steve pearson
Member
~BBW, BHM, Magic, Very Explicit Sex, ~MWG - a honeymooning couple encounters a unique mentor
When the plane touched down, light as a falling feather on the tarmac of the Glasgow airport, David and Wendy Cathright smiled at one another and said in unison: "We're here!"
It had seemed a long flight -- neither of the two young newlyweds had ever been on such a long voyage from their home in California ... and certainly not to a place as ancient as Scotland.
Three months before their June wedding, they decided to honeymoon in the land of Wendy's ancestors. Since her father had descended from the McGregor clan, they had been convinced by her family to spend two weeks in the area around Loch Lomond -- the region long ago inhabited by the tempestuous and fiery Clan Gregor.
Wendy looked every bit the part of a spirited Highland Lass -- her bright red hair tumbled over her shoulders in a regal mane, worthy of the lion depicted on the McGregor clan crest. The phrase "Royal Is My Race," usually printed in Gaelic and signifying their descent from the Clan Alpin, ancient kings of Scotland -- that appears on that McGregor crest -- was most certainly evident in the deep blue eyes of the freckled and lovely, new wife of David Cathright.
As the new husband watched his wife turn to watch the baggage handlers empty the cargo hold, David thought of what a wonderful match he and Wendy were -- they loved so many of the same types of things, enjoyed the same sorts of literture, movies, and humor; and they were even similar in their looks -- both about the same height and weight. This similarity was often a source for friendly jokes: "Are you sure you're
not brother and sister?"
David, however, had dark brown hair to help frame his brilliant, blue eyes ... and when he looked deep into his lover's eyes, Wendy always felt that intense swoon of true love. They were also very compatible in their expressions of physical love. A powerful passion ran through them both ... well, it all seemed too good to be true.
David, like his new wife, was a strong-spirited, yet gentle soul. He had come from English stock, with the stocky, not-quite-plump features so common in the British Isles. His father had been an RAF pilot who had seen fighting during the Battle of Britain -- a Spitfire pilot no less -- and the plucky demeanor that had served the father so well, had been passed down to his son.
David had already seen great success as an air historian -- his father's influence, no doubt. He was now able to write his acclaimed books at home, having given up his part-time work with an aerospace research firm once his career was in full swing. He was quite pleased that he could now spend more time around the woman with whom he was so deeply in love.
When the plane jerked to a stop and the passengers were finally able to disembark, David and Wendy hurried to collect their baggage and rent the car that would take them to the bed and breakfast inn near the shores of Loch Lomond. As they sped away, traveling farther from the urban environment of Glasgow, the heather-filled hills of the lower Highland countryside stretched out before them in the dying light of the late June evening.
They drove silently, drinking in the quiet and peaceful sounds of the Scottish dusk, until their headlights illuminated the entrance arbor of the little inn. It was a small, yet pleasant-looking place -- painted white with basic, black shutters, but surrounded by an explosion of summer wildflower gardens.
They left their bags in the car and ambled up to the heavy wooden door. As they tapped the hefty, brass knocker, they heard a female voice call from the floor above. "Yes, yes ... just a moment ... I'll be right there."
They smiled at one another in the near-darkness, pleased at the most colorful accent that came down from above. The door opened and a quite elderly, white-haired lady with piercing, yet friendly eyes stood in the long hallway.
"Hello, I'm Mrs. Munro," the woman stated in a firm tone of authority withour fear or hostility. She was obviously one used to being in charge.
"We're the Cathrights ..." David told the woman, "We called three weeks ago to arrange for our honeymoon stay."
The old lady gave a broad Scottish grin and threw up her hands as though a sudden recollection -- one that had long escaped her -- was now foremost in her mind. "Oh, of course, of course ... come right in, dearies. Do you have any bags with you? Well, we can collect those later -- come and sit and have some tea."
As the inn-keeper led them into her living room, the newlyweds noticed that the woman's decor had a mysterious, almost ancient look. The room was filled with items that were quite ancient-looking -- various Celtic artifacts sat on tables, mantles, and shelves ... indeed, it looked more like a museum than a typical countryside inn.
There was a painting over the huge, brick fireplace that caught Wendy's eye: it showed some sort of ancient priestess in an incantationary pose, with a full moon over her right shoulder, and a gnarled oak tree off to her left. It was not an unpleasant-looking work, but it was spooky enough to give Wendy a slight, involuntary shudder as their hostess handed her a cup of tea.
"A wee bit cold, my dear?" the old woman inquired, a knowing smile on her weathered, Highland face. "Yes, it can get a wee bit nippy, even on these summer nights ... 'tis not the Caribbean, you know."
A little laugh, almost like the tinkling of wind chimes, rattled from within the throat of the elderly hostess. That sudden shudder ran through Wendy once again as the laughter ceased. A look of concern swept across the wrinkled face of Mrs. Munro as she stared at Wendy.
"Oh, well now ... we'll have to get a nice warm blanket to warm the new wife, lest she catch a nasty Highland cold. I'll fetch a nice one."
She spun on her heels -- surprisingly nimble, for her apparent age -- and within seconds produced a warm, wool blanket that she placed across the shoulders of the young woman.
"You have that lovely hair of a grand Highland lassie," Mrs. Munro said fondly, "My granddaughter Meghann has the same fine hair."
The old woman turned back to David, who now sat on an over-stuffed couch, beneath a shelf that held an odd-looking, dark glass cup, with dimples on the sides. He was glancing over his shoulder to look at this obviously old piece, when she looked towards him; and she told him its story, before he had a chance to ask about it.
