly squeeze her five chubby piggies into such a high pair of heels.
Her idle fingers reached to her desk, running along a pair of well-worn blue headphones. Truthfully, they didn’t even work anymore, the left side speaker no longer outputting sound altogether, but she still kept them. Just one more reminder of a past that she refused to let go of.
“I really should call…” she softly whispered. “It’s not like I’m doing anything important.”
She didn’t move from her spot.
Frankly, it was her stubbornness again more than anything. Miku knew that if her sisters saw her and knew how she was living her life, they’d have quite a few choice words for her about her lack of progress. Itsuki and Nino especially.
Everyone had made so much progress since their sophomore slump.
Ichika was moving up the film industry seemingly by the day. There were even talks about her first feature film in the works.
Itsuki was just finishing up her teaching degree and following in their mother’s footsteps.
Nino had opened her own bakery and married the man of her dreams.
Even Yotsuba had at least managed to take care of her health and seemed to get more and more physically fit each time her older sister saw her.
Meanwhile, Miku was…
Miku was…
There was a sudden knock on the door that made the poor girl nearly jump out of her seat.
“Miku?” a soft voice called. “Miku my darling, are you awake?”
The voice was so quiet that it was nearly lost beneath the sound of her body settling back into the chair, a noise which might have been confused with a squeaky mattress beneath a slumbering giantess. Her face white, her mind panicked, Miku hurriedly tried to convince herself she’d heard nothing at all, but the voice continued.
“I hope I’m not disturbing your well-deserved rest! I promise it’s important.”
It was almost too soft to hear, close to a whisper even when the owner had slightly raised his voice.
It was lucky that Miku lived in a college dorm, where the walls and the doors were quite thin, for she might have truly been able to force the noise from her mind had she not recognized the familiar gentleness of a familiar man.
Daisuke Uchiumi. Technically her boss but more importantly, the man who she absolutely did not want to see right now.
And the man she wanted to see more than anyone.
“I hope I haven’t done anything to offend by coming here…” the voice continued, maintaining its polite and neutral tone as well as it could even as the slightest hint of worry crept in.
Miku’s heart battled with itself for a moment, a plump little hedgehog wrestling with its desire to retreat into its burrow versus approaching the kind hand offering a tasty treat which she might nibble on.
And knowing Daisuke, he most likely did bring something for her to eat. He was thoughtful like that… even if he wasn’t very good at the whole ‘cooking’ thing.
Despite her worries, her whispers and her internal natures, the decision as made when she heard herself mutter, “Dai-kun…”
She blinked, looking down towards her mouth in surprise. She was instead met with the flushed sight of her portly pink tummy, the demanding director which lifted her senses to hear the shuffling of a bag just outside of her door.
The fear redoubled, a final assault upon her senses as she was faced with her belly and her fleshy exposure. He wouldn’t knock again. He’d wait exactly half a minute before leaving, as he’d consider anything else to be overbearing and rude. If she just stayed quiet, he’d assume she was sleeping and then Dai-kun would…
A memory flashed. The recollection of a girl curled up in her hotel room, arms round her legs and knees to her chest. A dour blue became an explosive red, a declaration of desire. And Miku desired nothing more in that moment than to just be herself, and to be happy.
She wanted to see him.
She deserved to see him.
She deserved to be happy, and had nothing in the world to be embarrassed about.
“One second!” the woman called out.
Miku made to hop to her feet, but settled on a slow, lumbering lift that required a wiggle to ensure her hips wouldn’t get stuck in the chair. Partway through the labor, there was a certain temptation to just tell him to come inside so she didn’t have to get up. He did have the key after all… but she didn’t want to look even lazier and fatter than she already did.
So she forced herself up, taking her hips brushing the arms of the chair like a taunting whisper of struggles to come if she wasn’t more careful, but this new fire inside her had the woman decide.
Maybe she was sick of being careful.
She crossed the room quickly, aware of her waddle and not even caring. With one last quick brush of her hair, Miku opened the door.
“Ah! Oh!” She was greeted by a tall man wearing a black button-up coat and an extremely bright blush. “Terribly sorry. I knew this was a bad time. I can come back later.”
