fat lesbian enjoyer

Kinks you’ll see on this blog:

•Stuffing, including forcefeeding

•Weight gain, including extreme/immobility

•Mild health issues

•Burping

•Body worship

•”Soft” feedism/feedism as healing

•Praise

•Degradation/dehumanization/fat-shaming*

The morning after the ball Rosalie was already awake as the sun touched the horizon, lain beside Devon, who was still asleep. After the feeling of Devon’s full belly arching into hers as they danced left her feeling, well, amorous, and the charged carriage ride that ensued, they had fallen into bed together, as they did not uncommonly now. At first, Devon’s tossing and turning had kept Rosalie awake, but lately she seemed to sleep more soundly and for longer. Now it was Rosalie whose rest was fitful as her mind kept returning to her conversation with Princess Aster the previous evening. 

Almost as soon as they reached the dance floor, the younger woman had engaged her in a whirlwind of rapid conversation. Rosalie learned that Aster was close with her father, an accomplished fencer, and preferred historical books over fiction, particularly stories about real battles. She had read a number of papers written by, of all people, Devon, who it seems had dedicated time to transposing her recollections of critical moments from her time in the military, although Aster noted the tone was dry and detached. Rosalie felt a flash of hurt that Devon had never mentioned such a thing to her, even in all of their conversations about literature. Still, she found herself excited at the opportunity to speak about her wife with someone who had known her long before Rosalie did. 

“It sounds as though you’ve known her for most of your life?”

Aster had nodded obligingly. “Since I was an adolescent. I met her when she first became my father’s advisor, after the victory that cost her her eye. I idolized her then. She seemed so powerful, almost mythical, like a hero from the tales.”

“I remember feeling the same way,” Rosalie admitted. Aster quirked her brow with interest.

“You must have been… surprised, to see her on your wedding day.” She remarked. 

“How so?”

“Ten years will take a toll on anyone.” Aster replied carefully. 

They spent a moment in silence as the tune came to an end, Rosalie bobbing into a curtsy. 

“I believe that she is happier now. I hope.” She turned to find the woman in question, but the seat she had left her in was now empty. She frowned, searching in vain for a glimpse of the older woman.

“Well, since she seems to have disappeared for the moment, would you care for another dance?” Aster looked at her expectantly. Rosalie considered excusing herself, going in search of her wife, but then remembered who it was she would be denying. She placed her hand in Aster’s larger one, allowing herself to be swept back into the dance. 

“I am, of course, honored to dance with you,” she began carefully, “but there are so many beautiful, unmarried women here who would be ever so grateful for your attention.”

“Marriage does not have to be a constraint, if all parties involved are agreed.”

She practically tripped over her own feet. “What exactly are you suggesting?”

“I’m not suggesting anything, yet. What I mean is, it is understood that an arranged marriage may not satisfy one’s need for companionship. And that to have a liaison outside of such a marriage is perfectly acceptable.” Aster spun her in an elegant circle, before pressing a palm flat to her back and dipping her low to the ground, not once breaking eye contact.

“What makes you think I am unsatisfied?” She replied, more tightly than she meant to.

Aster’s eyes widened. “So the two of you are…?”

“Yes.” She snipped. “Well, no. Yes, in a fashion.”

“Very convincing.” 

“Is it really so surprising?”

“Surprising that you’re satisfied with a reclusive war veteran fifteen years your senior whom you were forced to marry? Somewhat. I can only hope that my inevitable arranged marriage is so successful.”

“Well, having a liaison outside of such a marriage is perfectly acceptable.” 

Aster had huffed out a laugh, the song coming to an end. “I wish you both the best. And by the way, she’s probably hiding out on the balcony.”

“You seem far away.” Devon’s voice, scratchy from sleep, pulled her from her reverie. She turned over to see the other woman bathed in early light, highlighting the features that had softened so much over the past months. She had foregone her eye patch, leaving the gnarled, empty space visible in a gesture that filled Rosalie with warmth. There was so much trust between them now, their relationship so transformed. 

“Lost in thoughts of last evening.”

“Oh?”

“Not that. Well, not exclusively that.” Devon’s hand brushed gently against the side of her face. “Princess Aster…” the words escaped her.

Devon frowned, annoyed. “Of course that scoundrel said something ridiculous. She gets herself carried away.” 

“No!” She laughed. “Actually, yes. That would be the best way to phrase it. She said something that was perhaps… ridiculous.”

Devon looked at her expectantly. She cleared her throat again, anxious. 

“She suggested a liaison. Between herself and I. In case I was unsatisfied with our marriage.”

Devon’s face shuttered instantly, any semblance of an expression disappearing. Rosalie’s chest tightened, and she clenched her jaw to prevent her eyes from welling. It was painful to see Devon’s guard reappear, to feel as though she was somehow at fault for the way she receded into herself. To feel as though the trust between them could be cracked so easily and so suddenly. 