"That's the special whisky glass of Rob Roy himself ... yes, it is ...it used to belong to the head of Clan Gregor. It resided in Edinchip, it did ... for many years. Those dimples were to help Rob Roy hold it in the cold -- it won't slip from frozen fingers, mind you. I got it from Gregor of McGregor ... well, for a favor done, a while ago."
"What kind of favor?" David asked her, always the curious one.
The old woman laughed, that tinkling sound now rising to a much more throaty tone. "Well now ... aren't you the inquisitive fellow! Can't an old lady have a few secrets? Tell you what -- after dinner, we'll have a bit of parlor fun. 'Tis almost a full moon: the time for revelations is at hand. Yes, we'll have a wee bit of fun!"
She clapped her thin, bird-like hands together in a loud pop, startling both of her guests; but, almost as though by secret cue, the newly-weds followed her into the dining room, which was more conventionally furnished with lovely and charming antiques.
Throughout the meal, David and Wendy were surprised at what a wonderful cook Mrs. Munro had turned out to be -- the pork was delicious and quite tender, the potatoes perfectly done, the vegetables obviously fresh from a nearby garden. They found themselves eating so much more than usual, so much so that when she offered them some apple pie, they almost declined; but not wanting to offend their hostess, they each had a large piece. A large cup of coffee followed this tremendous meal; and as everyone sat at the table, enjoying the rich drink, both Wendy and David realized their newclothes seemed to feel quite tight in the waist.
"Well ... now 'tis time for a bit o' fun in the parlor!" Mrs. Munro got up and collected all the dishes as David and Wendy went back to the museum-like living room and sat on the couch. A loud clatter from the kitchen signaled the business of the elderly woman, and David leaned over to whisper into Wendy's ear.
"What do you think of our inn-keeper," David said softly, "Do you think she's colorful?"
Wendy looked at David and gave a silent, wide-eyed look in the affirmative, yet it was clear that they both thought this was bound to be a charming visit.
Soon Mrs. Munro came back into the living room with two cups of a very dark-looking tea. There was very little liquid in each cup, and the newlyweds were perplexed when the hostess handed them the tea. Mrs. Munro chuckled as they looked into the small china cups.
"Well, see ... this is the bit o' fun -- did the reservationist not tell you I'm a tea-reader?"
They both nodded negatively, a bit shocked.
"I didn't think so ..." the old lady chortled, amused at the surprise in their young faces. She continued: "It's nothing to be frightened about, I can tell you that -- just a bit of parlor fun. It's an old family gift, that's what it is ... yes, it runs in the family."
David looked up and gazed at the painting of the priestess for the first time -- he hadn't yet studied it. He took in the entire scene and had the same shudder run through him that Wendy had experienced. The old woman watched as his cup bobbled on the small, china saucer.
"Goodness, I hope you both don't catch your death of cold while you're here. I'll have to make sure you're warm, have plenty of rest, and lots of good, hot meals to enjoy and to ward off the nasties."
She handed a small, wool throw to David -- but he declined, telling her he really didn't feel cold. She smiled sweetly in return and pointed to the teacups.
"I want you to take turns, taking a sip of tea from your cup -- leavea little of the liquid in the bottom, then hand it back to me. David, you go first."
The young man dutifully drank a small gulp of the dark tea -- it seemed quite strong -- and handed the cup to Mrs. Munro. She furrowed her brow and stared into the cup, swirling the bit of juice in the bottom, the tea leaves swimming this way and that ... then in the middle of this odd routine, she suddenly froze, still staring -- with an intense concentration, it seemed to the young couple -- into the bottom of David's cup.
"Hmmm ... yes, I see ... O.K., that's good ..." Mrs. Munro made a few inscrutable comments as she continued to look at the tea leaves. David laughed, now quite amused with how Mrs. Munro seemed to be in her own little, and quite mysterious, world. She snapped out of her reverie and looked at David. "Well, David ... it's all good news!"
David laughed again, strangely relieved ... even though he wasn't sure about this very odd "parlor fun."
"You will continue and build upon your present success. A new project will come your way -- one that will lead to great acclaim; in fact, it will lead to your biggest success yet." The old lady grinned as she revealed this news, and David wondered if she could have had any prior knowledge of the deal in the works -- the one he had been negotiating, the one where he would become the primary historical consultant for a major motion picture about the Second World War.
It hadn't appeared in the trades ... this was strange. But David thought it was rather general information. It could relate to just about anything, or perhaps, to anyone.
"And your father is going to be fine -- you have no need to worry. The operation was a success, and he will recover very nicely ... in fact, you will see him when you return."
After relaying this information, Mrs. Munro laid the cup down on an endtable, and with a gentle swipe of her hand, brushed a drop of tea from her apron.
It was as if electricity had gone through him -- David sat bolt-upright with such a wide-eyed look that Wendy seemed startled. The young man knew that Mrs. Munro had no way of knowing that his father had gone through a difficult lung operation, nor could she have known of his plans to fly to the hospital where his father was to recuperate, upon his return to the States.
"Mrs. Munro -- that is remarkable!" David practically croaked those words, almost unable to speak. "Are you sure? How do you know? I mean ... wow! ... oh, boy ..."
He was now truly in a state of speechlessness, and he just smiled in total amazement as the elderly lady gestured for Wendy to sip her tea.
Wendy followed suit, taking one gulp and handing the cup to Mrs. Munro. The old woman followed the same routine, swirling and staring; then she suddenly stopped and gazed, as though into a crystal ball. The same low voice issued from her throat, as she continued staring into the bottom of the cup. "Yes, that's also good ... O.K., that's even
better. Just not for a while. Yes, I see."
