(re-titled for publication: A Weighty Revenge)
by Wilson Barbers
Scott and Lisa broke up on an Autumn evening, a coolish night full of dampness and leaf death. The end caught Scott by surprise: they'd been sharing the same small apartment for three years, and he thought the relationship a stable one. He both loved and lusted after Lisa - they laughed a lot together, had many of the same interests. Plus, she had one of those fulsome bodies that could always bring him to attention. Lisa worked hard to keep her hourglass polished (their fridge was filled with high-priced, low-cal items) and was easily the most exciting woman he had ever know in bed. The only thing he had ever heard her beef about was her job as receptionist as the local university.
Of course, that last was what lead to their break-up. Scott had driven his Renault over to pick her up, and it was clear from the look on her sulky face that she had not had a good day. To cheer her up, he'd taken her to their favorite restaurant for dinner, but all she did was pick at her chef's salad. Once they got home, she finally blew: she was sick of her job, sick of their living from paycheck to paycheck, sick of doing without. She loved Scott, but she couldn't see living her life in his financial rut. She had to leave, she said, before she wound up hating him.
He was stunned: he knew she didn't like working (who did?), but he'd never heard anything like this from her. Lisa had obviously kept a lot inside her. Scot had a moderately well-paying job for the state and thought they'd been doing about as well as most folks he knew. Her materialistic tirade overwhelmed him. He didn't know what to say, and at this point it probably would've been useless, anyway. She packed that night and moved in with one of the other office secretaries.
The next two weeks Scott spend vacillating between self-pity and anger. He'd sit at home, drinking, first feeling sorry for himself and then (as the drinks wore on) pissed off at his former girlfriend. By the end of the week, he was primarily pissed: Lisa, he thought, had fucked him over in the name of lucre.
Then he won the state lottery.
He didn't recall entering, but he must have bought the ticket one night at the liquor store. All he knew was: one morning he found the ticket in his denim wallet, and two days later his numbers matched a row of ping pong balls spat out by the state lottery machine. He and two other lucky winners got to split a $12 million jackpot - not bad for a drunken night's effort. He quit his job the day he received his first check.
Scott waited for Lisa to get in touch with him; he never doubted for a moment that she wouldn't. He hadn't thought of himself as the vengeful type, but the sudden leap from misery to fiscal jubilation had him thinking thoughts he'd never have otherwise considered. He wanted to get even with Lisa, and he'd thought of the perfect payback.
She came to his door in a silk jungle-print skirt and blouse, her buxom breasts threatening to push through her deep-cut top. She was lightly but provocatively made up, and for one gulping moment Scott considered abandoning his plans. But he steeled himself and invited her into the kitchenette.
"You haven't moved yet," she purred, sidling her well-packed butt onto a counter stool.
"No," he said. "I just started looking for a house today." He went to the fridge for a couple of imported dark beers (no more cheapie lite shit for him!)
"Like some help?" she asked, sensing an immediate opening.
"Depends," Scott answered. "What would it mean?" He poured the beer into a pair of mugs and offered one to her.
"I don't know," Lisa said, sipping the foam then deliberately licking her lips. "My moving it?" She crossed her well-tanned legs to emphasize her shapely calves then said in a low, sincere voice, "I've missed you, Scottie."
Scott let the moment linger: he swigged half his glass, then he looked Lisa up and down. "Not to be critical," he finally said, "but I'm not sure I could live someone as skinny as you, anymore."
Lisa was obviously dumbfounded; she nearly spilled her drink into her cleavage. "Are you kidding?" she finally stammered.
"No," Scott said. "I realized it when I stopped living with you: I've attracted to bigger women. Living with you was a turn-on when I thought you were turned on me. But once you'd gone I started looking at things objectively." He twisted a corner of his mouth into a half smile. "You're too thin." He pulled a glossy men's mag that he'd kept for this moment off the top of the fridge and opened it to a plumper spread. "This is the kind of woman that really gets my juices flowing."
"I don't believe this!"
"Believe it," he said, finishing off his beer.
"But Scottie," she persisted. "I've always been attracted to you physically. It was our financial position that was getting in the way. That's changed now."
If nothing else, Scott had to admire her frank materialism. "Perhaps," he said. "But your leaving me put a big question mark on what we had. If you want to come back with me, you need to prove a few things first."
