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Sonic Purity

Jiggle Junkie
Joined
Apr 9, 2006
Messages
166
Location
Pasadena, California, U.S.A.
Cruise On

Day 9 of Leigh Down’s illness and Day 8 of cruise husband and stateroommate Clark Barr’s was one of feeling far better. The loss of taste and smell remained, keeping meals unpleasant necessities more about temperature and texture than any sort of flavor.

“This is so discouraging, having taken this cruise with a primary goal of food immersion, then having things become better than I could have imagined bonding in love with you and you being wholly on-board with my primary goal and its side-effects, then losing all sense of taste and smell and having eating become more chore than pleasure” she lamented, getting a rise from him via squeezing her own hips to emphasize her side(-located) effects.

“Thankfully Royal Prince is compensating everyone, so you’ll be able to have another opportunity on a future cruise, once this whole COVID-19 thing and everything else related to SARS-2 is worked out.”

“Assuming I can arrange enough time off from work.”

“Be thankful you’re not amongst those who may be getting permanent time off from work.”

“There is that” she sighed, casting her defocused gaze towards the floor. Suddenly realizing something, her head quickly snapped back up, “I’m going to have to check in with work sometime today and let them know I’m stuck here, since unless things change really quickly, I won’t be in for Monday morning as planned.”

“Yeah, if you want your job, that would be advisable. I ought to do the same thing with my work, since they’re expecting me Monday as well.”


Rather than respond, she was staring at the wall.

He commenced lightly massaging her shoulders, one shoulder per hand, “Whatcha thinking about?”

“I would’ve already been off the ship and home today, if things had gone normally. Or riding with you to get off with you in L.A.”

“Except you wouldn’t have because I would have gotten off in S.F. two days ago.”

She cuddled into him, rolling and twisting around for nuzzles and kisses. “Maybe this is better (kiss). Even with no sense of taste (kiss).”


* *
Coming-on-duty First Officer Glenn had an urgent question upon arriving on the Bridge for her going-off-duty peer First Officer Crunklebunk—urgent enough that Officer Crunklebunk had to stop her at an appropriate social distance. “How is the captain?”

“Unusually laconic.”

“Does he have it?”

Officer Crunklebunk nodded. “Active disease, hence his quarantining in his office.” Using a protective clean handkerchief between her hand and the bridge’s IR thermometer, she measured her forehead temperature. The results displeased her. “Up a full degree C from the start of my shift. I may have it too. Next time you see me, I’ll be wearing a face mask.”

“Measure me, please.”


“37 point 3 C. What do you normally run?”

“High 36. 37-3’s edgy for me. I’ll have to track it. Are you OK staying on until I can arrange PPE, so I don’t spread anything I might have?”

“Sure. I’ll go carefully wash my hands and do a sterile wipe-down.”


* *
Officer Glenn returned a few minutes later wearing a protective mask, handing a sealed package with the same to Officer Crunklebunk.


After officially handing off control of the ship, First Officer Glenn had one final question for departing First Officer Crunklebunk. “Status update on Captain’s efforts to arrange berthing?”

“No updates, nor efforts towards them that I’ve seen. My sense is that his current greatest challenge lies within.”


* *
Leigh decided that a freshly-arrived email was worth sharing, “Well… looks like I wouldn’t have been going to work on Monday anyway.”

“You look so….”


“I’m waiting.”

“Studious? Professorial? Something in your reading glasses.”

Plllllbbt! she raspberried, then coughed. “Be glad I don’t need them to read your face clearly.”

“I thought I was an easy read.” Hack! “So what’s the deal?”

“Amalgamated Composites is a non-essential business, thus closed for the time being.”

“They’re not doing work from home?”

“Not now, according to this.” She nose-nuzzled him, “I don’t feel like debating with them about this, nor anything else, presently. Anything from your place of employment?”

“Not yet” CCHHH! “I’ve been reading about Newsom’s statewide shelter-at-home order last night. Maybe it has to happen like that, but it seems pretty dire to me.”

“If the idea is to keep people from mingling and spreading this thing, doesn’t it make sense to have a uniform procedure for the whole state rather than each city or county doing its own thing?”

“Possibly” he sighed. “So many things we don’t know about this disease yet.”

Now it was her turn to sigh, as well as cuddle into him more. “It’s all happening so fast. I hope that what we’re reading is correct: that we’re on the survival side of this.” Hack!

“How long is this thing supposed to last?”

“Fourteen days is what I’m reading.”

“Ulaaaaaaagghh!

“Tell me about it. Wanna do some marching, just to be sure, even though thankfully we’re not wheezing?”

“Yeah. But you have to do 3 cycles before you dock against my plush port for our fourth.”

“Taskmaster” he teased, cueing up the video.


🎼 Honk! t-thh Honk! t-thh HonkHonkHonk
Honk! t-thh Honk! t-thh HonkHonkHonk 🎼


* *
Later in the afternoon, Clark received the email response for which he’d been waiting, reading it carefully.


“Don’t keep me in suspense.” Cough!

“Same deal as your place. Which doesn’t especially surprise me, given that as you know we’re mostly a prototyping operation, and not a lot of design work seems to be going on as the impact of this body blow hits us.” Cccc! Chhhh!

“Let’s not talk about body blows, please. Nor COVID-19.”

“What would you rather talk about?”

“Nothing. Let’s go to bed early, or at least take a nap.”
 

Sonic Purity

Jiggle Junkie
Joined
Apr 9, 2006
Messages
166
Location
Pasadena, California, U.S.A.
Broken At Berth

First Deck and current Navigating Officer Crunklebunk gently bit her lip, sighing. She paged the ship’s chief engineer.

“Yes, Captain?”

“Status of repairs needed to get us back onto main power?”

“Unknown, ma’am. I’ve never seen such sudden scoring, peeling, and heat damage to nearly every bearing surface on our prime movers. It’s as if someone sabotaged our lubricant supply, yet preliminary visual and tactile examination of a fresh sample from the same batch we’ve been using indicates no problems, and per the labeling it’s the same product we’ve been using.”

“Hotel power?”

“Might be able to get one auxiliary engine going, mixing still-viable parts between the two. That’s not going to buy us much time, unless and until myself or someone can figure out how this series of cascading failures happened.”

“Status system’s showing 3 point 7 hours remaining on emergency power. Do you concur?”

“Let me run some audit numbers. One moment.”


It was actually closer to 2 tedious minutes before Chief Engineer Arto Noyce reported back.

“The numbers verify, so yes, that’s accurate.”

“Presuming you can get an auxiliary going, can we make it back into port under our own power?”

“As long as we here in Engine can get something going in the next hour or two before the batteries drain too low and our emergency power goes away, and as long as you keep it at a slow crawl, should be workable. We have a port that will take us?”

“This is an emergency, Arto. Coos Bay has to take us.”

“Aye. Anything else, ma’am?”

“Not at this time. Looking forward to updates.”

“Absolutely. Over and out.”


* *
Leigh Down and Clark Barr were but two of many cruisers who awoke to quiet misty darkness, other than sounds of human activity (usually coughing) in adjacent cabins and minimal emergency lighting in the bathroom.

“Hhhhhh” she sighed. “This bodes poorly for making tea.”

His hands were already starting their morning caressing rounds of her body by the time he responded, “It does. Bodes very well for making love, however.”

The sensual pleasures she felt driven by his passions ignited her own. She freely and joyously yielded fully, contributing her part to this first stage of their mutual morning lovemaking with caresses of her own on him, hot breath, and steamy morning kisses.


With nothing else to do and in their latest illness pattern of feeling very close to normal first thing in the morning, Leigh and Clark indulged and immersed themselves in extended slow, multifaceted, broad-definition sex.


* *
Up on the Bridge, Captain Cranch looked like something the cat dragged in. Exuding illness, he absolutely wore a mask to protect others from what he had, touched nothing, and assuredly kept his distance. “I fully concur with your decisions this morning, Officer Crunklebunk—excellent work. I shall remain available for remote consultation from my cabin, where I shall be self-isolating for the duration.” CCCCHHHH! he loudly coughed, wiping his eyes with his left elbow crook. “Officer Glenn: until further notice, you are in charge of this ship.”


Upon Officer Glenn’s agreement, Captain Cranch sent out the requisite notification notice to the other department heads, which he had pre-drafted earlier in the morning. With a little under 2 hours of emergency power remaining, Acting Captain Glenn had some significant decisions to make in her near-term future.


* *
“You are made out of pure awesome” Clark attempted to smile between bites of the granola energy bar she’d pulled out of one of her bags and given him. It may not have been much of a brunch, but it was something.

“I defer to you as the mechanical engineer with materials expertise,” she set down her own bar to make it easier to lift her fat right hip and let it free-fall drop back atop his left hip and thigh, “though I’m quite sure I’m made up of a good amount of fat.”

“That makes you even more purely awesome (kiss). Only one of us had the foresight to pack emergency food provisions, and it wasn’t me.” munch, munch, munch

“Life happens, stuff happens. I don’t like to go hungry, if I can help it.”

“Let’s hope that good stuff happens that gets our power back before your prudent packing is run down to nothing. Apropos of which: What did one of the surviving members of the Donner Party enjoy for lunch?”

Uaaaggh! Clark!”

“It’s just a joke; don’t overthink it and it’ll be over and forgotten sooner. Any idea?”

She shook her head, hoping doing so would shake this entire discussion out of it.

“A hand sandwich” he grinned, laughing harder seeing her wince and turn away, herself struggling not to chuckle.


* *
With the arrival of Second Engineer Wilson Wiley to the Engine Room, the Engine Department found itself in the interesting situation of all its watchstanding officers being present at the same time, along with Chief Engineer Arto Noyce hands-on digging in to the multiple engine issues. “This looks intense” was his first comment upon arriving.

“It assuredly is” Arto sighed.

“It’s a fuckin’ bay muckin’ nightmare, is what it is!” declared on-watch (had any of the engines been running) Fourth Engineer Billy Bilge, hands oily and knuckles scuffed from unbolting manifold fasteners on several engines—yes, including on their manifolds. Legally surnamed Blige (L then I), given what an incorrigible sewer mouth he was, everyone including himself went with I then L Bilge. With years of experience beyond any of the rest of them, based on skills and seniority alone he could have been Chief Engineer for several years already, were it not for his impatience, marginal people skills, and potty mouth.

Far more patient and focused Third Engineer Dawn Rizer held up one of the shafts from the port auxiliary engine towards Engineer Wiley, the most skilled, practiced machinist of the group. “D’ya think this grooving is shallow enough to turn down?”

He claimed the piece from her, studying it carefully. “Mmmm, that’s close. Lemme mic it.”


On his way over to the workbench for the micrometer measurement, he asked, “How the hell did this happen?!”

“That’s what we’d all like to know” replied Arto.

“It’s a desert sandpaper cunt lube failure clusterfuck, I tell ya!”

“Probably he’s–”

Whack!

Jumpin’ jiminy twatfoam felching pussyramen rantallion wangworm bescumbered dankvag queefqueen fetid jizz pecker-headed Trump-brained Clinton-minged smegma-surfing spooge-slurping frio fundillo suka blyád klerelijer schweinepriester incazzato nero assmunching shitspitting buttfucking cockwaffle cumguzzling dickslapping skullfucking soggy muffin clitty-littered Facebook blumpkin!


As usual after one of Billy’s cursing streaks, whomever else was in the room with him waited for the reverberation echoes to die down below audibility. Those echoes could be so beautiful, none of them wanted to miss a moment. When possible, Arto recorded them, as he often sampled various mechanical and other sounds around the Engine Room for the sound collage music he made in his spare time.


“Wouldn’t ‘ouch!’ have been sufficient?” Wilson calmly asked.

Arto was busy totaling up numbers on the vintage mechanical cash register he kept in the Engine Room for this very necessary purpose. Kaaa-CHINNNG! the machine rang when he pressed Total. “Forty three dollars and eight cents into the Swear Jar, Billy.”

Fucking shit” he mumbled, digging the needed currency out of his wallet and pocket.

“What was that?”

Wilson whispered into Arto’s ear, relaying what had been mumbled.

“Fifty cents more”—Kaaa-CHINNNG!


Billy quickly stuffed $43.58 into the Swear Jar, a very large glass former pickle jar with a metal screw-on lid, already overstuffed with paper money and coins which had once been his, from his many prior rants.

Arto couldn’t suppress his smile, thinking {We’re that much closer to Mariner Edition Apple Watches for Wilson and Dawn.}


Those unfamiliar with the Sapphire Prince’s engineering staff commonly assumed that as a woman, Third Engineer Rizer would be most highly offended. Little did they know the real deal: Dawn Rizer came from a long line of old salts, in a household where swearing was as common as standard American English. Her biggest problem growing up as a young child was learning that cursing was a home/family/maritime thing, not for out in the general public.

As the years went by and she grew into adulthood, she herself seldom felt the urge or need to curse, still not at all minding hearing others do so. Billy in particular entertained her. As the rest of the team learned during an alcohol-fueled shore leave evening and night where they’d held a swearing throw-down in the bar they were visiting, Dawn Rizer could—and did—out-swear everyone other than Billy Bilge himself—and even Billy was starting to feel the heat that night.

{clitty-littered… nice} she thought as she continued working. {I’ll have to remember that one.}

* *
Proving that he was useful for things beyond vulgar entertainment, Fourth Engineer Bilge proudly rolled out a dusty drum from the back of the supply room. “This is the good shhhhhhssstuff” he just barely corrected himself. “Old date code, before all the current batches we’ve been using.”


Second Engineer Wiley and Third Engineer Rizer each took samples over to the test bench, spending a few minutes analyzing them in comparison to samples from the current container they’d been using.


Engineer Wiley reported their combined findings, “Viscosity’s identical. Coefficient of friction’s the same on the tribometer in both my and Dawn’s tests.”

“Not the same under actual load and operating temperature, damn fuuuulllllake it!”
 

Sonic Purity

Jiggle Junkie
Joined
Apr 9, 2006
Messages
166
Location
Pasadena, California, U.S.A.
“Billy’s correct” Arto agreed. “By all means keep the accelerated wear tests going, but we have an engine to get online now. We’re not a chem lab; there may be all sorts of differing parameters between the batches we’re not able to measure. Let’s get Starboard Aux up and running with the older lube.”

* *
With not even half an hour of emergency battery power left, the starboard-side auxiliary engine was successfully brought back to life, so far running acceptably, with watchstanding Engineer Rizer hovering over it like a hawk whilst Chief Engineer Arto finessed power distribution and otherwise oversaw what few critical systems were able to keep running. Each, when they had time they could safely spare, assisted Engineers Wiley and Bilge in their attempt to get Port Aux back into running order. The main engines’ frictional surfaces were too cooked to quickly get going under the circumstances.


To write that there was unhappiness amongst cruisers on the Sapphire Prince would be an understatement: there was absolutely no spare electricity for what in the industry was called hotel power: all electric services utilized by passengers, or those catering to their needs. Stewards roamed the halls like old-time town criers, explaining that work was ongoing to get power working, and that the ship was slowly crawling back towards the nearest port: Coos Bay. A paltry 1 1/4 knots was all Engineering could deliver from the single auxiliary generator and still maintain critical infrastructure power (navigation, internal operational communications, emergency lighting).

The Food & Beverage Department did an outstanding job creating and delivering cold sandwiches and other things which could be safely prepared without power (beyond emergency lighting). While some cruisers were surly with this latest major degradation of their cruising experience, so many were ill and tired, they didn’t really care, as long as they had liquids to drink, some form of food to eat, and working toilets.


* *
Sudden lights, muffled HVAC sounds, and the unmistakeable sight of the stateroom’s infotainment A/V system starting up mid-afternoon immediately pulled Clark’s and Leigh’s attention away from the paper-based reading materials they’d been restfully reading.

Yaaaaay!” with a lot of clapping filtered in from adjacent staterooms.

Leigh decided she’d join in, “Yaaaaay!” clap clap clap clap clap


* *
Excellent work, Engineering!” Acting Captain Glenn cheerily praised the team from the Bridge, over the intercom. “Patch into the security mics on the stateroom decks and have a listen.”

“Thanks, Captain!” Chief Engineer Noyce replied, on his entire team’s behalf.

“Over and out.”


Arto immediately switched the audio to the Grandview Deck, the highest stateroom-centric deck on the ship. The cheers and clapping remained clearly audible. Quickly before everyone stopped, he cycled down the remaining decks, ending with the lowest stateroom deck Sea Star.

Billy took a bow in front of again-running Port Aux, wisely keeping his mouth shut to literally keep his money in his pocket. Wilson and Dawn, equally part of the repair team, followed suit.

Billy’s silence did not last long. “Time to crack a cold one.”

“Given how long the reefers have been offline, it’d likely be a lukewarm one by this point” Arto smiled.

“Oh shiiiieeuuurrrree it would. Yes, sure, certainly.”

{That’s not what Gramps meant when he spoke of reefer} Dawn thought.


* *
“Ohhhh right, we’re not supposed to shake hands. OK,” the newest arrival to the Bridge said as he took several steps back from the on-duty officers. “Hi. Rocky Porter, Port of Coos Bay port pilot at your service” waved the portly port pilot.

“Welcome aboard Mr. Porter. I’m Acting Captain Ellen Glenn, here with Second Deck Officer and current watch keeper Aurora Carr. User interface surfaces have been sanitized per CDC recommendations, completed minutes ago. We’ll step aside as far as we safely can while maintaining control of the ship so you can have a look.”