She set the cup on the table, folded her spindly hands on her lap, and spoke softly to the young wife.
"Wendy, you and David will have two children -- a boy and a girl. Both will be healthy. Don't despair if they don't arrive for a while. I believe they will be born two years apart, before you're thirty-fifth birthday. You will have normal pregnancies, so don't worry, child. The first doctor was wrong, the second one was right."
Wendy suddenly burst into tears, but they were tears of joy. She had been crushed that the first doctor told her she might not ever conceive, yet she held onto her hopes for having children when the second specialist told her that her chances were, in fact, quite good. He was going to do further tests, but as time had gone on, he became more positive in his belief that she would be able to conceive.
"Oh, Mrs. Munro ..." Wendy sniffled, "I'm just so overwhelmed. How do you know these things?" She looked at the old woman with confused, pleading eyes; but the woman just smiled and handed Wendy a hankerchief for her teary eyes.
Finally, the old lady admitted: "Well, dear ... 'tis more than a bit o' parlor fun, I have to tell you plain. 'Tis the 'second sight,' as they say in the Highlands; and my mother had it, same as my grandmother before her, and her mother before that. I can't explain it -- it just IS ... now you should both get some rest, or you really will catch a death of a cold. 'Tis been a long day for you both."
Still a bit shaken, surprised, yet happy in these strange revelations, the newlyweds retrieved their bags from their rental car and went up to bed in the cheerfully decorated guest room that Mrs. Munro had prepared for them.
Exhausted after their long trip, they fell into a deep, dreamless sleep as the house fell quiet -- the only stirring came from the old woman as she made herself a cup of English tea and lit a small fire in her massive fireplace. She took a small framed photograph -- the one of her late husband -- and held it close to her, as she pulled her favorite rocking chair close to the fire and covered her lap with a small, wool throw. Sitting there, illuminated only by the dancing fire-light, she looked at the photograph and sipped her tea.
She started talking to the photograph. She spoke in soft tones so as not to wake the young couple; and her eyes got a very distant look to them -- one that spoke of ancient groves, spells, and numerous secrets. "Yes, Fergus, I saw it plain. They are much in love, but they both have the same secret in their hearts ... isn't it a funny thing? They are strong; indeed, they will always be strong. Why have they not told each other of how they would like to see themselves, see each other? True, they would be happy in any event ... but the truth is always good."
Mrs. Munro had not wanted to frighten them away -- the reading had been enough for them; actually, it had almost been too much for them. It was best for them not to know of the old woman's secret: that she had more than the "second sight."
She was, in fact, from a long line of sorcerers: one of the most powerful sorcerer families in the British Isle. The truth was known only to a handful of elderly people in her home country. Soon they would all be gone; but before that, they could still be a force of magic and wonder, and Mrs. Munro knew what she had to do.
She had seen into the hearts and secret recesses of the minds of the young couple. They WERE deeply in love ... but they both had a secret: a desire to become larger, a desire to watch their beloved fatten ... and to revel in their larger bodies. They had never spoken of this to each other. They did not know the other had the same secret desire, and so they lived their lives in a great and wonderful love, but with this same secret desire hidden deep with their souls, unrevealed to one another.
"Yes, Fergus ..." the old woman muttered, "I know what I have to do. I'll cast a spell, that's right, sure as the rain. Every time they make love to each other, they'll be fattening each other up ... uh-huh, just as if they've eaten many, many meals. Oh yes, Fergus, they'll be hungry, too ... no doubt about that, I'll see to it. Lots of food, yes, lots of food ... they'll be eating quite a bit, that's a fact. But sure as I'm sittin' here, they'll be making lots of love to one another ... and that's good -- it's powerfully good. And every time they do, they'll be getting fatter and fatter ... and that's good, too ... powerfully, powerfully good."
All night long, in the dying fire-light of her ancient room, the old woman gestured and spoke long, guttural incantations in low, almost growled tones. At one point, an owl hooted from across a dark meadow, and the old sorceress stopped and smiled. "Yes, I know, Fergus ... it's the way it has to be, for it to be right!"
She returned to the strange and ancient ritual, anxious to be finished by dawn.
When the first rays of light broke over the distant, heather-covered hills; and the first birds of morning called from full, green trees of a Highland summer; and the smooth, still waters of Loch Lomond were disturbed only by the occasional leap of an insect-hunting trout; and the first peek of the new day's sun shone into the windows of the little inn -- there was the old woman, asleep by the embers of her previous night's fire ... and upstairs, in a small, cozy room, David rolled over to kiss awake his new bride.
David and Wendy embraced in a deep, deep hug -- their hands hungrily exploring each other's body as their lips showered soft kisses upon necks, breasts, shoulders and everywhere else it felt good to be kissed. As the sun climbed higher, and the Scottish countryside stirred, the great magic began in earnest.
The morning after their Scottish arrival was a most beautiful one: it seemed as though the whole countryside was abuzz with the glow and vibrancy of summer. From the warmth of their bed, David and Wendy Cathright heard the garden birds chirp their songs of good cheer as the first rays of the sun reached into their room. The newlyweds lay locked in a passionate embrace, their hands moving over the sturdy body of the other, lightly stroking; and as their lips pressed together in so hard a fashion it seemed they might never part, a strange tingling arose from deep within both of their stomachs.
At first, they thought it was the butterflies of a first honeymoon morning; but it persisted, and it soon made them aware of a great and powerful yearning, a passion so strong it was as though their bodies were electrified. David started to squirm with delight, unable to contain what was rising from within -- the hunger was there, a great animal of physical desire.
