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BBW Shaya (~BBW, SSBBW, ~~WG, Stuffing, Gluttony)

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Benny Mon

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A story in the universe of "And Eat It, Too" and "The Invention of Ice Cream", though it stands on its own.

Shaya
by Benny Mon

Chapter 1

Tantsam knew that this was always Shaya’s favorite moment: when the wind pushed their vessel around the last outcropping on this coast of the island of Méggóg, and her hometown of Dhahál came into view, small in the distance but still bright and colorful in all its splendor. It wasn’t that she complained about the rest of it--she seemed to take joy in even the drudgery of a sailor’s life, in hauling loads and pulling ropes--but nothing seemed to equal this moment when the work was done, and, tired and satisfied, she stood at the stern and returned to the seat of the largest and most prosperous principality in the Bight of Vhida.

“You’ve got that look on your face again, Shaya,” he said.

She turned back to the voice behind her, looking a little embarrassed but no less radiant. Her big, brown eyes were glowing, each round, dark brown, appley cheek on either side of her strong nose spreading to reveal her brilliant smile and press her thick double chin into her neck. Her curly hair--brown-black, but sunstreaked from her time at sea--was pulled into a rough ponytail, but it still blew gently in the wind. And as she turned at her waist, he saw her belly tug at the strictures of her overalls, a little tighter than they usually were on a job. She was just on the fat side of the line between fat and chubby, and while not curvy--her hefty belly was easily her largest feature--she still had a feminine roundness.

Tantsam, the stocky, dark red-brown Archipelagan who had worked so many jobs with her, laughed instinctively when she met his gaze. “We have some time to rest before we come to port, don’t we?” She nodded, and they settled down on a pair of squat barrels. He noticed her belly settle on her lap and strain her overalls again.

“I don’t understand why you say you can’t wait to retire,” he said. “You love this work. You couldn’t do anything else. It’s in your blood, Shaya; your father is a sailor and so was his father!”

“I know, I know, I do love it,” she said, laughing a little herself. “It’s not like I’m going to retire tomorrow. It’s just that when I think of what my life will be like then, I can barely wait. I’ll be rich, living off my investments. I can travel the world--I won’t just have to work local jobs like I always do now--or I can stay home if I want, it’ll be up to me! And you know the most important thing.”

“I do.” Tantsam smiled and nodded knowingly.

Shaya closed her eyes and her eyebrows shot up as the fantasies flowed through her. “I’ll be able to eat as much as I want of the finest, most delicious food, and this thing”--she patted her belly a couple times and shook it a little--“will just get bigger. I won’t be able to help it.”

“You are the oddest person I have ever met, Shaya, and I’ve met a lot of people at sea.”

“But doesn’t that sound incredible to you?” She leaned in and looked at him earnestly. “That won’t be for years from now, and while we’re young, we work, but one day we’ll have made it. We won’t have to lift a finger, we can just enjoy the best this world has to offer. We live in amazing times, Tantsam, this wasn’t always possible.”

Tantsam shook his head, smiling with affection and confusion. “You’ve explained this to me a thousand times and I still don’t get it. But you’re the best sailor I’ve ever worked with, so it’s all the same to me.”

Shaya cocked her head as if to “Ok, so be it,” and as she stretched her arms wide her overalls hugged her fleshy torso as her shoulders pulled it snug. “You know,” she said, “normally I lose a little weight on a job, but this time I feel like I might be a little bigger than when I started.”

Tantsam nodded, a tight smile on his face. “I think you know why.” His mind flashed back to so many nights with so much rum, flagons and flagons, so much indulgence and debauchery during a long but easy local job that took them through many ports in the Bight. “Yeah,” she sighed, “I guess I do.” She touched her head gingerly and groaned a little--the conversation seemed to remind her of the lingering effects of all this fun.

Soon enough everyone was back on their feet, a dozen or more sailors scrambling over the decks, preparing to turn into the port, to dock and hoist the sails, to unload their cargo. There was always a team of dockworkers present to smooth the process, but the crew was involved in every step of the way, careful to ensure that nothing broke or cracked or slipped into the pocket of a tempted dockworker. Shaya stood in a line of sailors moving sacks from below deck onto a platform that a pulley would lift onto the dock. Tantsam glanced over at her from time and time, and below her fat exterior he could see the muscles of her arms and legs engaging as she took each sack and relaxing as she passed it on. She may have been young, but she was one of best sailors in the Bight.

Tantasm would know: they’d work together a long time, in fact. Tantsam was a little older, the son of migrants who had relocated from the Archipelago at the End of the World to the Bight when a particularly bad drought struck their home islands. Like his parents, he had always worked on the docks and on ships--and so, remarkably, had Shaya. She came from a sailor-merchant family, and it was increasingly common for young women of that background to work the sorts of sailing jobs that had formerly been the province of young men. By now, Tantsam had lost track of the number of jobs they had worked together. Their friendship was easy and the rhythm of their cooperation flawless.

It was late afternoon by the time everyone finished. This was contract work, so the ship’s captain and a skeleton crew stayed behind to tidy up while the hirelings went to collect their pay at the clerk’s office, a small, wide, low-roofed building at the head of the dock. They formed a line that stretched out onto the dock, and Shaya and Tantsam stood there chatting with each other and with their mates as the sun arced through the sky. At sea the breeze kept Shaya cool, but on land the sun always overheated her extra flesh, and now Tantsam saw sweat forming tiny beads on her forehead and her nose and her double chin. She wiped her brow and let the drops shake off her double chin, and she grumbled with growing impatience at the heat and the slow pace of the line. And then they both spotted not a sailor but a servant woman walk out of the building.

Normally such a woman wouldn’t attract much notice, but this woman was fat--truly and properly fat, certainly fatter than Shaya. Fatness wasn’t unheard of in the Bight, but mostly it took the form of portly, middle-aged merchants and their wives, sailors who had moved through way through the ranks of their guilds until they became captains of their own ships, even commanders of small, personal fleets. They knew enough comfort and luxury to become soft and round, but they never reached true obesity, the kind that Shaya aspired to. And yet here was a lowly servant who was the fattest young woman Tantsam had ever seen. If Shaya was herself nearly as fat as a middling merchant, this woman was one and a half times her size and at least a hand shorter. She was a jiggling ball of flesh with a band of belly fat bulging out of the gap between her cropped, short-sleeved teal top and her long teal skirt--a standard servant’s uniform, simple, practical and cool enough for hard work, but by now far too small and tight for this woman. She strolled out of the door with short, fat, buoyant steps, bouncing as she walked slowly away from the docks and back into the city.
 
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