They left for their favorite restaurant, a family-run steakhouse on the edge of town, without exchanging any further words. But Scott could see the wheels turning. Once there, she ordered a large salad with extra olives and blue cheese. Ordinarily, that would have been enough, but she had only just begun. With a saucy wink to Scott, Lisa picked out the largest items on the menu. She plowed into a large rib-eye, several slices of buttered Texas toast, cauliflower with cheese and two baked potatoes with butter and sour cream. Then she ordered cherry cheesecake for dessert.
"I've never seen you eat this much," Scott aid, marveling at the determination with which she devoured the unusual quantity.
Lisa smiled her pouty lips, which had a trace of cherry on them. "You want me to put on a little weight, I'd be glad to do it. I'm sick of dieting, anyway." They drove back to his apartment, stopping at the grocery store for a pint of Haagen Daaz. They sat in the living room by candlelight, and she finished the full pint, then proceeded to move her iced lips over his open chest. Before she got too far, Scott stopped her.
"After all we've been through together, I think we owe it to each other to give it one more try," he said. "But I just don't think I can sleep with you yet." He stood and re-buttoned his shirt, then he lead Lisa to the door. "Come by tomorrow, and we'll look for a new place."
And so Scott's plan was set into motion. Within a week, they moved into a small six-bedroom house out in the woods and for the next year devoted all their time to putting on the pounds. He hired a chef (the porkiest he could find) and instructed him to prepare his richest concoctions. He had extra cupboard space built for snack foods and had Super Wate-On brought in by the case. Lisa lounged and ate and ate some more. They rarely left the home; nights they'd sit on the living room couch, watching their favorite films on tape and noshing, but that was as close as he allowed himself to get to her. By the end of eight months, she'd doubled her weight, a near physical double of the plumper model he'd shown her that fateful night. At least once a week, she'd pose in the doorway of his bedroom and ask if she'd gotten big enough. He always turned her away. By year's end, she'd passed 325.
On the anniversary of their reuniting, Scott planned to seal his vengeance. It'd been a long year for him, full of furtive masturbation and frustration, of moments when he'd catch sight of Lisa's expanding pulchritude and start to stiffen. But today he planned to finally let her back into his bed - and kick her out for good. "You're too damn fat!" he saw himself sneering, as he shoved her obese self out of his house. Who'd want her now, as huge as she was? He sipped his shake (a year's good eating and lassitude had put the pounds on Scott, too, though not to the same extent as Lisa), hefted himself out of his chair and walked into the kitchen to give the cook the night off.
That evening, Lisa waddled into the dining room to find an array of clothing spread across the table. The Autumn rain beat slowly against the windows. She was dressed in a tight-fitting low-cut dress that accentuated every curve of her voluptuous body; for a year, she'd been dressing as provocatively as she could, but Scott had worked on keeping his inner anger stoked. "What's this?" she asked, lifting her old pleated jungle-print skirt between two fat fingers. "My old clothes?"
"Yup," Scott said. "Why don't you try 'em on?
"Are you kidding?" Her prominent round cheeks gave her eyes a slightly rueful expression. "They'd never fit me!"
"Try," Scott insisted. "I think it'd be sexy!"
That got her: she dropped the skirt and proceeded to shuck her dress, lifting her fleshy arms with the upper portions jiggling and settling. She was in bikini underpants that were hidden by the overhang of her burgeoning belly. Her breasts were framed by ropy strands of linen: they'd grown to wondrous floppiness atop her well-fed paunch; her aureolae were large and clear, the bottom of their perimeters occasionally disappearing in the space between mams and belly. Her nipples had already started to stiffen in the room's coolness.
Lisa reached down for her underpants and pulled it down around her dimpled thighs, stopping at her knees to look seductively up at him. She moved to a dining room chair and sat, the mass of her belly forcing her legs apart, her hips flattening and widening as she covered the seat, then she slid her underwear off the rest of the way. On her hips, the ghost of her briefs lingered in red indentation.
"Try these," Scott said, throwing her a pair of panties from slimmer days.
"It won't work," she said, holding it up.
"Trust me."
She lifted a foot as high as she could (which wasn't very high) and thrust it into the undergarment. Pulling it up, it got caught halfway around her shapely rotund calf; she tugged and the fabric started shredding until two leg holes became one. Even then she couldn't pull the panties past the fold of fat at her knees. She yanked them off and threw them on the dining room table.
"Try this then," Scott said, pointing to the pleated skirt. Lisa reached over to the table, her belly pushing into it, and grabbed the proffered item. Standing, she pulled the skirt around her right leg and lifted it halfway up her immense thigh. It could proceed no further, even with the pleats popped open: her thighs were now bigger than her waist had been.