David took one of her full, round breasts in his mouth and sucked hard. As he did so, Wendy groaned; and as his mouth-suction increased, pulling that sweet breast further into his hungry mouth, his tongue flicked lightly at her nipple ... and she arched her back, clutching the side of the bed as though her hold meant to keep her from falling off the edge of the world.
It was at that moment the changes began: Wendy felt her belly swell against the stomach of her new husband, but she was just as surprised by the pressure she felt in return. David also felt his belly start to swell forward; and as he sucked that luscious breast, he felt her bosom grow within his mouth. How could this be? Nevertheless, it seemed a powerfully erotic development, and when he took his mouth off Wendy's chest -- in order to shower small, soft kisses below her burgeoning bosom -- it was clear that Wendy's bosom had become quite swollen.
This greatly aroused David, so much so that he eagarly reached down to grab her somewhat stocky, though fairly lean hips -- they were much softer to the touch! He grabbed firmly, pushing his still-swelling belly against Wendy's own plumpening waist, and there was little doubt that her hips were fattening to his loving touch. The meatiness made his penis swell to an almost painfully large size, and it throbbed and ached to be inside his growing wife.
Wendy had already became quite wet; she rocked from side to side, amazed that this motion seemed so easy ... and then it could not be denied: her not-quite-plump behind was growing beneath her, as she rocked on her back beneath her swiftly fattening husband. The butt-growth seemed to push her pelvis up towards David, ready to
receive him.
Before he entered her, she swung over to one side just long enough for David to grab at her ballooning bottom. Her thighs were thickening, too -- so juicy and ripe, David thought, as his hands ran down the outside of them, so lusciously plump and full to his trembling touch. He penis suddenly pulsed -- an intense throb that made it fairly leap against the growing thigh of his wife; and the passion of that moment made him grab gluttonously at her ass -- a behind now so big his hands could not fully contain it ... he squeezed and slapped it gently with a ravenous desire.
She flopped back over on her back and he was on top of her; his penis slid into her warm, wet vagina with a smoothness that was almost surgical. Wendy once again clutched the side of the bed, and cried out in surprise and intense pleasure as she realized David's penis felt enormous within her; and its furious throb made her pant as he moved in and out, growing inside her, filling her more completely than he had ever filled her before.
As he pushed into her vagina, moving smoothly and deeply, a subtle circular motion at the end of each thrust, Wendy knew the changes were not hers alone.
David could not fathom how it was possible, but his belly was growing at a surprising rate: as he thrust his penis into his moaning lover, his stomach ballooned outward, becoming fatter and more round with each passionate push. Could this great and loving sex be that fattening? This was truly a miracle, something he thought could only exist in dreams.
As his belly ballooned against Wendy's own swelling stomach -- so soft and full, creating a most delightful pressure against David's growing middle -- he felt a burning power from deep within his stomach: the source of the magic that was expanding his member to an extraordinary size within Wendy.
As their stomachs grew, David could not believe how good it all felt: it was as though their whole bodies were vibrating with the hum of intense pleasure. He was now almost vertical, and leaned forward, able to prop himself up against Wendy's pregnant-like stomach; his own immense and firm belly held him up as it continued to swell forward, even rounder and more pregnant-like than her big, deliciously swollen waist.
He also felt his own ass widen, his own thighs thicken; and when his wife looked up into the face of her beloved, she saw a prominent, quite pronounced double-chin, bulging under the clenched jaw of her fat husband. He had developed small, soft, "fat man" breasts, and they sat on top of his great, round stomach, quivering as his big belly bounced against Wendy's still-fattening tummy.
"Oh, David .." Wendy groaned in delight, looking up at him, "I want to be on top, to move around on your incredible belly."
That was all she had to say -- they moved heavily, the bed creaking under their great weight; and then he was laying on his back, laughing, because he couldn't believe how huge his belly had become: it towered up, like some enormous mountain of firm flesh.
He saw Wendy's face emerge over the belly-mountain as she kneeled on the other side. She playfully slapped the sides of his incredibly fat stomach, then grabbed it and gave it a shake. "My ... you're a fat, fat boy! Ummm ... I'm going to like feeding this big, big tummy of yours -- and then, every time I'm done, I'll get to ride it!"
To illustrate this, she climbed forwards, pressing her fat stomach against his, and mounted his massive and still-erect penis. She sucked his penis into her vagina -- now it was his turn to clutch the bed.
It was an incredible dance of lustfully fat desire: she leaned against David's vast belly and moved her crotch in a firm, rotating fashion. A low groan issued from the thick throat of her husband, as Wendy started to hop on his huge penis in an irregular, stuttering rhythm. At the end of each stutter, she pushed herself against her lover's fat stomach; and she could tell it was still swelling as she rode it like a bronco ... it became so large she could lay her head against that mound, her arms encircling the warm and furry tummy that she -- without ever telling David -- had often fantasized about, thinking of how wonderful it would feel to her touch.
She straightened herself to an upright position, then leaned more forward, straining against the bulk of David's firm, huge belly. The pressure against her stomach increased as their waistlines spread, Wendy's soft stomach now molding itself to his protuberant, gigantically bulbous middle. As they moved in unison, swelling, fattening with a love that spoke of a magic many can never know, the electricity between them and within them built to new and excruciating heights.
They were both groaning and moaning -- each fat belly bouncing, then pressing against its mate ... then bobbing with a firm jiggle, then pressing hard ... again and again, until Wendy's whole body shook with a slowly building shudder. It rose up her spine and shot straight into her brain; and when it arrived there, her crotch exploded with the fire of climax that left her limp, lying prostrate across the huge stomach of her husband..
