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Contest Entry 3: Catering to Her Abundance
🕑 Added 2021-12-23 23:24:10 +0000 UTCWe've got our third entry for our Quintessential Contest all finalized! Meatpedal is an exceptionally talented figure in our community, mainly focused in artworks but now venturing out with their very first story! The feature itself is exceptionally meaty, with plenty of redheaded affection and big chubby fun! A full-figure body demands a packed tummy, but this hungry quintuplet doesn't yet realize just how much has been packed on her plate for this wonderful evening~
The writing here manages to be both enticing and wholesome, and has a sweet enough story that our well-fed lead can probably taste it with her spoiled appetite! Meat has also informed me that they'd like to continue writing their own stories, so make sure to keep an eye out for more! :D
Check out their DA: https://www.deviantart.com/meatpedal
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She was late. Again.
Fuutarou Uesugi sighed as he glanced at his ascetic wristwatch with an unreadable expression. It was not only that she was late, that much was normal. The fact was that she was late from being late, taking considerably more than her typical academic quarter to arrive at the agreed location which, mind you, wasn’t all that far from the nearest stop.
Perhaps she had missed the train? It wouldn’t be an unusual occurrence, seeing how bad her scheduling had gotten recently. Not like she had it easy with public transportation in the first place, so the options weren’t simply limited to missing a ride.
Nevertheless, only she could be so consistent in overestimating herself after all this time, leaving her date waiting… again…
Fuutarou reached his hand towards the steel dome placed neatly in front of him on a circular table. Some heat still radiated from inside it, which was good. Anything less and he would live to regret it.
Then, more slowly, his hand went to his breast pocket, feeling the small container within. It wasn’t time sensitive, like the heat of the food, but the little box was just as important.
Well, arguably. Depending on whether she’d skipped lunch.
Just before taking his umpteenth nervous look at his wrist, the impatient man was interrupted by a loud thump from the other side of the establishment’s window. While a few surprised gasps and mutterings rose up from the restaurant around him, Fuutarou himself knew exactly what had produced such a sound.
Not needing to confirm the source of the ruckus, the young man calmly listened as few additional thumps and the ringing of the bell was followed by audible huffs of air. Someone remarkably exhausted had entered the cafeteria.
He wondered if she’d ran.
Or… made an attempt to do more than her slow, lumbering waddle…
Fuutarou busied himself, trying to appear as if he wasn’t counting the steps of the strained heels before they came to a halt. He waited for the panting to subside before finally turning over his shoulder to make eye contact with the girl huffing and puffing at the counter near the entrance.
Nino Nakano, the second eldest of the Nakano quintuplets, had certainly seen better days. Her well-maintained bangs were glued to her forehead, shiny in the bright light with the soft gleam of sweat, her heaving belly and flexing sides made her maltreated clothing look as if they could barely hold on.
The reddish-pink woman may have appeared as if she had run a marathon, were it not self-evident that the concept of ‘running’ was lost on the heft of Nino Nakano. Another breath, another swell, and the girl’s belly flexed the fabric of her top to the point of bursting, something she hardly seemed to feel. Even as porcine pudge puffed over her waistband, even as her hefty arms pushed her back up from the counter and her thighs mushed together in their escalating war for negative space, Nino’s bright eyes seemed to smolder with blue sparkles as the scent of the restaurant swept over her like the wash of a wake upon a walking marshmallow.
Those blue sparkles fell on Fuutarou, who quickly looked up from the porcine puffs of the overweight redhead, pretending he hadn’t noticed the girl even as half of the restaurant broke into hushed whispers. People always whispered when Nino was around.
It just made her seem so much louder.
Fuutarou felt the malevolent smirk crawling up on his cheeks even as he tried to fight it down, all the while listening to the whispers and to the noise. Someone, a woman, made a small gasp, while hundreds of pounds plodded across tile on cute, sizable heels.
*Tuk, tuk, tuk, tuk*
Huff, puff, huff, puff.
Like a rolling eclipse, Nino moved herself between Fuutarou and the lamp he’d been staring at in ill feign for ignorance. It made her bright hair that much brighter, and brighter still against her snowy white blouse beneath her black cardigan. The dark top colored her red-pink skin a touch more pale, painting her visage with radiant contrast. As the massive veil brought her blue embers to meet his own, Fuutarou’s smirk faded into a welcoming semi-smile.
