The steam of the shower makes her soft skin even more supple, pliant to the lightest touch, warming and growing pink as hot wet air rises around them. He trails her with kisses and gentle little nips of his teeth, laving her with his tongue, feeling how soft she’s become. Every scorching touch seems to burn away one of the stitches of self-consciousness that’s kept her so tightly-knitted lately, until she’s quickly unraveled before him. No longer trying to hold in her belly or keep herself angled away. So it drops outwards, the hot steam coaxing her muscles to relax so that her belly hangs low, lower than she’s ever let him see it before. It entirely covers the sweet warmth between her thighs, but he doesn’t mind. It’s a chance to feel, to hold more of her. To think that he will have to lift her stomach out of the way like a heavy velvet curtain sets his skin ablaze with sudden, sizzling need.
He won't call her plump, like he wants to. She would get upset, still teetering on the edge of deep insecurity about her new body. He knows that, but he can’t fully understand it. Not when, as far as he’s concerned, ‘plump’ is one of the most evocative words in the English language, and the state of being such is just as enchanting.
But she is. Charmingly round and soft — still Chloe, but now so much more. He recognizes her face, still so very her even with the filled-out cheeks and the tempting little roll nudging out beneath her chin. Even though she looks wildly different now, in a way she still looks just the same.
He pulls her close, dousing them both beneath the warm spray, and his arms press into the soft rolls at her sides. Her ample bottom overfills his grip, and he pulls her to him, gently kneading into the delightful excess that spills from both his large hands. She shudders, eyes closed, head back. Good. He desires very much that she enjoys her body as much as he does.
She hasn’t stopped jiggling — every small movement either of them makes sends a wave of delicious ripples through her luxurious body. Plush hanging stomach bumping against her wobbling thighs, and the big soft globes of her fat bottom knocking gently against each other. “Oh, Chloe…” He breathes into her neck. His long fingers cherish a plump roll at her waist, teasing it, squeezing it, and then wandering lower.
He holds her, gently, rubbing the pad of his thumb over her sweetness. She aches and arches, pressing her bottom back, spine curving around a euphoric shudder. (“Oh…”) The bowed position lifts her stomach off her legs, letting it hang free, dangling unsupported like a soft and heavy bellflower. He watches in the reflection, sees it bump against her thighs as she trembles in pleasure. He aches to take a handful. All he desires in that moment is to gently place his open palm beneath the bottom part of her draping stomach, let it brush across once or twice as it dangles from her waist, and then fill his hand with her luxuriance.
She turns, softly moving against him, and they’re face to face, her breasts pressed up against him, so full and large. Her stomach presses as well, and his hands settle on her wide, pillowy hips. She’s big. Achingly plush in his hands. So very different and yet, when she looks up at him with her pale blue eyes, completely the same. She’s feeling vulnerable, nervous. It’s obvious. So he kisses her — sweetly, at first, and then with greater passion. His hands run up her billowing hips, cupping her face and getting tangled in her hair, as her fingertips trace his sides, feeling at the hard details. Even her fingers are thick and plump, sweet little hands all chubby now.
He moans and pulls her flush against him, wanting to feel all his divots filled in by her soft fat. Chloe’s plush body wobbles and she lets out a little gasp, so sensitive like this.
How she could ever think he wouldn’t lose his entire mind over this, is completely beyond him. Plentiful Chloe. He’d never want for anything again.
