BBW Unforgettable Cruise (~BBW, SSBBW, ~~WG, Romance, ~Sex)

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Sonic Purity

Grateful
***
Joined
Apr 9, 2006
Messages
421
Location
Pasadena, California, U.S.A.
* *
“Stay with me tonight, please?” Rebecca begged Per as she wrapped up her presentation, preventing his immediate answer with several kisses.

“Absolutely, if you’re good with that.”

“I need it.” Kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss


Over at the opposite end of that same side of the table, Clark and Leigh were mixing up nose-rub and mouth kisses, lost to each other as Per and Rebecca were.


“Well, guess I’d better heft myself up and get a little exercise, along with my next round of numminess.”

Beryl’s show of getting up and slowly waddling back over towards the buffet succeeded in briefly drawing the attention of her two one-off lovers, in particular to her wildly wobbling massive hindquarters as she wobbled away. Each of Rebecca and Leigh had no trouble whatsoever immediately recapturing the full attention of their chosen love interest, regaling them with their own compelling charms, not all of which were physical by any means!


* *
With everyone’s COVID-19 sharing out of the way, conversation flowed and flitted between lighter topics. All 3 women continued light, restful noshing, at this point more for the pure pleasure than any burning hunger.

Leigh was amazed with how she wanted to keep eating, and with how despite the significant amount she’d already eaten, she comfortably had room for more, and was actually still just a touch hungry. {Hope I can get this under control before life resumes normalcy. Or maybe Rebecca’s correct and there will be no more normalcy. Hmmm… I need some more potato pillows in me.}


The sight of a long, flowing salt-and-pepper-haired SSBBW heading towards their table caught the eyes of Clark and Per seconds before Leigh and Rebecca, out of Beryl’s line of sight from behind her. As flowed her hair, she wore a long, flowing, loose full-length pastel floral dress with many orange and brown hues on a cream background, plodding along in gold sandals. Despite her dress not being form-fitting, her breasts were so huge and bralessly free to roam and her belly and to a lesser extent hips and thighs so wobbly fat, it was as easy to see their general shape and magnitude as it was to see her fully exposed fat chins and thick upper arms.

“Is this the table for fat failures?” the woman asked in a sad, plaintive voice.

“Nope, sorry hun: this is the rad fab fat foodie babelicious and those who love us table.”


Looking even more distraught and as though she was going to cry, the woman sadly turned and started shuffling away, behind Beryl, seeking her place.

“Geeeet over heeere” Beryl called out, hefting herself turning around just in time to loop the woman with her arm and stop her in her tracks. “What’s your name, darlin’?”

Deeper sadness and upset filled the woman’s baggy, forlorn eyes.

Clark could not believe what he was hearing. “That’s our DJ Swash Buckle!” he exclaimed, stunned that none of the others seemed to recognize her. “From Club Troposphere, right over there!” he pointed. “The one who played all that great dance music from across the decades, including things I’d never thought of as dance music! The one who had us all shaking our stuff and so flirty that in various combinations on different nights, we excused ourselves to go off together and get to know each other better!”

Oh you wonderful man!” she exclaimed, nearly tossing her plate onto an empty area of the table on Beryl’s side, rushing around the end of the table where Leigh was—her fat, sexy body parts very much bouncing all over the place—throwing her arms around Clark on his right side (opposite of Leigh on his left), squishing into him for a deep, very affectionate standing-sitting side hug. “You recognize me and remember me!”

“I don’t know why the others aren’t.”

“Prolly ’cause I’m hella fatter and look like shit and my hair’s all white.”

“But you still have your same beautiful face with your sunny marble green mischievous eyes and your squared-off jaw line, which for lack of a better term I’ll call the rocker chick jawline.”

He didn’t just call it that, he tenderly caressed her there. She very much wanted to kiss him.

Hey hey hey!” Leigh objected, reaching over and forcefully pulling his hand away. “Aren’t you forgetting something, cruise husband?!

“Awww, Claaark!” Beryl double face-palmed. “What sort of monog ridiculousness did you get yourself into?!”

“It’s like going steady for the duration of the cruise” he elucidated. “Didn’t I mention this already?”

“Not that I remember.” She tossed a potato pillow over her head in frustration, “There goes our orgy.”

“What orgy?!” Rebecca shot back, once again pulling Per tightly back against and into her.

“The celebratory one I was going to suggest we all get into once we’re done here, with this celebratory foreplay munch-fest.”

Still steamed, Leigh kept her man pinned against her as well.

“I apologize for touching you without your consent, Swasssh….”

“I’m Jayne” she sadly barely smiled, limply shaking his hand, then Per’s. “With a Y, as if that or anything else matters any more.”

“I apologize to you, Chonky, for unwittingly going outside our cruise marriage boundaries to ensure that Jayne knows that at least I recognize her and know who she is.” He emphasized his apology with a long, tender kiss.

“You looked vaguely familiar soon as you arrived, but my mind’s image of you is as you appeared on stage” shared Per, with Beryl and Rebecca nodding.

“That’s all gone now (sniff). Along with everything else (sniff).”

“Why?” asked Clark.

“Is there some part of cruise husband you’re not understanding, Jayne?!” Leigh glared at her before she could answer or anyone else could say anything else.

Beryl couldn’t believe what she was witnessing. “How possessive are you, Leigh?! Jayne’s obviously hurting, she’s over there with her clothes on—her not especially form-fitting clothes, not her steaming sexy pirate’s outfit—sharing a hug with Clark. Whatever the hell a ‘cruise marriage’ is, does that mean you have him so chained down he can’t even hug other people with everyone having their clothes on?!”

She’s too sexy! Her boobs alone will carry his instincts off and away!”

“So given that she and I look to be close in size in Breasticle Chesticle No Bird’s Nesticle Land, are you saying he can’t hug meee? ’Cause if that’s so, I have a problem with that.”

“How about you, good sir?” frustrated Jayne asked the gentleman to the right of Clark whose name she did not know. “May I hug you?”

“Yes.”

Uncle Abe!” Rebecca yelled out, her arm still nearly squeezing the wind out of him.

“No.”

“Aaaauh!” Jayne groaned, standing back upright and shuffling around the table back towards where she’d been. “I’m not trying to be sexy!” she whined, taking a seat across from Leigh, opposite end of the table from Beryl on the same side. “These things don’t have an Off switch!” she referred to her boobs, momentarily tossing each up in the air slightly with her hands. “Sometimes a hug is just a hug—affectionate, not meant as sexy!”


She got into her food and soothing hot tea, on this yet another of a series of cold wintery days in what by the calendar was already springtime. The entire table ate or rested quietly for several minutes.


* *
“Apologies to all of you” Jayne broke the silence. “I am not functioning well. The entire world I knew is gone (sniff), and I haven’t slept in well over 2 weeks.”

“At all?!” surprised Clark asked.

“Correct (sniff), between the illness and my entire life being over (sniff). Well OK, maybe a few minutes here and there, but not much! How can I sleep when the world is collapsing all around and I need to find a way to surviiiiiive!

“Are you from the City, hun?”

“She means New York City” Clark clarified.

“Yeah whatever. ’Cause if you are, I feel ya. Hundreds dead, since yesterday! People I know, gone! At least one close relative, dead! Is that what it is, Jayne?”

“Truly sorry for your loss, uhh…”

“Rebecca. But I’ll answer to Becca or Bec too, long as no one else is using those.”

“It’s bad there I know, but I’m from this coast.”

“Whereabouts?”

“I’m a Cali girl, from L.A.”

“Oy! All you natives comin’ outta the woodwork, after years of my not crossin’ paths with any of ya. Sorry; you tell your thing.”

“Everything I’ve known and worked for is destroyed. The cruise industry already had to watch its step after decades of norovirus outbreaks, on-ship crime, breakdowns leaving cruisers stranded, and more. We were getting a handle on it—we were!—but this is the death blow. Diamond Princess, Grand Princess, Ruby Princess, now us.”

“But those were the Princess Cruises line, and this is Royal Prince” Clark objected.

Her voice became more animated, “Yes, but it’s the cruise industry that’s dead. People were already wary and calling us floating petri dishes before COVID-19. With something like 60 cruisers dead already across all cruise lines and over a thousand infected that we know of, who’s going to go on a cruise ship after this?! Look at what’s happened to us, just on this ship!: 12 dead last I checked, including one of our Infirmary nurses in her 30s with no underlying health conditions, way over two-thirds of the ship infected. It’s everywhere! Captain Cranch got it, other deck officers got it, it’s all over the hotel staff. Dancers, entertainment—you name it, that department’s got it. And we’re stuck in limbo in a commercial port that doesn’t support cruise lines and very much does not want us here, with the authorities holding everyone hostage such that the whole world knows of the ill-fated Sapphire Prince cruise ship rather than letting people off to repatriate and go home, which I completely do not understand, given how the world already went through this on this coast with the Grand Princess weeks ago!”
 

Sonic Purity

Grateful
***
Joined
Apr 9, 2006
Messages
421
Location
Pasadena, California, U.S.A.
“There’s a lot I don’t understand about what’s happening. But you’re here, alive and on this deck with us, so that means you survived COVID-19. Isn’t that a good thing?”

“What for?! I lost everything and everyone! Peeties’s deaaaad! (sniff)”

“Awww hun” Beryl tried to comfort her, along with a friendly seated side hug. “Was he the love of your life?”

Yes! There’s never lived another Turquoise-fronted amazon parrot like Peetie!” Her tired eyes lit up, “He was a rescue parrot, saved from an out-of-business pet shop when the owners skipped town and left all the animals behind, uncared-for! The local SPCA got the building owner to open the store on animalitarian grounds. I’d just gotten my pirate’s hat that day and I had it on when we amongst the public were allowed in to claim an animal. I went up to the parrot cage and said ‘Arrre ye me parrot?’ and some of them looked at me and a few squealed or chirped, but Peetie said ‘Arrrre ye me pirate?’ and I said Aye! and he flew over and tried to get to me through the cage, and they let him out and he landed on my shoulder! Right here on my left shoulder!” she excitedly pointed out, obviously very worked up. “I took him home and cared for him and he cared for me and I love him so much and he’s dead now!

“What from?”

“COVID-19! I’m sure of it!” Her sniveling returned, “He caught it from me—had to have! (sniff)”

“How would you know?” asked Clark. “I wouldn’t even know what a bird’s symptoms would be.”

“He was trying to keep me happy when I first came down with it, after several sleepless nights watching my life implode. Then a day or so later he started acting all lethargic: far less active than usual, barely ever screeching or saying anything. Kept getting worse, kept getting worse, like me for awhile. His… his last words were ‘Feeling hot, hot, hot’ from the Arrow soca song of that name, that he loved to sing and dance to with me. But he had no energy, the way he usually did! He didn’t say anything after that for a whole day—not even a squeak! It was, it was as though he was trying to make sound, but he couldn’t! I stayed with him—I couldn’t sleep anyway, and this my Peetie! His eyelids grew heavy, then he closed his eyes and wasn’t responding at all to me. Then… and then it was about 10 minutes later he just fell over: fell off his perch and crashed to the bottom of his cage!


Unsurprisingly, she needed some time to cry, to grieve.


“I’ll never forget Peetie (sniff).”

“How did he get his name?” asked Per.

“He named himself! Soon as I took him home, I asked him, ‘What be yer naaame, pretty parrot?’ and he said Peetie! Peetie! Peetie! Peetie! all fast like that. And I said, ‘Hi Peetie!’ and he replied ‘Hi!’ and paused, then ‘Hi!’ again.”

“Could he say your name?” asked Leigh.

“He didn’t really like Jayne, prolly because he knew I didn’t especially and still don’t like my given name. He preferred Swash Buckle, though he ran it together so it sounded more like ‘swashbuckle! swashbuckle!’. When I first started with him here on the Sapphire Prince, he and I would do a little talking intro thing where I’d introduce him and he’d say my name. But people had trouble understanding him and he got bored with it, so we stopped doing that.”

“Maybe once you’re past the rebound time frame you’ll get another parrot” suggested Beryl.

“No” Jayne shook her head. “They’re a lot of work to properly care for. I didn’t mind with Peetie, because we truly loved each other and even by the end when he was an adult when they often get aggressive, he’d still cuddle with me. That chapter of my life’s over. All chapters of my life are over!” she whimpered, pushing her plate out of the way then collapsing down atop the table.

“Why do you keep saying that?” asked Clark, in a tone sweet enough to annoy Leigh. “You ought to be able to fill the dance floor of a land-based club every bit as well as you do over there in Club Troposphere.”

“Thank you; you’re too kind. It’s not like that on land, unfortunately. Too many DJs as good or better than me. Too cutthroat. There’s competition for cruise ship jobs but there’s less of it—was less of it, when we still had a cruise industry. Fewer qualified DJs are willing to sign on for weeks or months at a time out at sea. Also the mix of people in cruise ship clubs is a better match for those like me who prefer dancing across the decades and genres with our dance music. As you may have noticed, land-based DJs tend to have tighter niches: one or maybe two of genres like house, reggaeton, breakbeat, drum & bass, Detroit techno, electro, jungle, dubstep—on and on and on, but only specializing in one or two. I’m good with most of those, but I’d rather mix it up: more of a challenge for me, and I think it’s more fun to hear.”

Most of the others nodded. Beryl and Leigh seemed lost in different thoughts.

“Besides, will we even still have any dance clubs going forward?! The way people are writing and talking about permanent changes freaks me out! I’m a people person: I thrive around people together in real life, as we all are right now.”

“Thank you for that!” said Rebecca. “This whole society’s too carried away with filtering life through technology. In my opinion.”

“Tech filters can be helpful” Beryl countered. “I use them liberally, for winnowing down the men I want to get with.”

“Can’t cuddle through tech” noted Jayne, catching a clear spark of understanding from Clark’s momentary direct glance. “No, I think life as we knew it is over. Not only is my DJ career here dead, I’m now sitting on right about 50 thousand dollars of inventory I can’t move.”

“Of what?!” asked Per.

“During the day most days when we’re at sea and tax laws are less messy, I run Gold ’N’ Gems, the jewelry store in the shopping district on Grand Promenade. Normally I’m pretty good at reading what people want and keeping the inventory flowing, but not any longer” she ended with a big sigh.

“Sell it online.”

“Oh no. That world’s even more cutthroat than land-based live DJing. Fewer people in it, but the serious players have more resources. Trust and branding matter, particularly when there’s big money involved.”

“I thought nearly every town and city of every size below huge metropolitan had its own independent jewelry store, where people actually go in and look and try things on.”

Had them, Clark. That’s not going to be happening if social distancing becomes a permanent way of life. Not that I could survive that” she ended in a mutter.

“I’m reading that someone needs to feel better about herself before she can feel positive about life at all” Rebecca posited, in a more friendly Jewish mothering tone adding, “So ya fell a little behind on the hair dye thing—that’s reversible, easily. Life’s different in your 50s.”

The sudden look of shock then umbrage on Jayne gave Per an idea. “Since this is supposed to be a celebratory COVID-19 survival meal, let’s play a party game.”

Clark snickered and occasionally snorted, seeing what Per was pulling out of his pockets. “Do you usually carry around little sheets of paper and small mini golf pencils?”

“You and everyone other than Jayne at this table know why!”


Beryl leaned over and whispered the explanation in Jayne’s ear. It was the first time she’d smiled or laughed all morning.


“Dead tree and processed carbon technology is the fallback.” He handed each of them a small piece of paper and a pencil. “This game is called Guess and Tell Ages. Write down everyone’s first name on separate lines, including your own. Write your actual age next to your name. Write down your prediction of every other person’s age next to their name. Go for accuracy, not flattery.”

“Where in the world is this a fun party game, mister?!” Rebecca ranted.

He folded his arms, looking at her defiantly, “In my homeland. We do not have to do this if it’s a problem.”

“Do you not already know that in this culture, women are devalued once they hit 30? Thus we may tend to be sensitive about perceived age?”

“Colder winters make for thicker skin, I suppose. Go ahead and vote on whether we’ll play this game or not. I’ll abstain, so there can’t be a tie.”

Jayne raised her hand first, “I need to know.”


The vote was 4 to 1 in favor, with Rebecca being the 1. “You owe me an extra-special massage, mister Haugen” she commented as she filled out her paper, along with the others.


“OK, circle your name and age, so we know whose paper is whose. Now we all put them in the middle of the table together where we can all see them.”


With everyone having randomly ordered the names, it took awhile to parse what each person had written down.

Whaaat?” Jayne screeched (not unlike Peetie might have), hurling her upper body down prostrate atop the table.

“Really?!” along with a brief huff was Beryl’s response.

“I’m good with this” Rebecca smiled.

Leigh gleefully grinned. “I like this game.”

Jayne sat back up to rant, “I’m only 47, but I already look 59?!

Someone put that as a high number” noted Rebecca. “Your average is lower.”

“I’m getting 54.5, averaged” said Per, who’d scribbled through the math.

“Seriously people: my hair just went white these past 2 weeks!” Jayne whimpered. “I only had a few white strands before that, not a dye job!”

“Severe stress can do that” noted Clark. “Think about U.S. presidents, and what their hair looked like going in versus coming out.”
 

Sonic Purity

Grateful
***
Joined
Apr 9, 2006
Messages
421
Location
Pasadena, California, U.S.A.
Per didn’t understand the upset. “Why get worked up over appearances? It’s not like you’ve developed early-onset dementia.”

“Were you not listening?!” Rebecca chided her lover. “We. Get. Judged on our appearance. Harshly. It’s wrong, it’s bullshit, but so far it’s reality. Maybe we can convince COVID-19 to kill that too? Anyway… thank you all for the span of 42 to my actual 56. Stop it with the giggles Leigh, and tell us how you pulled off a low of 38 and high of 51 when you’re actually 62.”

“Fat to fill out the wrinkles and otherwise keep my skin moisturized, coconut oil on my face once a day at home for years, sleeping well more often than not, loving Clark Barr” she cuddled into him.

Beryl pulled the distraught whimperer into a side hug, “I’m only 4 years older than you at 51, but they put me between a low of 52 and high of 59, so we’re very definitely cruising on the same ship. Have some more food, get some sleep, and you’ll be fine.”

“It’s not just my hair and appearance stuff, shitty as that is: my eyes can’t focus up close any more!

“Welcome to presbyopia” said Rebecca, slipping her reading glasses out of her bra and waving them back and forth.

“Not so fast” Clark interjected, asking Jayne “May I please tell you about when that happened to me at age 23?”

Twenty three?!

“It wasn’t permanent! May I tell you?”

She nodded, a faint glimmer of hope briefly twinkling through her despair.

“I was standing with my then-love, early in the morning before sunrise, after an all-night argument, which for her and I were far too frequent. Standing right in front of her, faces a normal close embrace looking into each other’s eyes distance apart. Could not focus on her face! Upset, started crying. Know what it was?”

She shook her head.