“I see.” Devon replied tonelessly. “Such a thing is not uncommon.”

“I turned her down, of course.” She rushed out, trying to restore the tenderness of moments ago. “She understood.”

Devon turned onto her back, staring studiously at the ceiling. They lay in agonizing silence, Rosalie wishing she could somehow undo whatever she had done by broaching this conversation.

“And you denied her because that was your desire,” Devon finally spoke, “and not for my sake?”

Rosalie sat up abruptly, leaning into Devon’s line of sight, interrupting her blank stare. “Yes, of course. I already have everything I desire.”

“Everything?”

“I wish that you would stop speaking in questions and tell me what you’re thinking!” She exploded desperately. It at least drew a facial expression out of the other woman, whose eyebrows flew up in surprise. Ashamed, she buried her face in her hands, preparing to flee to her rooms and lock the door, but Devon’s gentle touch to her back stopped her. 

“I’ve been unfair,” the older woman said quietly. “You’re so honest with me, but I withhold so much.” She shifted on the bed, and Rosalie looked around to see her rising with some effort. Still clad in only her underclothes, she walked over to an armoire set against the wall, opening the double doors and crouching to remove a series of tomes and boxes from the bottom. She silently retrieved a small, carved wooden box, returning to place it in Rosalie’s lap as she sat down beside her. Rosalie was still, waiting for her thoughts to catch up.

“Open it.”

She carefully slid aside the top panel. At first, she was unsure what she was looking at- some pieces of colored paper? Only when the faintest whiff of scent drifted up from the box did she realize they were flower petals.

“A rose?”

“A specific rose.” Devon prompted. 

She gasped. “You said you didn’t remember. You kept it all these years?”

Devon had the grace to looked ashamed. “I was… unprepared for you to ask. Of course I recognized you, at the wedding, but I thought perhaps I had… changed too much. To be remembered.”

Rosalie laughed a little wetly, and Devon pulled her to her side. “No one had ever given me a flower before. No one has since.”

She sniffed. “You’re speaking in riddles again.”

“I know. Let me say what I mean.” She faced Rosalie head-on, her eye burning with intention, and took her hands in hers. “On our wedding day, when I realized who you were, I knew that I would fall in love with you unless I pretended you did not exist. I didn’t think I could bear to endure the shame of pining over a beautiful young woman in her prime, when I was so changed from the self that you had once admired. I had no idea that you would be so patient,determined, and headstrong, and every day I am grateful. You have broken through every wall I’ve constructed, encouraged me to live as I have not in decades, shown me a side of myself I was not even aware existed…” She placed a hand on her belly. “You are a brilliant, beautiful woman, and it would have been absurd of me not to have fallen in love with you. I can only hope to spend the rest of my life endeavoring to make you as happy as you have made me. I don’t only want to be your wife. I want to be your lover, your best friend, your… liaison. If the arms of another are what would bring you happiness, then I would never stand in your way. But I ask that you at least give me a chance to love you properly first.”

A few errant tears had escaped Rosalie’s eyes throughout Devon’s speech, but now a sob burst forth as a torrent of emotion escaped her. She threw herself into Devon’s arms, practically draped over the other woman’s lap, pressing her face into her neck. Devon’s arms came around her immediately, a hand rubbing firmly over her back, and faint murmurs of comfort reached her ears. She felt all of the confusion and secrecy and yearning in her heart draining away, leaving her light and buoyant.

“Have I upset you?” Devon asked worriedly when her cries subsided.

“No. Never.” She raised her tear-stained face, practically nose-to-nose with the other woman. “You need ask for nothing. I have longed for you for months. I tried to be content only with what we had, but in truth I always wanted more.” Devon’s hand came up to cup her face with unbearable gentleness. “Let us be married for love, and not merely as an arrangement.”

They pressed their mouths together softly, Rosalie still sniffling as Devon wiped away stray tears. When her sniffles subsided, she carefully closed the wooden box and set it aside, freeing her hands to cup Devon’s face and stroke her silvering hair. A thrill ran through her as she rubbed her thumb lovingly over the creases by the other woman’s eyes, something she had so longed to do but held back for fear of it being too intimate. Devon seemed to share the idea as she carefully brushed her finger over Rosalie’s cupid’s bow, the small beauty marks by her eye and mouth. They were held in a soft, still moment, entirely entranced with each other, making for the first time the kind of subtle explorations permitted between the infatuated. Rosalie had grabbed Devon’s rounded cheeks before, gripped her lush second chin to pull her into a kiss, but she had never allowed herself to truly indulge in the softness of such a fragile place, stroking the underside of her chin with her fingers. Devon drew her backwards until they were both reclined, Rosalie atop her, cushioned by the abundance of fat on her body. She squeezed at Devon’s arm, trying to find the musculature, but it felt as soft and formless as dough. Devon retaliated by squeezing her ass, forcing Rosalie to thrust forward into the pillow of her stomach, still round even empty as it was this morning. 