“You know,” he said peacefully, “you could at least message me if you’re gonna be late. Or did you lose your phone again?”
His companion inhaled, still clearly trying and failing to muster some air into her abundant chest. It did… interesting things to the prominent white hills that strained her top, made even more interesting when she lifted her head backwards, exposing her short neck and fat chin. “Ha...” she breathed, “ha. Do you have any idea…” another pause, another huff, and a wonderful strain that looked as if it could burst the button desperately trying to hold back her weight, “how far this place is from the station? Hoogh…”
The girl moved, melting from her stiff stance as she lifted a hand from her hips to her chest. It mushed into her breast, and her doughy belly filled to its maximum as she took in an exceptional breath before finally letting it melt.
“Ogh, I got here as quick as I could, alright?” she stated. “I would have taken a taxi if…”
If.
Fuutarou couldn’t tell during which of the rugged breaths it was, but watching her flush of exertion evolve to a touch of pink embarrassment proved she’d realized the error in her thinking.
Nino couldn’t fit into any taxi. Maybe a van, one of the ones they use to transport heavy machinery and moving equipment. As long as the side opened up, but even then… It took standing in front of her to really remind Fuutarou of just how big Nino had become.
She was shorter than him, but far, far wider, heavy with pudge in every spot. Her belly was dough, her arms were ham, her thighs were trunks, and Nino was overwhelmingly fat.
Her pride kept her from ever saying it out loud. Which meant her sisters didn’t say it, and her boyfriend certainly wasn’t allowed to voice such a ridiculous notion, lest he incur her porcine pout and hammy wrath.
Not that that stopped him from doing so anyways.
“Don’t look at me like that, okay?” she puffed, finally capable of holding onto her air. “You probably picked a place so far on purpose, you jerk.”
It was the whispers that did it. Her averted blue eyes were turned just to the left, her pink cheeks glowing with embarrassment beneath the light markings of her exertion and sweat. She could hear the people, the patrons of the restaurant hidden from Fuutarou behind Nino’s exceptional volume, and it made him bristle on the inside.
So he made himself laugh.
It was a strange sound. Foreign, even to him. Deep baritone, a husky but loud noise that had an instant effect on the puffy quintuplet. She perked up, eyes widening as they turned away from the whispers and fell onto her boyfriend. The pink vanished before, all at once, swimming back in a much more powerful blush as Fuutarou came forwards, chuckling more softly, and took Nino into his arms.
It was like hugging a warm, lovely soft pillow, while knowing it was only just the top of the pile. The fabric was knitted black yarn, pleasant to the touch, but not nearly as pleasant as the pure weight of her. How her belly lifted and pressed into his middle and how he had to pull her ever-so-slightly forwards to bring her chin to his chest.
He could smell the sweat on her, sure, but it was mostly concealed beneath her powerful shampoo and even more powerful perfume. There was also something else mixed in. Baking, he was sure, a scent that clung to her body almost as present as all of her excess.
Truly, she smelled like Nino. Soft, squishy, fat, she smelled like his girlfriend, and the whispers changed from ‘her’ to ‘them.’
“Sorry,” he said into her ear, flexing his arms to tighten his hug. “Didn’t realize how far it’d be for you. I’ve been here a while.”
She was still blushing when they broke apart, yet there was now a tempered smile on her face too, with her eyes centered down on his chest. “Yeah, well, you should pick me up or something! I hate having to walk all by myself.”
“I don’t think I’d be able to carry you.”
Her gaze quickly shifted towards his eyes, a mild startled look that quickly narrowed. “That is not what I meant…” she pouted, folding her arms before flicking her hair behind her head. “Gah. Whatever. You just need to work out more.”
“I’ll think about it,” he said, still smirking.
There had always been whispers about Nino. Even when she was small, which seemed almost as if it was another lifetime considering how long it had taken for her to end up where she was now, the redhead had a certain fire to her that ensured she always stood out.
Nino never mixed in to start with, thanks to her red hair and her twin butterfly ribbons. She was also equipped with a sharp tongue, a loud voice, and a pair of blue eyes that could set a man aflame, in addition to her being quick on her feet… in a mental sort of way.
Sharp, loud, fiery, coy, playful… Even amongst her identical sisters, Nino always had a way of being larger than life.
And, if he got his way, she’d be even larger by the end of the day.
“Here,” Fuutarou gestured towards the table, where an extra-large platter sat covered from hungry eyes. “I ordered ahead. Had them put a lid on to keep everything nice and warm.”