Miku let herself grin, enjoying his embarrassment at her disheveled appearance almost as much as she enjoyed the rapid flicks of his eyes trying to find where to comfortably look before finally settling on her own.
He lifted a hand, scratching at his red cheek, but his eyes no longer wavered. “That is, if you wish it of course.”
Dai-kun usually wore a regal kimono, decorated lavishly and flowy and fine. It made the suit look strange on him, though no less regal. Never a thread out of place or even a wrinkle in sight.
He had a youthful face, with sharp cheekbones and a strong chest which the suit emphasized. Long, black hair held in a simple ponytail with a red string followed that same principle, turning something that could be seen as unkempt, youthful, or rebellious into something tidy, old fashioned and respectful.
A part of her wondered if such a light could ever again be cast upon her. With her musty hair, her busted shirt, her gut muffining over the top of her waistband. That part of her caused her to tug at her shirt, but neither of the two seemed to notice much outside of the other’s eyes in that moment.
“N-no. I-um… just wasn’t expecting you.”
Miku was the first to break direct eye contact, but it wasn’t by choice. Her unconscious wobble set a loose strand of her bangs to fall over one eye, and suddenly the spell that held their contact was broken and she felt herself blush into his warm expression.
He was smiling. Dai-kun was always smiling, but his smile made her smile, and she felt like her smile made him smile just a bit more. The smile that he wore now was one that reached his eyes, and it made Miku blush and breathe and giggle.
“Apologies,” he said, growing a bit more pensive. “I tried to contact you in advance, but I did not receive a response. I grew concerned.”
Miku felt her head tilt and her brow narrow. She certainly hadn’t received any kind of… notification…
Her lips puckering, she peered to the desk she’d just hurriedly wobbled from. Sitting somewhere, amidst the plates and destruction, she knew was her phone… which she’d set down on Friday and then ignored for most of the weekend.
The one she had meant to put on the charger two nights ago. And then yesterday afternoon, after she’d gotten back with her friends and before her gaming sessions. And then this morning, before all the soda and cookies and her comfy pillows had lulled her into a coma…
And here in front of her was her boyfriend who, while conscientious and kind-hearted, hadn’t had a cellphone until Miku insisted he get one last year. The aspect of ‘instant communication’ had been the main selling point.
“…forgot to charge it…”
“Hmmm? What was that?”
“I said I forgot to charge my phone.”
Miku closed her eyes, expecting some sort of lecture, but Daisuke just laughed. He had a pleasant laugh.
“You forget too? Excellent, I thought I was the only one. It’s seldom useful when I’m not speaking with you. But I’d realized this morning and feared that I’d missed a call or some such this weekend.”
“It would tell you,” she chuckled, shaking her head. “It says on the screen when you miss calls.”
“Yes but…” and then, for the first time, the young man averted his eyes in his own shades of embarrassment. “I fear I’ve forgotten my Email… again.”
“Ooohh, Dai-kun,” Miku released a sigh of relief that became a cheerful little snort. She shook her head, exasperation and fondness making her feel better than even cookies could.
What was she going to do with him?
“Come in!” she bade, stepping back from the door as he respectfully bowed. “I’ll get you logged back in. I’ve your passwords written down on my phone.”
She turned around then, praying that her conspicuous waddling wouldn’t lower the waistband of her pajama pants too far. Miku didn’t want to be giving a peek of cheek… a thought which then made the girl’s blue eyes become as wide as saucers as her head snapped to her charging cable, plugged in by her nightstand next to her bed.
It lay on the floor.
Her phone was dead.
She would have to bend down to get it.
“Crap…”
“What was that?”
“Uhh just…” she swallowed, brushing some of her foodie carnage aside and scooping up her phone. “Got it!” she beamed.
“Ah, yes I see.” Daisuke came further in, to the foot of her bed. Miku’s eyes flicked to the empty chip bag and her forest of crumbs, but he didn’t even seem to notice her worries, too busy removing his bag.
“What’s that?” she asked as he placed it down on the floor, using the opportunity to gracefully thump across to her bed and hurriedly fling the chip bag up past her headboard and out of sight.
It was lucky that he was tall. It made bending down a long thing for the man to rise from, though she did notice a smirk that might have been entirely too amused when he was up on one knee.