Heavy Heaven Honeymoon
by BC (copyright 2000 by BC Prose)
Part Oneby BC (copyright 2000 by BC Prose)
When the plane touched down, light as a falling feather on the tarmac of the Glasgow airport, David and Wendy Cathright smiled at one another and said in unison: "We're here!"
It had seemed a long flight -- neither of the two young newlyweds had ever been on such a long voyage from their home in California ... and certainly not to a place as ancient as Scotland.
Three months before their June wedding, they decided to honeymoon in the land of Wendy's ancestors. Since her father had descended from the McGregor clan, they had been convinced by her family to spend two weeks in the area around Loch Lomond -- the region long ago inhabited by the tempestuous and fiery Clan Gregor.
Wendy looked every bit the part of a spirited Highland Lass -- her bright red hair tumbled over her shoulders in a regal mane, worthy of the lion depicted on the McGregor clan crest. The phrase "Royal Is My Race," usually printed in Gaelic and signifying their descent from the Clan Alpin, ancient kings of Scotland -- that appears on that McGregor crest -- was most certainly evident in the deep blue eyes of the freckled and lovely, new wife of David Cathright.
As the new husband watched his wife turn to watch the baggage handlers empty the cargo hold, David thought of what a wonderful match he and Wendy were -- they loved so many of the same types of things, enjoyed the same sorts of literture, movies, and humor; and they were even similar in their looks -- both about the same height and weight. This similarity was often a source for friendly jokes: "Are you sure you're
not brother and sister?"
David, however, had dark brown hair to help frame his brilliant, blue eyes ... and when he looked deep into his lover's eyes, Wendy always felt that intense swoon of true love. They were also very compatible in their expressions of physical love. A powerful passion ran through them both ... well, it all seemed too good to be true.
David, like his new wife, was a strong-spirited, yet gentle soul. He had come from English stock, with the stocky, not-quite-plump features so common in the British Isles. His father had been an RAF pilot who had seen fighting during the Battle of Britain -- a Spitfire pilot no less -- and the plucky demeanor that had served the father so well, had been passed down to his son.
David had already seen great success as an air historian -- his father's influence, no doubt. He was now able to write his acclaimed books at home, having given up his part-time work with an aerospace research firm once his career was in full swing. He was quite pleased that he could now spend more time around the woman with whom he was so deeply in love.
When the plane jerked to a stop and the passengers were finally able to disembark, David and Wendy hurried to collect their baggage and rent the car that would take them to the bed and breakfast inn near the shores of Loch Lomond. As they sped away, traveling farther from the urban environment of Glasgow, the heather-filled hills of the lower Highland countryside stretched out before them in the dying light of the late June evening.
They drove silently, drinking in the quiet and peaceful sounds of the Scottish dusk, until their headlights illuminated the entrance arbor of the little inn. It was a small, yet pleasant-looking place -- painted white with basic, black shutters, but surrounded by an explosion of summer wildflower gardens.
They left their bags in the car and ambled up to the heavy wooden door. As they tapped the hefty, brass knocker, they heard a female voice call from the floor above. "Yes, yes ... just a moment ... I'll be right there."
They smiled at one another in the near-darkness, pleased at the most colorful accent that came down from above. The door opened and a quite elderly, white-haired lady with piercing, yet friendly eyes stood in the long hallway.
"Hello, I'm Mrs. Munro," the woman stated in a firm tone of authority withour fear or hostility. She was obviously one used to being in charge.
"We're the Cathrights ..." David told the woman, "We called three weeks ago to arrange for our honeymoon stay."
The old lady gave a broad Scottish grin and threw up her hands as though a sudden recollection -- one that had long escaped her -- was now foremost in her mind. "Oh, of course, of course ... come right in, dearies. Do you have any bags with you? Well, we can collect those later -- come and sit and have some tea."
As the inn-keeper led them into her living room, the newlyweds noticed that the woman's decor had a mysterious, almost ancient look. The room was filled with items that were quite ancient-looking -- various Celtic artifacts sat on tables, mantles, and shelves ... indeed, it looked more like a museum than a typical countryside inn.
There was a painting over the huge, brick fireplace that caught Wendy's eye: it showed some sort of ancient priestess in an incantationary pose, with a full moon over her right shoulder, and a gnarled oak tree off to her left. It was not an unpleasant-looking work, but it was spooky enough to give Wendy a slight, involuntary shudder as their hostess handed her a cup of tea.
"A wee bit cold, my dear?" the old woman inquired, a knowing smile on her weathered, Highland face. "Yes, it can get a wee bit nippy, even on these summer nights ... 'tis not the Caribbean, you know."
A little laugh, almost like the tinkling of wind chimes, rattled from within the throat of the elderly hostess. That sudden shudder ran through Wendy once again as the laughter ceased. A look of concern swept across the wrinkled face of Mrs. Munro as she stared at Wendy.
"Oh, well now ... we'll have to get a nice warm blanket to warm the new wife, lest she catch a nasty Highland cold. I'll fetch a nice one."
She spun on her heels -- surprisingly nimble, for her apparent age -- and within seconds produced a warm, wool blanket that she placed across the shoulders of the young woman.
"You have that lovely hair of a grand Highland lassie," Mrs. Munro said fondly, "My granddaughter Meghann has the same fine hair."
The old woman turned back to David, who now sat on an over-stuffed couch, beneath a shelf that held an odd-looking, dark glass cup, with dimples on the sides. He was glancing over his shoulder to look at this obviously old piece, when she looked towards him; and she told him its story, before he had a chance to ask about it.
