Strengthen your body

Once — when I was fifteen — I had a girlfriend. We did everything together, people teased us as 'thick as thieves', and that's exactly how it was. Tall, a bit taller than me; luxurious reddish-brown hair down her back, fantastically sparkling green eyes, playful freckles on her cheeks… I was crazy about her, and I knew it was mutual.

Alas, but not even a year had passed before something terrible happened. She said her parents had decided to radically change their place of residence, and she wouldn't be returning to good old England for the next four or five years. Moreover, her father announced that after school he planned to enroll her in a university in America

— there are options. Of course, I was stunned, but there was nothing to be done. Under those circumstances, our relationship couldn't continue, and although we promised each other to stay in touch and, indeed, later exchanged letters and sometimes even called — eventually even that stopped. We didn't forget each other, no — how could I forget her when even in my dreams her angelic face and wonderful scent were with me — but that was all.

So I was incredibly surprised to receive a birthday card for my twenty-fourth birthday (it didn't come to my address, but to my parents'), in which a magnificent, flowing handwriting conveyed the following:

Hello, George,

Happy birthday! I hope you're doing well.

In a few weeks, I'm returning to my native British shores, how about meeting up? If you decide to, here's my email address: XXXXXXXXXXXX. But if you have other plans, I'll understand.

Hugs and kisses,

Lucy.

I immediately emailed the provided address, and was rewarded with an equally joyful reply. She arrives in sixteen days, has already found herself an apartment and arranged everything. During these sixteen days, emails fly between us so frequently that hardly anyone would believe we hadn't communicated for several years before that.

And although I'm sure I know her better than anyone, on the day scheduled for the reunion with my former love, I almost had a nervous breakdown. I changed clothes about twenty times, probably, and when it was finally time to head to the park (we had our own special bench there where we always sat when we were younger), I barely mustered the courage to leave the house.

— George? — I hear.

That voice, I'd recognize it among thousands! I jump up and turn around to see the one I've only dreamed of all these years.

The sun is shining behind her, in the bright glare I can only see a silhouette — but even that silhouette alone would be enough to understand: a lot has changed. Very, very much.

— Lucy? — I say, barely believing this is the same girl I once loved. — What the hell happened to you?

Lucy is clearly upset, and my heart goes out to her, but I can't hide the astonishment that gripped me when I saw such a behemoth instead of my former girlfriend. There are tears in her eyes — in the same bright green pools as in my memories, but her cheeks are much fuller and rounder than before. Plump red lips, and her face… it's, of course, no less pretty than before, and yet I still can't believe such a change has actually occurred.

Instead of a tall, slender girl, before me is a huge woman who is literally cramped in her own skin. A colossal bust — literally spilling out of the neckline of a (theoretically) roomy plum-colored dress. An immense belly, protruding half a meter forward from the voluminous bust and hanging down past mid-thigh, swaying and quivering with each breath. I swear, through the stretched fabric of the dress, the deep cavern of her navel is quite noticeable! She's as wide as two of me, if not more… Her legs, encased in enormous-sized leggings, are spread apart due to her massive, swollen thighs; she physically can't stand any other way!

I stand up, not really knowing what to say — I blurted out what slipped off my tongue, I know it was wrong, that I should have controlled myself, but still…

— Sorry, I, uh… Lucy, well…

Tears are streaming down her plump cheeks. I step towards her, arms spread. I have no idea what to do, I squeeze her hand with both of mine and look into her face. I realize we're the same height — her slippers, of course, have no heels — and to soften the situation, I say:

— Well, I was hoping I'd outgrow you. — That doesn't seem like the best phrasing. — I mean, that one day I'd finally be looking down at you. Alas, didn't happen. All I managed was to catch up. Who would have thought.

She doesn't answer. Just looks at me with her big, green, moist eyes.

— Sorry, I didn't mean to… like that. It's just, well, I was surprised. You've… changed so much, that's all. — I try to smooth things over.

She sniffles. I try to let go of her hand — maybe she doesn't want me to touch her — but she herself tightly squeezes my hand.