Severe lack of sleep. With sleep deprivation, the body has to prioritize its functions, to keep the organism—you, me, anyone—alive. Eye muscle focus wasn’t a top survival priority. After a night’s sleep, my eyes could focus up close again.”

She blinked innocently, somewhat like a frightened girl being told a happy story by her older brother.

“Yeahbut you were 23 and she’s 47” countered Rebecca. “Mine started to go around then. 47, 48… somewhere in there.”

Jayne dropped back down onto the tabletop, again feeling defeated and hopeless.

To Leigh’s annoyance, Clark claimed and held one of her hands, “If it happened suddenly, it’s the lack of sleep. If it’s been getting gradually worse, that’s likely presbyopia. There are now ways to handle that too, other than reading glasses.”

“Bud thus cus mrnr.”

“Sorry, can’t hear you.”

She dragged herself back upright, speaking normally rather than into the tabletop beneath her arms. “But those cost money. And I’m not going to have money. No career, no income, no hope, no future.”

“Insufficient logical thought processes without sleep.”

How can I sleep when the world is crashing and burning all around me?!

“What do you normally accomplish when you’re sleeping at night? From before all this pandemic stuff started happening?”

“I don’t understand the question.”

“Worrying and productive thinking and more than that taking productive action are very different things. I lost a number of nights of sleep in my 30s, sitting starkly wide awake in bed at night worrying and waiting, just in case there was a major earthquake. Total waste of time! Earthquakes still can’t be predicted more than some number of seconds in advance last I read, and they couldn’t even do that back when I was losing sleep over the fear of one rumbling through in the deep of the night and totally crashing my entire life, maybe even life as we knew it back then.

“Eventually I figured out it was a waste of time and stopped losing sleep over it. The sensible response was imagining an earthquake happening right now—during the daytime on a weekend or other day off, when I had the time and mind focus to act. What would I do? What would I need? Then I could make rational decisions about emergency flashlights and toilet paper and water and other supplies. Then I could actually in reality do something: obtain the supplies I didn’t already have, relocate some of them to be more readily accessible in case the house collapsed, and so on. Years later, a moderate earthquake rumbled through. No issue, but I again feared a bigger one. I realized most of my fear at that time was that my water plans had proven unworkable. Instead of bottles of water I never remembered to change or integrity verify often enough, I needed one of those filters that hikers and those in areas with no clean water use to process brackish water into potable water in the moment, rather than depending solely on stored water. Researched them during the day, ordered one, received and tested it, stowed it away in an accessible location, and again stopped worrying about The Big One.

“Put bluntly and more succinctly, fear and worry do not lead to solutions to problems. Losing sleep creates a slew of additional problems, including some of the un-health issues you’re currently experiencing. As run-down as you seem to be and tell us you are, your most impactful immediate option for your future is as much healthful, restful sleep as you can manage, as soon as you can arrange for that.”

{If you didn’t have a jealous cruise wife, I’d be taking a nap cuddled into your side right now} she thought.

Per hoped to be more helpful with his comment than with his age guess of 59 for her when he said, “It’s not just you who has to deal with this, Jayne: the whole world is in chaos right now over this disease. OK, the whole industrialized world… or at least most of it. I don’t think they’re sweating it much in Africa right now.

“Anyway, the point is that you are far, far from alone. I have several things going, so I will probably have work, but I can tell you right now that at least 2 of the projects I’d hoped to get going when I was making connections a couple weeks back when we were in San Francisco are now not happening at all. Dead, like the people and Peetie who’ve died. While not as tragic as those deaths, it’s partial economic death to me. I am far from alone, and doing better than some, or many. You are far from alone having possibly lost it all, depending what happens going forward, which none of us know yet.”

“Wouldn’t you agree, Per, that given that so much of the world remains closed up and that we in particular on board the Sapphire Prince are in a special kind of advanced limbo that Jayne can take a breather from worry and get some sleep without any additional shoes dropping?”

He gave Clark a confused look. “Shoes?”

“It’s an idiom. Pretend I said ‘without any additional problems?’.”

“People are afraid, and people tend not to spend money outside of essentials when they’re afraid, so even if your jewelry store was open, sales might be awful” he told her. “Now if you could get some nice-looking inexpensive pins in the shape of that SARS-CoV-2 spike ball illustration that we cannot seem to escape which is somewhere on nearly every web page discussing COVID-19 and have a banner on it that says ‘I Survived COVID-19’ or similar, maybe you could have a plastic box of those you carry around to places like this on the decks for recovered people where we can actually interact from sub-social distance, and sell them.”

The idea excited Beryl, if not so much Jayne, “Wouldn’t that be great? To have something more interesting than some stupid arm band or felt pen mark on the arm or similar to show who’s in the Recovered class, instead of having to be tested each time?”

“How would you prevent fraud on that?” asked Rebecca.

“How would you do it with a felt pen mark or cheap plastic arm band, as I’ve heard discussed as options?”

“All sorts of bar and QR-style coding options for the arm bands, as in hospital settings” noted Per. “If we’re going for ID rather than something Jayne can sell, that’s a different topic. If the ship has a 3D printer and enough raw materials, the Infirmary or whomever’s doing the testing could just as well print out a pretty pin, or most of it other than the pin mechanism, with an individual’s embedded code. If it looks nice people might be more inclined to wear it and do so prominently, unlike an icky arm band that might remind them too much of a past hospital visit, or a present pandemic.”

Clark was skeptical. “They lack the personnel and probably the scanning hardware to implement that with either bands or fancy pins.”


“Fancy Pins was a neo-folk-psych band I appreciated, of whom too few people are aware” the new voice of a lanky younger middle-aged man in a maroon t-shirt and dark blue jeans with obviously thinning light brown hair declared as he approached, pulling up directly behind Jayne.

Looking even more tired, Jayne tilted her head slowly backwards, eventually making eye contact. “How benevolent of you to mention something outside of your usual EDM universe.”

“Not everyone feels the need to reach back to the ancient melodies of pre-electronic music yester-millennium. Of which, good day, Sunshine.”

“Wasn’t it Good Morning, Starshine?”

“Five points for Leigh” Jayne announced.

The man politely dipped his head in Leigh’s direction, as an affirmation in place of a formal introduction.

Jayne wasn’t done with him just yet, “Electronic music was for sure born by the 1950s, arguably earlier.”

“Yes, but it didn’t dance for a few decades after that.”

Perry & Kingsley! 1960s! One decade later!”

“I won’t argue with somebody who so severely outweighs me” he evilly grinned, poking her belly fat. “Boobs be boomin’ though.”

He reached for her right one, swatted away by her before he made contact.

“I take it you know him?” asked Rebecca, noticing that he didn’t move away once his hand was swatted away.
 

Sonic Purity

Grateful
***
Joined
Apr 9, 2006
Messages
421
Location
Pasadena, California, U.S.A.
“This is Brent, my ex-boyfriend. Known in Club Troposphere as DJ Alien Groove, looking as he does with his alien head off.”

His evil grin returned in part in the form of a cheeky half-smile, “Oh I’m your ex again now? You sure about that?”


She again tilted her head up and made upside-down eye contact with him, looking at him and sighing dejectedly. Next she redirected her gaze towards Clark and Leigh. Then she panned over to study Per and Rebecca. Sensing no give between those couples, she let out a very deep, long sigh, gently and tentatively wrapping Brent’s arms part-way around her. “We’ll talk.”

“About your impending diet?”

She tossed his arms aside, jabbing him with her elbows almost immediately thereafter.

Beryl directed a confusing mix of smiling friendliness and harsh intensity Brent’s way, “This is a body autonomy and positivity table, for those interacting with us as well as those seated here.”

“The only body positivity he recognizes is positively huuuuge boooobz” Jayne harshed.

“Then he’s missing one third of his potential.”

“What do you mean?” Brent questioned Rebecca.

“Whaddaya think, Team Succulence? Is he qualified to know about the Third Boob?”


Clark giggled. Beryl grinned along with Rebecca. Per pretended he knew, his smile growing. Leigh knew. She pursed her lips, struggling to stifle a laugh.

{If this is something else I lack, I am going to cry for a week} thought Jayne. “No. He hasn’t earned it.”

“Thanks, Squish Buckle. How’s Peetie?”

Dead!


For the first time since his arrival, Brent’s smugness vanished, replaced by a look of genuine concern. He shifted around to her side towards the ground, kneeling down so that they could be nearer the same height without him having to negotiate for a seat. Looking as if he truly cared as he looked into her eyes he said on the soft side, “I’m sorry”, touching the back of her hand.

Their wordless gazes with subtle movements akin to tics communicated in a way familiar to certain groups of loving intimates who’ve gotten to know each other on a deep enough level that words aren’t always necessary. At the end of this mysterious exchange he stood back up, returning to where he’d been standing behind her, this time massaging her shoulders.

Jayne looked relieved, even if not entirely satisfied.


“How hard did COVID-19 hit you, Brent?” asked Leigh, out of curiosity.

“Asymptomatic: didn’t even know I had it.”

“Then what the heck are you doing up on this deck with those of us who’ve recovered?” Rebecca challenged him.

“Tested by the Infirmary: I have the antibodies, but no active disease, so I’m not contagious. Ergo I had it and didn’t know it, thanks to my pumped immune system.”

Jayne rolled her eyes, invisible to him.

Leigh struggled to figure out what he meant. “Your immune system works out?”

“Basically yes, in a way. Maybe more accurately I give it all I can that it needs to do its job. Exercise is a part of the equation to be sure. Vitamin D generation from sunshine when we have that and if necessary from a supplement when we don’t is critical, with annual blood tests to ensure it’s north of 60 nanograms per milliliter and for sure under 100, with some sources advising 80 tops. Balanced diet with healthful foods goes without saying.”

She more gently removed his hand when he grabbed and shook some of her belly flab, because he’d done so in a kinder, gentler manner.

“Supplementation may be necessary if what’s available to eat is substandard, and is necessary for nutrients not found in food, or at least not readily absorbable. I’m currently looking into the best way to ensure my melatonin level is optimal, given that I just learned how dramatically it declines from a surprisingly young age: adolescence.”

“Bully for you, Mercola-breath” Jayne taunted.

“He’s not my only source, even though he’s a good one.”

“He’s quack-blocked!”

Brent pulled his hands off her shoulders, “Those who believe that Alphabet slash Google and their big corporate and government cronies should be ultimate arbiters of truth get what they deserve.”

“Truth is truth!”

“Gatekeepers like that fall under the logical fallacy of Appeal To Authority. I prefer using my own mind to process information from disparate sources, none of whom are always correct, including Mercola.com. Each of our immune systems is going to be way faster and better-equipped to deal with SARS-CoV-2 and anything else that has already come along and assuredly will continue to come along than any lab anywhere in the world making druuuuugs. We wouldn’t be in this mess if we promoted health rather than having a pharma-based sick-care system.”

Not everyone is capable of having a ‘pumped’ immune system!” Rebecca raged.

Understood. But if those of us who have that option and can optimize our health and immune function do so, there’ll be far fewer illnesses going around, thus fewer people jamming up the orthodox medical system, thus space in that system for the unavoidably immunocompromised: beds, ventilators, and so on.”

“They need a vaccine!

“Oh don’t get him started!” Jayne pleaded, double face-palming.


Too late.

“Think about how crappy the annual flu vaccine works!”

“Oh bullshit!

Jayne continued to face-palm, shaking her head in her palms as Rebecca and Brent went at it.

“Consider: for adults over 50, the 2018-2019 flu vaccine overall adjusted effectiveness was 24 percent against all influenza types, and a whopping 8 percent against the most common A(H1N1)pdm09 that season. Those don’t sound like winning numbers to me.”

“What’s the harm?!”

“If you want to spin the vaccine roulette wheel and find out if you’re the lucky winner getting Guillain-Barre Syndrome as a result of your next flu shot, be my guest. Odds are low, yes: 1.7 in a million, but for a 76 percent or higher chance of failure of the flu vaccine to prevent the flu, not a gamble I personally wish to take.”

Then whaddo we do?!

“I just shared that: enhance the immune system. Get detailed blood tests, find out what’s missing or otherwise out of range, talk with your doctor if your doctor is woke about this and you feel the need, do what you need to do, and stay healthy and out of hospitals.”

The experts tell us this quarantine stuff can’t end until there’s a vaccine!

“You already know my opinion of experts: respect their expertise, listen to and thoughtfully consider what they have to say as being an informed opinion, but treat them as fallible humans, not Gods Who Must Be Obeyed. Yes sure, by all means pursue all reasonable options, with researching a vaccine being one of them. But for the whole world to be held hostage waiting for The Doctors to Saaaave us all with their heroic Vaccine as the One And Only True Solution to this pandemic is a steaming mountain of bullshit!”


Several around the table huffed, hemmed, and hawed, their minds busy assembling cogent counterarguments.


Jayne surprised everyone when she said, “I think we have to take him seriously, at his word.”

“Why?!” Rebecca shot back.

She looked skyward, not truly attempting to make eye contact with him, “Brent’s Ph.D level at generating steaming mountains of bullshit.”

“Consider who amongst us was asymptomatic and my approach, versus what each of you did and how you fared. The truth will become self-evident.”

“May we change the subject, please?” asked Beryl.

Rebecca immediately yelled out “Second!

“All in favor?”


Unanimous, including Brent.


“Are we all certain that the fun, playful orgy I believe we all need is wholly off the table?”

“She can’t be a part of it” Brent smirked, patting Jayne’s shoulders.

“Why not?”

“Crew and staff get fired for getting it on with guests. Except when they don’t” he added with intense bitterness, clearly from his gaze directed at Jayne.

Who amongst us even has a job here any longer, fool!

“We do, or at least I do, ’til the end of this cruise at a minimum. Did you not get the memo that we’re being compensated as though things are going normally?”

“That doesn’t apply to my inventory I can’t sell at the store.”

“Yeah, well, if you want a reason to be sad, you’ll find one.” He resumed massaging her shoulders, “I understand about Peetie: that’s a legit reason to be sad and grieving. Physical retail has been in a Twilight Zone for years now, so the fact that something would take it out ought not to be a big surprise.”

“Cruise ships are—were—great for in-person retail: captive audience! Amazon never made it to the point of dropping packages from drones shipboard.”

“Thank goodness for small favors.”

“So OK, maybe the rules mean you two have to do your own thing and the rest of us stay amongst ourselves rather than including either or both of you. But wouldn’t it be fun to at least watch?”

“Oy! Let it go, Beryl!” said Rebecca. “Is the concept of ‘couple’ meaning two not getting through to you?!”

“Why not have your own orgy with others not amongst us?” suggested Clark.

“Female-attracted FA shopping has been off-limits until this morning, and remains partially clamped down. Either of you two have any buds of whose existence you’re holding back on sharing?” she motioned towards Per and Clark.

Both men looked at each other, then shook their heads. Clark suggested “Ask Brian O’Brien maybe?”

For the first time any of them could recall, a pallor came over Beryl’s face. “No one’s asking Brian O’Brien anything about anything, ever again. He was one of the first off the ship, last time we pulled into this port.”


The entire table (including Brent) grew quiet.
 

Sonic Purity

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COVID-19?” Rebecca softly asked.

Beryl nodded. Color slowly returned to her face as she said, “All the more reason to celebrate life and love together, don’tcha all think?”

“Just leave this one out” Brent patted Jayne’s shoulders, “and me too. Much as I might want to get to know at least a couple of you intimately better, in a limited upper-deck context.”

“Since you’re so health-conscious and clearly well-connected to those sorts of resources, please consider reviewing the composition of human female breast tissues, then consider opening your mind to analogous body parts. You might find worthwhile excitement on other decks.”

“Never found any on this here vessel in front of me” he grinned, grabbing Jayne’s belly fat from both sides from his position standing behind her until she again tossed his hands off and attempted to elbow-jab him. “You do realize the elbow jabs are actually kinda pleasant with all the fat padding you have around there.”

“G’bye Brent. Maybe you’d better go find out if Bassnectar has dropped anything new today.”

“After his last ‘non-political’ screed in which he reiterated the Two-Party Myth, I’m taking a break from him.” He took his maybe-ex’s suggestion, waving and saying as he departed, “Nice meeting you all! Stay healthy!”


The table again fell silent as they variously ate and/or watched Brent disappear off in the distance. Jayne again looked sad and tired, letting go of yet another deep, long sigh.


“Why do you bother with him, when he treats you so badly?” Rebecca asked with gentle sincere curiosity.

“He’s all I have” she sighed anew.

Buncopasties!” exclaimed Beryl. “Where’s your self-esteem, girl?! Did you pack it away with your sound gear after your last show?!”


She didn’t respond, spinning her now-cold toast fragment on her plate with her index finger.


“You can and will do better than him! You’re on a damn cruise ship!”

“She can’t get with passengers” Rebecca reminded her.

“There’s a whole thousand-something staff and crew here!” She turned back to Jayne, “Or are they technically off-limits too?”

“No actually we’re encouraged to be open to romance amongst crew and staff, prolly to keep fewer of us going for passengers, or in my case passengers repeatedly and vigorously trying to get with me… hhhhhhhh… back then. No passenger would want me now.”

Wrroonng!” Clark and Per responded in unplanned unison.


Beryl bit her tongue so she wouldn’t laugh out loud watching the insta-hot umbrage from Leigh and Rebecca towards ‘their’ respective man play out. {Elbows be jabbin’ today! Wonder if anyone would even feel either of my plushly padded elbow bones any more?}


“Sorry for being the source of trouble yet again. Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. What I meant to finish saying was that besides crew and staff new romances, marriages and married people are encouraged when appropriate for the individuals involved. Families where the children are adults or nearly so are encouraged to all be part of the team, as those in charge know that life at sea for long stretches of time can be rough when… separated….”

She was again getting tearful. Beryl and others silently urged her to go on.

“From loved ones.” As the tears rolled out, her gaze and voice became distant, “No hugs. No cuddles. No kisses. No one real… to feel. They know that. They know it hurts, so between that and preferring that staff and crew bang each other rather than passengers, those are the rules.”

“Per the 0.7 percent rule of FAs amongst the general population, if there’s how many staff and crew on this ship?”

“I don’t have that number. Last I checked it was around 1100.”

“OK, so point zero zero 7 times 1100 gives us mmm mmm mmm mmm 7 point 7 and one quarter of those will be male-attracted FAs, so that leaves us right about 5 or 6 female-attracted FAs amongst the crew.”

“Where’d you get that point 7 percent rule?”

Experienccccee!” she gleefully replied to Per. To Jayne she asked, “So out of those 5 or 6, how many are being ridiculous and going monog with someone other than you, or otherwise out of your playlist?”

“Monogamy is legitimate, wonderful, and safe” insisted Rebecca, New Yorker burn-staring across at Beryl for emphasis.

“Let’s stick to Jayne’s situation. Too bad Brent had to turn Squish Buckle into an insult. I think it has a nice ring to it.”