"That's the special whisky glass of Rob Roy himself ... yes, it is ...it used to belong to the head of Clan Gregor. It resided in Edinchip, it did ... for many years. Those dimples were to help Rob Roy hold it in the cold -- it won't slip from frozen fingers, mind you. I got it from Gregor of McGregor ... well, for a favor done, a while ago."
"What kind of favor?" David asked her, always the curious one.
The old woman laughed, that tinkling sound now rising to a much more throaty tone. "Well now ... aren't you the inquisitive fellow! Can't an old lady have a few secrets? Tell you what -- after dinner, we'll have a bit of parlor fun. 'Tis almost a full moon: the time for revelations is at hand. Yes, we'll have a wee bit of fun!"
She clapped her thin, bird-like hands together in a loud pop, startling both of her guests; but, almost as though by secret cue, the newly-weds followed her into the dining room, which was more conventionally furnished with lovely and charming antiques.
Throughout the meal, David and Wendy were surprised at what a wonderful cook Mrs. Munro had turned out to be -- the pork was delicious and quite tender, the potatoes perfectly done, the vegetables obviously fresh from a nearby garden. They found themselves eating so much more than usual, so much so that when she offered them some apple pie, they almost declined; but not wanting to offend their hostess, they each had a large piece. A large cup of coffee followed this tremendous meal; and as everyone sat at the table, enjoying the rich drink, both Wendy and David realized their newclothes seemed to feel quite tight in the waist.
"Well ... now 'tis time for a bit o' fun in the parlor!" Mrs. Munro got up and collected all the dishes as David and Wendy went back to the museum-like living room and sat on the couch. A loud clatter from the kitchen signaled the business of the elderly woman, and David leaned over to whisper into Wendy's ear.
"What do you think of our inn-keeper," David said softly, "Do you think she's colorful?"
Wendy looked at David and gave a silent, wide-eyed look in the affirmative, yet it was clear that they both thought this was bound to be a charming visit.
Soon Mrs. Munro came back into the living room with two cups of a very dark-looking tea. There was very little liquid in each cup, and the newlyweds were perplexed when the hostess handed them the tea. Mrs. Munro chuckled as they looked into the small china cups.
"Well, see ... this is the bit o' fun -- did the reservationist not tell you I'm a tea-reader?"
They both nodded negatively, a bit shocked.
"I didn't think so ..." the old lady chortled, amused at the surprise in their young faces. She continued: "It's nothing to be frightened about, I can tell you that -- just a bit of parlor fun. It's an old family gift, that's what it is ... yes, it runs in the family."
David looked up and gazed at the painting of the priestess for the first time -- he hadn't yet studied it. He took in the entire scene and had the same shudder run through him that Wendy had experienced. The old woman watched as his cup bobbled on the small, china saucer.
"Goodness, I hope you both don't catch your death of cold while you're here. I'll have to make sure you're warm, have plenty of rest, and lots of good, hot meals to enjoy and to ward off the nasties."
She handed a small, wool throw to David -- but he declined, telling her he really didn't feel cold. She smiled sweetly in return and pointed to the teacups.
"I want you to take turns, taking a sip of tea from your cup -- leavea little of the liquid in the bottom, then hand it back to me. David, you go first."
The young man dutifully drank a small gulp of the dark tea -- it seemed quite strong -- and handed the cup to Mrs. Munro. She furrowed her brow and stared into the cup, swirling the bit of juice in the bottom, the tea leaves swimming this way and that ... then in the middle of this odd routine, she suddenly froze, still staring -- with an intense concentration, it seemed to the young couple -- into the bottom of David's cup.
"Hmmm ... yes, I see ... O.K., that's good ..." Mrs. Munro made a few inscrutable comments as she continued to look at the tea leaves. David laughed, now quite amused with how Mrs. Munro seemed to be in her own little, and quite mysterious, world. She snapped out of her reverie and looked at David. "Well, David ... it's all good news!"
David laughed again, strangely relieved ... even though he wasn't sure about this very odd "parlor fun."
"You will continue and build upon your present success. A new project will come your way -- one that will lead to great acclaim; in fact, it will lead to your biggest success yet." The old lady grinned as she revealed this news, and David wondered if she could have had any prior knowledge of the deal in the works -- the one he had been negotiating, the one where he would become the primary historical consultant for a major motion picture about the Second World War.
It hadn't appeared in the trades ... this was strange. But David thought it was rather general information. It could relate to just about anything, or perhaps, to anyone.
"And your father is going to be fine -- you have no need to worry. The operation was a success, and he will recover very nicely ... in fact, you will see him when you return."
After relaying this information, Mrs. Munro laid the cup down on an endtable, and with a gentle swipe of her hand, brushed a drop of tea from her apron.
It was as if electricity had gone through him -- David sat bolt-upright with such a wide-eyed look that Wendy seemed startled. The young man knew that Mrs. Munro had no way of knowing that his father had gone through a difficult lung operation, nor could she have known of his plans to fly to the hospital where his father was to recuperate, upon his return to the States.
"Mrs. Munro -- that is remarkable!" David practically croaked those words, almost unable to speak. "Are you sure? How do you know? I mean ... wow! ... oh, boy ..."
He was now truly in a state of speechlessness, and he just smiled in total amazement as the elderly lady gestured for Wendy to sip her tea.
Wendy followed suit, taking one gulp and handing the cup to Mrs. Munro. The old woman followed the same routine, swirling and staring; then she suddenly stopped and gazed, as though into a crystal ball. The same low voice issued from her throat, as she continued staring into the bottom of the cup. "Yes, that's also good ... O.K., that's even
better. Just not for a while. Yes, I see."