— You're the one who should forgive me. I know I've changed, I just thought you of all people wouldn't judge me… — in three bursts, interrupted by quick breaths and suppressed sniffles.

— Shh, shh, — I gently squeeze her hand, — I don't judge you at all.

— Really? — she looks into my eyes, lit up with hope.

— Of course. I was just surprised, that's all. So, let's try again. — I grin from ear to ear, take a step back, and extend both hands to her. — Welcome home, Lucy!

She, of course, takes this as an invitation for a hug, sniffles once more — and hugs me herself, tightly and warmly, like never before.

— Oh, George, — she whispers in my ear, her damp cheek pressed against mine, — I knew I could count on you.

I myself hadn't initially planned to hug her, but now there's no way out. To encircle her, not even my arms — two people like me wouldn't be enough — and I just grab where I can reach, patting her soft, broad back just behind the shoulders. Her two-watermelon bust presses into my chest, and her massive stomach rubs against my own and lower. I didn't expect it myself, but from the touch of the hanging fold of fat to my private place, that very place gives an approving twitch.

Wanting to avoid embarrassment, I extricate myself from the hug and escort her to our bench. It's wide, designed 'for three', but now there's definitely no room for a third, it's even a bit tight for the two of us. The bench, creaking, takes on all of Lucy's considerable weight, and I watch mesmerized as her flesh literally spreads over the wooden seat.

— So, — I say, settling next to her and forced to press into her massive thigh because on the opposite side I have a hard wooden armrest, — how have you been?

Lucy suddenly laughs, turning to me.

— Oh, George, you're just adorable.

— Meaning? — I ask, puzzled.

— I just can't believe that's the first thing you ask about, — she finds my hand and squeezes it, gently but firmly.

— Well, politeness never hurt anyone.

— I know, and I love you even more for it. — She leans over and kisses me on the cheek, her giant breast heavily pressing against my arm.

— Okay, what do you think I should ask about? — I cautiously inquire.

Lucy laughs again, and I realize I adore her laugh. It's the same as before, and the fact that it's now coming from a woman of giant proportions, into whom I'm pressed… I like it even more.

— Whatever you want, Georgie.

That's what she called me back in those days.

— I just don't want to upset you again.

She strokes my hand.

— It's okay. It's my fault, not yours. It's just that lately I've been getting it… My family stayed there, in the States, I'm here on my own, and suddenly I thought I'd lost you too. But when you hugged me, it all went away.

I feel uncomfortable. Yes, Lucy knows I have no one now, we discussed these points in emails, but this seems a bit much. On the other hand… it's all like before. We are one, I can't hurt her because I can't hurt myself.

— Alright then, — caution? to hell with it, — how did you get so fat?

Maybe the question is tactless, but Lucy just makes herself more comfortable and rests her head on my shoulder.

— American cuisine. I got along with it in a way I never did with British food, — she smiles.

— You, or your whole family? — I clarify.

— Everyone gained weight on American grub, but not this much. My metabolism just stalled when I got acquainted with their pizzas, fried chicken, and candy bars, mmm… just lovely.

We could have sat in silence for a long time, but alas, under Lucy's weight, the circulation in my right arm has already gone numb.

— So what are your plans now that you're back? — I ask.

— I'll continue running my business — online, I liked it — and then, maybe in a year or two, start a family, — and she looks at my face.

— Wait, what are you talking about? — I look puzzled.

— Well, you don't want to wait forever either, right?

— Huh?

— Come here, Georgie, — and her palms cup my face, and her lips press into mine, greedily and impatiently, and I can't help but respond, hotly and passionately.

After an eternity and a few minutes, she releases me. And I, realizing this isn't a continuation of my nightly dreams but reality, still gather my thoughts.

— So you think we'll just pick up where we left off, and that's it? — I'm ashamed of such… bleating.

A shadow of doubt crosses her face.

— I know that's what I want. I think you want it too, or am I wrong?

I myself don't know what I want.