Nino scowled at him. “You knew I’d be late,” she accused.
Fuutarou shrugged, still smirking. “Call it… pattern recognition.”
Her eyes narrowed further. “Is that why you had them set my side with an extra two chairs?”
Fuutarou went to his side of the table, sitting back down in his single seat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. This place just has really small seats.”
Which was true. Kind of.
They were seats that fit the makeup of the restaurant. Bright, girly colors of lavender and lemon, their tone befitting the couples’ café. There were smaller tables with smaller seats, but Fuutarou knew to pick somewhere nearby a wall, and assured the staff that a few extra seats would be required.
Clearly, they’d thought the pair would be having company. A doubles date, placing two chairs on either side. They’d looked at him oddly when he moved the third over to hers, not yet suspecting that his companion more than made up for an entire group.
A correlation which had carried over to their order, a custom dictation which one skinny little waitress had taken with an increasingly bewildered expression.
As he watched her move to her side of the table, Fuutarou took in just how big she was. Everything she did now was soft and slow, a few hundred pounds past ‘extra-large,’ but Nino’s measurements were a secret guarded with the utmost ferocity.
How big was her belly, which strained all of her buttons? How fat were her hips, which could break a chair’s legs and smother his lap. Custom-sized bras, custom-sized clothing, Nino was-
“You’re staring again,” the blue eyes pulled him up as she settled down.
He felt himself smirk. “Sorry. I like looking at you.”
“Yeah, well…” her blush brightened, clearly flattered. “Whatever. Save it for when we’re not in public. You look like you’re about to start drooling.”
“Speak for yourself,” his smirk grew sharper. “You can’t take your eyes off that topper.”
Nino’s lips puckered, eyes flickering between him and the dome that covered the meal before choosing to settle on the food. Her nostrils lifted, no longer struggling for breath but rather with a cautious want.
“You’re hopeless,” he said, and before she could respond, he lifted the alluring steel dome, watching as her fingers tightened against the table.
Nino used to fit in his lap. She’d sit there when the train was too packed or when they shared time together in her bedroom. Now, fitting in comfortably was a distant past.
But he’d pull her down to sit there anyways.
As Nino’s eyes took in the food, Fuutarou watched every pound in her quiver. Her doorway-blocking hips slowly lifted, peaking over the edge of the table as she leaned her immensity forward, her chubby face catching the steam of their meal and making her body jiggle with a trembling sigh.
She was the most beautiful woman that Fuutarou knew. A phantom trauma winced in his legs, the ghost of pain in his straining arms and pleading knees, his hips buckling as hundreds of pounds smothered and settled over him, and when her stomach rumbled, Fuutarou could feel it as if he were holding her to him on a passionate night.
He wouldn’t say it out loud. How much he enjoyed her lightly nibbling her lip, or how cute she was when her fingers tightened on the tablecloth in anticipation. He never voiced how he loved seeing the clasp of her belt vibrate with her belly, or how she tensed up right before that big inhale.
To think she used to bully her sister for having an ‘unsightly’ midriff. Itsuki had been no more than a hundred-and-thirty pounds. Oh, how sweet time could be when it was flavored with the delicious garnish of hypocrisy.
A spoiled socialite, a plumped-up patrician, Nino had hardly seemed to notice when she first doubled in size. Two hundred, then two-fifty, then three. She’d doubled again, and presumably once more. As her tongue slowly skated over her upper lip, as the embers in her eyes glimmered with pleasure, Nino’s throne of three chairs looked far too small for a princess so terrifically fat.
He hardly even saw the meal, fixated instead on the sheer delight on her cheeks and the swell of wanting in her belly that lifted her breasts. Fuutarou couldn’t care less about the food.
He watched Nino with the same growling hunger that she held for her overfilled plate.
When she lifted the first burger up to her mouth, her movement was slow, deliberate, and he knew that she knew he was watching. The little flick of her blue eyes, the way her fat smile grew just a bit fatter. “Hmmm,” she moaned, breathing deeper. “I guess it looks okay.”
A ridiculous contrast to the panther’s growl that came from her stomach, powerful enough that Fuutarou could feel it in the soles of his shoes.