She set the cup on the table, folded her spindly hands on her lap, and spoke softly to the young wife.
"Wendy, you and David will have two children -- a boy and a girl. Both will be healthy. Don't despair if they don't arrive for a while. I believe they will be born two years apart, before you're thirty-fifth birthday. You will have normal pregnancies, so don't worry, child. The first doctor was wrong, the second one was right."
Wendy suddenly burst into tears, but they were tears of joy. She had been crushed that the first doctor told her she might not ever conceive, yet she held onto her hopes for having children when the second specialist told her that her chances were, in fact, quite good. He was going to do further tests, but as time had gone on, he became more positive in his belief that she would be able to conceive.
"Oh, Mrs. Munro ..." Wendy sniffled, "I'm just so overwhelmed. How do you know these things?" She looked at the old woman with confused, pleading eyes; but the woman just smiled and handed Wendy a hankerchief for her teary eyes.
Finally, the old lady admitted: "Well, dear ... 'tis more than a bit o' parlor fun, I have to tell you plain. 'Tis the 'second sight,' as they say in the Highlands; and my mother had it, same as my grandmother before her, and her mother before that. I can't explain it -- it just IS ... now you should both get some rest, or you really will catch a death of a cold. 'Tis been a long day for you both."
Still a bit shaken, surprised, yet happy in these strange revelations, the newlyweds retrieved their bags from their rental car and went up to bed in the cheerfully decorated guest room that Mrs. Munro had prepared for them.
Exhausted after their long trip, they fell into a deep, dreamless sleep as the house fell quiet -- the only stirring came from the old woman as she made herself a cup of English tea and lit a small fire in her massive fireplace. She took a small framed photograph -- the one of her late husband -- and held it close to her, as she pulled her favorite rocking chair close to the fire and covered her lap with a small, wool throw. Sitting there, illuminated only by the dancing fire-light, she looked at the photograph and sipped her tea.
She started talking to the photograph. She spoke in soft tones so as not to wake the young couple; and her eyes got a very distant look to them -- one that spoke of ancient groves, spells, and numerous secrets. "Yes, Fergus, I saw it plain. They are much in love, but they both have the same secret in their hearts ... isn't it a funny thing? They are strong; indeed, they will always be strong. Why have they not told each other of how they would like to see themselves, see each other? True, they would be happy in any event ... but the truth is always good."
Mrs. Munro had not wanted to frighten them away -- the reading had been enough for them; actually, it had almost been too much for them. It was best for them not to know of the old woman's secret: that she had more than the "second sight."
She was, in fact, from a long line of sorcerers: one of the most powerful sorcerer families in the British Isle. The truth was known only to a handful of elderly people in her home country. Soon they would all be gone; but before that, they could still be a force of magic and wonder, and Mrs. Munro knew what she had to do.
She had seen into the hearts and secret recesses of the minds of the young couple. They WERE deeply in love ... but they both had a secret: a desire to become larger, a desire to watch their beloved fatten ... and to revel in their larger bodies. They had never spoken of this to each other. They did not know the other had the same secret desire, and so they lived their lives in a great and wonderful love, but with this same secret desire hidden deep with their souls, unrevealed to one another.
"Yes, Fergus ..." the old woman muttered, "I know what I have to do. I'll cast a spell, that's right, sure as the rain. Every time they make love to each other, they'll be fattening each other up ... uh-huh, just as if they've eaten many, many meals. Oh yes, Fergus, they'll be hungry, too ... no doubt about that, I'll see to it. Lots of food, yes, lots of food ... they'll be eating quite a bit, that's a fact. But sure as I'm sittin' here, they'll be making lots of love to one another ... and that's good -- it's powerfully good. And every time they do, they'll be getting fatter and fatter ... and that's good, too ... powerfully, powerfully good."
All night long, in the dying fire-light of her ancient room, the old woman gestured and spoke long, guttural incantations in low, almost growled tones. At one point, an owl hooted from across a dark meadow, and the old sorceress stopped and smiled. "Yes, I know, Fergus ... it's the way it has to be, for it to be right!"
She returned to the strange and ancient ritual, anxious to be finished by dawn.
When the first rays of light broke over the distant, heather-covered hills; and the first birds of morning called from full, green trees of a Highland summer; and the smooth, still waters of Loch Lomond were disturbed only by the occasional leap of an insect-hunting trout; and the first peek of the new day's sun shone into the windows of the little inn -- there was the old woman, asleep by the embers of her previous night's fire ... and upstairs, in a small, cozy room, David rolled over to kiss awake his new bride.
David and Wendy embraced in a deep, deep hug -- their hands hungrily exploring each other's body as their lips showered soft kisses upon necks, breasts, shoulders and everywhere else it felt good to be kissed. As the sun climbed higher, and the Scottish countryside stirred, the great magic began in earnest.
The morning after their Scottish arrival was a most beautiful one: it seemed as though the whole countryside was abuzz with the glow and vibrancy of summer. From the warmth of their bed, David and Wendy Cathright heard the garden birds chirp their songs of good cheer as the first rays of the sun reached into their room. The newlyweds lay locked in a passionate embrace, their hands moving over the sturdy body of the other, lightly stroking; and as their lips pressed together in so hard a fashion it seemed they might never part, a strange tingling arose from deep within both of their stomachs.
At first, they thought it was the butterflies of a first honeymoon morning; but it persisted, and it soon made them aware of a great and powerful yearning, a passion so strong it was as though their bodies were electrified. David started to squirm with delight, unable to contain what was rising from within -- the hunger was there, a great animal of physical desire.