“I don’t mind being squishy!” Jayne clarified. “Left to my own devices, I don’t mind being fat—and this certainly isn’t my first time, even if it’s far and away my biggest-ever peak. Whether any of you noticed or not, I was past plumper or thicc or any other sub-BBW size category into fully BBW fat at the start of this cruise. Seriously, I like my curves. Most of the time I’m good being a sex symbol and most of the time I’m down with having huge boobs. Boobs are power and hella fun to have and play with, as we know.”

Leigh bit her lip, feeling one of her self-esteem crash buttons being pushed.

Jayne noticed. Unable to think of anything to say or do to walk back her comment in Leigh’s mind, she plunged ahead, “I just wish the sexy had an Off switch, so I could be the non-threatening friendly affectionate person I truly am inside and feel the love without it having to be about sex!”

The sympathetic understanding look she received from Rebecca helped. {She knows} thought Jayne. “There are a few things you’ve gotta know about Brent. First of all, he’s insanely jealous that I’ve been sexually intimate with 12 passengers and 11 crew members during our not-exactly-matched-but-close careers on this ship, and his score—as he frames things—is 2 and 6.”

Beryl couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “That’s all?!—either of you?!”

Neither could Rebecca. “That many?!

“That’s over the past 3 years, not all on this trip! He’s one of my 11 and I’m one of his 6. Beyond the jealousy and despite both being DJs, we don’t have a lot in common. Or at least not enough. Or at least not enough of what’s important. But he’s alright, so, hhhhhhhhhhh, I go back to him. He gets his gropey boob fondles that I truly don’t mind unless he’s overly pinchy—and I do make him stop… usually—and I get survival-level cuddles, enough to get by.”

“Well he’s obviously not amongst the 5 or 6 woman-attracted FAs on the crew and staff, so back to my question: how many are actually available to you?”

“I don’t know who any of them are, Beryl.”

“Oh come on! You never see anyone looking lustily at you below upper chest level?”

She shook her head.

“Average statistics tell us nothing about the actual number in a given specific instance or context” noted Per.

“That may be, however it’s damn hell not zero out of 1100! If things were normal in terms of being close to strangers, I’d already be scoping the decks for prey– uh, I mean fine Fat Admirers!


♫ Bird of preyyy
Bird of preyyy
Fly-ing hiiiiggh
Fly-ing hiiiiggh ♫


“You have a nice voice, Jayne. Doubly so to be able to sing that well after weeks of no sleep!”


Clark’s sincere comment and his endearing smile made her again weepy. They made Leigh decide she needed some kisses and her own cuddle, which did nothing to improve Jayne’s mood.


“Are we quite 100% double-donkey sure there’s not going to be a healthful, healing, wonderful, loving, sexy, cuddly orgy amongst us?” Beryl prodded, with her usual smile. “Eh? Eh?”

No!” Leigh and Rebecca shot back.

“Alright. You know what that means, don’t you?”

The others shook their heads, Jayne just barely and sadly.

“With no extant immediately available cuddle options to heal squishy cuddly Swash Buckle, we have to work with what we have… at this table.”


Leigh immediately slid further atop Clark’s lap burying that much more of it under her warm fleshy softness. Taking no chances, she additionally slipped his left hand down under her waistband atop her fat belly.

Rebecca squished Per deeply against and into her yet again, plunging his right hand deep beneath her waistband, where she’d never, ever let him nor anyone else go in any recent decade, to his shock. Taking no chances, in his ear she whispered, “We’re going there when we’re alone in private. You’re my man.


Listen up!” Beryl raged. “We are Team Succulence. We are all in this together” she banged her fist on the table. “Just like rice and flour and toilet paper on land, there’s currently a shortage of male FAs until we can identify more and replenish stock.”

“Toilet paper?!” Clark exclaimed in umbrage.

“OK, bad analogy: male FAs are valued people just like female FAs and BBW and BHM, none of us disposable like toilet paper or any other use-once-and-discard item.”

“That’s not how I heard it” he suggestively grin-glared at her.

“I’m still open to sex with you!—you too, Per. I just don’t want to spend all my time with any one person.”

Unavailable!” yelled Rebecca.

Leigh waggled her finger and shook her head towards Beryl with a stern glare to convey the same message.
 

Sonic Purity

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Moot! Back to the present! In a sane world we’d already all be at least heading to one of our staterooms for the celebratory orgy I firmly—no, squishy succulent softly—believe we all need, if not already there and naked and consensually doing it and each other. But obviously we’re not in a sane world, which explains why we’re all still confined here on this ship when other cruise ship passengers who aren’t actively ill have been let off and transported home. Everybody including my potato pillows both eaten and as yet uneaten know that you two”–she pointed to Leigh and Clark–“are going home together, by which I mean to one of your staterooms. You two”–she pointed towards Rebecca and Per–“explicitly arranged to go to her stateroom right in front of all of us within the past half hour. Jayne, a Team Succulence member in good standing, as we all are so far, needs hugs and cuddles. Having personally tested my own on her and with you all as my witnesses, we know these need to be male FA hugs and cuddles, and we of Team Succulence do not judge! At least not amongst our own. Unless absolutely necessary. Restrictions may apply void where prohibited which isn’t here ask your doctor if Team Succulence is right for you blah blah blah.

She can’t turn off her sexy! None of us can! Jayne: get up, get over there, and sit down between Clark and Per. I’ll slide your plate over. Platonic hugs and cuddles, With. Clothes. ON!

Jayne started to make her move.

Beryl continued, “I do not want to hear, see, nor otherwise sense one solitary gripe out of either of you scintillating SSBBW currently seated on that side of the table! No hoarding in the midst of a pandemic-induced shortage: share your woman-attracted male FA resources!


Jayne felt even better than either Clark or Per had imagined: on par with the amazing women each of them loved. Feeling all their affection pouring over and into her (and vice-versa), Jayne wondered whether she’d ever been with a real FA in the past.

Even though at hip level they were all in intimate contact, and even though she’d fattened on her upper body proportionally to the rest of her body (and not just her breasts up above), there was enough space that she could only be in upper body contact with one or the other of Per or Clark at a given moment—especially the deep contact she craved.

Per felt nice: a far sight better than Brent, or any other regular lover in her life for a long, long time. He absolutely knew how to cuddle someone like her.

Clark felt magical!: everything she wanted or needed in a cuddle lover! She could feel that he almost certainly loved cuddling as much as she did.


Beryl watched over the group like a hawk. Thankfully for everyone, Per and Clark were on top of their game in terms of equitably splitting their affection energy focus between their main woman and Jayne, keeping Leigh and Rebecca resigned to their situation, even if not happy about it.

Jayne softly peep-sighed a few times, sinking further into a deeper cuddle with Clark, still in right hip contact with Per. Finally having found peace after far too many days, she quickly fell asleep, gravity pulling her into the deepest-possible lean with everyone in those positions. Her very soft snore and gentle restful sleeping look were adorable.

Put your arm around her” Beryl near-whispered.

Leigh shot her a glare of rage, which she returned with an upheld warning index finger. That finger and that hand slid Jayne’s plate around Clark over to Leigh, who immediately scarfed down everything on it as her only immediate recourse to get back at Jayne for stealing some of her cruise husband’s loving affection.
 

Sonic Purity

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Healing Cuddle Sleep

Jimmy’s Buffet employee Caryn Aboutu hated to play the role of enforcer, given how it was outside her friendly, accommodating nature which got her into the ship’s Food & Beverage department in the first place. With a deep breath, she girded herself and approached a table with some of the fattest people (all women) she’d ever seen, including one obviously sleeping woman who looked vaguely familiar to her. “Excuse me, folks” she tried to chirp, “We’re now over 4 seatings past your table booking, and it’s getting on towards lunchtime. Please pretty please, may we free this table for others?”

Those awake at the table looked amongst one another.

“So you’re saying we can’t just cruise right on through into lunch, since some of us are still eating?”

Caryn tensed up, wishing she could be doing something more pleasant. “We’re limited on seating, and we really really need to make room for others who signed up and are waiting.”

“I’m ready to go” said Rebecca. “You’re the only one still eating, Beryl. Let’s do it, Per” she suggested, leading him by the hand as she hefted her massiveness up.

“Last call for now on a wonderful celebratory O-R-G–”

“–No!” Rebecca interrupted Beryl. “Not us at least. Thank you all for everything. Let’s plan the next meal get-together in advance, next time there’s table space for us all.”

“Bye Rebecca! Bye Per!” those awake at the table said in different moments with varied precise wording. Fast asleep Jayne was not one of them.


Clark looked towards Caryn (whose name he could see on her name tag) with a pained expression not unlike her own. “I totally agree we should release this table for others. I’m concerned about the best way to wake up Jayne, leaning into me. She hasn’t slept for over 2 weeks until now, and I’m concerned about her health.”

“An air horn oughta work. Your device or mine?”

Now was Clark’s turn to elbow-jab his cruise wife.

“We’ll all be outta here within 5 minutes, hun” Beryl assured Caryn.

“Please.”

“We will.”


Partly relieved, partly with residual trepidation, Caryn took off.


“Jayne…” Clark tried to gently wake her.

Uuuuh?” she softly peeped.

“Breakfast is over. We need to clear the table so others can use it.”

Her sad “Uuunnn” along with nuzzling deeper back into Clark’s shoulder/side strongly hinted that she wasn’t ready to deal with waking up just yet, much less parting.


The 3 awake table occupants fell into a heated discussion regarding how to proceed, which amazingly didn’t further wake up Jayne… or if it did, she pretended to still be asleep.


* *
The discussion continued all the way to the present, as the group walked the inner hall of the Upper Promenade deck towards Leigh’s and Clark’s stateroom.


“She has her own bed in her own cabin” Leigh ranted to Beryl over her shoulder, leading the group. “Why can’t she go sleep in it?!”

“Because it’s a trauma scene of tragedy for her.”

Besides needing to look forward to avoid crashing into anything, looking directly at Beryl’s giantly fat bouncing body and especially her huge boobs from close proximity added queasiness to Leigh’s anger.

“She suffered through COVID-19 alone there, I’m wagering. For sure her beloved parrot died there. Clark’s analogy of an overly-discharged battery irrecoverably dying seems apt.”

She survived COVID-19!

“Shhhhh!” Clark, behind Beryl, shushed his cruise wife, steadying barely-awake Jayne steadfastly cuddled into his side like a super-amorous clingy lover.

“Yes, and there are other illnesses on board, we can be sure, and her immune system and the rest of her is in dire need of sleep. What’s the harm of letting her sleep a few more hours cuddled into Clark to get her out of the danger zone, before sending her back off to her own life?”

“I’m losing intimate alone time with him!”

“Let’s talk about it some more once we’re inside in private. I still want to see your two’s stateroom, and any of us can always change course at any time, such as if she more fully wakes up.”

{Must sleep, so I can have soothing human cuddles and affectionate love!}

Keep going, Jayne” Clark softly urged her. “We’re almost there.”


* *
“Oooh!” Beryl softly exclaimed upon her first sight of the interior of Leigh’s and Clark’s stateroom. “Very nice! Not very spacious, but if that’s one of the patio balconettes on the other side of the curtains, the view likely rocks.”

“Plenty of space for the two of us who occupy this stateroom” Leigh acidly noted.

“Please, Leigh: our ship’s DJ who selected and played the music that helped you and Clark dance into each other’s hearts to the point of doing your cruise marriage thing needs more quality sleep. I remind you we are all on Team Succulence together. In a few hours she’ll go back to her stateroom or cabin or whatever better rested, I’ll head back to my stateroom, and it’ll once again be you and Clark in here on your own doing your thing. I’ll leave now if you prefer, though I relish the opportunity to get to know you better as a friend, with or without actual relish in my mouth at this time, tasty as it would be.”

“I do not feel good about another woman being intimate with my man on his and my cloud bed.”

“Cloud bed! Love it!” she briefly chuckled. “These are great beds, for sure. Their clothes remain on; they’re cuddling. By all means go cuddle up to him on his free side if you feel the need and I’ll pull up a chair so we can chat softly.”

“Think that desk chair can hold you?”

She studied it. “Mmmmm… maybe not. I’ll grab one from the patio if those are sturdier and armless.”

“Armless yes, sturdier no” Clark advised.

Hhhhhhhhh” Leigh sighed. “I give up.” Clamping one hand onto each of one of Clark’s and Jayne’s upper arms, she addressed them, “Please keep it to platonic sleep cuddles, lest you want me jealously raging. Sleep deep, Jayne: I’m not likely to be OK with this continuing. Let’s go crush the couch, Beryl.”


Clark was just as glad Leigh was facing away from him, unable to see his nearly-painful strong boner from the intimate lying-on-bed cuddle he was sharing with Jayne as Little Spoon, with her as cuddly sleepy Big Spoon. She truly meant to be sleeping and platonic affectionate. The problem remained that her sexy had no Off switch, as ever in her life: her big warm boobs against his back did things to him beyond his head brain’s direct control.


Over a slight distance on the couch, Beryl commented as she and Leigh sat down together, “Hmmm, it’s holding us without creaking. Nice. You OK with some unavoidable physically intimate contact, due to each of our spectacular plushness?”

“It is what it is. I’m tired of fighting everything and everyone.”

“Why do we have to be fighting, Leigh? Aren’t we on the same team?”

“In some ways yes and in some ways no. We’re both SSBBW, or I guess you’re ultrasized, depending on the definition. We both love food—that we have in common for sure. You love being fat to a level I struggle to fathom, especially living as you do that way full-time, I take it.”

“I’m all-in joyously living in the fattest body I can manage, ever-more excited and happy the fatter I get.”

“I can’t handle that in my everyday life, and by no means am I currently as big and fat as I’ve previously been.

Keeping it a secret?” she whispered back, to Leigh’s soft-spoken ending.

Leigh nodded. “Even at this level, this is far beyond where I’d intended to take things on this voyage, before the world changed forever.”

“Since it has, what are your revised thoughts?”

“I can’t think past the end of this cruise, whenever that actually is. As long as Clark and I remain an exclusive romantic item, I’m good with whatever fattening happens, which in my world I consider a side-effect of my foodie joy, not a primary goal. I’m not at peace being this fat without him lavishing his love and lust on me and it exclusively, hence my great displeasure with what’s still going on over there.”

“You don’t see or feel or otherwise discern a difference between what they’re doing and have been doing that you and I have witnessed, and sexy loving lustiness?”

She pursed her lips, struggling not to stare at Beryl’s huge boobs, directly in front of her. “Seems to me it’s a slippery slope. Especially with someone like her, who can’t help exuding sexiness at any size, amped up in his world view with her currently being an SSBBW with hyper-curves. Being honest, also you and/or Rebecca, from either of your succulent soft sexiness alone and even more as former lovers.”

“May I please have an honest, open discussion with you, to better understand your romantic belief system? I am not going to interfere with what you and Clark are doing, much as it puzzles me and limits some to-me really fun options I think we could all enjoy. Because it puzzles me, that’s what I want to discuss and try to understand, without it coming off like I’m pushing to change your world view and/or for any particular outcome. I’ve made it clear that I’m polyamorous—responsibly so: ethical slut here—and into group sex as well as one-on-one. No sales pitch; I just want to try to wrap my head around why you’re so into monogamy, and maybe related but separate in my mind, how it is that you seem to prefer ongoing 24/7 togetherness or close to that. Those things don’t make sense to me, and I’d like to understand.”

“I’m OK having this conversation, especially not having anything else in particular to be doing at the moment. One big problem for me is that my world view is so obvious and natural to me, it’s difficult for me to imagine otherwise. I don’t know how to explain what seems and feels so obvious.”

“Let’s both try and do our best.”
 

Sonic Purity

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“To me the evolutionary difference in human mating strategies makes sense and I believe remains in play, even if the specifics are all different because we have spoken and written language, birth control, et cetera. While loving a man may not be the sort of evolutionary investment it once was in terms of bearing and raising his children, it’s nevertheless a time and resource investment.”

“I can see that for the full-time long-term loving you seem to be into, but how would that apply to short term?”

“We may be very different. I need to reach a certain level of trust before my clothes come off, much less before I spread my legs. Trust and mutual interest in each other obviously are prerequisites, but I do understand the sudden zinnng of immediate lusty attraction.”

“So when you feel that zinnng, what’s the problem with going with it?”

I don’t know the man! Is he a criminal? Abusive? Does he have STIs or other communicable diseases?”

“If there’s nothing long-term, and you normally keep your valuables locked away or go to his place, especially being fat and having the weight and your strong leg muscles at your service, you have the strength to take down or at least temporarily incapacitate all but the most extremely brawny muscle-bound men long enough to get away.”

Guns.”

“You’ll know. Learning how to fire them if you’re not already versed in that is good. They won’t mess with you if you know how to handle firearms, in my experience. As well a lot of this can be filtered long before you’d want to be taking anything off or pulling anything out. In my experience the violent abusive ones as a sweeping generalization tend to be more demanding. Fun as that can be in certain consensual contexts once there’s a passionate connection, for me it’s a turn-off straightaway upon first meeting or too soon thereafter. To clarify, I’m not the type who grabs a total stranger and rushes off to a corner to get it on—not that there’s anything wrong with that for those so inclined. I do filter; I just do it rapidly. Being a good judge of character helps, which comes from experience with people in general, then over time greater experience with lovers.”

“Why do I want to invest all that time and energy for something short-term?”

“Once you’re skilled enough, it’s not a great investment of either time or energy.”

“How do you even begin to handle communicable diseases?”

“I don’t date people showing signs of illness” Beryl grinned.

“STIs?”

“Barriers: no fluid sharing.”

“But what if I crave actual skin-to-skin? Or tongue to clit?” she ended with a telling subtle sexy wiggle.

“Start from the same place. You’ll have seen his tongue by then, just from talking. If his breath is weird or his tongue is coated white or some other non-pink color, I slow things down or wind them down and move on. Or if I’m especially into him and maybe there aren’t any other current good prospects, I may discuss it with him to find out if there’s an extenuating circumstance, which has happened. If you’re inclined to have him go into you, play with his penis: inspect it with your hands and eyes. Our advantage is with the parts of their genitals which will contact us being exposed, we can look for problems. If you don’t already know what to look for, that information’s online. I require a condom if he’s going into me anywhere and you should too. Anything bad that’s less overt than what one can readily see and/or feel by inspection ought to be stopped by that.”

“But I don’t know anything about his personality!”

“A: by that point, you likely already do. B: how does it matter for a one-off?

“I just don’t feel good about someone I don’t know well getting physically intimate with me.”

“How do you handle those sudden zinnng moments?”

“Usually I let them go.”

“And when they don’t go?”

“That’s when I eat something that zinnngs me—that’s my one-off!”

“Oh how I know that! I do that too, in addition to exciting sex, rather than instead of. Other than during bizarre anomalies such as lockdowns. Ever get off when you eat?

Leigh nodded, blushing.

“We have that in common too” Beryl grinned. “So don’t you want that frequent variety and zinnnging in your human sex life as well as your food sex life?