What Acting Captain Glenn of course meant by having a look was reading all the ship’s instruments and related data screens.


“Looks great so far” he concluded. “We’ve had some mud flow off the western shore, so you’ll do well to err port about 20 meters as you round North Bend.”


Consummate professional beyond reproach though she was, Second Deck Officer Carr had a deep dark secret currently vexing her: fat men with soft, wobbly bellies stomped all her passion buttons. Somehow she’d never made it as far as looking into this overpowering desire online nor with a therapist nor in any other way. She had never seen nor heard the term female FA, nor FA as Fat Admirer in any context. She especially couldn’t help losing herself to men whose bellies were barely contained in whatever they were wearing.

Such was currently the case with Mr. Porter, whose tantalizingly flabby belly overhung his belt-equipped waistband with almost sufficient gravity-enhanced fold-over to be bobbling against the very tops of his meaty thighs. His white button-down dress/work shirt had its work cut out for it, containing his gut.

{Thank goodness for social distancing} she thought. {Otherwise I’d be standing so close to him, I’d be well within his personal space.}


“Watch your starboard side going through the railroad bridge… looking good on port….”


All of Acting Captain Glenn’s focus was on piloting the ship. {Going to nail this docking. I feel it.}


“You’re through, you’re through” Rocky smiled. “Easy peasy under the McCullough, ease to port until you’re you’re around the turn, then unless one of us spots something unusual, aim starboard of our bay islands as you can see on the map, and into port.”


* *
Everything remained smooth sailing, following the path port pilot Porter recommended.

“OK, your berth is coming up just past the sand pits.”


Acting Captain Glenn made her way out onto the starboard bridge wing, quickly getting into her zone. Deftly working the wing’s control panel, she eased the ship to a standstill at what appeared to be the perfect location dockside.

THUNK!—A shockwave jolted through much of the Sapphire Prince.


* *
Leigh and Clark absolutely felt and slightly heard the sudden impact. “What the hell was that?!” he wondered aloud, wide-eyed.


* *
Back on the Bridge, all present wondered the same thing. “What what what?!” frantic Acting Captain Glenn exclaimed.

Second Deck Officer Carr had at least part of the answer, “Prop lockup on the starboard Azipod.”

How?!

“Looking at the Azipod cam aaannnnddd water’s too murky to see anything.”


“Cranch to Bridge” came over the intercom. “What just happened, please?”

Acting Captain Glenn took the call, “Sudden starboard Azipod prop lockup, mechanical. No viewable image on view cam.”

“Captain Cranch, this is port pilot Rocky Porter. I’ve been paging my team to get a diver down there, but so far no response. Already filling out the issue report with Acting Captain Glenn.”

“Rocky! Glad you’re on board.” Hack! “Any preliminary guesses what might possibly have jammed the prop?” CHHH!

“No sir. Channel’s been clear all week. There was one big rock that let loose at Berth 3, but I’m not aware of any such boulders on this berth. Good to hear your voice, Cam. Hope you feel better soon.”

“Me too. I’d be up there, but I’m assuredly contagious, verified COVID-19.”

“Jeez, that’s rough! Keep breathing, sir!”

“Absolutely.” Cough!

“I’ll have information for all of you soon as I can, even if it means I have to go back to the office and squeeze into my diving duds and go look myself.”


Second Deck Officer Carr had a sudden “special moment” sneak up on her, envisioning Rocky Porter squeezing himself into a wetsuit, and how he’d look like a sexy well-fed sea lion.


“Engineering to Bridge.”

“Glenn here. What do you have, Chief?”

“A clearer view of what we hit, after water-jetting the hull cams.”

BAAHaaaah Haah!” came out of the background.

“Hold on a minute please, Captain.” He turned away from the mic to yell, “Shut up, Billy!” then turned back. “Sorry. See it?”

“I see the wooden crate shards, but I can’t quite make out all the gray mass areas.”

“Nails. 20 penny common, according to what I can read on the crate fragments.”

{Oh good gobbledygook no!}

That’s what that was up on the dock!” said Rocky, hovering less than social distance from Acting Captain Glenn. “I thought I was hallucinating.”

BWAAAAH HAAH Haah! Here, here Arto, take my wallet and do what the hell ever. Acting Captain Glenn, you’re a fabulous seamun—with a U!” Billy turned and yelled towards his fellow engineers, “–whom I deeply respect, but I have to say this, no matter what it costs me. Ma’am, this docking?: you TOTALLY FUCKING NAILED IT! BAAAAAAAAH HAAAH HAAAH HAAAAAAAH!

Chief Engineer Noyce aggressively eased his misbehaving 4th. out of the way. “I’ll dock his pay. Just let me know how much.”

“Let it go, Arto” Ellen sighed. “Engineer Bilge is technically correct in this instance. Sending Port of Coos Bay port pilot Rocky Porter down to coordinate with you on inspection, insurance, repairs, and all that. Let’s the rest of us all please go through the remainder of standard docking procedures and ensure we’re fully anchored and stabilized and that our cruisers are as well off as can be.”
 

Sonic Purity

Jiggle Junkie
Joined
Apr 9, 2006
Messages
166
Location
Pasadena, California, U.S.A.
* *
Thankfully the unexpected crate of nails was the last episode of drama this especially challenging day. The Sapphire Prince was securely anchored at dock, with no need (nor ability) to hover off the coast waiting for multiple levels of bureaucracy to work things out. There remained sufficient supplies for the moment. Both auxiliary generators continued to operate acceptably well on the old-stock lubricating oil, able to supply all the power the ship needed at rest for full “hotel” functionality.

Leigh’s and Clark’s editions of COVID-19 maintained the pattern: they’d felt almost normal in the morning, but now at nightfall, were again feverish, devoid of energy, and generally feeling ill. They’d done their Honks The Goose marching mid-afternoon after the exciting ship docking, and thankfully continued to breathe freely without wheezing as they had the last few days, now with far less coughing. After yet another taste-free light dinner and restful digesting and conversation, they again went to bed early to hopefully sleep well and shake this illness off.


* *
Sunday 22 March 2020, Day 18 for Leigh and 17 for Clark of their originally 15 day cruise, started out foggy and cold outside, warm and cuddly-cozy inside. Piled under warm blankets, sharing their supremely comfortable “cloud” bed, the restful nude skin-against-skin contact from nearly head to toe supercharged the physical aspects of their deep mutual love.

Words were few—almost none. Kisses were many: gentle, calm. Hands restfully on each other’s hips, his sinking into the fat softness of hers.

{I want this forever} she thought as they kept kissing.

{I’m addicted to her, and this love} was his thought. {I don’t want this to end.}


* *
After the day prior’s “unplugged” minimalist brunch, it felt great to have nice hot toast and hot chocolate for their ongoing cloudy misty morning, even though they still couldn’t taste anything. She re-ran her cruise ship/seafaring playlist from the beginning and hopefully without loss-of-power interruptions through the high fidelity stateroom audio system, so happy to be lost to love sharing it and sitting-up blanket-covered nude cuddles with her cruise husband.

Nearly all the songs were ones they both knew, being close in age thus having grown up in the same time frame with the same musical sources and cultural forces. Once in awhile one of them would start singing, with the other often joining in. Despite not having great singing voices, it pleased them both that neither of them wound up coughing, going hoarse, nor wheezing. Whether or not they were singing at a given moment, many songs triggered individual memories forged on this cruise: happy memories, most of which kept the flame of their affectionate romantic love running high.


She felt Clark’s mood suddenly shift, along with his body stiffening up like a retriever or pointer dog fixating on prey, soon as the distorted spoken introduction of the next song began:


What really went on there?
We only have this excerpt:


She saw and felt goosebumps on his arms during the opening electric guitar chorus.

In their time, the vocals arrived:


🎼 There's a party going on down around here
Cruiser’s Creek yeah
Watch the shirt-tails flapping in the wind
Sidewalk running
See the people holding from the back
Hat-boaters tilting
There's a party going down around here
Cruiser’s Creek now 🎼


Tears began dribbling out of his eyes. Whatever was going on with him she sensed it was best to cuddle him snugly and let the experience unfold.

His crying intensified as the song continued, reaching river level near its intense conclusion.


Quickly, she paused her music player before the next song started. He held her tightly, still crying.


After over a minute of musical silence and slightly lesser crying, she dared to ask, “What does that song mean to you, Neener?”

“It’s one of my favorite Fall songs” he managed to speak through his tears and sniffles. “It’s been over 2 years, but I’m still not over Mark E. Smith’s death.”

“Seems to me from what I read online that he didn’t have an especially healthy lifestyle. The picture of him with 50+ lit cigarettes all stuffed into his mouth at one time is memorable.”

He nodded, his crying subsided down to occasional sniffles. “Is that in your playlist based on it’s title?”

“I read that Cruiser’s Creek is based upon a cruise ship trip Mr. Smith once took with his parents or family or somesuch.”

“Never knew that (sniff). But then with his lyrics it can be tough to tell to what he’s referring. Thank you for letting me cry it out; I think it helped.”

“Of course, Neen!” she replied with a sweet kiss.


Restarting her music playlist led to happier times. Having marched so often to Honks The Goose, they decided today instead they’d hands-holding jump-around dance to a song from their young single-digit-age childhood:


🎼 Come on down to my boat baby
Come on down where we can play
Come on down to my boat baby
Come on down we'll sail away 🎼


* *
The Sapphire Prince wasn’t sailing anywhere anytime soon. Beyond needing to wait on parts to repair the main engines, beyond the starboard Azipod damage (propeller proper and the device itself) being significant enough to require full dry dock servicing, personnel across all departments on board the ship were succumbing to what seemed to be COVID-19, verified so far only in a few cases such as Captain Cranch, via the very few testing kits the medical team had been able to obtain. The ship remained anchored in the Port of Coos Bay under quarantine, with no one boarding and none other than the severely ill allowed to disembark, for emergency or urgent treatment in the nearby local hospital.


* *
After their cruise-themed dancercise session and prior to lunch, Leigh declared it was time for another mutual shaving session in the bathroom, with a nice comfortably hot shower together afterwards—hot water and hot passions each hoped, though they only spoke of the water.

Each of them needed a toilet opportunity before getting started. Leigh took hers second.

“You look so pretty sitting there” he couldn’t help noting with a lusty grin.

“You just like the way my fat hips spread so far and wide on hard surfaces.”

CRACK!

“Oooh!” she exclaimed.

“What just happened?”

“My fat ass just cracked the toilet seat. Thankfully there wasn’t anywhere to fall, beyond barely 2 centimeters down.”

“Lemme see that.”

“Let me finish wiping and all that first, please.”


He was right there checking out the broken seat soon as she flushed and moved aside to wash up at the sink, being sure to lather her hands up nicely with soap including on the back side and between her fingers, and wipe and rinse for a full 20 seconds at least.


“What do you conclude?”


He said nothing, stepping intimately close to her then suddenly doing something she never expected: throwing his arms around her, grabbing her tightly, then briefly lifting her up.

AAAGGH! Clark! What are you doing?!

“You’re heavy alright, but not heavy enough that any reasonably-designed seat should have broken in normal usage.”

“You could hurt yourself! I weigh more than you!”

“Yes, and I expect we’ve both read of slight-build mothers who’ve briefly lifted up corners of heavy automobiles to save their children. I’m not saying I’m up to carrying you over any threshold nor hauling your succulent fat ass and the rest of your magnificence from here to our cruise nuptial bed, but just barely lifting you off the ground for a second or two is still within my ability. Come look at this hinge.”

She decided a gentle swat of his butt was in order as she sidled up to him.

“What do you see?”

“A broken hinge. What should I see?”

“A total lack of reinforcing ribbing or any other reinforcement and insufficient thickness for this low grade plastic to withstand entirely reasonable tensile forces. To me this shouts aesthetics having trumped sound engineering.”

“Should I even bother getting with Facilities to have them install a new one, if it’s likely to be the same garbage? I mean, it still works as a seat, if we’re careful.”

He was back leaning over, studying the failure more closely. “I would. Looks to me like fine cracking from chemical degradation on top of the poor design, implying that a brand new one will likely buy us enough time to make it through the rest of our bizarre cruise.”


She called in the problem right away, hoping that doing so might lead to a repair sometime this same day. Clark horned in to emphasize that if they had any stronger seats in stock, or even any of a different design, such a replacement would be preferred.

* *
Leigh and Clark dared going ahead with their shave and showering, spending less time in the shower than they otherwise might have. It worked out: the knock on their door didn’t come until nearly 2 1/2 hours after they’d called in the problem, well after they were dried off and back into clothes.


Knock knock knock “Plumbiiinng!


Clark, closest, opened the door.

“Step back as far as possible, please, since you’re contagious.”


He did as advised, all the way back next to Leigh near their bed.


The cloth-masked plumber discreetly closed the door, waving over the distance as he said, “Thanks, folks. Hate to be so stand-offish, but this COVID thingie isn’t the ordinary flu, or even norovirus cruise ships tend to get hit with.”

Clark’s eyes gravitated to Walt’s (per his name tag) heavy toolbox in one hand and the fancy and big-looking boxed toilet seat in his other. “Bidet seat?”

“Yep. On deck to be deployed across our suites and other higher-end staterooms during the next refresh, upcoming sooner than any of us had imagined. Word from the front desk is that you all or at least one of you may be in engineering, talking about stress fractures and reinforcement and all that good stuff.”
 

Sonic Purity

Jiggle Junkie
Joined
Apr 9, 2006
Messages
166
Location
Pasadena, California, U.S.A.
“I am a mechanical engineer, and Leigh’s a tech writer at my firm’s preferred composite materials supplier. The firm where I work, not that I in any way own it” he quickly clarified.

“Excellent. I had a hydraulics focus in my undergrad work. Hands-on always appealed to me far more than sitting at a desk doing math and CAD designing things, so I went the technician route and became a licensed plumber instead. Love going places, so cruise ship work proved appealing.

“But enough of my life story. You’ll understand more than most cruisers that our regular seats are shit I never would have specced, if I’d been part of the process. Beyond that, we’re nearly out of stock on those, and with things all crazy, resupply could be a problem.”

“Might there be more failures at the present time, due to cruisers such as myself fattening up during quarantine?”

Walt swallowed nervously at this passenger’s forthrightness. “Given what I consider to be a design and/or quality problem which has the regular seats on the edge of usability for those of average weight, we have to allow that your theory may be a factor. Without having done any rigorous, formal analysis, to me this combo multifunction seat seems vastly better designed structurally. The reason I’m carrying tons of tools is so I can do a full bidet hookup, not just a seat changeout. The hope our hotel department and I have is that you two will be able to handle the general concept and the UI without any of our usual formal documentation, and will be willing to be beta testers giving us, or at least me, your honest, informed feedback.”

“Can you leave the box where I can see it, so I can look up data on this model online?”

“Sure thing, soon as I get it out. Either of you two need to go? This is gonna take the better part of an hour, if all goes to plan.”


Neither of them needed to use the toilet, allowing Walt to get directly to work.


316L stainless, I’m likin’ that” Walt called out over the distance from the toilet to the bed where Clark and Leigh sat.

I would hope so!” Clark called back. “Any lesser grade would be silly in this application.”

Eh, it’s not that corrosive in here. There’s more than one reason the bathrooms are farthest away from the windows and outside doors.


Leigh enjoyed listening to the conversation and accompanying tool work sounds. {Wish I could at least watch.}


How’re you gonna power that thing?

Every stateroom on this ship is wired to the toilet position. Someone thought they might use electric-assist flush models when this ship was built, I suppose.”


Conversation ceased, with nothing more to be said at the moment, and from the sound of things, Walt needing to focus.


A few minutes later Clark asked, “What’s the word regarding the rough ending of the docking maneuver?

Don’t know. Every time I ask Engineering they bust up laughing and go all incoherent. Deck doesn’t want to talk about it until the official report is out. For sure it was one of the roughest ones I’ve ever experienced.


* *
Standing in the bathroom doorway, plumber Walt Waters no longer needed to raise his voice to be heard. “OK folks, all tested and good to go, as you at least partly heard. Bidet and drying functions all seem to work as per the startup checklist procedure. Paper copy of the operating instructions is atop the new seat.”

“Don’t you need that?” asked Clark.

“No. We’ve got another 3 of these in stock, if anyone in Docs needs a copy. Please kindly leave yours somewhere visible in the bathroom when you finish your cruise, and it’s all good.”

“What about our report?”

“It’d be great if you could email it to me at w waters at royalprincecruiselines dot com. Any reasonable format, any of the usual software programs works for me. Also email me there directly if there are any issues with this thing that you can’t easily work out on your own without tools and supplies. Take care you two!” he waved, heading for the main door. “Hope you feel better.”

Thanks Walt!” they called out together, just before he closed the door behind him.


* *
“My tush says Yes” Leigh grinned, having tried her first full pee/wash/dry bidet seat cycle.

“I’ll have to wait until the next time I have to drop something to get the full experience.”

“Ya never know. Might be stimulating to have it wash other thangs” she giggled, playing with his.

“Isn’t that what whirlpool tubs are for?”

“Don’t make me sad, Neener.”

“What’s sad about that?”

“I’d love to be in a whirlpool tub with you right about now” she purred, wrapping her arms around him then kissing him.

“I’d love to have this illness over.”

She couldn’t help sighing along with him. “Yeahhh. Maybe it’s time for a light something for dinner, rest and digest, then bed.”

