F-Stop 9
Chapter One Jenna and I had been together for about 4 years.
We met at a club; both of us attracted to each other as we loved life and lived it fast. I was a photographer for The Scene magazine; she was an up and coming DJ. It was not too long before the club managers realised the most successful nights were when we were in the house; Jenna pumped out fat tunes and everyone wanted me to put them on the front cover. We became the proverbial king and queen of club land. Drink, drugs, clubs, parties - they all were a hedonistic blur; somehow, through it all, we grew very much in love.
For three years, this was the best of times, when eventually real life caught up and Jenna fell pregnant. It wasn't that we couldn't or wouldn't cope with a baby, but we were young and still wanted to live our lives, not ready to be parents. Being pro-life, adoption would be the choice. Our lives changed suddenly, but for whatever reason we did things properly; for the months Jenna carried, we cleaned up our act and took the greatest care of the bump.
Nine months that changed a lot of things, all I think for the good.
To start with, I was uncomfortable with living life for another being, but as Jenna's belly swelled I became more attentive toward her. I photographed the progress of her pregnancy obsessively, blowing up huge black and white prints of the various stages in close up detail; every wall in the house had a collage of either a swelling belly or breast. Jenna's particular favourite was the collage showing the progress of her left buttock, it had a dolphin tattoo that started of 1 inch long, eating for two more than the pregnancy itself caused it to grow measuring 4 inches by the seventh month.
I remember the night when I walked in from the kitchen and looked at her stretched out on the sofa, the dolphin leaping from behind a gorgeous wave of pink flesh I grabbed my camera and took the shot; it adorned the front cover of The Scene. Jenna loved all the attention and would call me over, demanding that I pamper and photograph her. Gone was the thin wisp of a girl with the blonde dreadlocks and tattoos; in the heat of mid summer, watching TV laying naked on the bed with a plump ripening belly and womanly curves was a vision of a goddess. The spell was only broken by the words
“Holy crap, I'm hot! Get me something to cool me down, will you?”
From flat and muscular to domed and spectacular, her belly and breasts grew. How lucky was I to witness the one I love transform into such a picture of feminine beauty. Something had changed; my photographs of what was once a taboo subject had become accepted as a wondrous form of art and my muse an object of desire.
The birth came and was problem free. Jenna and I felt the pain as a beautiful baby girl was taken from us, but felt joy seeing the look on the adoptive parents faces' as she was handed over.
“We did a good thing there, my love.”
“Yes, we did.”
Six months had passed and we were back out on the scene.
Jen was looking great. Having lost a lot of weight, she went from a 145 down to 115: still 15 pounds heaver than she would have liked but relieved that her belly roll receded and she was able to button up her old jeans. Her breasts, however, much to my delight, never went back to a B cup and remained a D.
Our so-called friends, none of which we had seen for about a year, were all different. Jenna hadn't had a gig for over a year. She was behind the latest fashions and tunes; it was painfully obvious we had fallen as the king and queen of club land and now were has-beens. The other thing I noticed were the stick-thin loved-up-on-pills girls, none of which had an ounce of body fat on them. Comparing them to Jenna, I realised what a real woman was all about.
A scrawny sunken-eyed figure that I only just recognised as one of the old schmoosers I'd once put on the front cover danced over. She looked us up and down with a look of disgust.
“Jeez, Jen, you've packed on a bit, haven't you? I mean, look at your butt, girl.”
“Well, at least I look like a girl! Most men have bigger tits than you, love.”
With that I swung in behind Jenna, put one arm around her, slowly creeping my hand over her belly and under her cropped T, and cupped her ample breast. Jen turned her head and kissed me full mouthed; we both simultaneously turned back to smile at stick girl, Sally, who spun on her heals and stormed off.
“I didn't realise I was still so fat!” Jen said with a slight wobble in her voice.
“Are you serious? You can't be more than a 110; that's not fat, that's barely healthy! The prancing skeletons who haunt this club are too damn thin.”
“I used to be that thin, and you loved my body.”
“Yes, but not as much as I love it now!”
I spun her round to face me, grabbed her butt, and we kissed long and deep.
We arrived home about 4 in the morning, the alcohol buzz and beats of the club ringing in my head. Jenna pushed past me and flopped back on sofa. I lay down with my head on her lap and my legs dangling over the arm.
“Sure, I am a nice comfy pillow for you now!” A little spite in her voice alarmed me so I spun around and knelt on the floor with my chin on her knees.
“Look, you, there is nothing wrong with the way you look! You're hotter now than the first day we met.”
She patted the cute roll of fat on her midriff no more than an inch thick.
I moved in closer, parting her legs, and lifted up her top. She giggled as I lay soft kisses over every inch of her belly; I undid her jeans and pulled them and her knickers down.
“Now, none of that! I don't want to be swelling up with another baby just yet, thank you; we've both had too much to drink.”
“Ohh, seeing your belly swell would be a fantastic turn on.” I licked the inners of her thighs. She breathed deeply into her belly, making it rise up, then breathed out a sigh, not in a sexy but a sad way. I looked up and saw her gaze fixed upon the collage of her pregnant form that adorned the wall by the window. I stopped.
“You're not seriously thinking of having another baby?”
“No not really.”
“Then, why the big sigh?”
“I miss the attention you use to pay to my body.”
“What! I always pay attention to your body – look, I'm doing it now.”
“It's not the same…. Not the same as when these photos were taken. You adored every growing inch of me back then, but after the baby you sort of lost interest as the weight came off.”
“I have never lost interest in you for a second.”
“I know, you're misunderstanding me.”
I noticed she was chewing the end of one of her dreadlocks, which was a sign of deep thought.
“I want you to take photos of me again. I want to be your main focus again. I want to see myself in your art. As I grew so, your photographs became increasingly wonderful. Look at the 9-month collage you did. Everyone who has seen it is taken aback; it's pure art. My creative days are over. I lost my edge as a DJ; sure, I can still get everyone up and dancing, but I am no longer on the edge. Once you have a kid, you're seen as being safe. Given the right subject matter, though, pure beauty and danger can still shock them.”
I had a confused look on my face, which made here laugh out loud
“No need to sit there looking like a bulldog with a lemon up its arse. It's simple!”
“It is?”
“You said you love my body now I am bigger and your photographs became better as pregnancy swelled my body. We don't want another baby just yet, so all I have to do is…”
“Is?”
“Get fat! You document my journey becoming a BB….”
Excitement overtook me, and I kissed her full on the lips.
“wubbleyou.”
The night was fantastic. I explored every inch of her body, the textures, the smell, the softness of her. Working out what would happen to various parts, imagining what she was about to become. She laughed and played with pillows shoved up her night shirt, experimenting how we were going to make love when she became so very fat; if the test flight was anything to go by, it was going to be a lot of fun.
I woke the next morning my head on her lap looking at the slight plumpness of her belly and smiled to myself. I went to my studio in the spare room and got my camera.
Walking back in, I stopped and leaned against the doorframe.
Turning the focus ring, soft pimples and faint downy hair came into view; a slight rise of pink flesh like that of a rolling lazy wave on a calm summers day came into view.
Click…..