“I get that with one fully-trusted man whom I love to a depth and degree I could not have imagined before this cruise, into whom I’ve invested a lot of time and energy getting to know him and vice-versa, such that I can fully relax and give in and love as well as lust.”

“Good luck keeping the zinnng for more than a couple of years. Never worked that way for me, which is why I gave up on all that.”

“So you do have long-term experience?”

“Yes, in my past. Painful lessons that taught me that monogamy does not suit me.”

“What about those open marriages I’ve heard about?”

“What about ’em?”

“That way you could have all the near-guaranteed love of someone you know deeply with whom you can wake up most mornings, and still have the excitement. Or am I wrong, given that I’ve never done this because I prefer focusing everything on one lover at a time, for a long time when things are working?”

“I like variety too much. Not into having a life partner and having to get into the division of labor and resources to run a household: planning, shopping, and all that. And don’t even get me started about his expecting me to fix his clothes or otherwise do homemaker shit. I’ll do my own, and he can damn well go back to his house and do his own, or hire a maid.”

“So you don’t do married men?”

“There’s where I require greater trust and knowing them better: not unless I’m sure they truly have an informed open marriage, not just the dream of one in their head when their wife is expecting strict monogamy. Whether they’re married or not, all too often there’s a difference in expectations if there’s a long-term steady lover in their life. That’s another area where short-term and especially one-offs work better: if the dude’s lying about his IIR status, you’ll be out of the picture before his steady finds out, so he takes the heat, not you.”

“IIR?”

“Intimate Interpersonal Relationship.”

“Why not just say capital-R Relationship? Or intimate relationship?”

“Because those aren’t specific enough. There are times and places for nudge nudge wink wink know what I mean? know what I mean? say no more say no more innuendo, but relationship status isn’t one of those. I have a relationship with this stateroom: I’m inside it. I have an intimate relationship with my bra: it and my skin are in exceedingly intimate contact for longer periods of time than my lovers. I have an interpersonal relationship with you. In my mind it needs to be all 3 of intimate, interpersonal, and a relationship to cover all bases and be clear. That’s a mouthful, so I abbreviate to IIR.”

“What about loving relationship?”

“I had that with my parents, and thankfully for all involved it was not intimate… at least apart from my mother caring for me as an infant, and moments here and there in later childhood for hugs and such. Flipping it around, I have brief IIRs all the time that are lusty but not loving.”

Leigh had trouble relating, shaking her head slightly. “The only heat I want to take is that of a hot rod connected to a man I trust and know well, and his warm, loving cuddles and massages and related physical intimacy.”

“And you’re OK with all the life partner expectations?”

“The very few times I’ve gone that far with anyone, yes. Some men”–she motioned with her head towards the bed–“innately drop right into equitable give-and-take, likely modeled by their parents.”

“Did your parents stay together as you grew up?”

“Yes.”

“That may be a difference. My dad was out of the scene around when I turned 11, in part because married life and being a father didn’t suit him. My mother dated a number of men over the years, though not as many as I’ve done since my late 30s. I got the itch for variety from both sides.”

“My parents seemed happily married in every way that I could tell until death parted them.”


A wistful look came over Beryl. “My mom’s gone too. No idea about my dad; haven’t had contact with him in years.”


Their minute or so of silence revealed Clark softly snoring along with Jayne.


Leigh established a quieter speaking pattern with her question, “With all the variety you enjoy, what’s the draw of multiple people at one time?”

“Exciting variety!” she struggled to keep quiet. “Same reason our plates were filled with all sorts of different noms at breakfast this morning. Consider: sex with one person at a time is like having a breakfast that’s only eggs, or only bacon, et cetera. And—get this—monogamy with one person is like having, say, scrambled eggs day after day after day after day and nothing else.”

“Not the same. Scrambled eggs won’t give me an STI, and won’t ask you to sew a button back on their shirt. I think your analogy needs an adjustment.”

“Like what?”

“Loving one man isn’t like scrambled eggs, it’s like eggs: an ingredient. Think of all the different things made with eggs! One ingredient, so many exciting, disparate, amazing foods! Cakes, cookies, scrambled, omelettes, sauces—on and on. Two motivated sex-positive lovers wholly lost to love with each other can cook and bake a lot of sexual excitement” Leigh lustily smiled.

“Yes, and most if not all those foods you just mentioned require multiple ingredients, which brings us back to group sex.”

“Are we getting anywhere with this?”

“I don’t know. I do know I like talking with you” she smiled.


Leigh emotionally withdrew a bit.
 

Sonic Purity

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“Sorry. Did I say something wrong?”

“No. Having a moment… personal issues.”

“Thanks for trusting me enough to share that. I wish you didn’t feel a competitive tension towards me.”

“How can I not, when I want monogamy and you’re Clark’s exciting recent ex, polyamorous and loving fatness in and of itself apart from food and wanting more, as his innate desires seek? You and his other recent ex Bec, and I feel the same tension with her. I want to be friends and Team Succulence and all that, but I’ve invested a lot in Clark and don’t want to lose him.”

“Why would you lose him?”


Leigh paused to ensure she could hear Clark’s snoring. Only once she heard it did she proceed. “He lusts after big boobs, as you know. He can’t help it. I don’t have those.

More to be polite than thinking it was necessary, Beryl matched her lower volume, “He’s an all-way fat-lusting woman-attracted FA. He loves fat asses—you have that. He goes nuts over fat hips, as his hands told mine—you’re the winner on Team Succulence with our current lineup for those. He was nearly in tears begging to bone my butt crack, and with your greater depth there from what I can tell, I don’t need to ask to know that you two do that.

“I like it too. To me it’s very romantic, since he’s always cuddling me close from behind with his arms around me.”

“It is romantic, I admit it, and I do like it myself, as part of a widely diverse balanced diet of different sex acts with different people. My point is: you have nothing to worry about. He obviously loves you deeply, he’s into long-term stuff, you’re into long-term stuff, you two are into each other—all good. My issue is trying to open you two up to staying primaries with each other and from time to time having fun, sexy adventures with others. Personally, I’d prefer to have an orgy with both of you present than borrow him alone for awhile, on the presumption that there was another tasty man in the mix with whom you felt comfortable and an attraction. Whaddo you think of Per?

Leigh bit her lip, briefly hesitating before answering. “In a hypothetical orgy situation with everyone good with it, or if Clark hadn’t captured my heart and I was openly dating, I’d do him. After getting to know him better.”

“For a one-off?”

“I don’t know” she sighed. “Based on not enough, part of me feels that he’s an exception: I feel I already know him well enough, even though I actually don’t. Here’s a question for you, about orgies: isn’t it awkward to get nude in front of another woman? Or are you bi?”

“I’m polysexual. Know what that is?”

“Different from polyamorous?”

“Absolutely. Orthogonal to it, as Clark likes to say. As in: unrelated.”

“Never heard of it.”

“First, think about there being a line between totally heterosexual and totally homosexual, rather than only those two as discrete endpoints and a third bisexual point smack-dab in the middle. You may visualize those dot points, but run a single straight line between them all. Now imagine that a person’s attractions can lie anywhere along that line, not just the middle or endpoints. I’m talking purely attraction, not what one’s own biological gender is, nor what’s going on in one’s mind in terms of personal gender identity, nor how one dresses and presents themselves. So what I really mean is a line between women-attracted and men-attracted and equal attraction in the middle. I’m somewhere in the 75 to 80 percent range near the men-attracted endpoint, meaning I go for men most of the time, but there exist women whom I find sexually desirable, at least in limited aspects if not in totality as I usually find most men I get with.”

“What sort of women sexually excite you?”

“Oh come on, Leigh: you know attraction’s not that simple! I can tell you that my love of fat generalizes to my own lovers, though obviously I love contrasts too, else I wouldn’t have been after Clark from before you two got together, or at least before I knew of you two being together.”

“What about me?”

“Given the tension you’ve admitted you already feel between us and especially not knowing to whom in general you’re attracted, I feel uncomfortable answering that.”

“On that line you described, I’m probably 95 to 99 percent near the men-attracted end. So far in my life I’ve not felt the desire to be sexually intimate with a woman, nor romantically intimate. Most of that 1 to 5 percent that keeps me off the 100% men-attracted peg is sexual rather than romantic.”

“Boobs is what that 1 to 5 percent sexual attraction is. Big ones.”


Leigh went wholly pale, then cycled towards bright-red blushing. “How could you know that?!

“Come on” she smiled. “You just brought up big tas a couple of minutes ago. You’ve been staring at mine more than Clark did on his and my whoopee night. I was sitting diagonally across from you during our special Team Succulence extended breakfast-brunch—so glad Bec coined that term!”

“I like it too.”

“Sitting where I was, I not only saw you go into anguish whenever Bec or myself or Jayne brought up the topic of boobs, but also how you kept checking out theirs as well as mine.”

“Gotta know what the competition’s up to.”

“There you go again with that competition thing. No one’s taking Clark from you. Not even”—she finished her sentence motioning with her head over towards the bed. “She needs sleep and cuddles and she’ll be fine, and off to her own next loving adventure. Own your attractions, whatever they are. You’re not hurting anybody lusting after boobs, unlike some antisocial kinks I could get into. The only potentially sad part is if you truly want your own rather than playing with others’.”

“I feel defective as a BBW, because big boobs tend to be standard equipment, but mine don’t fatten.”

“At all?”

“Not more than half a cup size” she deeply sighed.

“I get that. I’d prefer having more ass and less belly—strike that—more ass and everything else at least as much. Thankfully I have some, but I’d prefer having more. They’re doing amazing things with boob jobs.”

“It’s more important to me to remain natural than become busty.”

“I hear ya. Ass augmentation’s a thing too, but but butt butt” she teased “I don’t want to get into anything medical like that. Not the least because most of those in that profession would think I have plenty of ass already. What about N.B.E.?”

“What?”

“Natural Breast Enhancement. Massages, especially estrogenic foods, breast pumps—all that.”

“Oh right. Yeah, I’ve read about that.”

“And?”

“Seems like a lot of work for minimal results.”

“Won’t know until you try. And at least for the duration of this cruise, you have an eager assistant.” She again motioned with her head over towards the bed. “Not that there’s enough time for anything to happen, nor that you can necessarily work out the materials you’d need. Now if you want to get your hands on my boobs as much as your eyes tell me you do, that’s entirely possible and very easy: just ask.”

“Is there anything about me you like, sexually?”

“If and only if you’re into it, I’d love to do hip stuff with you.”

“Such as?”

“Rub our fat hips together. My hands on yours. Rubbing my boob fronts on yours.”

Hhhhhhh!

“Looks like we have a winner” Beryl grinned. Reaching for Leigh’s suddenly-erect nipples she added, “Actually two.”


Leigh felt confused and even more aroused with Beryl manipulating her nips through her top and bra. Tellingly, she made no effort to make her stop, nor in any way signaled such a desire. Quite the opposite.

“Seriously, lots of boob play, whether solo by your own hands, from lovers, or both, will increase their size at least a little bit over time.” Beryl advised as she continued twiddling. “He plays with them, doesn’t he?”

“Yes. Hold that thought for a moment.”


She turned around and leaned past the partition to see what was going on over on the bed.


Her leg’s thrown up over him!” she tried not to rage.


Beryl had her own long look, and listen. “She’s asleep. Don’t tell me you’ve never done that to someone you’re sleeping with before Clark.”

“Only lovers!”

Want more nipple play?


Beyond nodding, Leigh removed her top and bra.


Great tits!” Beryl whispered, making sincere eye contact reflecting the sincerity of her opinion. “Love them always, and preferentially choose lovers who deeply love them.”

It pleased Leigh greatly, feeling the very pleasant sensations, taking in big busty Beryl’s affirmations, and feeling and seeing her oft-disappointing-to-her breasts swell up fully to this breast expert’s touch. Like Clark with his erections since his surgery, her breasts were as engorged as they’d ever been. The sense of fullness and heaviness from the arousal pleased her mightily.


Want mine out?

Leigh nearly hurt her neck vigorously nodding.


It was far more exciting to her than she could have imagined, watching Beryl free her Females.

Have at ’em, friend.


Suddenly overcome with lust, Leigh thought there was something seriously wrong with her, wanting another woman’s boobs so much. {Am I really more woman-attracted than I realize? But I’m not to other part– oh don’t even think about that! Uugh! Boobs… oh gosh, big huge fat boobs!}


Jayne and Clark remained sleeping deeply enough that neither Beryl’s slightly heavy breathing nor Leigh’s far louder panting woke them up. Beryl gently led her now-special friend through all sorts of things two breast-equipped topless women could get into for breast-centric sexual stimulation.

{I don’t know who I am any more!} Leigh panted and thought. {This is too wonderful!}

Beryl focused on Leigh more than her own immediate pleasure, striving to track where she was and what she wanted, towards the goal of keeping the event safe, fun, and non-threatening. Doing so, she knew, could lead to a major future pay-off.
 

Sonic Purity

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* *
A few minutes into exciting, stimulating mutual boob play, things suddenly changed. From over on the bed Leigh heard a soft sleepy feminine groan of complaint, then Clark saying “I’ll be back. I have to go to the bathroom.”

With a frantic burst of panic adrenalin, Leigh whipped on her top in record time, shoving her bra into the crack between the couch cushion upon which she was seated and the couch back cushion.

Rather than question or debate, Beryl followed suit, about as fast, minus any panic.


Clark waved and smiled as he passed by, soon enough closing the bathroom door behind him.


You OK?” Beryl softly asked.

Leigh shook her head.

She briefly patted her hand in a friendly manner, “We’ll talk.


* *
On the way back out towards the bed, Clark detoured to side-hug and kiss Leigh, then more briefly side-hug Beryl. “Thank you both so much. I really think it’s helping her. How’re you two doing?”

“We’ve had a lot of things to talk about” replied Leigh, with Beryl taking the safe route and nodding along.

“Is it OK if” his voice went away as he mouthed “I keep going?

“Mmm hmm. I’ve come to accept that it’s for the best. Have a good nap, part 2!” she ended with a kiss.


Had it not been for her own intense inner situation, Leigh might have been upset anew at the latest round of feminine murmurs from Jayne, to her ear sounding like those of a lover welcoming back her mate. At this particular juncture, the best possible outcome in her mind would be for Clark and Jayne to fall back asleep as soon as possible. She didn’t look, so she didn’t see Jayne turn over for a change of position for circulation, now becoming Little Spoon with Clark easing into a cuddle behind her as Big Spoon.


* *
{I’m liking this way, way too much} thought Clark, loving everything he could sense about Jayne: tactile and other contact sensations, her scent, her body warmth, her currently-awake affection, and her soft, wonderful fat. In terms of the latter, she’d adjusted his arm underneath her to be more in the middle of her waist notch, thus more comfortable. This lined up his hand to cradle a big handful of in-clothes flowing belly fat.

Below consciousness, his hand on her belly fat was an especial treat, after past lovers hating on it or teasing her about it—especially Brent.


* *
Back over on the couch, Beryl struggled to keep Leigh settled until the two bed cuddlers fell back asleep. “Nice day to be inside a cozy, comfy stateroom like this, what with all the light rain and cold outside.”

“It is.” She caught herself studying Beryl’s now-braless breasts, quickly averting her eyes when she realized what she’d been doing. “Did we already discuss what you do for a living? I don’t recall.”

“Service writer at a car dealership in Cerritos. Sound familiar?”

“No. I’m a tech writer with Amalgamated Composites, based in their San Diego office. Despite both of us having ‘writer’ in our titles, I’m guessing that yours may be different.”

“Maybe, maybe not. I speak with customers and write up service orders for the techs, so it’s a combination of customer service and rudimentary preliminary service triage. A lot of it is translation and standardization. Lacking an auto repair professional’s jargon vocabulary, customers often have to say things to me like ‘It goes REE-rrrr-REE-rrrr-REE-rrrr when I first start up’ and about 20 other ways of saying the same thing with different sound effects. I translate that to the standardized ‘Engine surges when cold, OK after warmup’, which is what I type up on the work order. Then the tech does the heavy lifting to find out what the actual problem is, and types up or verbally gives me an estimate unless it’s under warranty or the customer pre-authorized up to a certain total dollar amount, in which case he fixes it immediately without having to wait for estimate approval.”

“No women?”

“Not at our shop at this time. The good ones usually go independent.”

“In terms of heavy lifting, how are they regarding your size and weight?”

“I’m too good at what I do and too friendly for them to give me too much grief.”


They paused, listening carefully. Jayne was again snoring, but not Clark.


“In a way, I’m a translator as well. A certain percentage of our customers might be able to take the raw data from engineering and make sense of it” she again motioned with her head towards the bed as she’d done earlier, indicating Clark. “Others may be less technically adept, and benefit from a brief introduction to the terminology and education regarding important physical characteristics of our products that they’ll want to carefully consider in their design process, so that their own final products come out as they desire.”

“D’you do your company’s website too?”

“No” she shook her head. “That’s outsourced, so I do work with that firm and QA what they do, mainly in terms of whether all the necessary information is there, accurate, and accessible to someone new to our company and maybe our product area.”

“There’s enough vehicle failures that I’m busy pretty much every day. Are there enough products and whatnot for what you do to be full-time?”

“Oh yes. I do internal documents as well as public-facing. There’s also the category of polishing the grammar of and spell-checking research and patent documents.”


* *
They continued chatting a few more minutes before again pausing to listen for sounds of sleep. This time, they both again heard two different people softly sleep-breathing, not even really snoring.


Beryl got the conversation started, whispering, “What’s going on?

Don’t know how I feel about what we did.

Give it time. It is what it is, and it’ll be what it’ll be. However you come to terms with it is good by me, as long as we remain on civil speaking terms.

I really liked it, and I thank you for the opportunity.

You’re welcome. I very much liked it too. If and only if you find you’re interested in getting into something like that again, I’m down for it. Just so you know.

Thanks.

Curious: why do you want to keep what we did secret from Clark?

She swallowed nervously. “One: I have no idea how he’d respond. Two: very hypocritical of me to be getting into that with you or anyone after so stridently struggling to keep Jayne off him.

Beryl sensed an opportunity she felt she needed to take, “Feeling any different about that now?

Upset and seriously messed up, Leigh leaned into her special friend’s side, collapsing into her softness quite like an affectionate lover, feeling a mess of confusing feelings. “I don’t know.


Overpowering feelings quite like she’d recently experienced with Clark yet distinctly different drove Leigh’s hand to reach just slightly over and caress and gently fondle Beryl’s loose boobs within her top, gliding slowly back and forth between them with her caresses. Silent tears rolled out of her eyes at the same time.


Beryl sensed that the thing to do was let her go through whatever she was going through.


Leigh’s sad, wet eyes looked up at hers, when her hand found itself near the bottom of her top. All Beryl had to do was nod and gently smile, and up Leigh’s hand slid under her top, pleasing them both with the gentle caresses and light fondles now being skin-to-skin.

I’d feel better about an orgy if you and Jayne had men I was as into as I’m suddenly into your boobs.