“I’m there.”


* *
“What the hell is a Class C misdemeanor?” Clark asked Leigh mid-morning Monday 23 March 2020, Day 18 of his cruise and 19 of hers.

“I have no idea. What’s the context?”

“Charge for violating Oregon Governor Kat Brown’s stay-at-home order. I understand what they’re trying to do by ensuring that people actually stay far enough away from each other to keep COVID-19 from spreading, but dang that seems draconian.”

“Does it say whether that’s a maximum charge, or whether there’s a warning first?”

“Not that I’m seeing, but I haven’t looked up the actual original order or proclamation or statute or whatever it legally is.”

“I’ll polite non-money wager that that’s a maximum charge, warnings happen first, and discretion is allowed.”

“I’m all for leniency and to a point discretion, but too much discretion and one has discriminatory enforcement of laws meant to apply equally to everyone.”


errrRRRRRRRRRRrrrrrrrrrrr!—the sound of the latest of all-too-many ambulance sirens ended their conversation, drawing their attention out their full-wall-height stateroom door/window.

One good aspect about Leigh’s stateroom being situated where it was and the ship being positioned as it was in port was that they had a nice view of the dock and beyond it, the city of Coos Bay. Less good was having a front-row seat for ambulances and—worse though much quieter—the coroner’s wagon. Reading the news they knew things weren’t as dire on board the Sapphire Prince as in parts of Italy or Wuhan, but as with other notorious cruise ships as far back as February, their cruise ship had made international news.

So far Leigh and Clark had done well doing what they could to put the dire circumstances in which they found themselves out of their minds, focusing on their own healing. Seeing someone being wheeled out into the pouring rain on a gurney by no less than 6 frantic medical personnel decked out in protective garb and with IV bags, an oxygen tank, and other impressive-looking equipment they could not identify as the gurney flew by unsettled them. Instinctively they sought comfort in each other’s arms as the team raced the gurney to then quickly into the waiting ambulance.

“Two of them that weren’t EMTs just climbed in the back!” cried Leigh, with a whimper.

“Keep healing, Chonky. We’ve got to keep healing. We can’t possibly help anyone else nor even leave this stateroom until we’re healed and no longer contagious.”


Panic buying. State after state locking down, issuing stay-at-home or shelter-at-home orders. Doubling or more of COVID-19 death rates in a single day in some places. All over the the United States, shit was getting very, very real in terms of this rapidly-spreading viral disease.

For Leigh Down and Clark Barr, this dark, rainy day was a day of introspection: taking stock of who and what and where they were in this rapidly-changing world in which they found themselves. Equally it was a day for supportively looking out past the immediate crisis on their cruise ship to really read and see pictures of life on land in their nation and home state. They saw pictures they never thought they’d see in their lifetime: bare grocery store shelves reminiscent of the greatest failings of the Communist Soviet Union, empty of basic necessities like toilet paper, rice, canned goods, flour, and water. Zinc and vitamin C were as scarce on land as in their ship’s infirmary. Week-or-so-old pictures of long lines at and inside grocery stores that made the worst holiday season shopping day ever look mild, from before the social distancing orders were in effect.

All throughout the trip so far at other points since working out their differences and finding love, they’d supported each other through these moments short and long of adversity. This day in particular with seemingly so many sounding very ill within their hearing and several ambulance and at least one coroner visit, the whole day was one of being supportive and taking care of each other in small ways as well as big—like life partners.


* *
The post-sunset (invisible through the stormy weather) evening brought at least one ray of virtual sunshine.

“How’s your fever, Neener?”

“Now that you mention it, quite mild. I’m mainly dealing with the energy drain and ongoing lack of taste and smell.”

“I’m not feeling one.”

He held the back of his hand to her forehead. “You do feel about normal.”

She did the same for him. “You’re a touch warm, but nothing like you’ve been.”

“I’m ready to go to bed, in hopes my body can heal further and keep things that way. Up for moving towards sleep yet?”

“Don’t know about up for it, but I’m down for it: resting down under the covers cuddling you.”

“Makes sense you’d be more down than up come to think of it, given your surname.”


She briefly stuck out her tongue, afterwards nuzzling against him during a hug, inspiring him and herself to fully wrap up their day and get into bed.
 

Sonic Purity

Jiggle Junkie
Joined
Apr 9, 2006
Messages
166
Location
Pasadena, California, U.S.A.
Noisy and Stanky

“Everyone here?” asked Zoom meeting host Captain Cranch, from his cabin, coughing loudly. “Acting Captain Glenn, can you hear and see me?”

“Yes sir. You are coming through loud and clear here on the Bridge. Can everyone else see and hear myself and Officer Carr?”

“Not until she says something.”

“That’s enough, Billy” Chief Engineer Noyce chided him.

“I’m on the same mic and camera as Acting Captain Glenn, 2 meters apart” commented Second Deck Officer Carr.

“Let’s take a moment for roll call, per department, ranked highest to lowest, so we’ll all know whether we can all see and hear one another. I’ll start by virtue of being the one hosting this meeting in the software. Inactive Captain Cranch.”

“Acting Captain Glenn.”

“First Deck Officer Crunklebunk.”

“Second Deck Officer Mayhew.” CCCHHH!

“Second Deck Officer Carr.”

“Engine Department, Chief Engineer Noyce.”

“Second Engineer Wiley.”

“Third Engineer Rizer.”

“Fourth Engineer Bilge.”

“Hotel Department, Hotel Director Biltmore.”

Woggling giant penis-head! BAAAAAAHHHH!


Yes: their meeting was Zoom-bombed. In this case from an all-too-high-resolution full-frame circumcised erect glans and shaft end, waving slightly back and forth, aimed towards the camera looking like it might soon blow.


“Ugh” inactive Captain Cranch grunted, before again coughing loudly. “Suggestions?”

Look on in awwwe and SUCK IT, weiners! Woggle woggle woggle woggle woggle!

“Permission to take charge, Captains Cranch and Glenn?”

I’m in charge! LLLllllarge and in charge! BAHAHAHAHAHAAAAH!

“Granted”, “Yes” they replied in turn to Engineer Rizer.

“Everybody else other than Billy turn away from your screen and try not to listen, please. Hey Shrivel-Gland! What’s wrong with your weak willy?”

Nnnnnnothing! Behold its Mighty Meaty Awesomeness!

“You don’t have enough gland to tit-wank a tsetse fly! What’s that crusty bit all about?”

There is no crusty bit!

“The one right near your worm hole!”

My Mighty Worm’s meatus cannot be defeat-us!

“Don’t quit your day job—assuming you even have one—if that’s all you’ve got for rhyming, Loser. Not talkin’ ’bout your putrid wee-hole, talkin’ ’bout the parasite pit half a centimeter off from your vegan meatless!”

I’m all beef!


Dawn Rizer knew she was succeeding: it was obvious that the intruder was beginning to go flaccid. “Grime-sotted gristle at best! What’s your opinion, Dr. Bilge?”

“That fuckless wee wand is so soft, you ain’t got no Mohs! It’s not even worth putting in a display case at the It Died A Virgin museum as a virginal canker-cased wankless wonder ’cause the display case would need a microscope for anybody to see it!”

I cum in rivers of fertile gllllllory!

“You dribble less than Professor Chaos’s pathetic garden hose!” Dawn shot back.

“That pustulant twig wishes it could be as ‘hard’ as a ragged dog-chewed high-flex garden hose!” Billy piled on.

“It’s a sackless disease vector seldom succeeding at crack shack skank-banging!”

In his dreams! Ain’t got nothing to slip in, and he’s too busy felching flea-infested donkeys and literally eating steamy shit from antibiotic-addled cattle anyway!”


Hearing the intruder gagging slightly, Dawn went in for what she hoped would be the close. Thinking quickly, she pulled down her pants and undies, grabbed some nearby ground-up clay, spread her legs and rubbed the clay on her genital exterior. To her surprise, there were some small worms which had somehow gotten into the ground clay. “Hey Loser, look: clitty-litter with wangworms!

AAAAAGGGH! You people are SICK!” he yelled, quickly disconnecting.

“Takes one to know one” she snickered, cleaning herself up and ensuring all the worms were off her.

CCCHHH! “Technically he’s correct about the sick part.”

“Please tell me you didn’t watch and listen to all that, Captain Cranch!”

“Most impressive, Engineer Rizer. You as well, Engineer Bilge. Please check internal messaging for login parameters for the new, properly secured Zoom session Captain Glenn is hosting. My apologies for this improperly configured one, which is now ending.”


* *
The new actually private Zoom session run by Acting Captain Glenn went more smoothly. Once everyone joined and confirmed they could all see and hear each other during a new roll call, Chief Engineer Noyce presented the official report detailing findings regarding the docking incident.

“A 1 cubic meter wooden crate filled with loose 20 penny nails of Chinese origin and manufacture remained dockside, left for unknown reasons by the merchant vessel most recently docked at this pier prior to our arrival. Dock structural issues made the crate unstable enough that our upper hull vents produced sufficient air flow to perturb the crate. Vibrational energy of the combined crate and dock led to structural failure of the latter, causing the crate to fall into the bay at the precise moment and position to collide with our starboard prop.

“The combination of the water impact plus propeller contact shattered the crate, freeing the nails and creating numerous sharp shards of wood. The unexpected forces involved broke pieces off the propeller, irreparably damaging it. Enough nails happened to slip into the Azipod housing via the standard and minute gasketing gaps to get into the gearing and jam the starboard Azipod internals, thus its propeller. Further damage analysis must await dry dock teardown.”

Following his latest loud cough, acting in a position of neutrality as one not directly involved during the incident, inactive Captain Cranch asked, “Responsibility for the incident and recommendations to avoid similar incidents in the future?”

“This was a freak accident, thus the probability of similar incidents coming up in the future is minuscule. Nothing should have been left on the dock, and even if due to the emergency nature of our port call something had to be out there, it should not have needed to sit so close to water’s edge. Off the record and in confidentiality, a representative of the port confirms that the insufficient structural integrity of the dock is unacceptable, and is in the process of being addressed. Other than refusing to dock upon spotting any foreign objects dockside, there is nothing anyone on our ship could have nor could in the future do to prevent an absolutely bizarre ‘perfect storm’ incident such as this.”


Captain Glenn covered her mouth, masking her sigh of great relief. The meeting wrapped up soon thereafter.
 

Sonic Purity

Jiggle Junkie
Joined
Apr 9, 2006
Messages
166
Location
Pasadena, California, U.S.A.
* *
“Yes, Bridge?” CHHHHH!

Captain Cranch recognized the voice of Acting Captain Glenn immediately, soon as she started speaking. “So sorry to bother you, sir. Port of Coos Bay is demanding to know when we will clear our berth and exit the port. They are not accepting my response of ‘indefinite, unknown due to unresolved major mechanical failure’.”

“Not accepting it in what way? As you have correctly pointed out to them, this ship is not sea-worthy.”

“We’re in one of their few deep-water large ship berths, impeding the commercial shipping which is their livelihood.”

“I shall save my vitriolic responses for those responsible for triggering them. Upon your independent conclusion that it is prudent to do so, please delegate back to me authority over this ship for the time being, and connect me to them.”


Acting Captain Glenn proceeded to formally restore command of the ship to Captain Cranch. Once she routed the incoming call to him, it was between him and the port authority.


* *
“Correct: unknown.… The ship is not sea-worthy, sir.… Assuredly, I can explain. Critical members of our Engine Department have fallen ill with COVID-19, creating an acute labor shortage of qualified personnel familiar with our hardware and our company’s protocols.” CCCHHH! “Beyond and apart from that, even were a full staff available, our parts suppliers are struggling to operate, again due to the COVID-19 disease. No personnel, no parts equals no moving of this ship.…

“Sorry no: we cannot and will not shut down our auxiliary generators.” KKKCCCH! “We have well over two thousand seven hundred passengers, crew, and other staff on board this ship, all needing electricity from those generators for vital survival functions, including but not limited to sanitation.… Our generators meet or exceed all U.S. national and international regulations for noise and emissions, sir. Show me your 6.6 or preferably 11 kV high-capacity shore power hookup of which there is no documentation on the port’s website and none of our crew have spotted and we’ll hook right up, shut down our generators, and work through the payment terms.… I am not making light of this situation because there is nothing about it of which to make light, sir. For a port which advertises itself as the future of U.S. west coast shipping and being in a highly environmentally-aware area, it befuddles me why you lack shore power for large reefer, tanker, and container ships your site suggests you wish to frequent the port.…

“Correct: we are going to remain docked here at this berth on our extended emergency technical stop until the first of this pandemic emergency being over, or disembarking of all on board save our crew for repatriation or chartered return trips home, which so far for reasons beyond my comprehension, we are being disallowed to implement per inscrutable decisions at the U.S. federal level.… I dare you to send qualified individuals approved by my employer on board this ship riddled with COVID-19, Mr. Bull. Check your news sources: the eyes of the world are upon us. Most of the world has now heard of the ill-fated cruise of the Sapphire Prince, following in the footsteps of Princess Cruises’ Diamond Princess voyages last month and apparently with no lessons learned by authorities at any level.… Good day to you as well, sir.”


* *
“Bridge, First Officer Crunklebunk. Yes, Captain?”

“Whereabouts is Officer Glenn?”

“She’s taken ill, sir. Currently being triaged in the Infirmary.”

“Very well; I’ll contact her directly. Please prepare to take command of this ship if she is unable to do so. I remain unqualified to be in command outside of dealing with severe, unreasonable issues such as stubborn bull-headed bureaucrats.”


* *
Most of the rest of those aboard the Sapphire Prince knew nothing of the day’s drama affecting senior crew members, in large part from those crew members’ deft handling of the issues. For Leigh and Clark, the 20th. day of her no-longer-going-anywhere cruise and 13th. day of presumed (not tested) COVID-19 illness (one less on each of those day counts for Clark) had been another cold intermittently light rainy drizzly gray day—perfect for being stuck inside a cozy, well-appointed stateroom under the plush covers of a “cloud” bed nude with one’s lover.

By late afternoon it had become particularly windy inside Leigh’s and Clark’s stateroom. Not because they had any exterior doors open, nor because of any structural air leaks or failures. Rather, it was the sort of human-generated wind one might expect to find amongst members of a rowdy fraternity, partying in their frat house.

Specifically, the super burritos they’d shared for lunner (late lunch + early dinner) gassed up their digestive systems sufficiently that they were currently having a blast (repeated ones, actually) holding a farting contest.


Fluuurrrbbbbt Clark’s butt sounded off, to his smile.

“Oh yeah, check this out!” declared Leigh, shifting her body around to draw her fat, flabby buns closer together, holding them tight that way as she sat back down. FLOT FLOT FLOT FLOT FLOT her butt slowly, repeatedly popped, the delay related to the longer distance from anus to exterior along with having to sneak out of a far tighter crack.

“Ah, here we go.” FrrrrAAAAAAZZZZZZ!


Leigh sniff-inhaled a few times, studying what she was sensing. “I’m smelling that! That’s the first thing I’ve smelled in over 2 weeks!”

“May you forever more be that excited smelling my farts.”

“I never said it smelled good” she giggled, poking him playfully. “More that smelling anything at all, good, bad, or otherwise, gives me hope that this illness ordeal is finally winding down.”


The farting contest itself wound down at this point. In terms of illness, the tiredness and general malaise remained.

As the course of their evening went on, another sign of hope: neither of them had fevers.
 
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Sonic Purity

Jiggle Junkie
Joined
Apr 9, 2006
Messages
166
Location
Pasadena, California, U.S.A.
Cabin Rage

WHAT DOES IT MATTER IF WE SAVE A FEW HUNDRED OR MAYBE A THOUSAND MORE PEOPLE IF WE BLOW THE ECONOMY UP AND PUT THE WORLD INTO THE WORST DEPRESSION SINCE THE 1930S?!?!

ARE YOU PUTTING PROFIT BEFORE PEOPLE?! YOU ANIMAL!


13 days confined to a small stateroom could and likely would be challenging for most people, whether individuals, families, or as with Leigh Down and Clark Barr, couples. Some might claim that the prior day’s New Moon further contributed. Illness, though no worse and seemingly still getting better, likely contributed as well. Stress related to ongoing world events and the sudden explosion of COVID-19 cases across major cities in the U.S. absolutely contributed.

Whatever the precise cause or combination of causes, the raging discord exploded suddenly Wednesday morning 25 March, escalating from nothing to total blowout in less than a minute.


TWO TRILLION DOLLARS IN NEW DEBT! THE DEBT’S ALREADY KILLING US, MAKING AMERICA SHITTIER THAN EVER!” Clark ranted at full yelling volume. “FUTURE GENERATIONS HAVE NO HOPE!

WHAT DO YOU CARE ABOUT FUTURE GENERATIONS, YOU CHILDLESS SCHOOL-KILLING CREEP?!


The only good news about this altercation was that it remained a verbal argument, not in any way a physical fight. Plenty of stomping around and posturing to be sure, but no contact, and no throwing things other than occasionally a bed pillow tossed hard down onto the top of the bed neither of them were currently on.

Actually there was a second piece of good news: their lungs were working great. So well in fact that riled occupants of adjacent staterooms occasionally banged against the wall to try and get the ragers to shut up.

So furious were the argument combatants, they either couldn’t hear the demands to quiet down, or, more likely, were ignoring them.


PUBLIC SCHOOLS ARE PROPAGANDA CAMPS FOR GENERATING MORE SHEEPLE!