“My travel bag,” he nodded. “You see, I…”
And then he paused, his mouth open, and then his eyes fell to the side and he released a low, breathy laugh.
“Dai-kun?” Miku asked, coming around to stand with him at the foot of the bed. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s…” he began before shaking his head again. “You know, I had been working on a speech for the last twenty minutes. About how I found your stockings in my luggage. Which is true,” he said, patting the bag. “We must have got it mixed during the rush to leave the hotel. I should have noticed it there of course, but I brought them to return to you.”
Miku peered at him curiously. “But…?” she asked.
“But, it’s not… why I’m here.”
Miku felt herself tilting. It felt so odd to be standing there, looming over the man who was several inches taller than her. Noticing that both of her arms had seemed to go to the natural place on her gut, she decided to just let the naturalness take her and leaned against the bed.
Her boyfriend was polite enough not to notice the loud *Boomf* of the headboard smacking the far wall.
“S-so,” she stuttered, blushing, “why are you here? You could have given them to me when I returned to work.”
Daisuke rose to his feet and came to where she stood. That felt better, more comfortable, with her eyes level with his chest instead of… his… level with…
Miku turned several shades brighter, the current thought quickly replacing itself with her and Nino arguing with one another over who was taller, Fuutarou or Daisuke, and how both men had reacted to the two girls, filled with heat and maybe a bit too much drink, forcing them to stand back to back despite Fuutarou’s loud complaints.
The result had been a definite victory for Daisuke by a measly two inches which Nino had never let her husband live down as though it were something he could actually control.
Her sister could be so childish sometimes.
“I wanted to say those things,” Daisuke said, reaching out a hand for Miku’s. “Because, in part, I think it is because I wanted to believe that was it. Just… stopping by, dropping something off. Completely and totally without ulterior motive.”
Miku found herself pouting, reaching out with her fingers to prod at his waist. “No ulterior motives, huh?” She found her voice and eyes full of suspicion, wondering if he was going to ask her again.
She’d left him without an answer for so long, now. Did he think she’d forgotten? Was he about to ask her if she would-
“I wanted to see you,” he said simply, and those anxious whispers were banished from her mind. “I will not lie to you. Returning something is a good excuse, but…” His eyes grew soft and he fidgeted ever so slightly inside of her grip. “We’ve not spoken since the trip. I missed the sound of your voice… very much.”
Miku blinked at him. Her eyes were still looking for some sort of sign, some ingenuine hint, but… no. That wasn’t Daisuke. That… wasn’t her Dai-kun.
She wanted to smack herself.
Instead, she smiled, albeit a bit more bashfully this time. Her fingers flexed on his, her thumb stroking his hand. “R-right. I’m sorry. About… I just needed a little time…”
His other hand came up, lightly waving away her concerns. “Oh, yes the midterms, right? You had mentioned before. To tell you the truth, it has made me happy for timing that the inn is undergoing renovations. You of all people deserve-”
She deserved to be happy.
The woman resisted the urge to reach up and knock the man on the head for believing that her excuse about ‘school’ was why she’d been avoiding him. She had to fight harder to resist the urge to pull the man down by his shirt and lock him into a kiss so intense that they might suffocate from a lack of oxygen.
Miku compromised, as she often did, with the softer answer, and rose to give her boyfriend a hug.
“I missed you,” she whispered.
“I missed you too,” he replied. “This week has felt like months without my talented assistant.”
For a moment, she allowed herself to just rest. To enjoy the gentle beating of his heart and his soft breath on her head, to feel his hands stroking through the long strands of her messy hair. He had to feel the grease. Oh God, he definitely felt it, and he could feel her weight against him, and he could feel her gut flattening his nice coat, and… and none of it seemed to matter. He just stood there, holding her, with understated yet ever present strength in his arm. The smell of old furniture and well brewed matcha tea. Sakura blossoms and the pages of history.
It was starting to smell like home.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Hmm?”
“Yes!” she repeated louder, looking up at him. “My answer. Yes.”
He blinked at her. He honestly blinked at her, as if he’d no expectation for an answer to his question. And then the lights in his eyes brightened and she felt his arm tighten around her, and she buried her face in his chest and let herself feel exactly what she wanted.