Thank you for sharing that! What you just said along with what you’re doing with me to me is nearly as good as an actual orgy.

I won’t categorically rule out an orgy, especially if we’re all still on this ship for a long time.” She again tilted her eyes upward, “As long as you’ll run it.”


* *
Leigh’s sense of time slipped away, as she found herself in uncharted waters every bit as lost as anyone anywhere in the world to the uncharted waters of the COVID-19 pandemic. Her uncharted waters were far more immediately confusing and threatening: not for one moment since she’d resumed fondling Beryl’s breasts through her top had huge, succulent boobs been off her mind. Other than a brief pause during which they both again removed their tops, neither had there been more than a second here or there where her hands weren’t on Beryl’s mams… except for when her mouth was on them. Her mouth! On another woman’s breasts!

Yes it was extremely pleasurable, as in passionately exciting. No, she couldn’t stop, short of being found out. It was at the same time profoundly upsetting.


Beryl correctly read the existence of her upset, choosing to gingerly inquire as they kept on sexually playing with each other. “What’s going on?” she whispered.

Leigh absolutely had to whisper back, bouncing her bouncy-fat body around to get closer to Beryl’s ear, “I’m having a lot of trouble with this.

What part?

How can I be totally lost to lust to your boobs in every possible way and you playing with mine in nearly every way and at the same time feeling cold nothing at the thought of kissing you on the mouth and outright reviled by the thought of going down on you or otherwise playing with your genitals?! Where is that on the sexual attraction line?!
 

Sonic Purity

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It’s right where you said you were: 95 to 99 percent man-attracted. It is totally OK to be a woman who’s a boob fanatic in terms of other women’s boobs and your own, and have no other sexual or romantic interest in women beyond that. No obligation to be a full-service lesbian, in any way. You are you: you like what you like. You lust after what you lust after. I submit that you and myself and any of the rest of us have no more control over our desires than Clark or Per have over theirs, or any other genetic males do. We all have control over how we do or do not act on our desires, but the desires are there.

I am not feeling in control here. I’m feeling like I could do this for weeks!

Good! Please work towards embracing and owning your desires.


Their make-out session was once again interrupted by sounds of waking activity over on the bed. This time there was more warning: soft whispered conversation not unlike Leigh’s and Beryl’s own, inaudible beyond being recognizable as whispered speech.

With quite the look of resignation, Leigh retrieved her bra, starting to put it on until feeling Beryl’s now-familiar hand touching her arm to get her attention.

Own it” Beryl mouthed silently, not even whispering. Setting an example, she pulled her own bra out from underneath her, setting it aside on the end-of-couch table nearest her, then slowly slipping back into her top.


Leigh’s top as well was comfortably back on by the time Clark and Jayne appeared together. It was difficult to tell how little or much the rest had helped Jayne, given that both of them looked shattered and were shivering.

“Hi” Leigh weakly greeted them, still looking queasy-upset herself. To no one’s surprise, she and Clark were drawn to each other. With no room on the couch, he knelt down as close to her as possible, Jayne hanging back remaining standing upright, shivering more.


“For cheesecake’s sake, let’s turn up the heat in here if you’re cold!” exclaimed Beryl.

None of them moved nor said anything, looking between each other.


Each to Beryl’s eyes looked ever-more upset. “Alright, majority of Team Succulence, listen up: each of you are projecting like billboards that you’re feeling some sort of deep shame or guilt or at least unease. Each of you are currently hurting yourselves emotionally and physically, holding inside whatever’s got your goat… or sheep, or whatever other animal you prefer. The energy must come out, for all of your health, thus the overall health of Team Succulence. Since the only place in this stateroom where we can all sit together might be the bed, let’s head over there and try to all fit on it or near enough to it to maintain the sort of close supportive proximity which has been so sorely lacking during this pandemic lockdown.”

Arrp!” Jayne bark-whimpered, exploding into tears.

Clark!: hug her now! You latch onto him too, Leigh. To the bed, for the first-ever Team Succulence confessional!”


Under other circumstances, at least one if not more than one of them would have been aroused by all the soft fat wobbling flesh sloshing around during the short stroll of a few steps over to the bed.

Beryl remained in charge, “Leigh: this is your stateroom. Pick your preferred bed position, leaving room for Clark to cuddle intimately into you and Jayne intimately into him, and ideally some space for me to park myself or at least enough of myself that the desk chair can hold the remainder of me.”


Studying the bed for a moment, Leigh arranged herself up against a stack of pillows against the headboard around the middle of the bed. She eased Clark into her left side, nestling him under her left hip fat. Jayne cuddled deeply into Clark’s left side for dear life, nearly but not quite at the foot of the bed, herself and Clark and Leigh forming an arc from Leigh’s centered position towards the balconette side of the bed, opposite the couch and bathroom. This left plenty of room for Beryl to let her flab flow widely outward, in touch or at least in very easy reach of all 3 of them.


“How is it that this bed and bed frame are holding us all without shattering into splinters or collapsing?” asked Beryl, directed mostly at mechanical engineer Clark.

Being asked a question which took his mind out of his immediate worry allowed Clark a reprieve from nervous shivering and use of his full voice, “Overbuilt: far better reinforcement and a whole different design than the typical ‘Hollywood’-style bolted-together metal frames so many people have at home.”

“And he reinforced it some more with our suitcases and some books” Leigh noted, the emotional storm within her raging so strongly that anyone looking at her would know something untoward was going on.

“It’s unlikely to hold up to bouncing or…”–his upset returned fully, choking down his voice–“sex.

“OK, it’s confessional time. Remember: we are a team. We care about each other and ourselves, and want the best for all of us. Who wants to go first?”


The daggers of anguish she saw stabbing each of their inner psyches made Beryl squirm. None of them volunteered.


“Obviously to me what each of you is dealing with is exceedingly deep and to you scary. Remember this too: no judgement. We’re all good, each of us. Good people, just as we are. Anyone ready?”


Again, no volunteers and more tortured squirming.


“Clark: you’re first, because I’m running this confessional and I say so. Spill your guts, figuratively, please.”

I violated the terms of our cruise marriage by waking up cumming in Jayne’s butt crack and fondling her boobs as we spoon-cuddled with me as Big Spoon behind her! I didn’t even know it was happening until I did it!

I’m deeply and completely in love with Clark in every way and it’s ripping me up because he and Leigh are a super-great couple and I don’t want to break them nor anyone else up but I’m already addicted to his cuddly, caring love and I need it, ongoing!” burst out of Jayne barely a moment after Clark finished confessing.

Similarly there was no pause between the end of Jayne’s confession and the start of Leigh’s, “I’m a total boob lust fanatic who can’t get enough of other women’s huge boobs nor them loving mine even though I don’t want to get into anything else sexual or romantic with them I think but I’m not sure but I’m totally certain that I still love Clark in every possible way as much as ever and don’t want any of that to change but I’m addicted to boob sex!


“Good job, Team!” {Let’s hope the soundproofing kept this from being far too much of an overshare. Oh well… maybe we or at least I will get new orgy members out of it.} “You all did really well opening up and getting so much of that energy moving and out of your bodies. Anyone have any additional major confessions, ideally yelled into a pillow or someone’s arm or boob or something, out of respect for our neighbors?”

How do I recover from this?!” “How do I go on?!” “How do I reconcile everything?!

“OK OK good: no more new confessionals and you’re all ready for the next step, which is reconciliation. By that I mean reconciliation in your own minds and bodies first and foremost, then reconciliation with others in your life affected by what you’ve confessed. It’s natural to try and work it out all at one time together given how you all are interrelated by what all’s going on, but that winds up as unproductive cacophony in practice. Instead what we do is take each of you one at a time and keep repeatedly going in sequence, because one person’s reconciliation may affect another’s.

“We’ll do reconciliations in the same order as confessions. Clark: what do you need to do within yourself to reconcile yourself to what you confessed?”

“I’m overdrawn on apologizing to people: Leigh has said as much. I, I don’t know how to accept my failure to abide by my promises, especially since it happened at least partially when I was asleep.”

Leigh raised her hand.

“Yes Leigh?” Beryl acknowledged her.

“Would this be the time for mutual forgiveness, such as between Clark and myself?”

“Not yet, because we have to ensure that each of you is as reconciled and at peace as possible within your own beings in terms of what’s disturbing you before we get others involved. So that’s a great instinct, but premature at this moment. Back to Clark, temporarily ignoring how your butt sex and boob fondles have affected and going forward affect others, within yourself how do you believe you can come to terms with things?”

“I don’t know. Within myself, I’ve harmed my own sense of integrity and principle, as being an upstanding, trustworthy, honest person.”

“How much control do you have over what you do in your sleep?”

“Little if any. But I was awake before I finished, so I could have stopped what I was doing.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because I was so close to an orgasm, and everything felt too good.” He started to silently cry.

“Sounds to me like you were already over your threshold of inevitability when you awoke. True?”

He nodded.

“So then how could you have stopped?”

“I couldn’t have stopped that, and maybe it doesn’t so much matter because we had clothes on and… because… nothing actually comes out of me any more.”
 

Sonic Purity

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Leigh instinctively caressed her man and affectionately cuddled into him more deeply. Jayne looked like she wanted to do the same thing, holding back from uncertainty regarding whether it was OK or not.

“So whether or not anything came out of you, how could you have stopped at that point?”

“I could have pulled away at the last second. And I didn’t need to be squeezing her breasts.”

“Why were you?”

“Because it seemed like it was already too late and Leigh would leave me anyway and the world’s gone insane and nothing matters any more besides honesty and integrity and I utterly failed at those.”

Was it because it was too wonderful and you couldn’t stop?” Leigh softly asked.

He burst into tears, nodding vigorously.

Rather than feeling angry or hurt or pulling away, she cuddled into him even more, caressing him tenderly. “I understand more than you can possibly imagine. I know I’m speaking out of turn, but please forgive yourself.”

“Why? (sniff)”

“Your forgiving yourself may be a prerequisite to me forgiving myself.”

“Alright.”

Beryl retook control, “How might you avoid getting yourself into this sort of anguish in the future?”

“By not getting intimate with wonderful and wonderfully attractive BBW. But Jayne needed cuddles so she could sleep!

“I agree that abstention would solve the issue. Abstention also sucks donkey dongs! Only you can come to terms with what’s going on with you, and it might not all happen today. I humbly submit as an outside advisor that if something like this comes up in the future that you seriously review whether your preferred outcome is realistic or not. Humans are imperfect. Occasional errors despite best efforts need not destroy honesty, integrity, trustworthiness, being an upstanding person, nor anything else, as long as they are rare and close to unavoidable. At least in my opinion, but it’s yours that matters. Beyond that, please seriously reconsider whether your self-judgments might be unrealistically confining and rigid, and consider making them malleable or even flowing. OK for now?”

He nodded, with Leigh remaining deeply cuddled into him, affection from her alternately surging then halting as she continued to struggle with her own stuff.

“Your turn, Jayne: within yourself, how do you believe you can come to terms with things?”

“Almost all of it is outside my control” she softly objected.

“That’s why right now we’re focusing on your internal experience, because that’s wholly under your control.”

“I feel like I don’t know who I am any more, because for me this whole pandemic didn’t just up-end my life, it smashed it to pieces! I thought I was a strong, capable person and an independent woman, but now I feel so lost and so needy. I’ve always been outgoing, in-person, and physical, and this isolation and having to distance and only hear and see but not be present and feel is trashing me! That’s why being with you all and really any of you is so crucial to me.”

“But as I personally found out when I reached over to share a hug with you at breakfast, we’re not all the same to you, in terms of your needs.”

“I am on the ropes, and, frankly, at-risk. That whole age game nearly made me run and take a flying leap off the ship out into the bay. Trust me: this morning wasn’t the first time since this whole pandemic thing blew up that I seriously thought about ending my life, and I assure you I know from where on the Sky deck to jump and have a high probability of making it into the water rather than smashing against the side of the ship.”

Clark cried anew, this time aloud. He grabbed Jayne, pulling her tightly into his side with enough sudden force to actually move her heavier body somewhat closer to him.

The caring love and her ongoing consternation made her weep. “This is torture to me. I need love! Need it. Every. Kind. Of. Love. I may not be the first woman in history who’s been suddenly catapulted directly from vibrant MILFy middle-aged sexy to crumbling rag bag hag, but I’m the only one I know. You, Beryl, and I know that no-strings-attached sex is easy enough to come by, even if sometimes and in some ways its own problem. My experience is that quality love beyond sex and for more than one night or day is tough to arrange. I’m desperate enough that I’ll prolly settle for Brent if there’s no better choice, and with all the social limitations currently in effect, there’s unlikely any better choice.

“All this makes it sound like my love of Clark is desperation, but it’s sooo not! So much of attraction is inscrutable and instinctual. At least profoundly deep attraction… at least for me. If I’d met Clark when he was totally single and not dating anyone and before the pandemic when my business and self-esteem were intact and somehow we’d reached the point of cuddling, I would have seriously been propositioning him to find a way for us to be ongoing all-in lovers, or at least doing some major focused steady dating to work through all the usual compatibility stuff to find out whether such would work for both of us. I need someone’s cuddly affectionate trusted ongoing love more than ever right now. For how long I don’t know, because I can’t imagine me personally making it out of this pandemic mess in any good way. Love shifts—I know. Love fades—I know. Doesn’t matter: I’m too deeply in love with him. If no one else existed, I’d want to be passionately kissing him and cuddling some more and taking our clothes off and getting sexual right now, both because I need sexual affirmation as well as cuddles and sleep, and to strengthen our love bond via all the sex biochemistry triggering the partner bonding.

“But then there’s Leigh, and I don’t say that in any way begrudgingly.” She leaned past Clark to make eye contact with her, “I really like you, Leigh!: on your own merits, even though understandably you don’t much abide me, or at least me being intimate with Clark. Can’t explain exactly why… it’s an irrational like, similar to my irrationally-strong love of Clark. My sense of integrity and ethics disallows my interfering with others’ IIRs, regardless of their formal or informal status in terms of being legal marriages or whatever else. This is true even when I feel my life is at stake. I’d rather harm myself than harm the deep bond you two have, because you’re both wonderful and your bond is so beautiful.”


Leigh and Jayne happened to share one of those momentary moments etched forever in one’s mind. In this case, it was a moment of mutual especially intense direct eye contact, feeling less than a second’s blast of the universe’s caring love flowing between them.


“So in terms of my coming to terms with things internally, maybe I already have. The primary directive is that I shall not harm Leigh’s and Clark’s IIR. The secondary directive is that I will navanax up every atom of Clark’s affectionate, caring, restful love that I can get, and, being honest, his sexual, passionate, lusty love too. For the record, the boob fondles and butt humping were very life-affirming to me, especially today given all that’s gone down.”

“Nava-what up?” asked Beryl.

“Navanax. A sea slug that can suck things up like a vacuum cleaner. That’s as far as I can go right now with my internal reconciliation.”

“Thank you; very good. Alright Leigh, your turn: how do you believe you can come to terms with things you’ve confessed, within yourself?”

She let out a deep sigh. “The struggle is real.” Again leaning past Clark to make eye contact with Jayne she said, “I so wholly relate to having one’s reality blown up in a way I could not earlier today or at any time earlier in my life. I might or might not do better with a name or label for what I am, in terms of my attractions. Loving Clark and women-attracted FA men in general is straightforward: no conflict there. I truly, truly never ever before knew that behind my raging big boob jealousy was raging lust until suddenly figuring it out with the past couple of hours with Beryl when you two were sleeping. I’m still struggling not feeling shame that my boob lust feels stronger and farther out of my control than any boob-lusting man of whom I’ve ever heard.”

“Any idea what it would take for you to let go of the shame?”

“Knowing there were others out there like me would help.”

“There are. I don’t have their names memorized, so I can’t right this moment pull up any of their sites or social media accounts or anything, and being honest all the ones I can think of whom I do know have more generalized woman-woman attractions.”

“Wish we could find some and I could talk to them.”

“Well you’re talking to one right now, though we’re different because my boob lust is more of my own and not as intense as yours is, even though mine is very real and I appreciate all we shared and hope there may be more in the future. They’re looking quizzical, so you might as well go ahead and explain.”

“I shared breast sex with Beryl while you two slept, or at least rested. Ongoing, over and over, through tops and topless. Hands, mouth, tongue. Mutual.”

“So what did you think?” asked Clark, seemingly more pleased and intrigued than upset.

“Mind-blowing and addictive. I cannot get enough!—at least so far. All that soft wobbly hugeness and the shape and the nipple texture—aaaaaghh!. What is happening to me?! Am I having some sort of testosterone overload from food?! Is this an undocumented COVID-19 aftereffect?!”

“Why ask why? If I need to accept that I couldn’t and didn’t truly want to stop being through-clothes sexually intimate with Jayne, is it too much for you to consider embracing and owning being a possibly-rare boob fanatic who happens to be a sexy SSBBW herself?”
 

Sonic Purity

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“This is great, but we’re getting a little bit ahead here” said Beryl. “My experience has been that one has to do what one can to be OK internally before seeking external support or agreement or whatever, else the internal stuff can be undermined so a person can, for example, better fit into their social milieu.”

“But we’re social beings who don’t live in a vacuum!” Jayne objected.

“My ability to accept and possibly embrace my extreme boob lust is wholly dependent upon social acceptance” added Leigh.


“Alright, I’m obviously not in any sense a qualified therapist. So we’ll move on. Time to reconcile your confessions and internal coming to terms with them with others in your life most directly affected. Which, conveniently, seems mostly to be others amongst you. Once again we start with you, Clark. What do you need others to know about your confession and/or self-acceptance therefrom, or in other ways related to what hopefully past-tense was your major dilemma today?”

“I have to know that Leigh forgives me. Without that I’m shattered and lost.”

“Do I get to speak now?” Leigh asked Beryl.

“Yes. This last section is interactive, as long as the primary speaker has the opportunity to share what they need, and as long as no one gets overly worked up or spirals away too fast into some runaway thought process the rest of us may have trouble following. Go ahead.”

Turning towards Clark with watery limpid eyes, cuddling him and caressing his arm she declared, “I totally and completely forgive you for what happened. For any number of reasons or no reason, though in my mind especially because I made the same sort of violation with Beryl and took things so much further.”

“Do I get to forgive her for that?”

“Yes, but not right now, please. Let’s all focus on Clark’s perspective until we can’t, then continue through to Jayne etc. I’m thinking that once we go through the loop one last time it’ll be safe to open things up to free discussion. Clark: do you need anything else from anyone else at this point for your acceptance of what you confessed?”

“Yes: I need to know that Jayne is OK that that sexual intimacy happened.”

“Didn’t I already answer that?” she wondered aloud. “Yes. I’m actually great with that, and it helped start to rebuild my shattered self-esteem.”

“If Leigh’s forgiven me and Jayne’s good with what happened, that’s all I need.”

“Excellent. OK Jayne, what do you need to tell others, or from them, or whatever?”