YOU’RE A PRODUCT OF THEM, YOU HYPOCRITE!

SO ARE YOU, AND LOOK WHAT YOU STAND FOR!

COMPASSIONATE HUMANITY IS WHAT I STAND FOR, NOT DOLLAR SIGNS!

THE STOCK MARKET IS CRASHED! WE’VE HAD THREE BLACK DAYS IN THE PAST SEVERAL WEEKS!—NOT ONE A GENERATION!

PEOPLE NEED TO LIVE!

PEOPLE NEED PAYING JOBS! THIS ISN’T PLAY MONEY! WE’RE GOING WEIMAR, I JUST KNOW IT!

OH RIGHT, LIKE YOU JUST KNEW THAT SARS-CoV-2 WAS A HUMAN-MADE RUSSIAN PLOT, UNTIL YOU SUDDENLY DISAVOWED IT!” She barely avoided jabbing him in the chest at the last moment.

I ADMIT MY MISTAKES, UNLIKE SOME PEOPLE.

THOSE OF US WHO AREN’T UNHINGED AND GO WITH SCIENCE AND RELIABLE SOURCES TEND TO MAKE FAR FEWER MISTAKES!

PROPERLY DONE SCIENCE IS WHAT I’M ALL ABOUT! CORRUPTED SCIENTISTS WORKING UNDER THE JACK BOOTS OF BIG PHARMA OR GOVERNMENT OR OTHER THUGS AREN’T DOING LEGIT SCIENCE!

BIG PHARMA SAVED YOUR LIFE!

BIG PHARMA PERMANENTLY DAMAGED ME!

WHAT?! THEY MADE YOU THINK ALL CRAZY LIKE THIS?!

“YOU WELL KNOW WHAT THEY DID TO ME!” he loudly hissed. “AND WHAT ABOUT THE GATES INTERVIEW WITH TED CURATOR CHRIS ANDERSON YESTERDAY?! ARE YOU READY FOR YOUR BODY-EMBEDDED DIGITAL DATA STORE AND SERIAL NUMBER, REQUIRED SO YOU CAN WORK OR TRAVEL OR HAVE ANY TEENY TINY SHARD OF FEIGNED WATERED-DOWN FREEDOM WHATSOEVER?!?! IT’S ALL PART OF HIS FORCED VACCINATION AGENDA!

YOU AND I DIDN’T DIE FROM SMALLPOX BECAUSE WE HAD VACCINES AS CHILDREN! VACCINES WOOORRRRK!

NOT ALL VACCINES ARE THE SAME! THE SHIT THEY USE NOW ISN’T WHAT WE GOT! BIG PHARMA DOESN’T EVEN HAVE ANY LIABILITY FOR KILLING PEOPLE WITH THEIR SHITTY UNDER-TESTED NEWER VACCINES THEY’RE FORCING PEOPLE TO TAKE!

BULLSHIT!

LOOK IT UP! UNLESS YOU’RE TOO MUCH OF A LACKEY TO THE CULT OF THE OMNIPOTENT STATE!

PEOPLE COME TOGETHER IN SOCIETIES AND FORM GOVERNMENTS TO HELP EACH OTHER, IF YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT THAT IS!

GOVERNMENTS USURP POWER, BECOME CORRUPT, AND NEED TO BE REPLACED!

SO YOU’RE CALLING FOR THE OVERTHROW OF THE U.S. GOVERNMENT?!

I’M CALLING FOR PEOPLE TO WAKE THE HELL UP, SMELL THE SHIT, AND DO SOMETHING ABOUT THE BROKEN ONE WE HAVE BEFORE IT’S TOO LATE! WHICH IT ALMOST IS, OR MAY ALREADY BEEEEE!


Seeing his eyes look more than momentarily at her wobbly fat hips sent Leigh’s rage into a whole other direction: exercise. She commenced stretching, marching (twice as fast as she and Clark had been doing to Honks The Goose), running in place, and otherwise furiously burning off calories. Had she been allowed out of her stateroom, she’d likely already be fully dressed, in her running shoes, and heading for the Sports deck to run laps.


At first Clark ignored her, even as she broke into running around in circles. Soon, a better idea came to him.


Put that down!hhhh, hhhh she panted, out of breath.

“Why?”

hhhhYOU can’t make videos of me without my permission!hhhh, hhhh

“Who’s going to stop me?”

DAAAAGGGGHHH!” she screamed, “I’m gonna run your memory out!

{I look forward to that} he thought, making no effort to suppress his grin.


Having been spending the vast majority of their time together in their stateroom with no clothes on, such was the situation all morning so far today. Leigh remained in too much of a rage to get into any clothing. More than that, she knew her body needed all possible freedom of movement to exercise as deeply and thoroughly as she intended. She satisfied herself with cursing him, flipping him off, and otherwise being as nasty to him as possible as she went about her burst of athleticism.


* *
Credible exercise though Leigh managed, her stamina ran out well before Clark’s iPhone memory did. She established a force field of rage around herself atop the bed. He was left to take refuge on the couch. Given that he’d been sitting on it for much of his videography of her snarling nude exercise routine, he didn’t mind.


Tension between them remained thick enough to cut with a chain saw. At least at this point they became and remained quiet, to the great relief of those locked down adjacent to them.


* *
The silent independent staying-apart rage continued well into the early afternoon. A new wave of anger crashed on his emotional shoreline, once he realized that she’d ordered her own lunch without including him at all, making more work for the overburdened room service delivery staff.


Half an hour later, she first felt hurt then anger once he took delivery of his lunch: the fragrance of his bacon cheese sandwich was making her hungry again already. As much or more than that, part of her wanted to share that she could again smell things far closer to normal, with the rest of her remaining furious that she’d let herself bond deeply in love with such an antisocial cretin. Worst of all, he’d ordered a vanilla cupcake with sapphire blue frosting, which not merely called out to her, but yelled for her to savor, enjoy, and ingest it—seemingly nearly as loud as Clark had been yelling at her earlier… and her at him.


* *
The many wordless and near-silent (apart from breathing) hours apart gave Clark plenty of time to take stock of his life. The more often he replayed their blowout argument in his mind, gradually over time the more he felt that he’d let emotions suppress his reason. He wasn’t feeling a need to apologize to her to get something from her or even necessarily for them to make peace and get along, nice as these things would be. The deeper motivation was the principle of owning his mistake or mistakes—he still wasn’t sure if it was singular or plural—whether or not things between them would be, or could be, patched up.

Knowing how important it was to communicate correctly the first time, he spent the first half of the next hour clarifying in his mind what it truly was that he wished to convey, then another quarter hour optimizing his wording.


After several deep, slow, near-silent calming breaths, he stood up and approached the bed.


“I’m sorry, Leigh–”

“–Oh no!: You can’t apologize your way through life! I’ve seen your true colors, and they’re not pretty!

He resisted the momentarily strong urge to light into her anew, instead taking a breath, relaxing the muscle tension he could feel throughout his body, and calmly walking back over to the couch.
 

Sonic Purity

Jiggle Junkie
Joined
Apr 9, 2006
Messages
166
Location
Pasadena, California, U.S.A.
* *
As afternoon became evening, Leigh needed a bathroom visit. She’d had her own several hours since blocking his apology attempt to more calmly reflect on what all had happened this morning, and life in general. Their eyes briefly directly met as she passed: one of those timeless moments etched into memory, clear in the memory mind as the moment it happened, many years after the fact. She continued on her way and undertook her business, making use of the full bidet seat washing and drying cycle.

She averted her gaze on her return trip, leading him to figure nothing had changed between them.


A minute later she was back. Carrying one of several of the stateroom’s soft microfiber blankets, she headed directly towards him, draping it over him with care as he sat on the couch, as though she cared. “It’s getting cold.”

“Mmm hmm. Climate control’s working well in here though, thankfully.”

It surprised him when she reached over and placed the back of her hand against his forehead. “Your temperature feels normal. How do you feel overall?”

“Still feeling run down, otherwise closer to normal healthy. What about you?”

“I’m feeling basically recovered, other than worn down. But that might not be the illness.”

“May I please share with you the grand, gigantic, biggest mistake I made today?”


She scanned his face, whether looking for tells or truth or what, she was not sure. Almost immediately she regretted doing so, feeling her romantic self pulled back into his spell. “Alright.”

“I epically failed one of the primary rules on Wikipedia, and in life in general: Assume Good Faith. I attacked you this morning from an irrational mind place fueled by my greatest fears, treating you like an evil enemy bent on the destruction of all I believe in, rather than the inherently good, fair, kind, rational, reasonable person I know you to be. Driven by fear and anger at scary things beyond my control, I attacked you and your belief system, rather than entering into a calm discussion which might have allowed me to better understand why you believe the things you do about people, society, government, and so on which differ from my beliefs. I lost the opportunity to learn and grow in my desperate attempt to bludgeon my views into you rather than calmly offering them in an understandable, measured fashion for your consideration, or at least information. Personal attacks don’t do anyone any good—no, wrong: they don’t do me any good. I can’t speak for anyone else. I regret having launched so many this morning.”

“May we please order dinner together as usual? My biggest regret of the day at the moment is engaging in discussion of any form of belief system, which we know politics and economics are, before we had breakfast. One of my biggest fears, mostly irrational, is terror of having no food to eat. That’s behind why I remembered to pack the energy bars, and why there’s currently a month’s worth of dry and canned and aseptic and related goods at my home, so I’ll hopefully survive the Big One until societal infrastructure can recover.”

“Seems to me we’re having a dress rehearsal for that right now, with the lockdown.”

She gently doodled on his chest, the microfiber blanket between her fingertip and his skin. “I want to talk about that and many other things, but not until dinner’s in me and digesting, please.”


It felt really good to have her join him on the couch under the blanket as they surveyed the evening’s offerings, then agreed upon and placed their order.


“What shall we do until dinner arrives?”

“I dunno” she softly sighed, clunking sideways against him. “We could sing an apropos Tom Petty song.”

“The Waiting is the hardest part?”

“That’s the one.”

“I think I’ve already hurt the ears of everyone within 2 rooms of us in any direction this morning, which my singing would only exacerbate. Hungry?”

“Usually.”

“Now?”

“Yes.”

“If you don’t mind starting with dessert, I have something for you.”

“I don’t want to get into sex now, please. Else we likely won’t make it to our discussion after dinner.”

“I’m flattered, but I meant what nearly everyone considers edible food… at least in our nation. Will starting with dessert spoil your dinner?”

“Not unless it’s on the order of magnitude of a sheet cake.”

“Sheet no, cake yes” he grinned, retrieving a small pink paper box from under the couch, then opening it up in front of her.

Hhhhhhh! It’s a sapphire-colored frosting vanilla cupcake, like the one you had for lunch!

“Sapphire Prince Cupcake they call it, but yes: same as I enjoyed at lunch. I ordered two of them, knowing I was going to apologize to you at some point, and wanted you to have one.”

Ooohhh!” she purr-sighed, nearly drooling from both sets of lips.


Clark had a great time watching Leigh and the cupcake make foodie love, in a manner so all-out food porny it belonged on the Food Network in that network’s heyday.


“Normally I’d lick the frosting off your lips” he commented once she was finished, “but given your reasonable request to postpone anything amorous, here: look into the digital mirror and lick yourself.”

She carefully licked her lips over and over, futilely hoping not to miss an atom of remaining cupcake frosting.


* *
Dinner delighted Leigh, in large part from being the first meal she’d been able to fully taste in over 2 weeks. Clark’s sense of taste and smell was returning, though not yet all the way back. They ate slowly and peacefully, taking an additional half hour after the conclusion of the meal to be well into digestion before entering into any possibly intense discussion.


Equipped with mugs of soothing tea, they again sat on the couch, in slight hip-to-hip contact more socially friendly than intimate.

“Would you like to go first?” he offered.

“I don’t know how this is supposed to work.”

“Hopefully we can make our own rules, and adjust as necessary. My idea was calmly asking each other how we’ve come to believe what we believe, taking turns either back and forth, or maybe one of us going through all our questions and concerns relative to the other, then the other having our turn.”

“If your offer for me to go first still stands, I’m ready.”

“It does. Please proceed as you choose.”

“I don’t understand why during an unfolding pandemic from a new, poorly-understood disease with an accelerating death toll, your primary concerns seem to lie with the economy and financial matters rather than human lives. Why is that?”

“Lost lives are tragic, most especially to those losing them and those close to them. Both you and I are accomplices to murder, on account of having bovine cattle, sheep, pigs, et cetera slaughtered for our consumption. Personally I’m OK with that, because I have communed spiritually with plants, so going vegan or vegetarian shifts the murder but does not resolve it, in my world view. Sure, it’s different murdering a fellow mammal, with whom we have more in common and can more readily relate. Yet as has been proven over and over again as science continues its pursuit of the truth, mammals and other so-called “higher” animals we humans used to regard as lacking feelings or logic or other assumed-human attributes often have forms of these very much like our own. Who’s to say that plants don’t have equivalents, even if profoundly different than anything we humans currently understand? What I’m getting at is anything I eat is murdering something or someone. As Laurie Anderson once made into a song—at least a song title, I was born, never asked to be born. I have to eat something to survive. I’ve read that indigenous people of what we call North America express gratitude for the entities that give them sustenance as their food, whether plant, fish, meat, or any other category I may be forgetting.”

“Interesting, but how does this address my question?”

“It’s essential background information, especially so I won’t hopefully come across as so heartless and uncaring. I don’t like having things killed on my behalf so I can eat and survive and hopefully thrive, but that’s how this world into which we were born works. Even synthetic foods have living predecessors in the cases with which I’m familiar, but you’re correct that this is getting too far off on a tangent. Point is: I don’t like things—plants, creatures, animals, people—dying, whether murdered or otherwise. It’s part of life, and unless things change radically and very quickly, our destiny.

“Last statistic I saw, 684 U.S. citizens have died from COVID-19, and the experts expect those numbers are just the beginning of something much larger. For the world death count I last saw over 18 thousand. I have read that preventable medical mistakes ending in death may total 440 thousand people in the U.S. alone each year. Now I’ve not fact-checked that number and it might be bullshit, but let’s assume it’s legit, or even divide it by four and round way down and call it 100 thousand Americans a year dying from medical malpractice—dying. Where is the outrage on that? Why aren’t the authorities locking us all down and making the world stop for that?”

“That number seems way high to me.”
 

Sonic Purity

Jiggle Junkie
Joined
Apr 9, 2006
Messages
166
Location
Pasadena, California, U.S.A.
“It may be. I’d love for it to be. Here’s the thing: I don’t have time to fact-check every bit of information that comes along. Even if I did that for a living as a journalist, it’s too much: I’d be paralyzed, unable to live my life. So, like every human I’ve ever met, I take shortcuts, such as trusting others. We’re living through an especially awful time in terms of being able to trust sources many of us have formerly trusted, or those sources even remaining viable journalistic entities, for that matter. The same technologies that empower us to more easily communicate to a worldwide audience and help us reconnect with long-lost friends and family members and so on amplify the easy ability to generate mountains of noise: truth, deception, outright lies, and otherwise. So far everyone I’ve seen is making the logical fallacy error of Appeal To Authority: choosing their preferred information sources and trusting those, usually disregarding others that for each person’s reasons we choose not to trust. Sorry world, but the New York Times and Washington Post hold no special truck with me. I don’t care how long they’ve been around, how many journalists they employ, nor what pretty noises they make about trust and honesty and why anyone should believe them. Similarly, I have no use for Brietbart, nor other usually-online sources that tend to get lumped together as ‘conservative’ or ‘far right’. I disregard the entire category of what we still seem to be calling cable news outlets of all persuasions.”

“This is interesting, but if you don’t mind my pointing it out, you seem to be way off on a tangent again. Can you give me a one-line summary of what news and information sources you do trust, and why?”

“I don’t trust any of the major tech firms to be my news aggregator, and I do prefer an aggregator using many sources. Least-worst I’ve found for news is the Wikipedia: Current Events portal. It at least lets me know what people think are major issues going on, whether I use the links to sources provided on that page, or do my own lookups. That’s 3 sentences, so I’m already thrice over my one-line limit. I do similar things for tech news, other things for local news. Good enough?”

“Yes. I’m willing to go with your 440 thousand or 100 thousand number—your choice—so you can get back to making your main point about financial matters over human lives.”

“OK. My point is that other things kill people by far larger numbers than most estimates of what I’ve seen for COVID-19. I don’t have the numbers for suicides, but looking back to the Great Depression, we have those stories of people jumping out of windows killing themselves on account of sudden unexpected financial ruin. Hopefully our suicide prevention measures have improved since then, yet even without shutting down most of the planet’s social activities and economies, suicide rates remain high and problematic. Socially isolating people from real in-person human contact as you and I are enjoying right this moment then making them suddenly unemployed because the company for which they work or maybe even their entire industry has been forced closed and might not be able to survive to reopen are major stressors that will push a number of people over the threshold. How many? I don’t know that number.… OK, there’s this I just looked up: suicides in the U.S. for 2018 were 48,344. Then there’s auto crashes. My point is that none of these other things are being used as excuses to put people into lockdown, despite these other death numbers being much higher. This makes no sense to me, and makes me extremely suspicious.”

“To me they’re very different. Suicides, car crashes, and medical malpractice aren’t wildly contagious nor spreading rapidly in not-entirely-understood ways. Seems to me that draconian measures are being taken because we don’t know enough yet about what this is, and lack more nuanced tools with which to deal with it.”