“I will move in with you after this semester!”
He didn’t reply for a moment, but she could hear the relief in his breathing and then he buried his face in her scalp. “That is… fantastic!” he muttered. “But I must know, why the change of heart?”
Miku had to admit, it was a good question. He had asked her back when they had taken the trip to her sister’s wedding and her response had been nowhere near as enthusiastic.
Back then, she had stammered and stumbled and told him she would think about it but that she didn’t have an answer.
Nino had really laid into her for that one.
“You know you’re just going to say yes, so why waste everyone’s time hemming and hawing about it!? Gawd you’re such a drama queen sometimes!” Her straightforward sister had practically screeched, emboldened by alcohol at her bachelorette party.
That had, of course, led to one of their iconic cat fights soon followed by a tearful apology once more booze had flowed.
The worst part was that her sister was completely right… for once.
“I wanted to,” she answered after thinking about it some. “Because I love you Dai-kun.”
That seemed good enough for him as he cheerfully broke from her grasp, clapping his hands together before snatching up his bag from the floor and setting it down upon her dorm’s dining table. “Oh this is stupendous! Truly! I will tell everyone at once so preparations can be made!”
The wind in her lungs became weight in her gut. Or… erm… more weight, in her gut. She couldn’t imagine Dai-kun’s mother would be too happy about this turn of events. She had always thought of Miku as a sinful temptress from the city compared to the nice country girls she’d try to pick out for her son.
Miku’s size hadn’t even been the main target of Mother Uchiumi’s scornful glare… at first… The soft redhead had grown considerably softer over the last few years, with her most rapid gain happening in these recent months, and despite Dai-kun’s assurances of familial unity, Miku felt certain that her expansive backside had been the topic of at least one family meeting…
That thought brought an even more worrisome one. She wasn’t sure if they made kimono’s in her size. She’d never thought to check, and her old formal dress would fit her as well as her pajamas-
*Ping!*
*Tick! Tick…*
Miku watched in frozen horror as one of her top’s final few buttons, this being the one that had been just beneath her breasts, slowly rolled back from where it had struck the wall near Dai-kun. He was watching it too, both of them silent, as the failed soldier swirled round and round and then noisily came to a rest just close enough that Miku couldn’t see it beneath the curve of her gut.
Several impulses fluttered through her. The one that came closest to winning was the one that screamed at her to dive beneath her covers, and she might have done so had she anywhere near the agility to manage before Dai-kun’s chuckling proved so darned infectious that Miku’s gut wobbled in a big belly laugh.
“We will… have to upsize your wardrobe, I think,” he said, crossing to her as she shook her head and held her gut through her laugh.
“Hooogh,” she wheezed. “Yes. That would probably be for the best.” She lifted a hand to her mouth, covering her laughter. “I didn’t think…” Miku trailed off, shaking her head and poking at the flood of fleshing trying to join her gut in escape. “Do you know if they make kimonos in my size?”
“Hmm?” Dai-kun’s eyes sparkled. “Darling, I imagine they will make one whatever size you would like as long as they are paid.”
Miku let out a very loud sigh. “Good. The last thing I’d want is to give people… outlines to peep from a tight dress.”
“Come now,” he said, tugging her gently up to her feet. “We should celebrate. Dinner. Let me treat you somewhere tonight. Really treat you, a full course meal with a chocolate dessert!”
The demanding director stirred. Loudly.
Miku turned pink as the audible rumble that jiggled up from her belly quivered throughout. She shouldn’t nearly be so hungry as that, she was still digesting so much from her early morning. She swallowed the nervous tension and looked up to apologize, only to be greeted to an unsuspecting sight.
Dai-kun was looking at her belly, and was still grinning.
“S-sorry,” Miku still chirped, though she felt as confused as he looked.
“Hmm? Oh,” his furrowed brow lifted and he cupped her cheek in his hand. “Darling, don’t tell me you’re fretting about your weight again,” he chuckled. “You are pleasingly plump at the most. And it suits!”
Miku’s eyes widened at the man without a dishonest bone in his body.
“That is not news, is it?” he asked. “You should hear how the staff talks. It is fitting for a matron who is always so warm and who spends idle hours baking in the kitchen.”