“I’ve already made it as clear as I can that under no circumstances will I allow myself to interfere with Leigh’s and Clark’s love. I’ve also made it clear that I need as much of Clark’s love as possible, more about affection and cuddling, but ideally also sex. What would be perfect for me is if their IIR was open and they were both good with me being intimate with Clark, ongoing at least until the first of my putting my life back together or the end of this cruise.”

“Anything else?”

“If for any reason I can’t get the support I need from Clark, I beg for all your help hooking me up with someone able to help me in this dire time of need in some ways we’re all in and I’m in especially.”

“Tough times, especially having yet to identify the minimum 5 or 6 on-board woman-attracted male FA crew or staff members we discussed this morning, but I at least will do what I’m able, if that’s how things go.”

Clark and Leigh nodded in agreement.

“OK Miz Leigh: what do you need to share with others or get from them or whatnot?”

“As mentioned earlier, I absolutely must have total acceptance of my boob fanaticism from others close with me who know of my intimate life, which for my purposes is the rest of you here in the room with me now. Ideally I’d like it from Per and Bec too, but without it from the 3 of you, I’ll have a major struggle with my self-acceptance.” Again, she leaned past Clark, “Total acceptance does not mean that anyone with big boobs has to tolerate my staring or anything else. Rather that each of you accept that I have this desire, and that it’s so intense and extreme that it’s crushing my soul.”

“I’m totally good with your boob lust!”

“What Jayne said” Clark grinned.

“I admit being biased as I was your first, but totally honestly and even if you’d been doing it with someone else and not me, to me it is a beautiful, beautiful thing that you feel the way you do, which I 100 percent accept and embrace.”

“Even though it feels out of control to me?”

“Again we’re back to the internal desire versus external expression. Internal desire is what it is, and can feel out of control. If your behavior goes out of control, that’s on you, and that’s another matter. You do not get a free pass to wantonly stare and/or grope and/or catcall and/or do anything else boundary-crossing and/or potentially offensive just because you’re a cisgender woman. Clark may be your best ally and advisor here, given that his huge boob lust is strong too. I can easily foresee you two dating the same woman at the same time for boob sex, especially because normally as we all know the knockers come in 2s, so with consent all around, you could both go at her at the same time.”

Nnnnggaaah!” Leigh suddenly orgasmed quite audibly, sonically burying Jayne’s softer “Hnnng!” of sudden high arousal.

“OK, I think we’ve finished the taking turns. Thank you for working with me and for your cooperation. This discussion is now freely open for random interaction.”

Leigh immediately lunged and grabbed Jayne’s right hand, “If you will be my boob lover, I will let you and Clark be lovers of whatever kind as long as he and I remain the primary couple and we all work together to satisfy each other’s needs as much as possible, for the duration of this cruise or until life requires changing this arrangement.”

REALLY?!” she shrieked with joy.

Yes! As long as Clark’s OK with it.”

“I’m great with it, to the surprise of absolutely no one ever.”

“What about me?” asked Beryl.

An even more potent burst of lust shot through Leigh. “Please?” she begged her now-lovers, plural (at least conditionally for Jayne).

“I’m great with both you and Clark doing Beryl any consensual way you like, and Beryl, I love you and owe you as a friend, but I don’t know that I’m feeling the sexy with you.”

“I’m down with that. Leigh’s really good with boobs and I’d very much like more samples of Clark before this cruise ends, hence my query.”

“I’m truly good with whatever you three work out, as long as I know what it is” Clark replied.

“So Leigh?” asked Jayne in a tone pitched high from worry, “May I passionately kiss Clark right now? Or should I present my boobs to you first, to seal the deal?”

Boob lust!” Leigh stuck out her arms and made grabby motions with her hands, like a true over-the-top breast fanatic.

Beryl hefted herself off the bed, moving out of the way for the imminent boob-fest. “This calls for pizza and beer delivered to the room, don’t ya all think?”

Yes!


While Beryl got busy placing the order, Leigh and Clark got busy getting her top back off, then with Jayne’s full cooperation, Jayne’s flowing dress.

HHHHHHHHhhhhh! Oh my gosh, you’re beautiful!

Heck yes! You’ve still totally got it goin’ on, Swash Buckle!”

“Squish Buckle!” Leigh countered. “Get your clothes off, Neener.”


The passionate loving lusting sex desire Jayne felt directed towards her in words, sight, and soon thereafter touch from Leigh and Clark at the same time profoundly helped start to reassemble her self-esteem.


“I get her boobs you get her lips—with her consent, of course.”

“Total consent for you two!” Jayne joyously replied. “Do me!


Leigh immediately got her hands on Jayne’s orbs and plunged her face into them in between. She could tell right away that while Jayne’s weren’t quite as large as much-fatter Beryl’s, they were fuller: nice and round. Smaller nipples, seemingly even smaller than Leigh’s own, though that might have been more a matter of perspective than reality. Gorgeously huge areolae Leigh couldn’t help repeatedly kissing and licking, driving Jayne wild.

The total make-out and at the same time affectionate loving kisses she shared with Clark kept driving their love bond deeper and deeper: there was no way out now, no going back: they were and would remain lovers.


* *
When all was said and done, Beryl Beech got her orgy, even if it wasn’t at all the wild hump-fest Clark and Leigh had imagined. It was a lot more like a nude dinner party amongst a few very close friends with aspects of sex here and there: restful, mostly about eating and pleasant conversation. All of them had all their clothes off well before the food arrived.


To no one’s surprise, Clark reached his point of fullness long before the others. This freed him to sexily caress or massage whomever was receptive and currently in a position to partake.

Jayne received possibly more than her fair share of attention, being a new lover to the rest of them, in practice meaning Leigh for breasts and Clark for everything (even though they hadn’t yet made it to all the possible everythings they intended to explore).


Down on the floor, Clark felt motivated to move over and kiss Jayne’s belly as she sat comfortably on the couch next to Beryl, peacefully enjoying her latest pizza slice.

Her eyes lit up aglow, her voice lust-addled, “What are you doinnng?!

He immediately stopped, “Not what you want?”

Opposite! It’s wonderful! Please give me more!”


“Haven’t you been lovingly belly kissed before?” asked Beryl as Clark went back to it.

Never. Brent wouldn’t even touch me there during intimacy, other than insulting pokes, prods, or grabby shakes.”

“Don’t go out with him any more” said Leigh. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

Clark again paused his belly kisses to agree, “Absolutely true”, then got back to mutual pleasure.
 

Sonic Purity

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“Why does this feel so amazingly good?” Jayne asked Beryl.

“Sensitive area. Stretched skin. If you’ve not been kissed there until now, I’m guessing you’ve yet to have a hard penis rubbed against you there.”

Hhhhhh! Oh please yes!


She set aside her plate to more thoroughly enjoy Clark rubbing himself back and forth across her there. At first aided by his hand, as he grew harder it was easier to merely swivel his body, freeing his hands to massage her breasts, spreading them apart somewhat so she’d have a better view of her own belly.

He rubbed her a good long while, getting off right there on her belly, making absolutely no mess.

* *
“No, there’s no way we’re all going to fit and even if we did per Clark we risk destroying the bed from our combined weight.”


The orgy dinner had been amazing! Now hours later, it was time for bed.


“I do not at all mind returning to my stateroom” Beryl continued, as typical a smile in her voice and on her face. “You 3 are the ongoing limited 3-way per the parameters we all know quite well, which I hope you’ll all own and comfortably embrace. There’s room and weight capacity for all of you, and with Clark in the middle, you’ll all get what you need.”

They all thanked her profusely, verbally, with hugs, with kisses and butt squeezes in Clark’s case, and with parting boob squeezes in Leigh’s case.


Clark and, surprisingly, Leigh, wrapped one arm each around Jayne (in the middle), standing nude after Beryl left. “Need anything from your living space for the overnight?” she asked.

“I really don’t want to get dressed just to go get a toothbrush. I know it’s supposed to be unsanitary, but for one night, may I please use one of yours?”

“She can use yours can’t she, Neen? Since you two kiss?”

“Sure. I’d better get her mouth ready” he grinned.

“Yeah you better” Leigh grinned back. She wasn’t sure why she enjoyed watching them kiss nor why she continued mildly enjoying the side embrace, but she did.
 

Sonic Purity

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A True Cali Girl

Jayne Plain (her actual surname, to her great dismay) awoke on the last day of March 2020 (a Tuesday) from not only the only night’s sleep she’d had in several weeks, but the best she’d had in so long—years—she couldn’t even remember when the last time was! Comfortably nude under the warm covers, waking up cuddled into sexy, romantic, and affectionate Clark Barr to her was bliss incarnate.

The gentle caresses of his upper arm and chest that she couldn’t resist giving him (or more accurately in terms of the gift of joy, herself) gently awoke him. His sleepy smile when he turned his head her direction was far too kissable, so she did, thankfully tenderly and peacefully.

Even knowing Leigh was over there, it startled Jayne to feel the sudden sensations of some of Leigh’s hip and thigh fat flowing off of Clark just barely onto her belly. “Good morning, Leigh” she said at a level she hoped was soft enough not to be jarring.

“’Morning, Jayne.”

She decided the impinging flesh needed some caressing. “That’s some nice fleshy hip and thigh you’ve got there.”

“Mmmm, you may keep doing that, please. I’m a chonky woman, which is why Neener calls me Chonky.”

“What’s my pet name going to be?”

“I think you’ve got to be Squish, because you’re nice and soft and squishy a lot of places, and I’m all about squishing your boobs.”

“OK.” One could hear the smile in her voice.

“Do I get to use that one too?”

“Of course, Neener! Same as she gets to use Neener and you both get to use Chonky for me. Any other high-level business to which we need to attend as our world hurtles onward into seemingly ever-more uncharted weirdness?”

Uuuugh!” Jayne groaned. “Don’t remind me, please. Here I’ve had the first great night’s sleep I’ve had in far, far too long and am living the dream here with you two, and now harsh reality is back in my mind.” She immediately stared at Clark’s face.

“It’s too soon to test your focusing ability” he assured her, with a kiss. “You need to catch up on more lost sleep and heal more.”

“I’m too awake to sleep right now. And gettin’ kinda hungry.”

“Me too” replied Leigh. “Going to bed late and these cloudy mornings can lead to sleeping later, nearly into the first breakfast booking.”

“Is it that late already?”

“Yeah.”

“May I please tell you what a profound delight it is to hear the two of you having a conversation across me, cuddled into each side?”

“You’re neener’s already doing that.”

“You’re already feeling him up there?”

“Throw your leg up over him, Squish.” Leigh removed hers in order to make such a thing possible.

“Mmmmm. Now I know why you threw your leg up over him first thing.”


Jayne decided she needed some more kisses. Clark decided he needed to squeeze her breasts. She couldn’t help noticing that his squeezes were far more gentle than Leigh’s.

“Eh-hem. Send some love over to this side before I chonk myself up atop the both of you.”


🎼 Oh! Oh! Tel-e-phone liiinnee 🎼 Leigh’s generic ringtone sang out of her device, handily on the bedside table.

She needs a newer song, don’t ya think?

Yeah” Jayne had to agree. “We can help her together with that (kiss). Set up some per-contact customs, too (kiss).”


“Hell-o.… Oh hey, Beryl.… Nah, we’re still in bed.… Hold on, I’ll ask.” She turned towards Clark and (out of her sight, since she remained lying down in bed) Jayne. “Beryl wants to know if we want to get all of Team Succulence together for lunch, given that she’s on her way to breakfast and Per and Bec slept in like us.”

“Any chance we can get seated at Sip And A Wink?”

“Geez Neen, that’s not really set up for a gaggle of plushies, like us women of Team Succulence. You and me and Squish could do it, but those booths aren’t meant for more than one SSBBW and one average-sized admirer per side.”

“If they’re taking reservations and someone’s setting it up now, we can try for the circular group booth in the corner.”

“Beryl and Bec may be too front-to-back thick to get in there. You do know most superchonks don’t do booths, yes?”

“Depends wholly on the specifics of the particular superchonker in both body and preferences, last I read. I think we should go for it. If not that, we could do Oasis and let them know the size of our group both in number and, well, size, and they can move some tables around if need be. If that doesn’t work we might as well go back to Jimmy’s Buffet, or pick the largest stateroom amongst us and maybe have another orgy meal.”

“Yeah I’m still here Beryl. Almost done.” She again muted her mic, “Whaddo you want to do, Squish?”

“I’ve eaten at all of those plenty of times, so I truly don’t care.”


Leigh explained their priorities to Beryl, who quite liked the Sip And A Wink suggestion.


“May we order breakfast delivered, please?” Jayne requested with a slight whine once the call was finished.

“I’m fine with that” replied Leigh.

“Sure. What do either of you want to do today, apart from meals?”

“That’s too hard a question” complained Jayne, cuddling deeper into Clark’s side, exciting him and making him very tranquilly happy at the same time.

“Don’t know that I want to be in nor on bed all day. Then again I don’t have any specific plans, and there’s a very exciting woman staying with us.”

“Squish needs more rest, and given that I too have nothing in particular planned, I want to do all I can to help her rest and recover.”

“Are you sure you mean ‘rest’, Neen?” Leigh teased.

“It would mean more to me than I can tell you to stay here in the stateroom all day and night here nude with you two today, other than lunch. Not in bed necessarily, but just being together and staying immersed in these loving feelings where I feel valued and loved and respected and sexy and attractive and have hope!

“Alright. I’ll plan on balancing my eating so I’ll have room for lunch but can still focus on catching up with the great things I couldn’t enjoy during the 2 weeks of illness.”

“I love you more than I have words, Chonky” Clark kissed and hugged her. Turning to his other side he added, “And you, Squish, are magical (kiss). It is an honor beyond words that you’re here with the two of us, and I hope we can all have a great healing time together on this bizarre life adventure in which we all find ourselves.”


* *
Not even an hour later, the nascent kinda-sorta 3-way love affair hit rough waters.


I’m sorry!” Jayne whined, her voice muffled by her double face-palming.

“It’s alright, it’s alright” sighed Leigh, single forehead-palming as though she had a headache.


Swallowing her pride, she came over to the bed where Jayne and Clark had been about to get into their first-ever P.I.V. sexual intercourse, derailed by Leigh’s meltdown. “Come on… sit up next to me and let’s talk this out, please.”

“Do I have a place in this?”

Leigh redirected some of her anger into flutter-eyed annoyance towards her intermittently clueless cruise husband. “If you need either of us to explain to you that you ought to be supportively cuddling Squish on the side opposite me, I’ll really be wondering where your usual clueful caring self has disappeared to today.”

Not wishing to aggravate her further, he silently moved where his intuition had suggested he place himself anyway, before he asked and Leigh scoldingly confirmed. His loving affectionate force field directed towards Jayne (and past her onwards to Leigh as much as he could manage) amplified in Jayne’s case by direct supportive cuddly contact assuredly helped stabilize her and settle her down, as she continued to struggle to find her way back to some semblance of her former stable, balanced, secure confidence.


“Hold hands, please” Leigh requested of Jayne. “Eye contact, please?”


It was difficult to look into the face of the woman who’d not only just recently gone off on her and/or Clark and/or the world (she couldn’t be certain which), but who’d been so antagonistic to her yesterday morning around this time during the intense, oft-traumatic extended breakfast where Team Succulence was born. Yet this was the same woman for whom she had feelings stronger than she’d had in the past for other women, and more than that was letting her immersively love Clark… maybe. Until now. She pushed herself to make the eye contact.


“There is nothing wrong with you, nor your body. I lost it because of my insecurity and jealousy. It’s been a challenge for me to wholly embrace your having amazing breasts to die for, despite your giving me the gift of sexually loving those parts of you, thus you yourself, in the limited way with which I feel comfortable. You’ve got the boobs; I don’t, at least not at your level. You’ve got what we’re calling the 3rd. boob—a nice, fat, soft belly—and that I do have. I wasn’t prepared for you to also have a deliciously fat, round, succulent, ultra-desirable fat mound that I wish I had—a 4th. boob, in lusty sexual effect.

“You’ve mentioned your concerns with aging, so maybe you’ll understand how threatening it is to me as a woman 15 years older than you to discover more and more ways that you have the perfect body I wish I had, every time I run across some previously-unnoticed aspect of you. If we’re all being honest, Clark loves you, you love him, and you two could easily be the cruise husband and wife, or whatever different pairing nomenclature and reality you might prefer.”

“But we established yesterday at breakfast that everyone sees me as older and looking like shit, and you as the younger-looking hottie!”
 

Sonic Purity

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“Much as it gave my self-esteem a boost, part of me wishes Per hadn’t brought out that game. Especially because of the way it trashed you.” Leigh found herself lovingly massaging Jayne’s held hand, part of her mind questioning what was going on within her. She restored more complete direct eye contact, “You’re already looking better. It won’t be long before you’re back to stunning Swash Buckle: the female DJ everyone who’s attracted to women wants to get with.”

“That’s over, Leigh” she sighed. “That whole world’s gone, and not coming back. I do want to look attractive and I do want to be judged as young rather than old and haggy, but honestly for right now and what little future I can see, I’d rather be Squish Buckle or just Squish: a member of Team Succulence in good standing—definitely including with you, because you matter to me. I shouldn’t have pushed so hard and so soon for going all the way with Clark to find out what it might feel like to have his exciting neener in me, and for that I apologize.”

“I don’t mind you two sharing sex, truly I don’t—especially when I can watch.”

“Are you certain?”

She cast her gaze downward and sighed. “No. I’m finding myself wavering back and forth wholly unpredictably between being super-excited about us being boob lovers and you, me, and Neener being together as a real-world loving living together for now 3-way in our special way, versus wondering what the hell is going on and why it’s not just me and Neener being a couple and not even any other part of Team Succulence, other than maybe an occasional meal together. It’s not even restricted to just those two poles, though I’ve yet to get clear enough in my mind to identify other wavering stopover points. I truly do want you to heal and get back on your feet for whatever the future has in store for you, and stressing you and myself and Clark with jealous rages helps none of us in any way. In conclusion for my part of this discussion, I apologize for going off on you for reasons having everything to do with me and my insecurity and nothing to do with you other than my profound envy of you on several levels and your body in particular. I apologize to both of you for trashing what likely would have been some excellent sex you both would have enjoyed. Maybe once we’ve all settled down and let go of this, the mood will come back, and you two can get back to it.”

“It’s far more important to me to have the ongoing steady healing supply of cuddly affection and to remain on good, peaceful, mutually relaxed terms with you than to bone Clark” she turned to face him, “no matter how awesome your neener seems to be.”

“It’s awesome, at least in my world.”

“It’s average” Clark objected.

“Physically that may be, though I think if we measured, you’ll measure above average. Vastly more relevant than the enticing physical parameters is the mind and spirit of you backing up your banana prong: the love that comes with the boning, and is so soothing and healing apart from boning and other lust stuff. Alright, I’ll be quiet now. Please let’s all find our way back to loving one another in all possible ways with which each of us are comfortable.”