“Fair enough. But is it therefore OK to have so much collateral damage? Millions of people have filed for unemployment in the past several weeks. Millions. I don’t want anyone to suffer, but what is the point of destroying entire careers and families to save lives of those with ‘underlying health issues’, which depending how one defines that phrase, can be anyone? That is what scares me, and that fear is what drove me towards being so loudly argumentative this morning. I fear unemployment, then poverty. In general, and personally.”

“OK. That’s foreign to me, because over here in my world view, we have a sufficiently-functioning government—stumbling and messing up, yes—able to see to the basic needs of its citizenry during the shutdown. The whole testing and medical supply situation is screwed up, beyond question. At least they’re keeping people out of poverty with the various recovery and economic stimulus packages.”

“That’s where I have a whole slew of other issues which deeply upset me. I am no master of economics—I struggled through Adam Smith’s Wealth Of Nations and didn’t finish, in large part because I had a helluva time wrapping my mind around and relating to the real-world examples he used, from an agrarian economy that no longer exists in the so-called western world. My understanding is that what the U.S. federal government is doing is going to dramatically increase our nation’s already far-too-high national debt, and may lead to inflation. There’s nothing magical about printing money: far as I know, the backing value has to come from somewhere. If we don’t pay it, future generations must. The can cannot be kicked down the road forever. It may not affect us all that much or it might, but assuredly it will affect younger generations during their lifetimes. Or even if they figure out a way to kick the can further down the road, the eventual reckoning will be all that much more fatal to those who come after them. Easily could cause the collapse of the U.S.A. That’s a huge, huge price to pay for saving some thousands of people.”

“My sources indicate that if we did nothing, there would be millions of deaths in the U.S., not thousands. Wholly apart from the human compassion aspects, how would that not be a huge blow to the U.S. economy?”

“It likely would be a huge blow. Again, I don’t want anyone to suffer, but suffering happens, and dying happens. Were we truly compassionate, rather than focusing so much time and so many resources onto saving every possible human life, we’d be developing or already have developed vastly better, more humane ways to make the transition from life to death tranquil and less painful, resulting in far less suffering for deaths we can’t prevent. I believe there are too many people in the world, for humanity’s own good as well as that of the world. Limiting new births is a whole other tangent, for which so far humans have dramatically failed, at the same time keeping millions more alive via what we call ‘modern medicine’. While I’d prefer to continue living an acceptably pain-free, passably healthy life, especially with you in it if we can work through our differences, I’m willing to be in line to be humanely and comfortably put down to die the next time I have some dire illness or physical failure that would require heroic efforts and gee-gobs of money to try and resolve.”

“I understand not wanting to suffer, and if death was truly inevitable and was heading towards slow, agonizing, and painful, I’d want viable hospice for myself or whomever, and I thought we already had it. But if we don’t that’s another tangent, so let’s not go there right now. I’m not thrilled with how crowded our cities are, but at the same time I’m not convinced that population reduction via allowing more deaths will meaningfully change that. That’s another tangent. I think people’s lives have worth, and should be preserved. I don’t understand why the price tag is so important to you.”

“Because we live in a world of limits. I can’t go out and buy a gigantic mansion or very high-end car without taking out a mortgage or other financial instrument, to pick two random high-ticket examples. Each of us and every individual we know has a budget. We stick to that budget, or we go into debt. We can’t legally print more money the way governments do, so we have to pay back our debts, else our credit rating goes to shit, we can’t borrow money, and creditors will likely come after us to get what is owed.

“These limits do not magically disappear when government is involved, despite so many governments pretending that they can. Everything has costs. Social support has costs. Bailing out industries and/or individuals due to shutting them down as a blunt instrument to try and stop a novel infectious disease has huge costs—at least the way the U.S. is doing it. The national debt is nothing new, and that scares me even more. Like a cancer, it’s kept growing and growing, and now with these latest COVID-19 bailouts it’s shot up in size, like a faster-growing cancer. Like a biological cancer in a human body, left unchecked it will kill us as a viable nation. The price tag for having to use exotic, wildly expensive means to save some lives is important to me because I believe it is a greater threat to our survival than SARS-CoV-2. May I please ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“How do you think economies and money and all that work? How is it that you don’t seem particularly disturbed by the economic aspects of the current emergency, yet seem highly disturbed by COVID-19 itself?”
 

Sonic Purity

Jiggle Junkie
Joined
Apr 9, 2006
Messages
166
Location
Pasadena, California, U.S.A.
“We don’t even have to go outside this ship for me to explain that. You and I seem to have been amongst the fortunate who are surviving this disease—the vast majority of those infected, I admit. Think about how brutal it’s been. Think about all the panic we had when we were wheezing, possibly at the fork in the road where either or both of us might have gone down the path that might now have us on a ventilator, or dead. Think about the ambulances… the medivac helicopters… and most devastating of all at least to me, the coroner’s station wagon, which might as well be a hearse. I don’t know the current death count for this ship, but conservatively it’s at least 10, from what I’ve personally witnessed and counted. After I got all upset learning that cruise ships have morgues because people routinely die on them from our earlier discussion where you made that point, I looked into how many they can hold. The number I saw was 4, indicating that they never expected more than 4 people at a time to die of any/all causes between port stops. All these personal experiences inform me that COVID-19 is more impactful than most other communicable diseases within our lifetime—especially in terms of how widely and rapidly it spreads. That is what makes it so uniquely disturbing to me, and to my mind justifies draconian measures until enough can be figured out for society to gradually loosen the restraints and ease into whatever our new normal will be. I get the points about budgeting, and agree that the U.S. national debt is a huge problem, and not a new one. Much as I hate to agree with the current U.S. Presidential administration, this does seem to me like a war. As far as I know we didn’t spend a lot of time totaling up costs during World War II, postponing that reckoning until after the the war ended. I believe we have to do the same thing here.”

This long interaction was only the beginning of several hours of calm discussion, where both Clark and Leigh strove to truly listen to the other, and open their minds as much as they could to understanding the other’s viewpoint. It was challenging, and at points each remained unconvinced. At least this way they could understand that the wise mind they loved which seemed to think and believe so differently from their own on these matters of belief did so from a well-reasoned, informed, integrated, plausible, compassionate perspective.


* *
Every step of the way, as Clark and Leigh each better understood the other’s perspective and came to accept it (whether or not they embraced it), tensions and residual anger further dissipated. The vacuum left by these dissipations was filled by the swelling of their deep love for one another as quickly as it was created. By far the strongest love each was feeling was carnal, obvious to themselves, and to the other via their well-understood behavior in this familiar realm. Having been attenuated by weeks of illness and put off nearly an entire day on account of the argument it refused to be put off any longer.


“Are we done working things out yet?” he asked at what he felt was past the end point of the discussion. “Or is there more?”

“You’re forgetting the most important part of finishing working through an argument.”

“What’s that?”

“The make-up sex!”


Like a fierce lioness, she attacked him with dominant, ferocious sex-laden kisses and wanton lusty gropes. No shrinking violet, he was similarly all over her in seconds after she started. Heavy breathing, panting, and occasional gasping and moaning filled the stateroom, in the most intensely aggressive lovemaking they as a couple had ever undertaken. Indeed, they were going at it more ferociously than either had ever done in the past with any lover.

His full-mouth-and-tongue breast attack without her having had to in any way hint at such an activity poured passion gasoline on her lusty fire, moistening her innards faster than she knew possible.

Groping her fat, wobbly hips with reckless abandon had him breathtakingly banana-upped. Their activity briefly slowed both so she could more thoroughly enjoy the sensations of sliding his fully-grown neener into her, and so she could do so carefully without inadvertently hurting him and his scintillating sex stick. Once he was all the way in, each of them contributed to the wildest, most physically rambunctious intercourse they’d yet undertaken. In truth, they were likely both dissipating the last vestiges of stored anger together, in the most pleasurable manner possible.

This was greedy sex: not the agreeable, communicative sort they normally shared. They humped and humped to their (personal) heart’s content, right there where they’d been on the couch. She was too sexy and the stimulation too intense for him to hold back for long: his neat and clean dry retrograde ejaculation had him blowing up backwards into himself (his own bladder), remaining most of the way hard far longer after the fact than had ever been his experience pre-surgery.


Nice as that was for Leigh, she needed more—and she got it. Wordlessly near-dragging him over to their bed, her lying down on her back with her legs spread wide along with the context of their past sexual experiences together told him all he needed to know: go down on her.

After some preliminary licks with his tongue, he took her to the bridge… of his nose. Nose sex! His bridge and tip tantalizing her clit did her exceedingly well, in all senses of the phrase. Greedy for this sort of pleasure, she had him keep going on and on for over an hour down there: mostly nosing, sometimes licking or kissing or otherwise doing her right.


For their next sex act, they caressed their way together into the bathroom and into the shower. This wasn’t their first shower sex by any means. Like everything else so far on this night, it was their all-out near-porn-like lustiest.

How are we ever going to get clean if we keep getting dirty?” she said with a giggle over the noise of the stimulating shower spray.

What aspect of anything we’ve been doing since starting make-up sex is in any way dirty?

Nothing” she giggled some more, sliding him back into her.


* *
It had been an utterly exhausting day for Leigh Down and Clark Barr in multiple ways. Once dried off from shower sex, they were ready to lay down together in bed for a restful night’s sleep. Spoon cuddling and relaxed, that is exactly what they wound up getting.
 

Sonic Purity

Jiggle Junkie
Joined
Apr 9, 2006
Messages
166
Location
Pasadena, California, U.S.A.
3 Weeks On

“Good morning Chonky.”

“’Morning Neener. How’re you feeling?”

“Well. Rested, no fever, no other symptoms of anything, far as I can tell.” Ssssnnnnnnt: he took a big whiff of her hair. “Sense of smell’s back. You smell lovely.”

Sss Ssss Ssssnnnnnt “So do you.”

“Shall we get into breakfast before possibly getting into any contentious conversations?”

“Gosh, I hope there aren’t more of those! At least not for a long, long time.”

“I don’t have anything (kiss). Just don’t want to have another day like yesterday, up to just before the point where you brought the blanket over, for which I now belatedly thank you (kiss).”

“You’re welcome” she kissed him back. “Let’s get into ordering, so we can get into breakfast all the sooner.”


* *
Clark found himself drifting between feeling stunned and overwrought with lust. He barely managed to eat his own light breakfast, obsessed as he was watching his fat nude cruise wife completely lost to bliss, enjoying the massive feast she’d ordered, legs splayed comfortably as she sat along with him atop their bed. {It’s sex to her!} he thought, amazed. {Eating gives her as much pleasure as sex—at least! I can see it in everything about her expression and the rest of her body language. Unbelievable, if I wasn’t seeing it happening right before my eyes.}

She noticed him looking, directing her blissed-out smile his way, “This is the perfect cruise experience I wanted to be having all along”. Claiming some of his pesto spaghetti noodles, she held them over her head and dribbled them into her anxiously waiting mouth, as stereotypically done with grapes.

“It wasn’t perfect for you when I was first on board.”

Licking her hand clean, she began caressing his nearest thigh, “Think about all we’ve been through since then, Neen. We barely knew each other, and I thought for sure beyond any doubt that for you MatCon was all about tagging a plumper chick then putting me down. We learned more about each other, bonded in love to a degree so intense and deep that in some ways it still scares me, developed COVID-19 basically together, got quarantined together, proved to ourselves and each other that our love has to go beyond physical sex and stuff given what we invested in helping each other survive, just yesterday successfully worked through intense differences which break up many couples, and here we are.”


That was far too much talking without taking any bites of the many delicious noms all around her atop the bed, which deficit she rectified forthwith.


During her next breathing break she added, “I’m going to keep indulging and enjoying great food I can finally taste and smell again, as much and as often as I feel like it for the rest of this cruise.” She moved his hand over to her nearest fat hip, “You keep indulging yourself in and thoroughly enjoying the side-effects.” Another bite, this time of some hash browns, “Mmmmph… maybe I’ll start enjoying the side-effects more, from your enjoyment.”


* *
Not even 2 hours had elapsed between the end of Leigh’s massive breakfast-became-brunch, and now, early in the noon hour, when she ordered lunch. To his amazement and beyond-his-control arousal, she ordered an equally-grand feast!

“Belly rubs, so I have space, please?” she asked of him, once the order had been submitted.


The dazed trance he’d been in and out of for hours waxed. “You sure you have room in here?” his mouth asked, before his mind approved.

Oh yeah” she smiled, bat-waving her hand. “With breakfast it won’t even total out to as much as I had at the Samoa Cookhouse.”


Love of all forms swelled within them. Beyond sensual, the belly rub was yet another deeply bonding experience.


* *
So lost to loving Leigh Down was Clark Barr, he barely knew who he was by mid-late afternoon and the end of her extended lunch. Yes, a great deal of what was going on was the unstoppable extremely potent deep carnal love they couldn’t stop sharing if they tried. And yet there was more, they both knew it deep within.

Currently too full to be comfortable doing much of anything other than sitting atop the bed resting her back against a stack of wonderfully fluffy pillows with her legs spread and her bloated belly resting between them, that’s the position in which Leigh chose to remain. Presently, Clark occupied himself pleasing her via sensually rolling the massage roller given to them by the ship’s spa, up and down her legs.

“It just occurred to me: I’ve been on this cruise 3 weeks now” she smiled, the expression she’d had nearly all day.

“Can we really call it a cruise, if we’re docked in the same port all the time?”

“I am having a pleasurable cruise experience, whether our Sapphire Prince is going anywhere or not. Hopefully you are too.”

“I… feel lost. To you.”

“When you tire of rolling, come cuddle up next to me and get lost in me, with me.”


* *
“Know what you want for dinner yet?”

Clark couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’re ordering dinner?!”

“Don’t be so shocked, Neener” Leigh tried (and failed) not to grin, salaciously moving his hand back onto her still-bloated belly. “You know I love to eat! We’ve been over all that and and the side-effects you love and everything else several times in-depth and more often in casual mentions on this trip already. I admit I’m no expert on Fat Admirers, but is there some reason my wanting dinner surprises you?”

“You seem to have far greater capacity for packing away food than I imagined.”

“There’re still plenty of things we have to learn about each other (kiss). Bodes well for more interesting time getting to know each other better (kiss).”


* *
While not as extreme a feast as her two earlier meals, beyond question Leigh’s dinner was a big multi-course meal. Clark, who’d eaten vastly lighter earlier in the day, was closer to par with her for dinner. After days of drizzly wetness and cloudy overcast with occasional actual outright rain, it was a pleasant delight to enjoy an actual sunset along with their main course (they both had steak). Even with the ongoing nudity and carnal passions, this moment proved far more loving bonding affectionate romantic than lusty. The steaks were excellent; the paired rosé wine sublime.
 

Sonic Purity

Jiggle Junkie
Joined
Apr 9, 2006
Messages
166
Location
Pasadena, California, U.S.A.
* *
After a string of days without (or at least without full tree trunk engorgement), Leigh awoke to the sensual sensations of her lover’s curvy flesh redwood between her chonky buns. {Ohhhh I want this forever} she silently mused. {He’s so affectionate.}

As usual, Clark didn’t fully awaken. Actually he was closer to awake than he realized, his mind assuming he was fully into dreams.


* *
The overcast Friday morning’s full filtered daylight gave Clark’s mind no choice but to realize that he truly was transitioning swiftly from sleep to wakefulness. “HHHHH! Hhhhh! ohhhh! Hhhh, Chonky!

“Good morning, Neener” she looked over her shoulder and smiled his way.

I can see and feel that you’ve gotten fatter, overnight!

“That’s how it works with me.” She borrowed one of his hip-caressing hands to kiss it before replacing it where it had been. “Food goes in, fat comes out. Along with some other stuff that goes in the toilet, and energy production, and all the usual body behaviors.”

“I’ve… never experienced this tactile and visual a fattening so quickly!”

“Hopefully you like it, because if I’m able to keep enjoying food the way I intend to, there’ll assuredly be more of it.”

“How do you feel about me… feeling it?”

“Loving. Affectionate. Happy. A little aroused. OK, more than a little aroused, especially when you do those deep squeezy gropes and push into me more.”

He gladly implemented her not-exactly suggestions. “Hhhhhh! If you ever decide to stay like this rather than exercising it back off, I want to marry you, for reals. Or at least live with you like a marriage.”

“One tasty day at a time, Neener. You wanna get off?”

“Pleeease?” he whimpered.

“Be my guest, Lover.”


Leigh decided she wanted to get off too. The combination of his sexy humping and very caress-like fondling, the gentle strokes her fingers gave her nub, and dreaming of what she hoped to soon have for breakfast did the trick nicely.


* *
The happy tones of a µ-Ziq instrumental favorite of Leigh’s from the mid-1990s currently filled Leigh’s and Clark’s stateroom with sonic expressions of the bouncy happy joy of their entire breakfast experience. Taking turns suggesting what to play next, Clark worked the controls so Leigh could continue peacefully, calmly, slowly eating.