David took one of her full, round breasts in his mouth and sucked hard. As he did so, Wendy groaned; and as his mouth-suction increased, pulling that sweet breast further into his hungry mouth, his tongue flicked lightly at her nipple ... and she arched her back, clutching the side of the bed as though her hold meant to keep her from falling off the edge of the world.
It was at that moment the changes began: Wendy felt her belly swell against the stomach of her new husband, but she was just as surprised by the pressure she felt in return. David also felt his belly start to swell forward; and as he sucked that luscious breast, he felt her bosom grow within his mouth. How could this be? Nevertheless, it seemed a powerfully erotic development, and when he took his mouth off Wendy's chest -- in order to shower small, soft kisses below her burgeoning bosom -- it was clear that Wendy's bosom had become quite swollen.
This greatly aroused David, so much so that he eagarly reached down to grab her somewhat stocky, though fairly lean hips -- they were much softer to the touch! He grabbed firmly, pushing his still-swelling belly against Wendy's own plumpening waist, and there was little doubt that her hips were fattening to his loving touch. The meatiness made his penis swell to an almost painfully large size, and it throbbed and ached to be inside his growing wife.
Wendy had already became quite wet; she rocked from side to side, amazed that this motion seemed so easy ... and then it could not be denied: her not-quite-plump behind was growing beneath her, as she rocked on her back beneath her swiftly fattening husband. The butt-growth seemed to push her pelvis up towards David, ready to
receive him.
Before he entered her, she swung over to one side just long enough for David to grab at her ballooning bottom. Her thighs were thickening, too -- so juicy and ripe, David thought, as his hands ran down the outside of them, so lusciously plump and full to his trembling touch. He penis suddenly pulsed -- an intense throb that made it fairly leap against the growing thigh of his wife; and the passion of that moment made him grab gluttonously at her ass -- a behind now so big his hands could not fully contain it ... he squeezed and slapped it gently with a ravenous desire.
She flopped back over on her back and he was on top of her; his penis slid into her warm, wet vagina with a smoothness that was almost surgical. Wendy once again clutched the side of the bed, and cried out in surprise and intense pleasure as she realized David's penis felt enormous within her; and its furious throb made her pant as he moved in and out, growing inside her, filling her more completely than he had ever filled her before.
As he pushed into her vagina, moving smoothly and deeply, a subtle circular motion at the end of each thrust, Wendy knew the changes were not hers alone.
David could not fathom how it was possible, but his belly was growing at a surprising rate: as he thrust his penis into his moaning lover, his stomach ballooned outward, becoming fatter and more round with each passionate push. Could this great and loving sex be that fattening? This was truly a miracle, something he thought could only exist in dreams.
As his belly ballooned against Wendy's own swelling stomach -- so soft and full, creating a most delightful pressure against David's growing middle -- he felt a burning power from deep within his stomach: the source of the magic that was expanding his member to an extraordinary size within Wendy.
As their stomachs grew, David could not believe how good it all felt: it was as though their whole bodies were vibrating with the hum of intense pleasure. He was now almost vertical, and leaned forward, able to prop himself up against Wendy's pregnant-like stomach; his own immense and firm belly held him up as it continued to swell forward, even rounder and more pregnant-like than her big, deliciously swollen waist.
He also felt his own ass widen, his own thighs thicken; and when his wife looked up into the face of her beloved, she saw a prominent, quite pronounced double-chin, bulging under the clenched jaw of her fat husband. He had developed small, soft, "fat man" breasts, and they sat on top of his great, round stomach, quivering as his big belly bounced against Wendy's still-fattening tummy.
"Oh, David .." Wendy groaned in delight, looking up at him, "I want to be on top, to move around on your incredible belly."
That was all she had to say -- they moved heavily, the bed creaking under their great weight; and then he was laying on his back, laughing, because he couldn't believe how huge his belly had become: it towered up, like some enormous mountain of firm flesh.
He saw Wendy's face emerge over the belly-mountain as she kneeled on the other side. She playfully slapped the sides of his incredibly fat stomach, then grabbed it and gave it a shake. "My ... you're a fat, fat boy! Ummm ... I'm going to like feeding this big, big tummy of yours -- and then, every time I'm done, I'll get to ride it!"
To illustrate this, she climbed forwards, pressing her fat stomach against his, and mounted his massive and still-erect penis. She sucked his penis into her vagina -- now it was his turn to clutch the bed.
It was an incredible dance of lustfully fat desire: she leaned against David's vast belly and moved her crotch in a firm, rotating fashion. A low groan issued from the thick throat of her husband, as Wendy started to hop on his huge penis in an irregular, stuttering rhythm. At the end of each stutter, she pushed herself against her lover's fat stomach; and she could tell it was still swelling as she rode it like a bronco ... it became so large she could lay her head against that mound, her arms encircling the warm and furry tummy that she -- without ever telling David -- had often fantasized about, thinking of how wonderful it would feel to her touch.
She straightened herself to an upright position, then leaned more forward, straining against the bulk of David's firm, huge belly. The pressure against her stomach increased as their waistlines spread, Wendy's soft stomach now molding itself to his protuberant, gigantically bulbous middle. As they moved in unison, swelling, fattening with a love that spoke of a magic many can never know, the electricity between them and within them built to new and excruciating heights.
They were both groaning and moaning -- each fat belly bouncing, then pressing against its mate ... then bobbing with a firm jiggle, then pressing hard ... again and again, until Wendy's whole body shook with a slowly building shudder. It rose up her spine and shot straight into her brain; and when it arrived there, her crotch exploded with the fire of climax that left her limp, lying prostrate across the huge stomach of her husband..