She’d broken her first chair when she’d reached three hundred pounds. It had been a small chair, not unlike the three she now effortlessly covered, and her sisters had been horrified with what had happened. To them, it should have registered as a cataclysmic event. Something that, surely, would shock Nino back to her senses. Ignoring the constant wardrobe malfunctions, the split seams and the popped buttons, the belts she’d burst mid-meal and how she’d still insist to finish stuffing her face, the Nakano quintuplets thought for sure that the collapsing seat would curb Nino’s hunger.
It was the first night that they’d made love, with her and him smashing together the instant they reached a private place.
The first bite trembled through Nino’s body, jiggling fat quivering her uncovered shoulders and full, shapely arms. She had to bring the burger up over the pale hills of her breasts and her obstructive belly, and when she chomped through the buns and the meat and the veggies, the tiniest splatter of ketchup and grease popped against her cheek, rolled down her chin, and impacted on top of her shirts.
She noticed, because he’d noticed, but her eyes had that magical content as she groaned into the mouthful of meat. Her shirt could tear straight down the middle, and with another look at the outfit, Fuutarou realized that might even be the girl’s plan.
After all, they would have all night.
“How is it?” he asked.
Nino’s dimpled smile was succulent, chewing the mouthful again and again, leaning back before swallowing and licking her lips. “Okay,” she said, needing to breather before looking at him nibbling her lip, “so, a far walk. But…”
She filled in the rest with another bite.
Nino had long since taken over as ‘the fat one’ of her pack of sisters. Designer clothing did not fit, most stores didn’t carry anything in her size, and a single bra cost the girl over ¥17,000. The others were afraid of addressing it, and every attempt ended with a rebound. They mistook Nino referring to her own ‘grumpy tummy’ as derogatory, not understanding that the snowballing weight had only gained in momentum.
The first fifty pounds were the worst. Nino hated herself when she’d gotten pudgy. She turned the bullying towards herself, became more and more standoffish and burningly sharp, and had honestly pushed Fuutarou, clearly not expecting him to push back.
The memory flashed in his mind. Smaller, soft, and cheeks blotchy with anger, they were in her bedroom, where Nino was stomping her foot and demanding he take responsibility for her own spoiled diet. She’d been wearing her hair down, still dressed in pajamas even though it had already passed noon, with a belly full of cookies that she’d intended for him, but which ended up inside her.
“You’re the reason I’m like this!” she shouted, pointing an accusing finger. “I can’t be around you for two hours without-“
“Don’t blame me,” his reflection replied, sitting on her bed surrounded by the army of stuffed animals holding tribunal. “You eat too quick! Makes it look like you enjoy stuffing your damn face.”
“How can you say that?!” she shouted, turning on him and putting her hands on her hips.
The pajamas didn’t fit, but her quick movements and heavy breaths made them appear even tighter, flexing upon her soft, girly form. The shirt was riding up on her, carried by her already large breasts and her bigger middle, but it was the pants that struggled the most. Pinching her tights, Nino’s muffintop rolled over the waistband, wobbling dangerously as she harshly approached.
“Fuu-kun, you asshole, you’ve got to help me clean up this mess!”
“What mess?!” he insisted. “Your body??”
“YES!!” Nino shouted, getting closer until she stood at the lip of the bed. “If we don’t plan me a diet, do you know what’ll happen?!”
“Good grief,” he shook his head, sitting up and gesturing. “You’ve gained a few pounds, so what? Where’s the harm?”
“I’ve- it’s not even a few pounds!! It’s…” the red of her cheeks colored her full body as she reached down, seizing her softness and squeezing it in both hands. “Dammit, Fuutarou! I’m gonna end up-“
Both of the buttons on her shorts pinged off when she dropped the beginning of what would become her huge jelly belly. He remembered how soft the noise was, barely audible in the room but silencing them completely and leaving them both staring as, drowsily, her stretched-out pants fell down past her hips, past her thighs, and finally down on the floor.
He had her on the bed in moments. She’d fought with him, slapped at his chest, and for a moment Fuutarou felt horrified that he’d ended up hurting her, until she pushed him onto his back with a territorial “Mine,” she stuck her claws into his shirt and ripped it open before climbing on top.
With her legs over his waist, with thighs squeezing his torso and her paws grabbing at his neck, he’d watched at the anxiety and the stress melting over her like butter. Fifteen more, then another twenty, and suddenly the weight was coming more and more quickly, until Fuutarou’s chest was being smothered beneath her corpulent belly, and the girl-turned-woman moaned and squeezed and kissed and ate, and ate, and ate.