Despite the songs they chose being minimally sexy/sexual, Leigh’s breakfast was towards the other extreme. Even after all they’d shared and how deeply they’d gotten to know one another, she still felt apprehensive letting anyone else know how intimate and passionate her relationship with food was. Especially in this context and to her, actions spoke louder than words—much louder. Witnessing Clark repeatedly lose control to his lusty passions watching her eat as she lost her own control to her lusty foodie passions very gradually allowed Leigh to open up further. No one in her past life had ever been allowed into this inner sanctum of hers—the one that had her initially hoping she’d not cross paths on this cruise with anyone who knew her. Now for the first time in her life, she had an insider sharing the experience with her. Words and phrases like Lover, cruise husband, fat admirer, and other equally valid descriptors of what Clark Barr was to her individually and in any combination failed to convey the totality of what this new, exceedingly private connection was all about.

Big deal though this cruise was from the planning stages onward, it had now turned into the adventure of a lifetime: a perfect storm of events, allowing her to let her foodie lust run free. Thrilling and scary in equal measure, she knew that this was the ongoing series of moments which needed to be seized.


* *
Elsewhere around the Sapphire Prince, things were anything but tranquil.


{“I don’t want any more COVID-19 deaths on this ship!”}

Captain Cranch’s exhortation, weakened and interrupted by coughing on account of his own COVID-19 illness, echoed through Acting Captain Glenn’s mind, in the heat of telephone negotiations with administrators at the local hospital. “They are human beings urgently in need of care, no matter what their nationality!… We have an infirmary aboard this ship, not a hospital. You are infinitely better-equipped than we are to deal with the critically ill.… Understood that you want to reserve your resources for local residents, but for the time being those on our ship are part of your local community.… That’s beyond both of us, ma’am. I assure you we did not choose Coos Bay to ‘inflict ourselves’ upon you. Federal authorities and other ports gave us no choice, then we happened to have a near-total propulsion failure in international waters very close to here. As the one piloting the ship at the time, I assure you that Coos Bay was our only option, not a willful imposition.”

The frantic WTF hands and face expressions of Dr. Wellington Heald directed over a more-than-social distance towards Captain Glenn reaffirmed the urgency of the situation.

“Let’s cut to the chase: either you immediately rescind your order to the local EMTs blocking their services to us, or I will arrange alternative transportation to the door of your E.R.… We have two in critical condition now. Send them now.”


* *
“Please give me a reprieve from having to pay the Swear Jar, Chief!” A-HHHKKK! Billy Bilge coughed from behind his protective cloth mask.

“I’ve not seen any credible scientific information suggesting that swearing away SARS-CoV-2 is in any way effective against its COVID-19 influenza, Billy.”

“If I have to fuuuulllllaaaaking pay any more, I’ll have to mortgage my house!”

“You own a house?”

No! So I’m rat-assszzzzzimuth is a fine parameter to measure!”

“What besides swearing do you think will help you get over this thing faster, or if not that, have it remain less severe?”

“Thinking with all my might about cursing this son of a biieeautiful mother to Hellllllo there ladies and gentlemen and gone!”

“If you keep the cursing totally inside your head and don’t let any of it slip out of your mouth, you’ll not owe the Swear Jar anything, and you’ll be taking the virus to task inside your mind the way you want. Sounds like a win-win to me.”


Immediately Billy unleashed a string of soul-scorching epithets locked inside his mind, directed at SARS-CoV-2 wherever it may be at work in his body.
 

Sonic Purity

Jiggle Junkie
Joined
Apr 9, 2006
Messages
166
Location
Pasadena, California, U.S.A.
[Note: it is not possible to present the full formatting of this nor most subsequent chapters on this site. For the full experience, please consider reading the remainder at jigglejunkie.com. Direct link to this chapter]

Socially Distant Mingling

While others around the world and particularly in the U.S.A. were being drenched by the crashing-ashore tsunami that was COVID-19 in fully manifested reality, Leigh Down and Clark Barr immersed themselves in their own private reality of unbridled fat-foodie-love-sex living. Friday 27 March 2020 became Saturday the 28th., Saturday had now become Sunday the 29th., cruise Day 25 for Leigh. They noticed the changing of the days mostly from cycling between the 3 major meals Leigh had every day, though the combination of focusing on what gave them joy and would all too soon go away at cruise’s eventual end and shielding themselves from the chaos and clamp-downs unfolding across the U.S. had them losing track of the day, unless they focused on thinking through what day it was.


Their most recently-discovered sex move had precious little movement. Leigh Down lay face-down atop her cruise husband, himself comfortably lying face-up atop their bed, plugged into her. What blew his mind was that she’d already fattened enough on the course of this trip to go from her usual noticeably-curvy hips that would only have trouble fitting into the narrowest of chair seats to gargantuanly fat hips of which he’d long dreamt experiencing, flowing well past both sides of him down atop their bed!

In no way was she the fattest-hipped woman out there, nor the flowing-fat softest (albeit close on that latter parameter). She was, however, well into the shockingly fat range: the range where most people would take a second look, if not stare. The range where finding off-the-shelf clothes starts to become difficult, even via online/mail order. Less so now than in her youth, true, since to there now being so vastly many more vast bottom-heavy women, though still far from a slam-dunk. The range where fitting into standard chairs with arms or any other side impediments was far from a given, even with her soft, flowing, highly compliant fat. As usual for her body, very little fat landed up above: some on her chin, some on her arms (especially upper arms), and a very slight general thickening all over. Nearly all the fat action was down below: between the top of her belly and bottom of her thighs, with the vastest majority on her hips and buns.

Lost in a trance to the experience, his hands gently and repeatedly fondle-squeezed her prodigious hip fat as he stared into her very close ever-more-beautiful-to-him face—the one she still considered criminally plain, unremarkable, and boring.

She’d long liked his looks. Presently, she found him unbelievably handsome: a face into which she could gaze and a body she’d enjoy looking at for as long into the future as she could imagine. Not that she was thinking much of the future when that’s never known, and he was right here right now and so was she! Her current joy was alternating between sensually slow mouth-eating kissing him for about a minute at a time, then savoring and peacefully eating a cookie, then repeating. No humping whatsoever was needed, with the sensorial joys of his throbbing pulsing big hard neener inside her giving her all the genital stimulation she wanted at this moment.


Lost to love and lust as they were, there was no conversation for a long time.


Eventually, she broke the verbal silence. “Am I getting too heavy on top of you?”

“Amazing as you and this mind-melting joyous fattening you’re undergoing are, the mass differential between when you first laid down atop me an hour or more ago and now is minuscule.”

“I so love your engineering mind, and your precision (kiss). Being more precise, what I mean is: are you feeling discomfort from the extended duration of my having been lying atop you?”

“To my amazement, no. You are assuredly a significant weight atop me, and there will come a point where I’ll prefer shifting to another position without any significant mass being pulled down by gravity atop me. This is too amazing and I’m not ready to let it go yet” he ended with a kiss.

“We can do this again later (kiss). Today or any future day we’re together and have the time (kiss).”

No more time for kisses: it was time for her next cookie!


* *
Clark couldn’t get enough of feeling Leigh’s fat, nor the powerful all-encompassing love between them.

Though comfortably full or near-full at any given time during waking hours and in absolutely no danger of starving, Leigh couldn’t get enough super-sensual tastebud-tantalizing foodie joy, happily grazing away the day with occasional breaks. Nor could she get enough of Clark’s reverent, doting love, nor all other aspects of the powerful all-encompassing love between them.


The sudden switching right about 5 PM of the stateroom infotainment A/V system from the audio playback they’d been enjoying to a silent stationary text display:



Important Announcement from the Captain

Regarding Quarantine, Disembarkation, and more



quickly pulled their attention out of their individual and shared reverie(s).

Within a minute, the program switched to a live video image of Captain Cranch with accompanying indistinct soft background sounds.

Transcript:
_ _
Good afternoon. This extended announcement provides updates on several matters of great import to all of us aboard the Sapphire Prince. As before and as always with these ship-wide announcements, any programming you may have been enjoying has been paused, for you to rejoin, restart, or otherwise re-engage with as you wish at this speech’s conclusion.


Those of you who’ve been following world events are aware of the devastating impact of COVID-19 disease, accelerating presently in the United States especially, and elsewhere around the world. Thanks to your diligent efforts and cooperation remaining confined to your staterooms, along with the exemplary work of our dedicated on-ship and visiting medical staff and all our crew and employees, we have kept the disease from being as devastating as it is capable of being. The disease is and has been widespread across the ship, as myself and the many of you who’ve come down with it and experienced symptoms well know. I am currently in Day 12 of the illness since first showing symptoms, and remain in quarantine. First Deck Officer Ellen Glenn has been ably serving as captain of this ship during the acute phases of my illness, able to fully put her years of experience to excellent use running this ship and interfacing with the outer world when I could not, for all our benefit. I urge you all to take a moment to thank her for stepping into this essential role at this critical time.
— —

Enough thank yous were verbalized aloud for Captain Cranch to hear them from his cabin.

_ _
Acting Captain Glenn and myself have been actively engaging relevant authorities in the U.S. and elsewhere to get you all who are our guests off this ship and back home. I am pleased to report that we are days away from allowing those of you from most nations of the world to disembark, with Royal Prince Cruise Lines and representatives from your home nations working together to get you swiftly repatriated. I am bitterly disappointed to report that the situation is far messier for our many U.S. citizens traveling with us on this cruise. Negotiations are ongoing, so far making insufficient progress for me to specify any time frame. For the foreseeable near-term future, U.S. citizens will be required to remain in quarantine on this ship.
— —

He paused to allow the heartbreaking groans he feared would happen, and did.

_ _
It is not without basis that authorities are compelling us to quarantine on-ship: while most people will develop minor symptoms if any at all, this is a very easily spread, fast-spreading disease which can be vicious to certain individuals for reasons not yet sufficiently clear. While as a sweeping generalization it is true that certain underlying health conditions, especially lung-related, and age exacerbate severity of COVID-19, individuals in their 20s with no known underlying health conditions have fallen gravely ill and died. Nurse Dana Knight of our Infirmary was barely over the threshold into her 40s, healthy as far as anyone including herself knew, with no underlying health conditions. Despite the correct use of what little personal protective equipment we had on board until arriving here in Coos Bay, she developed COVID-19. Despite her intrinsic health and wellness knowledge, healthy lifestyle, and being part of our Infirmary, she fell gravely ill. She died this past Tuesday 24 March in Coos Bay’s local hospital’s intensive care ward. Please, let us all together take a minute of silence in honor of Nurse Knight, and anyone else you may personally know who has succumbed to this terrible illness.
— —

The captain maintained his usual commanding posture, gazing down towards the floor. The extreme sadness in his face was unsettling to many viewers.
 

Sonic Purity

Jiggle Junkie
Joined
Apr 9, 2006
Messages
166
Location
Pasadena, California, U.S.A.
_ _
Clearly, this is a serious life-altering disease, which experts indicate may be with us for a very long time. Your ongoing cooperation remains essential to keep COVID-19 from spreading to those not yet infected—especially those at great risk.

Striking a balance between protecting those most at risk and allowing those unaffected by the disease or who have successfully recovered from it is challenging to say the least. Were U.S. authorities more cooperative and sanely allowing all of you who are our guests off this ship so that we of Royal Prince Cruise Lines could then facilitate getting you swiftly home, such would have already happened and we would not all still be here living through this extended experience. Much as I would love to do so, neither myself nor anyone else amongst crew or staff can as of yet allow anyone off the ship, apart from being near-death and released by ambulance to the local hospital as I’ve mentioned. I do have the power to adjust the conditions of quarantine, and that is what is happening as of 0800 tomorrow morning.

Please carefully note that time: what I am about to tell you is not in effect until tomorrow morning—Monday morning—at 8 AM. I am telling you now in advance to avoid any rushing and/or misunderstanding in the understandable hurry many of you might be in to get out of your staterooms. As well a number of possible destinations outside your stateroom will require advanced reservations.


Starting 0800 tomorrow, we are moving from our current Quarantine Level 3 to a Modified Quarantine Level 1. This is similar to, but different from, the standard Level 1 Quarantine we all experienced back on Thursday 12 March. Actively ill people, those who feel they may be ill and/or contagious, and those at significant risk if they fall ill must all remain in your staterooms. Room service and other services to you as they currently exist under our current Level 3 Quarantine will continue. If you have any doubt about whether or not you are in this category, please be your best, kindest self and do us all and yourself the favor of remaining in self-quarantine.

There are 2 other classes of people besides those just mentioned: those who know they’ve been ill and have recovered, and those who may or may not have been ill and have had no symptoms. Starting no earlier than 8 AM tomorrow, those of you in either of these classes will be able to leave your staterooms and participate in certain limited activities elsewhere on the ship.

Because each stateroom deck consists of a mix of cruisers in each of the 3 major categories, everyone is required to wear a mask and practice full social distancing protocols outside one’s stateroom and anywhere on any of these decks, namely Grandview, Vista, Upper Promenade, Dolphin, Porpoise, and Sea Star. This is necessary even for those of you who know you have had COVID-19 symptoms and have recovered, as we remain unable to do testing and not enough is yet known regarding how long and under what circumstances people remain contagious.

Please note that beyond all ship restrooms being well-stocked with liquid soap wholly suitable for proper sanitary hand washing per the U.S. CDC, there are now hand sanitizer stations deployed on all decks, installed primarily in the highest traffic common-use areas. CDC notes that soap and water are preferred, but qualified hand sanitizer as we have deployed is sufficient.


The following information applies only to those of you who have never had any symptoms of illness. Without testing we cannot know whether you have yet to encounter COVID-19, may have already had it and developed antibodies against it, or may even have a subclinical case and be actively carrying it. Due to that last possibility I am taking a huge risk allowing those of you in this class outside your staterooms. I consider it inhumane to confine anyone to a limited space such as a stateroom, nice as ours are, unless there is no alternative. Given the relevant authorities’ foot-dragging, I am taking this risk, imploring you for your cooperation.

The Sun Deck and Sports Deck are reserved for those in the no-symptoms class only. Because of the hypothesized greater spread indoors and in confined spaces, the Fitness Center and Spa will remain closed—to everyone. I thoroughly understand how disappointing this is to many of you, and regret that this is necessary for everyone’s health and safety. Some sources and common sense indicate that healthful exercise and reasonable sun exposure minimize the severeness of viral illnesses in general, likely including COVID-19 caused by SARS-CoV-2, though this has yet to be rigorously proven. My hope is that exercise on the outdoor equipment on the Sports Deck and/or sun exposure there or on the Sun Deck will aid each of your immune systems in warding off this disease, or at least the worst of what it has to offer.

Advanced reservations are required in all cases, for any sports equipment, and even for chairs on the Sun Deck. This is absolutely also true for restaurants on these decks, which will continue to have limited social distance spacing seating. The only activity which may be undertaken without reservation is walking around, and even this will be monitored by security. Staff or crew members will be stationed at all access points to these decks, checking each person’s temperature with a non-contacting infrared thermometer, and making a quick visual evaluation for lack of COVID-19 symptoms. Please cooperate with them, and it will only be a few seconds per person for these evaluations. Their word is final, should they indicate that you need to return to your stateroom and quarantine.

Those of you in this class must at all times practice full social distancing protocols, and because none of us can know whether or not you may be an asymptomatic carrier, you must wear your face mask whenever anyone outside your immediate shared stateroom or suite group is within 2 meters. It is recommended in the strongest possible terms that everyone of all COVID-19 classes practice CDC-recommended hand washing at every necessary opportunity. This goes doubly so for those of you in the never-had-symptoms class, as potential carriers.
 

Sonic Purity

Jiggle Junkie
Joined
Apr 9, 2006
Messages
166
Location
Pasadena, California, U.S.A.
The following information applies only to those of you who have without question had clear, common COVID-19 symptoms, and whose course of illness has followed the typical 14 day give-or-take pattern of those who will survive this disease, and are now fully recovered with no symptoms. It is presumed that you have immunity for some period of time, though without testing, we cannot know whether you actually had COVID-19, or some other flu or other disease with similar symptoms. I am taking the great risk of brashly assuming that it is safe for those of you in this class to interact closer to what up until this pandemic had been socially normal interactions.

The Sky and Lido Decks are reserved for those of you in the recovered class. Sky will give you sun access, as for the no symptom class. The Lido pool, while not at all the same as the exercise options on the Sports deck, does offer you some exercise other than walking. Advanced reservations are required for the pool—any pool on any deck. Same with all restaurants, including buffets. Only those in the recovered class will be able to do any self-serving at the buffet, and this will be closely monitored. It is recommended to wear a mask and practice social distancing even on these reserved decks, though for the recovered class on these decks, it will not be required. Security will be present and monitoring everyone’s interactions. As for the asymptomatic class, crew or staff will be stationed at all deck access points to check your temperature and quick-verify that no on is displaying known COVID-19 symptoms.

Open seating such as at the buffet is restricted to one group per table unless newcomers outside the group receive permission to join those at that table in advance before sitting down.


Finally, we come to the special situation presented by the Grand Promenade Deck. The unique nature of this deck and its facilities available nowhere else require that both the no symptoms class and the recovered class be allowed to use open facilities thereon. At this time the retail shops remain closed. Our several restaurants on this level will continue limited seating spaced-apart social distancing, as has been the case since just prior to the original Quarantine Level 1.

As with the stateroom decks, everyone at all times must wear a suitable face mask, and follow all social distancing and hand cleanliness protocols. The only exception is once you are seated in a restaurant and your food has arrived, as long as you remain seated and until you have finished your meal.