She thrust again, watching the way it sent a ripple through Devon’s whole body, two scant layers of cloth separating them. Devon pulled off her shirt, the motion freeing a series of rolls and her flabby, sagging breasts, before connecting their mouths again, tangling her hands in Rosalie’s hair. Rosalie submerged her fingers in the folds of fat where Devon had once had a waist, kneading gently to hear Devon’s breath catch and huff out in satisfaction. She pulled away to nip at the roll at Devon’s neck, then again, harder, then sucked a mark right beneath her chin that made her head roll back.

“I love you,” she promised, adding another mark.

“I love you,” Devon replied around a whine, before rolling them both over and settling her enormous self in Rosalie’s lap. Bracketed between fat thighs, half-crushed by her weight, Rosalie basked in the sight of each stretchmarked roll. For a moment Devon looked hesitant above her, almost shy, before Rosalie pulled her full weight atop herself and sealed their lips together. 

“You’re huge, my love.” She husked, feeling Devon’s rolls jiggling against her clit. “The fattest woman I’ve ever seen. And to think, you were once so lithe and trim, so disciplined. What happened to you?” She pulled away to blink innocently.

“You happened, you little minx.” Devon panted, half-growl, arms already struggling to hold her weight. “With your coaxing and your little cakes.”

“Oh? It seemed like you were already well on your way to being a big, greedy sow when we married.” She punctuated her sentence with a squeeze to Devon’s back fat that made the other woman’s hips attempt to buck, a movement aborted by their weight. “Or am I mistaken?”

“I would never have gone this far… if I hadn’t had you to grow for.” She panted out, an admission that went directly to Rosalie’s clit. She gasped, pushing her wife back just enough to lower her lacy underthings and free herself. Devon kissed her face as she arranged the other woman’s gut atop her.

“Darling, I’m going to ride your big, greedy gut until I come. Do you think you can hold yourself up long enough for me?”

“Fuck, I’ll try.” 

Rosalie did her best to wrap her legs around her wife’s heft, aligning her clit with Devon’s navel. She thrust herself into Devon’s softness, smearing wetness between her belly folds, eyes rolling back in ecstasy at the sensation and the knowledge that she had fed her wife so big she could be fucked like this. Devon panted, hips giving aborted jerks, torn between her evident arousal and the struggle to hold herself upright at her size. 

“Fuck, my love,” she rasped into Rosalie’s ear. “There is nothing in the world so beautiful as you.”

“Already, ah, close.” 

Devon pressed kisses into her sweaty neck, the swaying of her hips above causing the impossibly soft folds of her belly to stroke against Rosalie’s clit. She came loudly, wrapping all four of her limbs around her wife, whose arms buckled near immediately. She tried to roll off but Rosalie held her there, embracing her fully, until she couldn’t breathe. They lay together, both catching their breath, although Devon had done no more than kneel on all fours for a few moments.

“You’re magnificent.” Devon murmured into her hair.

“And to think I haven’t even returned the favor,” Rosalie grinned. “I suppose I could allow you to take care of yourself.”

Devon flushed. “You know I cannot reach. You only want to hear me say it.” She griped half-heartedly.

“Show me?”

Devon sighed but obediently reached down around her belly, pulling it up far enough to expose the fuzzy pad of fat below. Her vulva was no longer even visible until she reached down with her other hand, blushing, and pulled away the soft fold to reveal a glimpse of it hiding between the crease where her thighs met. She was forced to spread her legs almost uncomfortably wide, maneuvering the piles of fat apart enough to display herself, wet enough that her hair was glistening.  She glanced at Rosalie a bit resentfully.

“All out of hands.”

“I may have a spare.” She replied, gently stroking two fingers through Devon’s wetness. She wondered if the inaccessibility made the area even more sensitive, swirling her fingers around the clit that was so often obscured. Devon certainly reacted enough, her eyes falling closed and her mouth open, sounds escaping as Rosalie massaged her lips before fucking into her heat. She could see her wife squeezing her own fat gut, as though in need of something to cling to, or perhaps simply enjoying the changes in her body. She bent down to place a kiss into the center of her belly, murmuring an “I love you” into the softness there. 

Devon came quickly, soaking Rosalie’s fingers, and reached for her immediately, pulling her back into an embrace. Rosalie rested her head on Devon’s chest, just barely able to hear her heartbeat, absentmindedly rubbing a hand up and down the other woman’s belly.

“That’s our love, you know.” Devon murmured, sleepily patting waves into her own gut. “All of the love you gave me. It looks like this.”