“Mmmmgh,” Nino purred, her sweet sight bringing him back to the restaurant, even if his mind remained on the bedroom. “Bacon on a burger… the best idea ever…”
“They’re not used to it here,” Fuutarou smiled, watching the tightest button on the fattest part of her breasts. “I ordered it special for you.”
It wasn’t gluttony. Not in the same sense as pure foodie pleasure, the kind of which Itsuki displayed.
Her mind, like his, was anywhere but the restaurant. Anywhere private, with a queen-sized, reinforce bed.
Was she simply shameless? No. Breaking the chair had upset her, because so many others were there. Tearing her shorts, ripping her pantyhose, or how she’d been entirely banned after picking a fight in the amusement park after she’d caused several… technical issues…
But, in private, Nino relished in herself. Confidence radiated off of her as she unfastened her slacks while eating dessert, or when she’d purposefully bought clothes three sizes too small. Lingerie hadn’t lived through the night, scattered instead over the bed like the stains of chocolate from their playful fun.
Stubborn, fat, and undoubtedly alive, Nino made life so appetizingly sweet. She burned like a star and had just as much gravity. The whispers returned as she finished the first of her burgers, but neither one of them heard. Too busy caught inside of the other’s pull.
She ripped into the second burger with fatty-resolve, ripping the meat free and gasping delectably after such a big swallow. He then noticed that this burger was double the size of the first, and smiled as she’d unconsciously mounted the hurdle he’s placed. His eyes fell to the third burger, a calorie-bomb that was bigger than the others put together.
It was five times the size of a normal burger. Not quite quintuple-stacked, she hadn’t driven him completely insane yet, but the patty was huge, dribbling with grease and melted Swiss cheese. A field’s worth of vegetables decorated the top, and it was squeezed between a pair of monstrous buns.
In the time it took for him to look over the prize, she’d already demolished her double-stacked burger. Nino caught his eye, a hand lowering down to tug at a tender gap where her belly stuck out between tightened buttons.
“You didn’t forget to get me something to drink, did you?” she asked.
He blanched, looking quickly over the table and seeing a single empty glass, which had been a simple water he’d had while waiting.
Nino’s laughter was obese, flirty and flattered, and rising into a series of adorable snorts as Fuutarou stood up quick enough to knock over his chair before signaling a waiter for two glasses of soda.
“Hoooo,” Nino sighed, wiping at her face but still smiling at him. “I’m actually kind of relieved that it’s something so small.”
“What do you mean?”
The immense woman drummed her fingers atop her belly. “Hmmm,” she grinned. “You always forget something, Fuutarou. You’ve obviously got plans, bringing us all the way out here and feeding me just enough to… well…” Her teeth grazed her lower lip, head rolling back as she let out a sigh. “Let’s just say I’m looking forward to dessert.”
“You haven’t even finished your dinner.”
“I know,” her embers sparkled. “That’s just the way you spoil me.”
She didn’t even need to finish. A part of Fuutarou, a very, very, very foolish part, was confident he could carry her out of the restaurant. Bundled up in his arms like a huge redheaded bubble of princessly pudge. How far could he make it? It was two blocks…
Of course it was two blocks.
The waitress came with two cups and a pitcher of soda, which Fuutarou had not planned but absolutely appreciated. He served her first, which she accepted with a dainty, “Thank you,” and then began to pour himself a half-cup.
Soda was just so unhealthy.
The distraction came before he was done, and by the time he regained attention, he’d almost begun pouring over the top. Nino drank nearly at the speed she ate. The cup went up to her lips, and didn’t come down till it was almost empty. Gulp after gulp after dark, sugary gulp, Nino leaned back further and further as her belly pushed into the table more and more with each swallow, bloated and round and flexing the buttons to their utmost ability.
Even if the tightness of her clothing wasn’t intentional, Nino had clearly realized its effect. The fabric dipped into her love handles of fat before rounding the soft, round, hill that her stomach had become, and more and more bloat swept in with each drink. Air and soda mixing with over a full pound of beef and blessing her boyfriend with the softest of *pings* when the first button gave in.
It was a low one, right about the waistband of her still-tucked shirt and giving the pale muffin plenty of spare room to fill. Which it did. The cup came down on the table like a clap of thunder, perfectly punctuated by and adorably light belch and a satisfied, “Mhmmm. Another, if you’d please.”