It cannot be overemphasized how critical this situation remains, and how essential your cooperation is to allow us to loosen up the quarantine to this degree. Patience remains a virtue. Advanced reservations are required. Please note that we are thoroughly stocked with food and supplies, thus there is no need to rush for early appointments, and definitely no need to hoard anything. The reports many of us have seen regarding empty store shelves is disturbing, I agree. Not a problem on the Sapphire Prince. We have been restocked since docking here in Coos Bay, our Portland supplies trucked down here for this purpose. This will all work out for everyone if we each go along with our usual routines in terms of time of day we normally take meals, and so on. If you find yourself frustrated getting the restaurant reservation you prefer, please consider making one for the next meal or next day, then taking the missed meal in your stateroom.

This is a great deal of information to take in all at once. Rest assured that all of it is written out in your native language on the News & Information page of the Sapphire Prince on-ship website, direct links to which follow on this screen, seconds from now. Thank you again for doing your part, so all of us can get through this. Good Health and Wellness to you, and Good Evening.
— —


After a full minute of the end screen with links to the information and re-running the recorded announcement, the sudden switch back to the audio stream both Leigh and Clark had forgotten they’d been running startled them. She quickly turned it off. “Breakfast at Jimmy’s Buffet tomorrow?”

“Sure, I guess. What will you get there that you can’t get here?”

“A change of scenery.”


He picked up his handheld, checking the weather. “I’m seeing drizzle and light rain all day tomorrow.”

“They have a retractable cover with an exotic name I saw once and now don’t remember, kind of like a stadium dome.”

“How is that better than staying cozy in here?”

“First, it’s likely the only meal I’ll want out tomorrow. Second, change of scenery. Third, I love you unbelievably and love being with you and want to be with you at breakfast tomorrow, but it would be nice to mingle with other people, especially other survivors of this virus. Fourth, don’t you want to see me wiggle wobble shimmering in clothes, and be seen with me while I’m doing so?”

Hhhhhh!” he gasped from lust, “I’m in!”
 

Sonic Purity

Jiggle Junkie
Joined
Apr 9, 2006
Messages
166
Location
Pasadena, California, U.S.A.
Fat Everywhere

“Uugh. Unnggh” Leigh grunted, Monday morning 30 March 2020. “Keep tugging with me, and eventually we’ll get all of me into these.”

“If it’s this tough to get you into your panties, how in the world are we going to get you into your pants?!”

“My black leggings stretch more than these.”

“More than underpants?!”

“Oh yeah. At least these. Ready?”

“Better give me a count, so I can tug up when you’re in the downward descent of your jump.”

“OK, you tug up when I say three. Ready?”

“Yes.”

She made preparatory jumping motions with each count, to get herself in sync, “One. Two. Three!


RRRRRRip!


“Oh well” she said with amazing nonchalance, slipping the shredded bikini briefs off. “Guess I’m going to have to go commando.”

The bugle in his pants compelled her to caress it. “Need to drop your pants and get off in me somewhere with your extra-special neat and clean neener, Neener?”

“Tempting as that is, I thought you might want to have me next to you woggle toggle waggling as you wiggle wobble shimmer.”

How sweet of youuu! (kiss). Yes, I would like that, please. OK, let’s get me packed into my super-stretchy pants so I can get some shoes on and we can get this woggle toggle wiggle wobble waggle shimmer show on the road.”


Seeing his cruise wife’s fat bulging and bobbling every which way in its? their? vain attempt to escape the cloth’s mild confines nearly made Clark forget to take his mask.


* *
The hallway adjacent to Leigh’s and Clark’s stateroom was bustling with generally happy voices of people freshly freed from lockdown, sounding like they might be smiling even though it was not possible to see the mouth portion of their expressions behind their face masks.

Leigh and Clark were assuredly smiling, feeling the love as they wiggle wobble woggle toggle waggle shimmered their way along the hall.

Having spent so much time looking at each other, both of them focused on those around them. Even without having met any of these people (so far) nor having previously studied their physiques, it was obvious to Clark and even more obvious to Leigh (thanks to her greater fashion awareness) that the majority of people had fattened out of the intended range of the clothes they were wearing. Some subtly (noticed mostly by Leigh), others moderately, and a few extremely, even if not as extremely as Leigh herself. Who, while not out of her clothes, was obviously pushing their range and undeniably very fat. Clark couldn’t help noticing that other than a couple of generously-padded BHM, who may have been like that before the lockdown, nearly all the moderately to extremely fattened people presented as women.

Leigh didn’t mind Clark’s eyes on other women. Any time she wanted his back on her, all she had to do was squeeze his held hand more firmly and turn his way with her masked smile. {We know each other well enough now that I can tell when he’s smiling and he can tell when I’m smiling even with our face masks on.} This realization made her smile even more.


* *
Off-putting as having to go through health checks was, the ones they encountered at the approach to the elevators on their Upper Promenade deck then again exiting the elevator on the Sky deck were swift and friendly. The elevator ride itself was unexpected: a hotel department staff member was inside operating it manually, with colleagues on Upper Promenade grouping and packing elevator riders based upon their COVID-19 class (asymptomatic or recovered) and their destination. Mostly on account of Leigh’s size, only one other couple plus the operator rode with her and Clark.

“Most fattening cruise I’ve ever been on, that’s for sure” the woman of the couple, by appearances roughly a decade younger, shared with a smiling voice from behind her mask, patting her then her companion’s mildly bulging bellies. “But whatcha gonna do during lockdown, with no opportunity for exercise and all this great food on board?”

“I forgot all about exercise once they closed the Fitness Center. I love eating and he loves me fat, so we’re living the dream.”

The couple didn’t need to see their mouths to know that Clark and Leigh were smiling, given the inundation of the elevator car with invisible yet palpable love hearts, the way Clark’s from-behind cuddle and gentle hip fat squeezes came off far more affectionate than sexual, and the smile in Leigh’s eyes when she craned her neck to gaze slightly up and behind her into his.

Rendered speechless at the thought that someone could be OK being as fat as Leigh had become and that someone else would love her more for being that way, the couple, too flustered to introduce themselves, made a little trivial small talk about the weather to keep the remainder of the ride from becoming awkwardly silent.


* *
Once they passed the outbound health inspection and got a good look around, Clark and Leigh both readily saw that there were even more newly-fat people on the Sky deck than in their hallway. This ought not to have been any sort of surprise, given that they were at the second half-hour seating at the only major full-service buffet open to those in the virus-recovered class: the most compelling option for the foodie members of this virus class.

Experimentally, seatings at Jimmy’s Buffet were on the half hour, with the expectation that most diners would stay between half an hour and an hour. By design the booking system kept 2 to 4 tables open for each time slot, to allow for those who may prefer to slow dine, or long dine. Other restaurants on the ship were experimenting with entirely different scheduling, in a crash course to try and suss out what was most workable.


Hhhhmmm. Oh gosh” Leigh nearly drooled, piling on a pair of the avocado tortilla breakfast mini-burritos she loved, plus sausages, toast, scrambled eggs, and hash browns, before running out of plate space. Had it not been for the mask she still wore, everyone looking her way would have seen her foodie-lusty tongue poked out of her mouth.

“I’m quite sure they’ll let you come back for seconds” Clark assured her.

“They better! I’ve missed too many cruise days unable to partake of this, or unable to taste anything when I could partake.”


With plates loaded up, they sought out a free table.


“Hey hey team!” a happy, bold and brassy voice from a familiar face not wearing a mask called to them. It was Beryl Beech. “Come each gimme a quick hug, then park thee plush and plain posteriors punctually at this here table, and let’s share our experiences.”


Fat as Leigh had become, she was wholly taken aback by how much more of Beryl there was. Clark was more aroused than surprised, knowing of Beryl’s hardcore gainer proclivities. She fully needed two of the movable round padded stool seats to hold her huge hindquarters, which were far from her fattest parts.

As they hugged, Leigh became outright nauseous seeing how profoundly much boob flesh Beryl had: each of her breasts looked about as big around as either of Clark’s thighs, and over half as long! So rattled was she, she barely noticed the cheek kiss Clark gave Beryl, at her request.


Beryl was less than impressed with Leigh leading herself and Clark to the diagonally opposite corner of the rectangular roughly picnic-sized table. {At least she’s letting him sit inboard, hence closer to me.} “You don’t have to social distance from me if you’ve recovered, and if you haven’t wrassled the beast and recovered, you’re on the wrong deck.”

“I thought that given how much you’re clearly having and how much I intend to have, we’d be better off spaced apart to allow for more plate space.”

“Brilliant! Kiss her for me would ya please, Clark?”


He took the opportunity to remove and stow his mask, then gently ease hers off her right ear to enable a true lip to lip kiss.


“Mmm… murrmpf” Beryl mumbled as she chewed, eventually swallowing to clearly say, “That’s what I’m talkin’ about!”

“Thank you for unleashing my lips, Neener” Leigh replied with a kiss, fully removing and tucking away her face mask. “Now to redirect them towards their other primary life purpose.”

Which was, of course, acting as gatekeeper and comestible retainer for her mouth, opening up wide for her first bite of breakfast mini-burrito for the day—nearly her first ever with full senses of taste and smell.

Too busy eating her own breakfast to respond verbally, Beryl gave her a thumb(s)-up.


Leigh nearly choked on her first bite of mixed scrambled eggs + hash browns as a barely-familiar gigantically fat female form wobbled and sloshed into view. Making things worse for her was the hard banana-up Clark instinctively gave the newcomer upon sight, compelling her to scoot closer to him with her right hip fat lifted, then plop that part of her down atop his turgid lap.

The magnitude of Rebecca Davidson’s fattening since the last time Leigh and Clark had seen her was truly breathtaking: she’d been supersized back then. Now, like Beryl, beyond question she was ultrasized. As was typical for her body she fattened all over, though far and away mostly at upper chest level and nearby. Each of her enormous upper arms looked about as big as either of Leigh’s thighs, back when she’d been merely plump, flattening even wider when her arms were at rest, as Leigh’s thighs did when she sat. More shockingly eye-catching to anyone who looked, each of her breasts looked about as big as either of Leigh’s thighs right now, all fattened! Maybe not quite that big if measured, though through Leigh’s raging breast jealousy goggles, they sure seemed that way! By any measure or lack thereof, they were clearly and obviously the biggest at the table—saying a lot, given Beryl’s breasty hugeness!

Hey squish sister!” Beryl chirped, “No need to look so lost: you’ve found us!”
 

Sonic Purity

Jiggle Junkie
Joined
Apr 9, 2006
Messages
166
Location
Pasadena, California, U.S.A.
The other starkly visible aspect to Rebecca beyond her dramatic fattening was her hollow shell-shocked look, experiencing some other reality somewhere deep inside her own mind far more than being present in the moment. She seemed to be in a trance as she sat across from Beryl on the same side of the table with Clark (nearest her after the gap between them) and Leigh.

She looked equally vacant and terrified to her table mates as she slowly panned her head and scanned their faces. “What is this wretched thing?” she asked in a weak voice whose tone sounded as far away as her gaze appeared.

“It’s a potent one, that’s for sure” said Beryl, popping a fried potato pillow (often trademarked with the word “tot” in its name when made and sold by other companies) into her mouth. “But you survived it, as did we.”

At least some of the terror inside Rebecca came tumbling out, loud and frantic, “It came for me and took my breath!” she breathlessly gasped, “And I’m coughing and coughing up stuff—vile stuff!—and it’s goin’ for my lungs, and I’m wheezing and coughing and cookin’ ta death of fever, and I’m feelin’ the tightness! It’s goin’ for me!—It’s goin’ for me! And the Infirmary can’t take me and they’re overbooked and there’s no ventilators on board! No ventilators!

Everyone else at the table plus others nearby were drawn into Rebecca’s dramatic retelling of her experience. “So what did you do?!” asked Clark.

What could I do?! We were in lockdown already! I ran ’round and ’round in my stateroom in a total panic, beggin’ Gaia not to die! Running and running—weaker, faint, hot, can’t breath! Throwing up, coughing up, having tea and throwing it up! Taking vitamins and throwing them up! Can’t sleep! Can’t breathe! No help! Gotta run away from this! Gotta run awaaaay!

Deeply moved, as were the others, by instinct far more than thought, Clark reached over and gently caressed Rebecca’s upper arm, “It’s OK Rebecca—it’s OK! You survived!”

Clarence Jefferson didn’t! Miles Wilson didn’t! Uncle Abe didn’t!

“Who’re those first two?” Beryl wondered out loud, between bites of breakfast nothing and no one was going to keep her from enjoying.

My ex-boyfriends from long ago, from my ’hood and still livin’ there! Dead! Dead from this COVID-19!

Clark wanted to hear the rest of her story. “So you ran around and coughed stuff up and otherwise got phlegm and things out of your system, and did the breathing get better then?”

No! It was terrifying! I cried and screamed with no breath! No one around to be with! All alone!

“What did you do then?”

“I took a handful—a frickin’ handful!—of vitamin C pills and some Calm Clouds tea because I didn’t have any Stress Suppress. Just sipped it and cried!, because I didn’t wanna die!

Again he instinctually caressed her arm, “You’re here with us! You’re alive!”


She collapsed in a pile of tears atop the table, letting out what had to come out. Being able to share with others and having one-off lover Clark lovingly and soothingly caressing her was part of Rebecca’s healing that she didn’t know she needed.


As suddenly as she’d collapsed, she snapped back upright. “I wanted something else something or someone else soothing—I wanted my Daddy! Or Mommy! The only thing like candy I had were some of those big zinc horse pills, and they’re supposed to be good for colds and now they tell us common colds are coronaviruses after having told us before they were rhinoviruses, and maybe if you put a crown on a rhino or give the rhino the right brand of Mexican beer they’re the same thing but whatever. I figured it couldn’t hoyt ta suck one like for a cold, and it might help. So I sucked it and cried, struggling ta breathe, sipping tea. And you’re not supposed to suck more than one zinc tablet every two hours, but I did, and I’m not sorry.”

“Thankfully that doesn’t apply to penises.”


Others around the table glared at Beryl as though she’d just dropped the N word or put on a Third Reich arm band.


Clark prompted Rebecca to get her to continue, “So did the vitamin C and zinc and tea help?”

“Apparently but I donno” she shrugged her shoulders and held out her open palms. “Not a doctor. It’s not like I got all better right quick—oh hell no!” She drifted back into reliving the traumatizing experience, “My fever was high, and I thought ‘This is it. I’m dyin’ here. Dyin’ on this cruise ship, alone’.”


She needed to sniffle, then decided she ought to blow her nose, doing so.


“I’m on fire. I can’t breathe. And I’m gonna die! So I took the chicken way out: tried to O.D. on sleeping pills.”

Hhhhh!” Leigh gasped.

“They weren’t real sleeping pills, hun. Hug her for me, will ya Clark?”


Having someone ask him to do what he wanted to be doing anyway sped up and lengthened the sitting side embrace.


“They’re those Trader Joe’s ones, with the L-theanine, 5-HTP, and melatonin and stuff. Prolly not good ta take 10 at a time instead of 2, but it didn’t kill me. Thought it was, given how tranquil-dazed-pass-out it was makin’ me. Cuddled up under every blanket, sitting up against a stack of pillows so I could barely keep breathing. Drifting off, giving in t’ the land of never existing any more.”

Beryl repeatedly and insistently pointed towards Rebecca’s getting-cold breakfast.

She shook her head, continuing, “I didn’t die, obviously. Woke up drenched in sweat. Drenched, people! The band around my chest—lungs—feeling was gone, and my breathing was a little better. Still wheezing, still coughing, still had a fever.

“Got into the shower and had a nice long hot one, upset for bein’ too fat ta fit in the tub and soak. A little light-headed delirious in there, but kept it together. Shower felt good. Getting the sweat off felt good. More vitamin C, more tea, sucking more zinc tablets, but this time per instructions. Had room service bring me a new set of bedding—sheets, blankets, pillowcases—the whole nine—and put them on myself, as much ta have something ta do and keep my mind busy as to protect the ship’s staff, but obviously that too. Ordered a big bowl of chicken bone broth, which tasted great!

This caught Leigh’s attention. “You could taste things during your illness?”

“Yeah. Didn’t you?”

“No! And it was awful! Everything tasted like cardboard! Or like anything else with different textures and no flavor whatsoever.”

“Same for me” said Clark.

“What about you?” Rebecca asked Beryl.

“Almost total loss. Didn’t stop me from eating, obviously”—blomp blomp she patted her huge belly, then briefly hefted her breasts slightly.

“So the soup was great and then what happened?”

“You really want ta know, don’t ya, Clark?”

“I’m fascinated and I care about you, so yes.”

“Days more suffering, sssllloooowwwwly getting better. It’s that thing where you’re better in the morning, then worse again later in the day.”

All 3 of her table mates nodded, each happening to have a mouthful of breakfast at that moment.

“Something like 3 days after the night I thought for sure I was gonna die, the wheezing stopped. Still coughing, but not coughing stuff up. Still feverish, more so at night. Depressed as fuck from all I’m reading about this disease—then through now. More chicken soup yes, but with my appetite coming back and feeling like it’s the end of the world or at least the human social world—the real one, not the bullshit can’t touch online one—I said ‘Screw it. I’m eatin’’. And eatin’. And eatin’. Sorry not sorry: I don’t care.”

Beryl swallowed quickly to exclaim, “That’s the spirit!”

But whaddo we have left, Beryl? Maria Mercader died yesterday, alright?!


The others looked at her and each other, uncomfortably lost.