“I-I don’t… Do I bake that much?” Miku asked, her heart thundering like a startled rabbit.
Dai-kun’s reply was just a raised eyebrow. He looked down to her stomach and said “How does purin sound for dessert? Topped with whipped cream and a chocolate fudge-”
*Rrrroooouugghh* demanded the noisy director.
Miku’s eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings. “C-cheating,” she said. “You know how I like…”
“Mhmm,” he grinned. “You run a tight shift in the kitchens. Those who work under you hold great respect for you. They know you are…”
His hand dropped. Goosebumps erupted across her belly, his hands chilly and cool against a surface which had earlier burned like a foundry.
“Experienced.”
Miku’s nostrils flared, her belly swelled. Her breath was so deep that the few other buttons threatened to burst. She knew in that moment that she was dirty, filthy and so very fat.
‘Matronly...’
Memories passed by like so many scents of so many meals. She remembered outgrowing her first chef’s outfit, then her second. She remembered the taste of the first desserts she had baked for the hotel. And, in that moment, she remembered the girl who couldn’t bake anything. The small, skinny girl, who had changed her whole life because she really just wanted to learn how to make tasty chocolates for a boy she liked.
Miku Nakano melted into the arms of her Dai-Kun, and he kissed her forehead. She felt loved and knew that she had come to love him more than she had even thought she was capable.
“Ah…” he breathed into her hair, “You raise a good point. Why wait for tonight when I have brought something delicious right now?”
She blinked up at him, but hobbled along, unwilling to let go of him until they reached his bag on the table. He flipped open the top and a bit of steam puffed out, and Miku recognized both a slightly torn pair of stockings as well as a small heated carrying bag that Daisuke had purchased at her insistence.
From the bag, Daisuke removed what looked like Gyudon bowls. The scent of them was lazy, warm and inviting, reminding the girl of comfort and a lovingly full belly.
“I wanted to cover the scent,” he said as her belly, which she could tell was still full, rumbled against his waist. “I know how restless you can get.”
“How restless I can get!?” she said, trying to pout through her laugh. She lifted herself on her toes, rubbing her belly against him. “This is your fault, too!”
And it was true! Despite his laughter! She wasn’t like her gluttonous sister Itsuki who seemed to love eating for eating’s sake. She wasn’t like Nino either for whom the pleasure of overindulging herself was worth a few extra pounds.
Miku’s strength, her confidence, came from food. Food was more than a comfort to her. Every bite she took was a reminder of how much she’d grown. And every bite of Daisuke’s cooking was just one more reminder of his love.
A reminder that she was worth loving.
“I must say,” he began “I got a few strange looks when I told people what the bag was for. Is knocking on your beloved’s door with food and waiting for them to come out truly so peculiar in the city?”
Wiping the drool from her lip, Miku grew a deadpan expression. Knowing Daisuke, he probably actually did phrase it exactly like that. “The other residents might think you’re a creepy stalker now.”
Daisuke winced. “Yes, I suppose a woman such as yourself would have plenty of those. Especially in the big city.”
“You stalked me at one point.”
“Ah,” he corrected. “That was not mere stalking. I simply saw you and was transfixed by your ability! I may have been slightly… overly zealous, true, but I had to ask if you’d come work for us!”
Indeed, he had come in as a regular to her first part time job. Culinary school was quite different to how she thought it would be. More focused on the business end of things rather than learning new recipes, which students were expected to master and practice on their own.
Miku had already put in the effort to be good at cooking, but if all that she needed was to get a paper to prove it then she just figured she might as well get paid for it.
And it just so happened a diner attracted a lot of people from different walks of life including the heir of a prestigious inn commuting to the city every day for manager training whose historic hotel had recently found itself short of chefs.
She regretted being so quick to judge later, of course, but what was she supposed to think at the time. A customer from the rinky dink diner she forced herself to work at calling her name and chasing after her in the middle of the night?
Perhaps it was a good thing she was so out of shape, otherwise he wouldn’t have caught up with her and made her a much better offer.
Prestige, practice, pay, those were wonderful of course… but what had won her over was something else.