Fuutarou obeyed, and Nino’s hands reached around the third burger, and the burger followed its brothers into her stomach. Bite after bite, drink after drink, crunch after gurgle after sweet, luscious crunch, Nino stretched her mouth wide to fit every dribble of grease and every calorie of meat and the high-fatty cheese. It looked… exhausting, almost as tiring as it looked so very delicious.
The burger was too heavy for her soft doughy arms, the act of feeding herself too straining. But, even as her breathing became more labored, even as another button popped free near her navel and Fuutarou felt his grip shaking the table, Nino somehow seemed to eat faster still.
She wanted to finish, he realized, to move on from here. Because she trusted he’d already taken care of what was to come…
But nearly thirty ounces of meat was hard to vanish, and Nino was clearly running out of steam. She paused between bites, forcing them down with mouthfuls of soda and turning her doughy center into a stretched, bloated gut, skin brightening where it mushed up to the table, reaching almost past the immense woman’s knees.
Finally, plucking what had once been a plateful between two piggy fingers, Nino pitched the rest in before swigging back on the last of her soda. Now all that remained was the pile of grease, and another content belch passing over sweet, tender lips.
Comfort oozed out of Nino, her half-lidded eyes tight in a juicy, fat smile. The area around her navel, which peaked over her waistband and now clear through the gap, had been stretched pink. She looked like she could just fall asleep right there.
But they needed to get moving.
His voice was tight, as were his movements as he stood and went to her side. “Come on,” he said.
“Awe, give me a moment. They sell crepes here, don’t they? I saw a sign on the window,”
But, giggling, she followed, putting her hand into his and letting him help her stand.
He’d already paid for the meal and left money on the table for the pitcher of soda, plus more than a bit extra. Nino’s giggle became a groan, which became and even more excited laugh as she bobbed along behind him. “Fuu-kun! You better have something good planned!”
“Two blocks,” he said, and they exited the restaurant.
Nino snorted, patting her belly. “Of course it is. Ugh. You better have something better than another walk in the park! If you think I’m gonna be able to-“
“It’s not,” he said, tersely, trying to see how wonderful her arms or the exposed bits of her belly looked in the setting sun. He could barely keep his feet underneath him, but her soft hand had a hard grip on his.
They made it a block before he had to slow down from his normal walking pace to something that resembled the shambling gait that was his girlfriend’s waddle.
“S-slow down,” she tugged back, forcing him in line with her. “Think I lost another… button… damn city.”
Fuutarou didn’t trust himself to talk.
“You need to get a car,” she said brightly, though it was obvious that she was only half joking.
“What if I got you dessert, instead?” he offered.
“Even better~”
Other people saw them, how could they not? Nino was nearly as wide as the sidewalk, and far far larger than the man she was with. Fuutarou heard the bewilderment as the whispers touched him, but Nino was practically floating. She didn’t hear a word, too busy smiling to herself and clearly anticipating what he’d planned out.
Then, she did something he didn’t expect.
Nino lifted his arm, wrapping it around her shoulders, and then leaned to her right, into his chest. It made her slow walk even slower, belly puffed out until her skirt began creaking, but her eyes lifted up to his and the strength of their warmth was like a wind that lifted Fuutarou up to float alongside her.
“It better be only two blocks,” she grinned. “And it better be chocolate, you handsome bastard.”
***
It had to be the longest couple of blocks the pair had ever encountered, although the longevity was experienced very differently.
Fuutarou could have probably run the distance, but holding Nino, walking at her pace, and finding himself increasingly coated in a fattened desire made it feel like a marathon. At one point, when he realized how much she was forcing herself merely to walk, he nearly broke between a hint of guilt and an overpowered lust.
He would take far more energy from her throughout the night. But first, they needed to cross the finish line before exhaustion defeated her own curiosity and playful wanting, and she sagged down to the ground before demanding a cab, or worse, a full carriage.
She didn’t even have it in her to whine. A hand on her stomach, another around his waist, it was more than enough just for Nino to breathe, and sweat once more began dotting her face.
His wallet was the duct tape that often saved the pair from trying to go too far in one night. Nino was lugging around more weight than multiple people, and the beautiful moron still insisted upon wearing heels. It was like a test of what would give out first, her willpower or her shoes, and both were prone to excess pressure.