“Chonky?”

“Yeah Squish?”

“Tell me truly: do you have any interest in doing anything at all with my 4th. boob? You know, being a boob lover and all.”

A brief shudder went through her. “I badly want to massage-squeeze you there. To know what it feels like, at least for those of us here on the outside.”

“I’d like that.”


It felt very good and very exciting to both of them. Beautiful heavy breathing filled the room as Leigh kept going, repeatedly slowly and deeply squeezing what amounted to the best and most amazing warm fleshy squeeze ball she’d ever felt, or even seen.


At one point by accident, Leigh’s middle finger slipped between Jayne’s fat lower lips. Both of them immediately froze up, Leigh more than Jayne. Their eyes locked, their faces projecting mutual deer-in-headlights freeze panic expressions.

Ever so subtly Jayne nodded, likely unaware she was doing so.

Leigh slid her middle finger back and forth several millimeters.

Jayne nodded slightly more, this time aware of what she was doing.

Leigh slid her finger about a centimeter back and forth.

Explosive passion shooting through her light lightning, Jayne nodded deeply—easy for anyone to see. “Yes please” she verbally confirmed.


Leigh’s hand took Jayne on a nice, slow, gradual, exquisitely arousing hand job ride. She quickly learned that reflecting upon what she was doing was the worst possible idea: merely starting along any such path brought on queasiness, panic, or both. Staying all the way into full in-the-moment focus on the feelings and staring lustily at Jayne’s boobs, belly, and what she could see of her fat mound she was currently deftly manipulating was absolutely the way to go, perhaps the only way to go.

Jayne’s aroused gasps and moans filled the room, more so as Leigh’s free hand move to her breasts, gently caressing them and especially their seriously engorged not-quite-so-small nipples.


One could imagine Jayne feeling driven to reciprocate, either in the same moment or later. That almost happened, but didn’t.

One could imagine Clark getting involved via getting into his cruise wife’s vulva with any one or more parts of his body. That almost happened, but didn’t.

What actually happened was in some ways more amazing: Clark eased up behind Jayne and gave her a shoulder massage whilst Leigh continued giving her an exquisite genital massage. The mash-up of exceedingly affectionate romantic and exceedingly lusty sexual feelings and loving gifts from her two simultaneous lovers had Jayne giving herself over entirely to both of them. In this moment, she would have done anything to please them and maintain their amazing love. Thankfully all they asked was for her to be herself, take all the love in that she could, and thoroughly enjoy.


* *
“This way, please” masked and gloved Sapphire Prince staff member Anwin (per her name tag) directed Leigh, Clark, and Jayne.

The latter squished boob-first into Clark to whisper, “We trained together and she doesn’t even recognize me!

The around-waist affectionate arm squeeze and nose-rub kiss he gave her and whispering back, “She’s harried and under stress. Just look at what’s going on around us, and what she’s being forced to navigate” meant a great deal to her. She knew she still needed his caring support during this ongoing critical phase of her recovery. As well, beyond any doubt she knew she loved him more than was probably good for anyone.

His other arm had been and remained around Leigh, who soon received her own unsolicited kiss from him, just because LOVE!


Traversing the Grand Promenade deck towards the Sip And A Wink Pub proved more challenging than any of them imagined. Loosely packed with passengers weary of stateroom confinement and wanting to go somewhere and move around, the many clusters of socially-distanced spaced-apart small groups (mostly family units), couples, and individuals, each shepherded by a different staff member, looked and felt like an uncomfortable mashup of disparate groups of unruly, boisterous school children being led by their teachers and prisoners from differing gang factions being led to or from their cells and some exercise or work area by guards.

Different groups snaked around in ever-varying paths to keep people apart and still manage to get each individual or group to their destination in some sort of safe, timely manner. Such was the tightly-controlled chaos of having a single deck of necessity in use both by those in the No symptoms (asymptomatic, never had symptoms) class and the Recovered class.


Spotting the Jayne/Clark/Leigh group, Rebecca waved and attempted to speed up to meet up with them, pulling Per along with her.

Her attempt was blocked by their usher Shashi. “Stay with me here, ma’am.”

“We’re in the same group!

“Groups are limited to those residing in the same stateroom, ma’am.”

Frustrated, she ranted, “We. Are. In the Recovered class, alright? We all had it! It’s over! We can kiss and… do anything else you might imagine.”

“It has not been established by leading authorities whether or how long recovered individuals may or may not acquire immunity” Shashi explained as they slowly continued in the direction of the pub, dodging other groups by someone’s vague idea of a social distance.

“When we catch up with them, we are joining them. If you object, contact your supervisor now.”

Heyyy!” Beryl grinned, waddling up along side Per and Rebecca.

“Ma’am! This is an established group of two–”

“–Let’s get rockin’ and get in our seats!” Beryl completely ignored the usher, easing Rebecca and Per in front of her and using her huge body as a body block between them and the relatively puny usher.


Shashi gave up, snapping a quick picture of the backsides of the renegade group and logging the incident, then going back towards the elevators to find another group to shepherd.


Before any other cruise ship authorities could get overly worked up, Beryl, Per, and Rebecca met up with Jayne, Clark, and Leigh just outside the wide open doorless doorway of the Sip And A Wink Pub, all of them heading inside together in a huge aisle-blocking mass of superlatively fat humanity.
 

Sonic Purity

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* *
Clark and Rebecca both recognized the twiggy young barmaid leading their group to their booth, notwithstanding her entirely (other than eyes) face-covering face mask. The protective mask looked quite out of place, clashing as it did with her semi-scanty (someone’s idea of) British pub barmaid uniform. It succeeded admirably hiding her grimace, struggling to imagine how even any one of the women of this group might fit into any of their booths, as well as how any of them could have ever become so fat, and having done so, how they possibly managed to survive COVID-19 since she’d read that obesity was a major risk factor for serious illness and (gulp!) death.

There was absolutely nothing morbid about these noticeably to significantly to profoundly obese women, puzzled though at least some of them were by the booth to which they were led: one of the standard rectangular 6-person (or 4 of what management thought were people of size) booths.

Beryl, who’d made the reservation, inquired. “Is there some reason the group booth over yonder in the corner which I thought I’d reserved isn’t available?”

“Someone with the sniffles and a fever was reported within the last hour to have been sitting there yesterday, so we’ve thoroughly cleaned it and it’s in its 3-day quarantine period” she proudly announced with an air of authority, briefly wondering why one of the other fat women looked more than vaguely familiar to her.

Feeling adventurous (and hungry), Leigh grinningly declared, “I think we can make it work”, sliding in on the left side, scrunching herself against the wall. “Neener next to me, then Squish.”


Clark grinned and Jayne giggled as they slid in. It was tight enough that Leigh had to lift her right hip and bun fat with leg muscles and hand as much and as high as possible for him to slide in under her. Even doing that, her right hip and Jayne’s left were well into contact: more than stand-offish people would abide, as though they were sitting intimately close with no one between them. Clark’s lap was completely buried beneath their combined hip and bun fat.


Here goes nothing” Rebecca muttered.

Already shocked that this hugely-wide woman was going to even try to slide in, the barmaid barely reacted when Per snatched a pair of the plastic-coated menus she was holding from her, quickly slipping them between his beloved’s front and the table edge, forming a sliding bearing surface.

“Clever, Per” commented Clark.

“He’s quite the gentleman” Rebecca smiled and blushed, thanking her man with her eyes in a special, private way. “OK, I’m in, so now he can squish deep into me and we can all find out how Beryl’s gonna pull this off.”

He did so straightaway, placing the bearing surface menus atop the table.

Beryl eyed the geometry of the situation. “Where there’s a will, there’s a way” she narrated as she plunged on in sideways. “And I have a lot of will. And luscious, glorious fat!”


{Luscious and glorious fat?!} the barmaid thought, in the moment glad that she didn’t have to force a smile behind her face mask.


Had the table not been securely bolted to the floor, Beryl might have nearly impaled her friends on the other side, none of whom had middle to upper chest below-boob fat the way Rebecca and especially she did. The table and bench seat creaked and groaned, but held.

Per was squished so tightly into her right side and Rebecca’s left, he could barely move. Like Clark, their butt and hip fat impressed well into each other’s, inundating and completely covering (and then some!) his lap. “You sure this is OK?” he asked Beryl mostly, his love Rebecca secondarily.

“Oh I dunno” the latter teased, obvious from her smirk, “You’re gettin’ a lot of another woman’s side boob action.”

“That’s not all he’s getting and you know it and we’re all better off for what each of us is getting” Beryl grinned. “Under normal circumstances in which few people on Earth are currently living, I’d be seeking something more spacious. Being here in this pub with you all of Team Succulence is far more important to me than free space right now. Beyond that, it’s turning me on like I can’t believe that I’m so fat that I can barely wedge myself in here. I’ve had this joy in the past at the end of big meals, but here the meal hasn’t even started yet!”

“Are you into stuckage?” asked Per.

“Amongst many other things, yes” she grinned, wiggling a little to further feel just how tightly packed in she was.

“I know why Beryl’s grinning, because she’s a freak” Rebecca partially teased. “What’s got you grinning and laughing, Leigh?”

“I’m the only one with any meaningful table space for food and beverages in front of me” she chuckled.

“I’ve got a workaround for that” grinned Jayne, sweeping her braless boobs off the table, letting them fall to her sides.

“So do we” Beryl countered. Amazing them all, she pulled a pair of decently-thick cloth placemats out of her inner depths somewhere near or beneath her giant boobs. First she neatly unfolded and laid one atop Rebecca’s table-filling orbs, then the other atop her own.


As she studied herself and the others at the table, Rebecca experienced a sense of surrealism. Meant as an internal thought, she wound up softly saying aloud, “How did I ever let myself get so big?”

The friendly smiles around the table aimed towards her were a small part of the answer. Inner feelings she definitely did not verbalize were a much larger part. When her and Per’s eyes directly and intensely met yet again, the out-of-this-world powerful love between them gave her the rest of her answer. She gently eased him over against and into her at an angle allowing his head to rest atop her placemat. This was only possible because of how profoundly soft and fat she was.

Others were studying the menu, figuring out what all they wanted. Soon enough, she joined them.


* *
With orders placed, attention turned back to being together.

“Welcome to the second meeting of Team Succulence” Beryl smiled.

“Yeah, I suppose you are our de-facto leader” Rebecca mused (aloud).

“We can vote on that.”

Clark had a different idea, “Let’s instead award Rebecca with something for having named us.”


Leigh started applauding, the rest of them quickly joining in.


“Thank you. I don’t even remember how it happened. What I’d really like is to be a part of the vote or nominations or whatever you over on the other side apparently took to give you your special names.”

All 3 of them looked puzzled, Leigh especially.

“You know: the ones you just used when we sat down. Neener and squishy something.”

“Those are our pet names for each other” explained Leigh.

“You’re sharing your names of endearment out in public?!”

“They’re not exactly racy” Jayne countered.

“Fewer names to remember, if we use them for our Team Succulence names too” noted Clark.

“Alright, what are they?”

“Let’s each sound off with our own, starting from my left.”

“Chonky.”

“Neener.”

“Squish. As in Brent’s Squish Buckle from yesterday, improved via removing him and the Buckle.”

Always remove the buckle” said Beryl. “Makes for more breathing and eating room.”

“Unless she’s DJing” Per mildly disagreed.

“Alright, I sit corrected: usually remove the buckle, and other restraints.”

“Yeah, I get those” Rebecca nodded. “I like mine—Per’s pet name for me—but y’all are gonna penalize me for it, and then I’ll be sad.”

“Why would we do that?” asked Clark.

“’Cause in private I’m Cali, C-A-L-I. But you all natives won’t let me be that, and nobody’s given me the rule book or the how-to or the course requirements to earn my Ph.G. And here come our beer flights” she grinned at the end.


“Sorry to be nosy” said the barmaid as she set the flight racks down, “but what’s a Ph.G?”

“A mythical degree I made up as an abbreviated way of saying ‘getting my Ph.D in Cali Girliness, with the girl part of Cali girl being the G. I’ve lived there 20 years—a freakin’ generation, people!” she noisily teased the natives seated across from her—“and the native son and daughters over there keep tellin’ me I’m still a New Yawwwker.”

“20 years… that’s 87 percent of my life.”

“See people?!” she again directed to those across from her. “It’s like it’s a frickin’ copyright or something! I’m not gonna live long enough ta be a Cali girl at this rate. You a Cali girl, hun?”

The barmaid nodded.

“Thought so. Can you approve me as a Cali girl? Or tell me how ta go about it?”


The young woman stared contemplatively towards the ceiling for nearly half a minute.


“Fortunately for you, we have a sufficient number of natives here today” she totally made up, sounding as authoritative as had Shashi the usher. “Unless my peers of greater experience know otherwise, last I heard in a pub setting like this, the nominee and each native-born person on the qualification committee consumes all of a drink, then the first committee member asks the nominee a general California knowledge question that only a true Cali girl—native or qualified immigrant—would know. Conveniently you’re all having microbrew flights, so consuming one whole flight glass each round shouldn’t be an especial hardship. Upon successfully answering the first question, the process repeats, moving to the next committee member in order. Once the final question has been answered correctly, the nominee becomes an official Cali girl.”

Finally! Is this an open-book test?”

She shook her head.

“Dang! Do I get more than one guess?”

“Normally no, though by unanimous agreement amongst the members of the qualification committee, that and other rules can be adjusted.”

“Oy! These three will make it harder!”

“No we won’t” Leigh assured her, “because as she just said, it requires unanimous agreement to modify the rules.” {And you are brilliant} she thought of the clever young barmaid.
 

Sonic Purity

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“I have to go serve another table, and because I’m working, I can’t be part of the rounds of drinking. All committee members in favor of this being an official transaction despite my not being allowed to drink nor bear witness at every moment, for which I myself vote yes?”

“Yes” “Yes” “Mmm hmm”

“OK, it’s unanimous. Let’s please start with the committee member farthest from me near the wall so I can go do my job and not get reprimanded, working in order from there towards me. I’ll be back when I can.”


She was already gone before Per could ask, “Do those of us who aren’t on the committee and aren’t the nominee need to drink at the same time?”

“Nooo” replied his Love the nominee. “You and Beryl enjoy your flights at each your own pace, and the show.”


Rebecca had to admit to herself that she felt more than slightly nervous, even though the native son and 2 native daughters seated across from her were all smiling towards her as the 4 of them enjoyed the first and lightest beer of their flights.


“OK native daughter and Team Succulence member Chonky, I’m ready when you are.”

“Name the band best known for songs about California life, specifically California Girls.”

“The Beach Boys!”

“Correct!”

“That’s too easy!” Clark objected, shoulder-bumping Leigh. “Those were national hits anyone could know, not something only a true Cali girl could know!”

With the force of a prosecuting attorney badgering a witness, Leigh pushed herself part-way up, leaning towards Rebecca menacingly. “Have you ever at least one time since moving to California sung along and danced to the Beach Boys’ version of California Girls, changing the lyrics to something like ‘I wish I could be a California girl’?

Yes Your Honor! At least once a year!”

“Irrelevant!” Clark again objected.

“First question was legitimate, and she answered it! Your turn once we have our next flight glass, where you can ask a harder question.”


Rebecca braced herself for what she knew was going to be a tough question, downing her second flight glass to hopefully fortify herself, or if not that at least get through the gauntlet more quickly.

Once the others and he himself finished, Clark plunged right in, “Name the California city whose motto used to be ‘Sun Fun Stay Play’.”

Clark!” Leigh barked.

Jayne looked over at him like he was nuts. “I don’t even know that!”

“It’s a significant California city and they had that motto for years!

Leigh was having none of it, “Not in any years Bec lived here!”

“We’re in southern Oregon.”

“Lived in California! Pick another question that at least both I and Squish can answer, please!”


He gave her a mildly dirty look, working through his mind seeking something suitable. Eventually he thought one up. “The Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum is located in which City of Los Angeles district?”

South Central! My hip-hop homies used ta battle them.”

One of his eyebrows shot up, “Where is your true home?!”

California!

“Alright. Congratulations on passing stage 2.”

“Hhhhhhh” she sighed in relief, her head collapsing against the seat back.

“You’re halfway there” Per encouraged her with a smile and a very nice bare fat upper arm affectionate squeezy caressing rub.


{Well at least I’m getting smashed enough that I’m not gonna care if I lose} thought Rebecca, during her tasty 3rd. flight glass. She didn’t feel especially great about the evil smile on Jayne’s face, as the latter finished her current glass.

“For the true Cali girl, when is bikini season?”

Ohhhh!” Leigh winced.

“Niiiccee!” was Clark’s response.

Trick question! I can’t get in a bikini that fits!”

“Yes you can” declared Beryl.

Jayne restated the question, “For the sake of this qualification exam, imagine your future self, a true 100% Cali girl-certified immigrant, with a bikini right there in your closet or drawer that fits you perfectly and makes you look excellent. When is your bikini season—you and Chonky and me and our barmaid and all other true Cali girls?”

“It can be any time of the year! I’ve been toasty-warm on the beach in the sun some days in December and January even, and other years that can’t happen and even some days or weeks in June may be out. It depends on the weather; ya gotta look at the weather forecast.”

Correct answer!

Hallelujah and I Love You, California!


“How’re we doing here?” the newly-returned barmaid asked from behind her mask, starting to dish out the orders.

“I’m 3 for 4! I’m on a roll!”

“Looks like you all of the qualification committee and you as the nominee need to finish your 4th. flight glass before I can ask your final qualification question.”

Rebecca was almost there, and made it all the way so. “Let’s go people!” Clap clap clap “She’s got people ta serve and I gotta do this!”

Leigh and Jayne pounded theirs, to keep things moving. Clark, on the other hand, quaffed his leisurely.

“Let’s overheat his glass with stare burns so he’ll finish it faster” Leigh advised.

Before they could make any progress on that, he gulped the last 2 swallows and set down the glass.

“The official state flower of California is?”

The California poppy! They’re usually the most beautiful vibrant orange but some are yellow and some are red and I’ve heard tell of pink ones but I’ve never seeeen those” she ended in a sing-songy tone. “I love the poppies! The poppy fields in Antelope Valley in springtime—OHHHH! I don’t know why people pick them from there and step on them when they’re so easy to grow at home. Leave the native poppies alone!—HHHHH! You have one right there!

“This one’s farm-grown, not from a reserve, I promise you. By the power delegated in us as native-born Californians, I hereby pass this California poppy from my pandemic-enforced gloved hands through the hands of each committee member in turn, the last of whom will place it decoratively in your hair, at which point you will be a true Cali girl of the immigrant subclass, with rights and privileges equal to the native-born Cali girl subclass, apart from being able to serve on nomination committees such as this one.”

“Hhhhh! I’m cryin’ here! (sniff) I’ve waited years for this!”