"So," she said, letting her old skirt drop to the floor. "We now both know I'm obese." She picked up one of her old bra and help it up to her 52DD breasts. "Am I big enough for you?" She threw the bra across the room and moved across the floor, her door-width hips swaying, breasts and blubbery belly quavering, fat arms reaching for him. Her triply-chinned face was in front of him now, pouty lips nearly obscured by her red round cheeks. Then she mashed that fat face into his, prodding her tongue into his mouth. Her gargantuan torso was cool and soft as it pushed and surrounded him. He felt his hands on her magnificent jutting read, and he started to knead the womanly flesh beneath his fingertips.
This was the time he was supposed to push her away, thrust her out of his life, but the feel of her full womanliness against him was the most stimulating thing he'd ever felt. All those months he'd been scripting his rebuff over and over in his head, but the words fled him. He backed away, first squeezing her globular shoulders then quickly casting off his clothes. She followed him into his bedroom.
She sat on a corner of the bed, hands on her knees, upper arms framing her pillowy breasts. Her belly draped over her vulva, spreading before her. Scott leaned over her, his fingers proving under the apron on her belly to the prize beneath. He kissed her once more, then started trailing his mouth around her chins and her soft shoulder, then he started pushing his tongue into the space between left arm and breast, coming down to the ring of fat that emanated from her mam. He licked his way to her left nipple, then began nipping it into greater prominence. Lisa leaned back and arched, her breasts parting and settling to both sides of her frame. He tasted the salty space between them, followed down her paunch to its fold, when she swelled even more excitingly. He was fingering her vagina now; it was moist and ready.
So was Scott: he felt stiffer than he'd ever known. Lisa lay on the bed, her feet still planted on the floor, as he aimed for her waiting vagina. Kneading her underbelly as he slid into her, he smiled down at his corpulent mistress. "Yes," she said, her chins shivering with excitement. She lay back on the mattress, her voluminous torso spreading and settling as he pushed himself into her. She raised her legs, fleshy thighs tightening on both sides of him; he retreated then re-entered with greater force. Lisa moaned her appreciation. He reached for her breasts, cupped them and squeezed them together; they were so full, so enticing! She'd kept herself tanned in the months fattening, which emphasized the strain lines at the base of her mams. He thumbed her nipples, wriggling further into her at the same time.
She reached up to him and tweaked his nipples. He felt himself hardening even more and began to rhythmically push in and out. Her belly weight rose and fell with every thrust, its fold deepening and lessening. He slowly fell upon her, and her breasts and belly spread to receive him. Nipping her right ear, he continued to push, her layers of avoirdupois sliding him into angles he'd never achieved before. "Deeper!" she gasped, momentarily lifting her head to bite his shoulder. He pulled himself up once more, feet firmly placed on the floor, and began to thrust with everything he had.
"You hit it!" Lisa cried happily. She grabbed hold of her ankles and began to wiggle her wide rump. Scott held both sides of shifting hips as best he could. He loved her enormous womanliness then, the way every part of her moved and emphasized her abandon, the way her form became something new with every move. The harder they worked together, the wilder her body undulated. "God, I love you!" she moaned, looking up into his eyes, her face flush with exertion. "I never should have left!" He came suddenly, ejaculating with so much force that he felt like an utter idiot for jerking off all those months. "I feel you!" Lisa said, shuddering.
He remained stiff for some time and let her enjoy it, the tip of his spent penis feeling her clitoris. Then he rested on her pillowy body, lazily feeling her contours with his fingertips. They finally disengaged, and he lay back and looked up at the ceiling. Outside, it had stopped raining.
"Was it worth the wait?" she timidly asked.
"I don't know," Scott said, looking over at her. She was resting on a fat upper arm, a look on her face that asked more than that one question. "But I have no intention of waiting another year to find out" He smiled at her round face, then leaned up and kissed her. All the anger that he'd nurtured seemed ridiculous now. To hell with revenge, he thought. From now on, living well together was what mattered. "Wanna go out to eat?" he finally asked. "You hungry?"
"You kidding?" she said, smiling and patting her belly. "These days I'm always hungry!"
"Good thing we're rich, eh?" he said.
Lisa rose from their bed to get her sexiest, most form-fitting outfit. For the first time all year she felt secure about her relationship with Scott. She'd treated him badly, she knew, but it looked like he'd forgiven her at last. "Yup," she said, anticipating the meal ahead. "It's a good thing."