With how Nino ate, her hunger pangs might one day well surpass both of their earnings, sticking them at home only able to cook and sleep in. But that was a problem for tomorrow, and he intended to enjoy his sidewalk-wide sweetheart for the entirety of today.
“Only a bit longer,” he promised.
He didn’t think Nino would be able to respond, as there was no room between the panting and the sweat which dribbled down her fat chin, but she huffed and she puffed and she managed, “You’re lucky it was… good. Squish you...”
He leaned into her, standing on his toes to kiss her head and despite herself, her panting mouth perked up in a smile.
Too stubborn for her own good, the snowball rolled only faster and faster, her weight and her waist growing wider and fatter, but Nino seemed intent to roll along as long as she could.
He didn’t know what she weighed. Chances were, Nino didn’t either. Scales usually had a limit before needing to invest in ones sized for pigs and for cattle… But numbers hardly even applied to a girl so clearly past her frame’s capacity.
Her breasts were constantly pinched between the swinging weight of her arms, each of which had a roll of fat all their own sagging over their biceps. Her belly wobbled and jiggled before her, bobbled up by her pillar-like thighs forcing it upwards from where it covered her legs, like an overweight apron.
There was a surprising amount of shape to her though, if that could make any sense. Her roundness seemed almost peculiarly firm and kept the weight tied to her core. Clear curves identifying her breasts, her belly and hips, even down to her chubby wrists and fat cankles, it was like Nino’s body was as intent as her mind to nurse her lifestyle of sweet indulgence.
A temple, with pillars of flesh that her lover could tend, could lift and shape and pleasure so well. His arm was wrapped behind her back, offering stability and what support it could, resting inside the shape of her love handle just above the swell of her massive, wobbling ass.
Neither could have expected how she would turn out. How they would end up. How her moody attitude had melted into a growing appreciation of the unconventional attention she constantly required. Requiring his touch, his embellishments and feedings, catering to the results of her hedonism and giving her thrills she’d never knew she needed.
They both loved being in charge, yet somehow it was Nino’s very body that now reigned over them both. Like a crown jewel with an intrinsic will, her demanding belly had slowly grown to dictate Fuutarou’s life in addition to her very own. Ever hungry and in need of attention, the corpulent woman’s greedy middle had generated this need for the undivided catering from her lover, and spoiled her into grouchy moods when she spent too long away from his dotting touch.
It all came at a cost, though. The wonderful sugar highs had such devastating lows, such as the case now with her face the color of her magnificent red hair, which clung to the roundness of her sweat-marked cheeks. More of the sweat had found its way to her torso, seeping down the front of her belly until the remains of her blouse were practically see-through. It was less than modest, not helped at all by her uncovered shoulders, with Fuutarou only now realizing they’d left her cardigan back at the-
“Forgot… top,” Nino lumbered.
Fuutarou bit back a grin. “I know,” he said, leaning over to kiss her once more.
“Y-you’ll have to get it… tomorrow.” Then, her hand behind his back tightened, porky fingers clutching near his ribs. “Mine…”
“Not long now,” he said.
“Already… said…” she began, before shaking her head and gasping out, “jerk.”
He’d have felt worse, if she wasn’t turning him more and more on by the moment.
He turned to look down the lane before breaking off of the walkway, half-carrying Nino across the street to a small indentation in the wall of buildings. They passed around a short garden wall before the thin but tall modern building leapt out like a candle against oncoming darkness, and Nino’s face lit up in the sparkling glow of its soft orange light.
A large golden chandelier hung over an entrance where two men stood wearing impressive red-and-gold uniforms, standing at the ready on either side of the door. A long red carpet descended out, reaching up to the wall where the pair had paused, with a fountain to their right spraying up water from bright-colored jets.
“Oh, my…” Nino gasped, looking from the entrance to the fountain to a well-manicured lawn. A real lawn, with real hedges and grass, this deep in the city. She broke off from Fuutarou, and for a moment moved like a girl less than a fifth her weight as her hands closed before her, and she leaned forward to sniff at the rose-covered hedge.
And though she moved easier, she never looked a single pound lighter, with her hammy plump cheeks peeking out beneath her skirt while she blocked almost every single flower from view.
She spun about, face bright and eyes sparkling, and nearly collapsed as her right heel completely gave way and her sparkles became panicked fireworks as she screamed and toppled forwards, straight into the arms of her loving man.
He caught her. It wasn’t a clean catch by any means, but to them it was as if Fuutarou had swept her off her feet, his arms catching into the folds of her sides and lifting them up along with a good portion of her weight.