“We comfort the weary and send them back refreshed. Our inn is a sanctuary and it is our job to make our clients’ stay a restful one,” he had said, breathless not only from the run. “And food is an important part of that as I’m sure a chef of your talents is more than aware.”
Maybe it was her huffing and puffing, or maybe it was her bewildered expression. But something in the way that he presented the pitch, so impassioned…
“A clean bed and a warm meal for a tired soul. Come change lives for the better with us, Nakano-san.”
It was hard work. Exhausting even, and taking classes at the same time didn’t help with her stamina, but Daisuke’s admiration of her only seemed to grow each and every day. Near the end of each shift, he would always order a special dessert and then offer to share with her once she was off the clock. And working beside Daisuke made Miku feel… incredible.
“Another review that mentioned you, Nakano-san. I’m starting to run out of room on your clipboard!”
“Goodness, I have never seen such organized looking notes. No wonder your grades are so high, Miku.”
“Darling, I think I’ve made something truly mouthwatering this time. Your recipe was invaluable.”
It was getting to the point where Miku was really starting to believe it. That awful, negative little part of her mind told her that it would end when he met her sisters, but that hadn’t happened either.
‘And why would it?’ Miku thought to herself, wiggling her hips cheerfully. 'I’ve got a lot about me to love.'
“How did you get in anyway?” she asked offhandedly. “It’s school policy not to let anyone you don’t recognize without an ID. You could have been a dangerous criminal…”
Daisuke raised a finger. “Ah. A nice young lady named Takane-san let me in. What a shame. I didn’t know it was against policy. I hope she didn’t get in trouble.”
Miku pursed her lips. Takane was one of her classmates. Another red head but one who hadn’t succumbed to the plumpness that affected chefs. Flirty, and with another guy seemingly every month. Miku didn’t like that type of girl being on a first name basis with her boyfriend.
“She gave me her phone number though. Hopefully if anything happens, she’ll contact me and I can clear things up.”
Miku pouted harder than she had ever pouted before, cheeks so big and puffy she could be mistaken for storing balloons. “Trespasser. Go get arrested and banned from the campus for life,” she mumbled.
“Hmmm? What was that darling? I didn’t quite hear you.”
Recomposing herself, Miku gained a look of determination. She led Daisuke by the hand over to the nearby bed.
After victory, tighten the straps of your helmet.
It meant that after you felt as if you’d won was when you were most vulnerable. And she wasn’t about to lose after all she’d been through.
Miku sat herself back on the bed, pushing her body off the floor with a grunt and slowly wiggling her hips until she was near her headboard. “How about you… feed me Dai-kun,” she said, hands moving to her belly. Her usual bashfulness was competing with a new desire and she was delighted to find that new desire was winning.
The inn’s heir didn’t need to be told twice. He doubled back, quickly grabbing a bowl and one of the forks to go with it, then seated himself at her feet as she adjusted the pillows so that she could sit comfortably.
He waited for her, and she could feel his eyes lift from her belly to the heft of her breasts. She was very glad that the shirt still offered some form of support… but she’d be lying if she’d said she wasn’t enjoying every moment of appraisal.
An idea came to her and she was excited to find that she’d managed to move her phone to the bottom of the bed. “Here!” she said, “Pass me my phone?”
“Hmm? Sure,” said her boyfriend, leaning across her legs and then passing it on to her.
And then, stealing her breath and trying very hard to focus on the word ‘matronly,’ Miku titled herself over to the opposite side of her bed. She felt a bit of pain in her stomach as it compressed, but it was nowhere near as excited as she felt when she heard her boyfriend gulp.
That elation could have lifted her up like a cloud, but she settled back down with a lovely *BWOOMF* that she was sure showed off every single pound she had put on since he’d chased her down. And then she plugged in her phone, puffy with pride and very much enjoying the look on his face.
He watched her and, slowly, he let out a loving chuckle, stroking one hand on her soft inner thigh. “I’m glad you’re warming up to this. I know it might seem a bit… odd.”
Miku giggled, wobbling back until she was reclined against her pillows. Her hands came to rest comfortably on her gut as her thighs spread, emphasizing her heft for the man she loved and who loved her in turn. “Yeah… well… this weight is mostly your fault… So… take responsibility, okay?”