CBS News reporter, alright? Younger than me!… a little. Dead! Whacked by COVID-19! Cancer didn’t take her out, other diseases didn’t take her out, but COVID-19 did! In New York City alone we’re losing 300-some people a day to this thing—a day! Death toll is something like one thousand seven hundred! They’re puttin’ the dead in refrigerator cars!—the semi trailers, the trucks, whatever! Packing dead people in refrigerator trucks in NYC because there’re so many! How is this happening?! This should be stuff from the Middle Ages! Or Ancient Babylon or somethin’!

“What’re the numbers where you’re calling home now? I haven’t looked.”


The wind vanished from Rebecca’s wound-up distraught sails. “You’re gonna take my Cali Girl cred away, aren’t ya, Native Son?”

“Not me” Clark smiled. “Can’t speak for others here.”

“You a Cali native, Beryl?”

“Nah, I’m from Ohio. Akron, specifically. Rubber Capital of the World, at one time.”

“That leaves you, Leigh.”

“I’m Cali born and bred” she modestly replied, on the soft side.

“Whereabouts?”

“Inland Empire. Born in Riverside, but my family moved around the area a couple of times.”

“Are you revoking any or all of my 20 years of living in L.A. honorary Cali Girl cred?”

“There’s a moratorium on those revocations until after this whole COVID-19 and any future related SARS-CoV-2-based illnesses are resolved” she riffed.

“Whew! I know I’m a New Yorker through and through, but I really wanna be a laid-back Cali girl.”

“Can’t find anything for City of Los Angeles, but for the entire County of Los Angeles, we’re at 37 dead as of yesterday, cumulative total.”

“Alright” Rebecca loudly and longly sighed. “Guess I should be glad to be out on this coast, working on my Cali GhD. But they’re my homies!” she whined. “So many… still live in the ’hood.… Or did.”
 

Sonic Purity

Jiggle Junkie
Joined
Apr 9, 2006
Messages
166
Location
Pasadena, California, U.S.A.
“Even if you’re not diabetic—and I hope you’re not, you’ll assuredly feel better about life with more food in you” suggested Beryl. She focused intensely on the troubled woman she considered her friend across the table, “Here’s a thought for you: none of us can bring them back—anyone who matters to you, or any of us, who’s died from this disease. But you—a survivor, remaining alive—can honor them. They can’t eat any more food ever again—but you can. Think what they’d want. Would they want you to be sad? Would they want you to mourn? Or would they want you to celebrate life—theirs, and yours which you’re still living, as happens at wakes?”


Rebecca felt a deep connection to this quirky woman (and in some ways competitor for love interests), feeling loving energy coming across from her gaze, of an other-worldly magnitude. It was almost as though Beryl Beech was in some way connected to a spirit world in which Rebecca told herself she didn’t truly believe. Very, very powerful! “They always talked about how they loved my softness… every single one of them” she said in her distant voice, as much to herself as anyone else.


Beryl maintained her gaze, smiling and nodding ever-so-slightly, subtly encouraging her acquaintance-friend to stay with the thought process, similar to how a parent might subtly encourage their child to take its first steps.


“I’m alive. And I won’t be, forever. And I’m made to be soft and fat.”

More subtle nods and ongoing eye contact.

Her voice regrew in strength, “And I love to eat. And this is great food! And I’m on a cruise ship, with you all. And we’re all loving food and getting fatter together like we did at Samoa Cookhouse, and it’s not costing me more ’cause I’m on the Pampered Gem package!”

“So am I” Leigh quickly added.

Beryl’s food-unencumbered right hand shot up, “Pampered Gem.”

Rebecca grew more excited, “And I can eat for myself, and those who aren’t with us any longer, and we stick together and surround ourselves with fat admirers who love us, and celebrate lifffffe!

Yes! Celebrate with us! You in on this, Leigh?”

She could only nod, given how her mouth was currently filled with breakfast mini-burrito.


Celebrate they all did. The table fell silent, giving way to the sounds of happy, calm, relaxed eating for all 4 of them, voraciously so for the 3 women of abundant soft size. Conversations from other nearby (but not overly nearby, with the social distancing adjustments) tables drifted through, often fragmentary and mostly unnoticed by the now-contented friends.

Having let go of so many pent-up emotions absolutely helped move Rebecca Davidson to a more balanced, serene space. So too did the food. Eating on her own whether in public where she might be judged or alone in her stateroom where she tended to feel like an addict shooting up on her drug of choice tended to be stressful and shameful for her. Here with Leigh and Beryl so happily and freely eating, she once again had one of those very rare for her opportunities to feel protected from external and internalized shame as part of a shameless group. Beyond her still-new fat female friends, her one-off FA lover Clark measurably added to her sense of security and shame-free serenity. Representing far more than merely himself, in her mind he was the living channel through whom friends and lovers past no longer amongst the living who’d always appreciated her plush softness (and very big boobs, in most cases) remained connected to her, through him, here and now in the present. She saw their smiles in his, along with his actual own. His occasional upper arm touches and caresses earlier conveyed love beyond that of a singular human, she now realized.

Leigh might well have been contented and OK happily eating with gusto had it been just herself and Clark. Much as she felt a competitive tension with far fatter and bigger-boobed Beryl and Rebecca, Clark was seated under her right hip, cuddling into her, with his arm around her, in every way fulfilling the role (in her world view) of a loving, caring, passionate husband, cruise or otherwise, no matter who in the moment may be making his carnal chemistry banana him up. There was tension within her between her romantic partner competitive sense and the wholly honest fat foodie friendship bond she could not and would not deny existed strongly between her and Beryl, and her and Rebecca.

Emotionally well-balanced, innately strong of personality and positive, and wholly owning her love of food and fatness and erotic plus purely non-erotic pleasure of fat gain, Beryl Beech was fine in nearly all circumstances, whether on her own or with others. She was a social being, so all else being equal (which it almost never is), she preferred sharing her life joys with others of a similar mindset and compatible world views. Allies were always good to have, given that even the strongest personality can have the occasional off day. For her, all of them having come out on the living side of this often-intense illness was reason for celebration, and renewing their shared interests bond.


“Anybody want anything while I’m up?” Clark asked as he gently and sensually caress-moved Leigh’s right hip fat off his lap so he could get up.

“I’ll take some more of the Bramble Scramble” said Beryl.

“The what?” Leigh questioned.

“The sweet-savory scrambled eggs with fruit. I don’t know what they’re calling it here, but that’s what Chef Lindgren called it at Glissando, based upon the the blackberries in it.”

“At what meal was that served?”

“Sunday Brunch in San Fran. Great meal, and great day overall” she grinned, recalling all the food and sex fun she’d had.

“I’d like some.”

“Me too, please” added Rebecca. “And if you could, a nice hot toasted bagel or two, please.”

The thought excited Beryl, “Oh yes—I want in on that, please!”

“I’d like one too, please, Neener. If there’s choices of type of bagel, you know what I like.”

“OK, let me go fetch and deliver those, and then if there’s more, I’ll go back for a second round.” He hadn’t been consciously aware that he’d had a hand on Rebecca’s shoulder as well as Leigh’s until he removed them as he departed.


All 3 women watched him walk away towards the buffet as they munched.


“There goes someone else we all have in common” Beryl noted.

“Present tense?” Leigh suspiciously questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Well I guess that depends, doesn’t it? Maybe we’ll get into that later. What I meant was we have in common—present tense—that we’ve all had at least an intimate taste of Clark Barr—past tense for me, likely Bec, and apparently present tense for you. Is it OK if I call you Bec, Rebecca?”

“Sure. Fewer syllables for the win.”

“Saves mouth time for more eating” she smiled before taking another bite of sausage.

“Yeah, it was a time alright” Rebecca somewhat wistfully shared. “What did you call Clark just now, Leigh?”

“Neener. My pet name for him, for the obvious reason.”

She looked towards Leigh, quizzically.

“Did you forget already?” asked Beryl. “He’s part of the upward banana clan. Banana baneener, neener, I’m guessing.”

“Exactly” said Leigh.

Rebecca averted her eyes towards her frontmost plate, “We didn’t get into that.”

“Oh really? So you don’t know about the modification?”

“What modification?” asked Beryl.

“The surgery mod that gave him retrograde ejaculation. All of the hardness and then some, none of the mess.”

Her blissed-out lost to lust smile shook up Rebecca.

Beryl, it made more curious. “What does it matter if he’s in a condom anyway?”

“Doesn’t, maybe, as long as the condom doesn’t break or no one’s fertile. I find it quite wonderful that he can stick it pretty much anywhere he wants on me, per his and my prior discussions, agreement, and consent arrangements, almost any time I’m awake and good with that and he can get all the way off with no mess. My navel’s not big enough so far to take anywhere near all he has for girth in much at all just yet, but fat folds, the bagpipe thing I think it’s called under the arm, or his favorite and becoming mine slipped between my plush buns in my crack, and I can thrill to his hardness and he can get off and there’s no cleanup. Last I checked those aren’t significant STI risk areas since there’s no fluid sharing, especially with no fluid coming out of him.”

“Hold up!” exclaimed Rebecca. “Are you saying that when you put him in your mouth and he gets off that there’s nothing to choke on?!”

“We haven’t really gotten into that because it’s not anything either of us especially want to do. I guarantee you when his neener’s all the way engorged, I’d have to open full-wide and there wouldn’t be even half of him in my mouth before he’d be far enough back that I’d be gagging. But yeah, if we did that with him far enough out so it’s comfortable for me, he can take it all the way and there’s nothing squirting or dribbling out of him to gag on.”
 

Sonic Purity

Jiggle Junkie
Joined
Apr 9, 2006
Messages
166
Location
Pasadena, California, U.S.A.
Annnnd guess who was back. He’d not heard their conversation, even Leigh’s last few words, due to his focus on delivering the correct items to the correct recipients. “Ohhh kaaay… one egg one salt bagel for you” he narrated as he slid them off his carrying plate onto one of Rebecca’s empties, “with a large communal bowl of cream cheese for sharing, once you’re done with it. I went with the everything bagel for you” he explained to Beryl, “since you seem to like everything in many aspects of life. You, Chonky, get the garlic bagel.”

Rebecca had trouble believing she’d heard him correctly. “What did you just call her?”

“Chonky. It’s my pet name for her” he punctuated with a kiss on Leigh’s lips.

“They’re getting serious if they’re at the pet name stage” said Beryl to Rebecca.

“I quite like being his chonky lover” Leigh explained, encouraging him back down cuddled next to and underneath part of her, now that he’d finished serving. “If he called me that before I got to know him and know how deeply to his core he’s a fat admirer, I’d have been insulted. Knowing that a chonky woman is the only sort that gets his juices flowing, it’s absolutely a term of endearment.”


All the kissing, cuddling, and related affectionate PDA canoodling between Clark and Leigh was beginning to deeply upset Rebecca. Even Beryl was getting a little annoyed.


“Looks like I’ve come to the best place.”

PERrrrrr!” Rebecca wide-eye exclaimed, severely jolting the big, sturdy, heavy table in her rush to get up and bear hug him.

The profoundly soft, deep impact nearly bowled him over, though given how swiftly she threw her arms around him and how tightly she held him, she likely would have held him up all on her own if it had come to that. She unleashed several passels of all-out ravaging sloppy passionate excited upset desperate kisses, drawing the attention of many at several nearby tables, and the arousal of a few.

What happened?!” she cried out during a kissing break. “We were talkin’ an’ typin’ all the time, then nothing! I thought you were deaaad!

A fresh round of kisses ensued, after which she dragged him over with her to the table, sitting him down cuddly-close next to and into her, nearest Clark after the one-average-width-person gap between them. Still overwrought with emotions, she crushed him deep into her left side, wantonly smashing his hand onto her fat breasts, caring not one whit what anyone else thought about it, frantically kissing him some more.


The others at the table snickered and smiled at each other, each feeling the heat of passion and being reunited with a love presumed permanently lost.

“I think she’s glad to see him” Beryl teased.


Her comment broke Rebecca out of her kiss-fest. “Hell yeaaah! He’s my guyyy!” She faced him, caressing his face, “My cruise honey!”

Leigh decided she needed kisses from her own cruise honey, especially when Rebecca went back for more soon as she finished speaking.

Beryl shook her head slightly and contentedly ate.


“So what happened?! Ya couldn’t-a gone out with another girl, all locked down and stuff, could ya? Ya didn’t, didja?!”

“No, not at all. I’ve been alone in my stateroom like you and the rest of us.”

“Clark got himself quarantined with Leigh, lucky devil” noted Beryl. “Though it may have cost him his freedom.”

Why did ya stop talkin’ ta meeee?! Not even a text!

“This is highly embarrassing for me to admit, especially given that I’m in tech.”

“What what what?! Out with it, ya cute, sexy bub!”

“Device slipped out of my hand and fell in the toilet. And the water wasn’t in any way clean, so it took awhile for me to decide whether or not it was worth retrieving. Once I did so, it was too late: bricked it, totally.”

Others around the table other than Rebecca struggled not to laugh. She stared and blinked in disbelief, still latched onto him and not letting go.

“That was the point where I regretted not packing a spare. Had I had one, we could have remained in communication. Had I had any other form of backup digicam, I’d likely have taken a picture of it floating in the bowl with everything else, scatalogically entitled ‘Bricked it and shit’.

“Please tell me ya washed yer hands after that.”

“Absolutely! Thoroughly and multiple times as part of that event, and many dozens of times since. Obviously with lockdown and everything else, I haven’t been able to get another one, hence the reason I fell out of communication.”

They’ve got phones on this ship, ya dummy! Oy! All ya had ta do was pick up the phone and key in my stateroom number, and we coulda talked!” She again smashed him all the way deep into her side with her thick, strong, motivated left arm, “And I wouldn’t have been so flippin’ worried! I really thought ya died, hun!”

“It’s been so long since I’ve used a corded phone, I didn’t even think of it.”

“Isn’t it right there by yer bedside?!”

“Put it in a drawer when I boarded and forgot about it.”

Oy vey! You owe me some lovin’, sir!”

“How’s he going to have the energy for that if you don’t let him get some breakfast?” Beryl pointedly asked.

“Getcher food an’ come right back here an’ siddown with me like this, alright?”

“Anything you want while I’m up?”

“More bagels, please. If they have them. Here’s your kiss, so you’ll come back.”


Most who witnessed the latest passionate kiss Rebecca unleashed on Per considered it closer to a marriage proposal or confirmation than a come right back send-off.


“Anyone else want anything else to eat at this time?” Clark asked the remainder of the group, again lovingly extricating himself from under Leigh’s right hip fat.

{A sample of your apparently-special neener} thought Beryl, {though that’s likely not in the offing right now}. She opted for more hash browns.

Leigh asked for more sausages.


* *
“Please don’t give me grief about the mishap” Per preemptively asked of Clark as the latter approached him at the buffet.

“Not at all why I’m here, curious as I am how it happened.”

“Should’ve gone with a stickier case, is all I have to say about it. What’s this Bramble Scramble about?”

“Sweet and savory fruit and scrambled egg mix that the high-end restaurant was serving.”

“D’ja try it?”

“I’m not a sweet and savory person. The others all liked it.”


He went ahead and dished some up, as Clark was doing with his delivery requests.


“What I really wanted to do was congratulate you on finding your way into Rebecca’s heart.”

“Truth be told, it’s news to me that I’m there. We were getting on OK before the lockdown, but it ran hot and cold, and I didn’t think it was going to amount to anything of any significant time duration. The lockdown and world events obviously have her spooked, so I think that’s a large part of it.”

“A lot of people in her life from her childhood and in her family have died from it in New York City, so it’s a lot more personal to her than many of us.”

He nodded, taking note of this point.

“How do you feel about her?”

“Heaven on earth” he sighed. “I’m in her camp for as long as things work out. “How’s Leigh as a lay and in every other way?, if you’ll pardon the alliteration.”

“Epic in every way, including the lay, and far beyond physical stuff.”

“You two sure seem to have the love chemistry going on, from what I can tell.”

“Strongest I’ve personally felt” he smiled.


Both men knew they needed to get the food back to those they loved, while it remained fresh and hot.


* *
Seeing the smiles on the fat foodies’ faces as the new noms were delivered, plumped-up women at a couple of other tables elbowed their significant others, urging them to be equally nice as those gentlemen and fetch them additional yums.


“I want ya ta eat, ya sexy rail, but I also wanna know what happened with the course of your illness” Rebecca asked of Per, once he was back into her side. “We’ll do yes/no for awhile, so you can eat. Didja have trouble breathing?”

He shook his head.

“Wheezing?”

Shake shake shake.

“Coughing?”

Nod nod nod.

“What kind? Oh never mind, that’s not a yes/no.”

“Let me just tell you. The course of my illness since we last communicated was dry cough, fever including a high fever for a night or two during the peak of the illness, and feelings of being dazed or in a light malaise fading in and out. That’s about it.”

Leigh leaned over past Clark to make eye contact, “No loss of smell or taste?”

“Maybe partial. Certainly not all the way. Honestly other than the high fever or maybe including that, without all the worldwide attention on it, I’d have assumed it was seasonal flu that ran longer than usual for me.”

“Lucky you” replied Rebecca. “It came for me, Per: came ta take me! Like all the others!

“Tell me” he urged her.


The others focused on their food and each other as Rebecca reprised her NYC losses for her Love.

Per did an excellent job of being present with and connected to his love interest. Feeling his love and presence soothed Rebecca and gave her shards of hope, leading to a less dramatic repeat presentation.
 
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