They stood for a moment, merely staring at each other, before Nino’s shock broke into an immense, gushing smile. “You always do that, you dork,” she said, eyes just a bit wet with cheerful, bright tears.
“Do what?” he asked.
“You catch me,” she said, sniffling. “Every time that I fall.”
She leaned forwards, pressing up onto her toes of her wrecked shoes, and kissed him, and he kissed her back. He felt her arm moving up from where she clutched his shirt, moving behind his head and pulling him towards her wanting lips.
Her other hand moved, pressing onto his chest, and then the kiss suddenly broke as her plump digits pinched around the small box he’d been hiding inside of his breast pocket.
Nino stared at him, belly smothering him, and her eyes opening very, very wide.
“I… It’s…” Fuutarou began, brushing his own messy hair behind his head as her fingers tightened further over the pocket.
“Excuse me, Madam, Master.”
The pair looked up, startled, facing one of the doormen who’d come down from the steps. He was an older gentleman, and for a moment Fuutarou thought he was about to tell them to scram, but his face lacked any sort of judgement. Moreso, concern.
“Are you two alright?” he asked. “I saw the lady stumble…”
“Oh,” Nino looked down, a pointless action as there was no way she could see her own foot. “Umm, yes, sorry. My heel broke.”
The man nodded sagely. “Ahh, I see,” he turned to Fuutarou. “Do you have a reservation with us this evening?”
Fuutarou was quick to nod. “Yes, the, uhh.” he turned to look at Nino before quickly turning away again. He coughed. “The engagement suite.”
Her fingers made a crunching noise as they cracked the wooden box in his pocket.
“Ahhhh! Yes, Mister Uesugi. I apologize for not recognizing you sooner. The front desk informed us-“
“It’s okay. I think that’s kinda obvious now.”
He hadn’t wanted to even mention the name of the suite, though he thought he’d make it inside before she went for his chest. But, something about her fingers made it quite clear that she wasn’t letting go, her body having realized what was going on even if it was fighting its way to register inside of the moron’s mind.
Her confused blue eyes looked as if they were trying to absorb everything while taking in nothing, leaving Fuutarou to sigh and say, “Here, sit down on the fountain. Let me take off your shoes.”
“Do you need-“
“I’ve got her,” Fuutarou waved him off.
Wordlessly, breathlessly, Nino followed. It was as if she’d had a complete reset, no longer fighting for air and hardly aware she was covered in sweat. She hobbled alongside him, and he placed her down on the fountain, but when he made to stand up, she still wouldn’t let go of his pocket.
Fuutarou looked between her fingers at her face, seeing that something at least had registered, and smiled before shaking his head. “At least let me get you up to the room, you idiot,” he whispered tenderly. “I’ve got a chocolate cake and Champaign and everything.”
Nino’s bright piggy face was, very suddenly, holding back much bigger, much stronger tears. “D-double chocolate, right?” she sniffled.
“That’s what you’re worried about?”
“And don’t call me an idiot,” she blubbered. “You’re the idiot. You bastard.”
She pulled him closer and the tears finally broke, rolling over her chubby cheeks as she began to giggle and laugh into their kiss.
They broke after a moment, holding onto one another before she wiped at her face. “God. Is my makeup running? I’ll kill you if it is.”
“You’re wearing makeup?” he asked, leaning down to her feet and working at the clasp that secured the shoe to her cankle. “Anyways, you’re drenched in sweat.”
“Oh my God! I’m covered in sweat!!”
Fuutarou was startled as her foot suddenly lifted, striking him powerlessly in the chest.
“You can’t do this now! I’m all icky and gross and, and-“ and she broke off, her husky bright laugh lighting up the entire courtyard while he grinned and shook his head before freeing her other foot.
She took the shoes from him, holding them inside of only two fingers and positively glowing. Not with hunger or greed or with her own spoiled lust, Nino beamed with hundreds and hundreds of pounds of purest love as she took his offered arm.
Reaching his significantly longer digits around the thick sausages of his partners fingers, Fuutarou provided Nino with what reassurance he could. A moment passed before, as if deciding something for herself, Nino nodded, and her grip became confidence that tightened around his slender hand.
The pair now faced the lavish hotel in unison, ready for their moment of luxury in an all-the-more demanding life… after they first faced the stairs, that is.