Leigh’s belly briefly got caught under the lip of the table, flobbing (sic) up in a sudden jolt and landing atop the table with a pleasing thud as she stood to decorate Rebecca with the pretty poppy. Twisting her upper body as she carefully studied the different angles, she eventually chose slipping it in her hair about 2 cm above her left ear, with the peak of the bloom about 2 cm forward of it.

She couldn’t help smiling at the result: it looked beautiful!


Everyone took pictures, including the barmaid. Nearly all of them had to wait for Rebecca to repeatedly wipe her eyes then smile, to avoid a crying (from joy) photo.


The newly-minted Cali girl’s eyes suddenly grew wide, “Wait wait wait—I just thought of this: is this permanent? Or is there any way that this great honor can be taken away from me?!”

“According to the last policy update I saw, it’s permanent unless a Cali girl consistently ranks iconic aspects of other areas above those of California, especially those of an immigrant Cali girl’s native area. For example, if you routinely spoke of how New York pizza or bagels or anything else are better than those of California, you’d be at high risk of having your official Cali girl status revoked. Sports teams are even more critical, so if, for example, you root for the Mets instead of the Dodgers or Angels or Giants any other California team, you’d likely have your status revoked.”

“Oy. Glad I’m not a sports fan! And I do like California pizza, especially with arugula on it. But the bagel thing, all the bagel places I see have New York in their name somewhere. How does that work? I can’t afford ta lose this after having worked so long and hard ta get here!”

“All good, unless you routinely complain that the bagels at such-and-such place in New York City or elsewhere outside of California are better. Keep it positive, keep it Cali, and you’ll be fine.

Tension again poured out of new Cali girl Rebecca’s body. Before her emotions could again well up overly strong, she asked the barmaid “What’s your name, hun?”

“Poppy. No, just kidding! It’s Lita, L-I-T-A. I forgot my badge today.”

“Thank you so much, Lita! Seriously, you have no idea how much this means to me.”

“Cool! And congratulations again, new official Cali girl with the poppy to show the world! Enjoy your meal, everybody; I’ll be back around soon.”


“Whatever we’re doin’ for her gratuity, I’m doublin’ it” declared Rebecca, once Lita was out of view.

“Gonna double down on that ploughman’s lunch before it gets cold, Cali?” asked Beryl.

“Oh that’s riiiight!” her eyes lit up, “I’m Cali now! I really am!


Cali and the rest of Team Succulence tucked into their hearty pub fare, sharing smiles whenever their immediate eating situation allowed doing so.
 

Sonic Purity

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Location
Pasadena, California, U.S.A.
* *
“More food and a pitcher of beer. Whaddaya think?”


The others of Team Succulence agreed with Beryl’s suggestion. Beyond nearly all of them having a great time most of the time, for other reasons in addition to this, none of them wanted their time together to end just yet. Eating at least one big meal together was so refreshing and pleasing to each of them for their own individual reasons, they were already secretly hoping that the others would conclude along with them that this had to become a daily event.

Both Leigh and Clark knew that she was eating joyously because that was her original cruise goal from before she first boarded the Sapphire Prince. All of them at the table knew that Beryl ate big at every possible meal and oftentimes in between for the purpose of being as fat as possible, because she freely and widely shared this information with anyone who’d listen.

Especially as a newly-minted Cali girl who’d lost so many who’d remained still living in her native New York City, Rebecca needed camaraderie and friendship as much as food. She loved to eat, had a big appetite, and never had done well keeping the weight off long ago when she’d tried. This was different. This was more. She ate for those other reasons, and also others besides: self-soothing, and fitting in. This was not a sacrifice, nor was she losing herself to groupthink. It was an adventure amongst freely fat food-loving Cali girls, native-born and immigrants, and those who loved them—and she had a California poppy in her hair to prove it.

Jayne hadn’t recovered as much as she thought she had, and certainly nowhere near enough in a mere 28 or so hours with less than half of those being restful sleeping or deep rest hours to be wearing herself down with alcoholic beverages. She was the moodiest of the group, her moods shifting almost to bipolar degrees—almost all locked inside. Outside, she was having a consistently great time. As with Rebecca, part of the eating was fitting in, and part of it was going on a fattening adventure along with them. Much as she hated to admit it and could not yet do so consciously, part of it was that her body had already developed the habit of eating a lot being the new normal. Additionally, she remained more stressed than she let on, and likely more than she knew, thus she was still stress eating to soothe herself.

Taken together, each of Leigh, Rebecca, and Jayne had their own reasons to be eating as voraciously and joyously as Beryl.


“OK, they’ve all got Team Succulence names and now finally that I’m really Cali I do too—llllaaaaahh!” she gleefully celebration-sang with joy. “So you two need ’em now.”

“You don’t have a pet name for Per already?” asked Leigh.

“It’s too close to Clark’s Neener.”

“We’ll be the judge of that, Cali.”

“Judging’s over! Right, Beryl? There’s no judging on Team Succulence, right?”


Everyone had to wait for her to finish her current big honkin’ bite of shepherd’s pie. “Correct, however you aren’t likely to make any progress on Per having a Team Succulence name until you share the pet name and we can understand why it might not work.”

“Alright.” She petted his shoulder, gazing at him dreamily as she shared, “He’s my Norwegian Wood. But that’s obviously too many syllables, so for a pet name we use Wood.”

“I’m finding no conflict” said Leigh. “One’s fruit and one’s tree fiber.”

The others agreed.

“Alright, I’m good with it.”

“The question is: is he good with it?”

“I’m fine” he answered Beryl. “I’ll be Wood.”

“That leaves you, Ms. Beech.”

“She doesn’t have a steady, so she wouldn’t have a pet name” noted Clark.

“Don’t need one, when each of Beryl and Beech already fit the terse criterion” the woman in question declared.

“It’s not special if it’s part of your given name” said Rebecca.

Clark thought it through aloud, “Beech, beached whale, Whale.”

“♫ Baahm baahm
Baahm baahm
Baahm baahm
Baahm baahm ♫” Jayne sang, stepping down in pitch with each repetition pair.

“What’s that?”

“My bargain basement rendition of an excerpt from a song titled Whale, which like an idiot, I forgot to research when I heard it. And of course searching on Whale parenthesis song close parenthesis or even songs entitled Whale gets nowhere close, bringing in actual whale songs and all that other stuff other people are legit seeking and I am not. And there really aren’t other easily understandable lyrics other than what I just sung, so can’t do a lyrics search. Just ignore me.”


Clark refused to ignore her, instead giving his exceedingly talented music-minded DJ lover a snug affectionate seated side hug. After that he did the same on his opposite side with his talented-in-other-ways music-minded non-DJ (at least professionally) lover.


“I’ll do Whale” said Beryl. “I’m fine with that. Ready to try a new beer for our next pitcher?”


* *
Boisterous laughter amidst an air of fun and camaraderie grew louder and stronger during what was becoming an extended lunch party for Team Succulence. Bonding ever-closer as new friends and in some combinations lovers over shared interests during a time of great worldwide and on-ship adversity, this second group get-together was an outstanding opportunity to blow off steam and let go of worry and stress and loss from all each of them individually (and sometimes in pairs) had been through. Being honest, there was also at least a vague fear in most of their minds that there might not be a tomorrow, giving an even greater incentive to fully live it up today, in the moment.

The food kept coming, less so now other than for biggest-appetite Beryl, given that they’d been eating long enough that the others were full for the time being. The pitchers of beer kept coming, and somehow they all had room for that. One pitcher at a time, never lasting long, so they could all enjoy a different brew each time.

All of them were comfortably happy “buzzed” intoxicated, each pleased to be that way under these circumstances, though being on the edge of weepy, Jayne from time to time feared she might fall apart if anything went badly wrong.


As tends to be the case as a sweeping generalization, inhibitions were lowered.

Jayne felt an arousal flutter as Clark slipped his hand in through her flowing dress’s generously-sized arm opening/short angular sleeve, claiming her very big left boob. It was exciting to be felt up right there at the table as everyone kept sipping, chatting, and celebrating—even better was having such a big, fat one hanging below table level, so he could keep doing that to her unseen!

But that’s not what happened. Soon after first getting ahold of her left one, to her adrenalin-rush surprise he slowly and carefully eased it out of her dress’s left sleeve! She was so big there, he was holding that part of her out in the open over his lap! But of course it wasn’t his actual lap surface, because that was buried by a little of her own left hip and bun fat, and a whole lot of Leigh’s.

Enthralling as this was, it got better: he eased Leigh’s right hand onto her left boob! Her breast-lusting Girlfriend with Certain Limited Benefits started feeling her up, skin-to-skin! Under the table where no one on the other side could see! Seated one whole person away from her! Thanks to how tightly together they were seated and how big her breasts were, Leftie wasn’t even truly being stretched!

It wasn’t just Jayne that was thrilled. Leigh was profoundly touched that her boob-loving cruise husband would hand Jayne’s magnificent mam over to her, for her own boob-lust pleasure! She was powerfully moved, and so was Jayne. Mostly by chance though a little bit by watching each other, she and Jayne wound up kissing lover Clark at the same time, each on his nearest-to-them cheek.


This was fully visible across the table.

“Lookin’ like you have two Cali girl lovers, Mister Neener” Cali saucily grinned.

♫ Two girls for ev-reee boyyyyy ♫ sang Squish, with Cali then the rest of the women of Team Succulence quickly joining in.

“We’re all set up for that over here” Whale grinned Cali’s way.

No” she defiantly replied. “I may be one Cali girl, but I’m way more than two girls in volume!”

“So are we” replied Chonky, thrilling Squish with an extra-twiddly nipple twist.

Cali crushed her Wood deeply into her side, with a force that might have hurt had she been less well-padded. Hugely fat as she was, to him the experience felt like being squished into a multi-sided warm loving human pillow, sandwiched as he was between her generously pillowy left arm and exceedingly pillowy left side of her body.

“This just in: the women-attracted male FA shortage remains rampant upon the cruise ship Sapphire Prince” announced Whale in her best newscaster voice. “Supplies are being rationed, to be shared equitably. Share your resources!

“You already sampled him, alright?! He’s with me—my Wood—OK?!”

Squish’s mouth ran somewhat ahead of her mind, “True Cali girls responsibly love and let love amongst trusted friends!”

Cali looked and acted cornered, pulling back somewhat wide-eyed, pulling Wood along with her.

Neener rushed to her defense, “True Cali girls come in a stunningly wide diversity of minds, bodies, behaviors, beliefs, and more! I know for an indisputable fact that many Cali girls are monogamous… likely a majority. She is Cali! With or without the beautiful poppy in her hair, she is now a true, full, 100% Cali girl, full stop. Her love is her business, no one else’s, other than Wood’s at this time. We love our way over here, she loves her way over there.”

Whale wasn’t having it, “What about the shortage?!
 

Sonic Purity

Grateful
***
Joined
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Messages
421
Location
Pasadena, California, U.S.A.
As most of them drunkenly stared at one another else took fresh quaffs of beer, Neener used his left foot to slip off his right foot’s slip-on classic black and white checkerboard-patterned Vans deck shoe. Once it was off, with greater difficulty he slipped off his sock on that same foot.

He eased his right foot up and under Whale’s dress, caressing the lowest expanse of her belly fat with his toes and nearby bottom of the front of his foot.


“Alright, I’ll let it go. For now” she winked across the table at him.


Chonky’s bemused gaze aimed his way encouraged Neener to take his next action: one he’d planned to get into before all this opposite-side sharing contentiousness unfolded. Snaking his hand under his cruise wife’s skirt waistband, he made glorious skin-to-skin contact with her fat and full belly, gently massaging it forthwith. From this position it was easy to ease on over and include some of her becoming-voluminous right hip fat.

Squish didn’t know exactly what was going on, only able to read between the lines from lover Chonky’s expression and what little she could see of Neener’s, along with feeling a little of his body language and a whole lot of joyously scintillating and thrilling ongoing direct breast fondling from Chonky. She knew that she wanted to somehow feel Neener’s neener, and made it so: quite like he’d done with Chonk, she slipped her left hand beneath his pants and undies waistbands, right onto his partly-engorged love log. Her exquisite sensual sexual touch assuredly engorged him further, back into his true banana-curved shape.

When his right hand wasn’t occupied holding his beer glass, Neener found it easy to surreptitiously slip it under the table and, without drawing attention, pull up the bottom of Squish’s dress until he could access her deliciously fat thigh. From there it was a short journey up over and under her undies waistband to the lower expanse of her beautifully rounded and very soft fat and fattening belly.


Those on the Chonky-Neener-Squish side of the table did admirably well mostly keeping their poker faces as their sexual intimacy continued, easing deeper. The only “tell” was their relative silence, and sometimes missing out on conversational cues at least one of them would typically have nabbed.


“What’s going on over there?” Cali suspiciously asked.


Whale whispered an explanation amounting to “under-table sexy stuff” to Wood, who in turn whisper-relayed the information to Cali.


“I’m in” she told him, concluding with what some have called a “fuck me now” deep, long, passionate kiss.


Slow and tactful was always the way with Cali, which Wood knew well (hence his being her man). Gradually over time he caressed his way deeper into and in through her voluminous piles of belly and other mid-body fat, continually reading her comfort level.

A quarter hour later, his hand was where precious few in modern times were ever allowed to venture: her inner sanctum: down under yonder in YonLand.


By this point Neener was well into cruise wife Chonky’s inner sanctum on a wonderfully sexy ongoing basis, slipping into and out of Squish’s when his hand wasn’t needed for drinking.


A shared basket of chips (fries in ’Merican English), another pitcher of beer, and the stealth sexy times continued, gradually accelerating. It came (pun intended) to the point where they were legit having an orgy right there at their table in the Sip And A Wink Pub, looking to the few others viewing them as a group of good friends sharing a typical fun (pseudo) public house time, no one outside their table knowing otherwise.

You have my permission to get into Whale” Cali whispered to her Wood.

Are you sure?

Yes. We’re all survivors in a brave new world. She’s sex-positive and horny like me, and she needs it. I’m still your Cali girl and you’re still my one and only all-the-way Wood. You’re going home to my stateroom with me tonight, but for now we’re all in this together, and I approve sharing your woman-attracted male FA resources with her as you’re able, willing, and interested, and she’s interested.


It startled Wood to find Neener’s foot already enmeshed in Whale’s vulvar depths. She quickly and nonverbally made it clear to each of them that the correct path forward was for the two of them to be in that part of her working together for her pleasure. She was so beautifully, immensely fat and they were so totally to-their-core innate woman-attracted FAs of their nature and beyond anyone’s control, they could do no less than strive to please her.


Similar to a colony of ants, all of Team Succulence became a teamwork-driven sexual entity, individually and simultaneously giving and receiving for a glorious greater good. Orgasms, when they happened, were individual, and typically wonderful. When they didn’t happen, the ongoing arousal was so amazingly exquisite, it was as good or better for those so situated that there at that moment were no orgasms.

Most of the experience was about intoxicated carnal sex. Inevitably given those involved and their existing intimate connections, other forms of love simultaneously blossomed and flowed.


* *
As can often be the case during afterglow, biochemistry in some can lead to sad, “blue”, or depressive mood shifts. Such was the case for Squish, who simply couldn’t keep her mind’s focus entirely in the joyous present.


“Hhhhhhhh” she sighed, looking dejected.

Neener’s deeper and more affectionate side cuddle helped, but wasn’t enough.

“What’s up, Squish-o?” asked Whale.

“Thinking about the future. Failing to stay fully present in this amazingly wonderful moment with all of you” she sighed again.

“Why do that? Come back, come back: we’re right here!” she grinned, as was most often her way.

“As important as living in the present is, without planning, when this moment’s future becomes the present, one is likely to be unprepared. Too much of that and especially in critical areas such as earning a living can lead to significant suffering.”

“Can’t plan for everything” noted Wood. “There’s too many aspects of life to do that and still have a life.”

“Who can plan at all in the middle of an international pandemic?!” Cali ranted. “My production company—not mine, but the last one I worked for—has been laying people off right and left! Not firing mind you, but indeterminate layoffs. During the Great Depression entertainment was an escape people needed, but with this thing we can’t even gather a small team of actors in one space ta make anything!”

“Zoom.”

Fuck Zoom!” Neener cursed.

In one of the few times so far they’d encountered a direct head-on disagreement with each other, Wood charged right back, “It’s a lifeline for people right now!”

“Pretty shitty lifeline.”

“It’ll win for the same reason Adobe Flash dominated for so long: cross-platform compatibility and ease of installation and use.”

“It’ll die for the same reason Adobe Flash did: it’s shitty arrogant software, especially deviating outside its original core design goals!”

“I don’t wanna hear about anyone’s software, you two otherwise-sexy sweeties” Cali reclaimed the conversation. “Without someone doing some serious editing, anyone’s software is a bunch of grid boxes right now, far as I’ve seen. That gets old real fast.”

Neener noticed Squish looking sadder. Cuddling into her side anew and nuzzling her upper arm he apologized, “I’m sorry for derailing your conversation.”

“It doesn’t matter” she sighed.

“Yes it does.”

“I’m just being selfish. Ignore me.”

Cali refused. “I’m not gonna ignore a fellow Cali girl in need. Especially not one who helped make me official! What about the future is vexing ya, hun?”

“How to reinvent myself in a way where I can earn a living.”

“Didn’t we establish yesterday that it’s too soon for that?” asked Wood.

“I’m feeling the need to do something besides eating and having sex. Not that those are in any way bad and I’m not judging anyone! Just that you all are here as paying passengers, expected and entitled to recreate like that.”

Chonky gave her left boob some sudden deep squeezes.

“OK: recreate like this. Better Chonky?”

She nodded, grinning.

“I’m a service provider, not providing services.”

“How can you, if everything’s locked down?” asked Whale.

“It’s not any more. Not all of it anyway. We’re here in the pub, for example.

“Yeah, but your stuff’s locked down.”

“Yeahhhh” she sighed anew.

“I understand that they don’t want people getting too close” said Neener, “but it seems like a waste to have big spaces like the Club Troposphere dance floor wholly unoccupied. That may not be your jurisdiction, but seems to me that the Recovered class of cruisers is missing out on the sunbathing opportunities the No symptoms class has on the Sun deck. Even if it meant that someone had to handle appointments and mark the floor with tape or something to keep people spaced apart sufficiently, at least it’s something.”

“Since when has there been any sun recently in which to bathe?!” Whale snickered.

“Point taken. Never mind.”

“I’ve never understood why they don’t do more stuff there in the daytime” said Chonky. “It would be great to have gentle, easy yoga sessions, or meditation, or nearly anything else to help cruisers relax and cope.”

“You especially could do it with music, Squish” Cali smiled supportively. “Nice quiet relaxing background music, ta help people’s tension melt away. You could even dress the way you are now, since to me at least ya look like a therapist or healer in your pretty, flowing, loose dress.”

Chonky liked the idea. “I can envision seeing that on the daily schedule: Meditation with Jayne!”

“With her smiling picture in the corner or to the side of the text” added Neener.
 
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