— It's just all so fast, so sudden… — I'm lost for words, for thoughts.

— And? — Lucy asks, not looking away.

I can't look her in the eyes without being distracted by the mighty hills of her breasts, rising and falling.

Not waiting for me to cope with my embarrassment, she continues:

— George, let's not create difficulties out of thin air. Do you still love me?

— I… I don't know myself. I loved you before, and when I wrote to you these days — everything was just wonderful. When you call me 'Georgie', my heart rejoices, but…

— But now I'm fat, is that it? — she asks, and on her face is irritation and weariness.

— Well, it's a big… I mean, noticeable change, you know, — I squeeze out, trying not to look away.

Lucy, releasing my hand, heavily heaves herself into a standing position. Hands on hips, she looks down at me, and her stomach looms threateningly over my knees.

— Listen, George, I need to know for sure. Yes, I'm being unreasonable, but that's how it always is with love: because of it, people become unreasonable. I know I've changed physically over the years, but the woman you've been writing to these two weeks — and, I note, flirting with unrestrainedly — is the same one you see before you. So, do you want us to be together again, or is all this — me like this — too much for you?

I don't answer, feeling her entire massive bulk looming over me, ready to literally collapse like an avalanche and crush me. Physically. I surprise myself, but this… excites me. I like feeling her weight, her colossal softness, with my side, my hands… and I want to try to hug her again, to press into her properly.

— Well? — she asks impatiently.

— I love you, — I answer, and immediately that very avalanche collapses onto me, her breasts, her stomach, and Lucy herself kisses me, greedily and insatiably.

Finally, she lets me stand up, even helps me peel off the bench, and then hugs me again, her lips covering mine, and my hands run from bottom to top and top to bottom over her spread-out body, as if memorizing these incredible dimensions.

— Damn, you're heavy, — I exhale when I manage to get a bit of oxygen into my lungs.

Lucy laughs.

— That's putting it mildly.

We're still standing embraced, her huge stomach and breasts pressing into me. My hands greedily slide over her body, she doesn't take her eyes off me and laughs again when she sees me puzzledly trying to feel her… lower back.

— No, I want to see this, — I declare, releasing her from the hug and walking around to her rear. The back view is simply enormous, a whole shelf of fat. I scoop up handfuls of soft fat, press against it, slap it. Yes, she's as wide as two of me, and even more.

— Easy, Georgie, — she laughs, turning around and kissing me again, — you'll examine everything properly later, when you carry me over the threshold of your apartment and all that.

Yeah, my face must be something, judging by how she bursts out laughing. Well, yeah, lifting such a behemoth — I wouldn't have the imagination for that, let alone carrying her somewhere… And yet, I get even more excited by such a thought.

— Want to visit my apartment? — I clarify.

— What's the rush, Georgie? — Lucy winks playfully.

— Not that we're rushing… — I begin, but then she goes in for another kiss, long and wet, and I simultaneously try to lift her breast. With one hand — it doesn't work, the angle isn't quite right.

— Keep in mind, I'm not one of those girls a guy can just bring home like that, without first inviting her to lunch.

I look at my watch.

— It's not even noon yet.

— Well, we need to fortify ourselves, — she puts on an American accent and kisses me again, and with her right hand she feels through my jeans for my manhood, which joyfully rises to meet her, and I grasp — well, as much as I can — her huge stomach.

— Yes, perhaps, — I agree, let her go ahead and admire her swaying backside hemispheres as we slowly walk along the path from our secluded spot to the parking lot.

— We'll take my car, — she announces right at the parking lot, slightly out of breath. Even though we walked slowly and it was all downhill.

— What's wrong with mine? — I blink stupidly, to which question the side-by-side parked my modest Corolla and her massive Opel Combo answer non-verbally.

She lowers herself onto the seat, loading her incredibly swollen thighs one after the other, and I, mouth agape, admire how the not-so-small, 'cargo-passenger' car sags to the right side under her weight. Lucy settles into the driver's seat — wide,