Lingerie That Fits

Nicole was on all fours on their bed. Moonlight poured in through the windows above the headboard, illuminating her thick brunette hair and shining golden lioness fur. Her tits hung low between her flabby arms, drooping so far that their nipples grazed the bedsheet. They hid her potbelly, but she could feel its plump flesh brush her meaty thighs. Her legs supported wide hips and a thick ass to go with it. At the base of her back ran a long tail.

Her husband David gripped her sides from behind with his orange-and-white tiger paws. Her hips were not quite twice as wide as his pelvis. He lined up his hard cock with her soft mound, then entered her gently. She had used lube to assist their intimacy, and it worked perfectly. He slid in without a problem.

He started slow, revelling in every centimeter of her vagina. Inside, she was warm and inviting. Her vagina wrapped his cock completely, granting him pleasure up and down his member.

After a time, he increased his pace. The force jostled her body forward and back, shaking her rump and swinging her tits. David was delighted. The sight of her undulating pudge set his loins ablaze and made him want to thrust harder.

Nicole, on the other hand, was distracted. Her weight brought her shame. She tried to silence her thoughts and focus squarely on David's throbbing dick. She just wanted to forget her body and think about the man she loved.

Unwittingly, David denied her that pleasure. Lost in the throes of intercourse, his pace grew ever more powerful. He rammed her from behind, slapping her ass with his pelvis. The force sent waves across the fat of her hefty ass, through her haunches, and up to her lovehandles. Every little vibration was a reminder of her plump figure.

Nicole was weighed down by guilt. This should have been about them joining together in passion, and his cock felt great. But the harder he went, the more her body forced itself to the front of her attention. She felt ashamed of her weight, and she felt guilty that she couldn't help but fixate on her shame.

David finished, moaning and then breathing a sigh of satisfaction. Nicole let out a sigh of relief. They fell into bed, laying next to each other.

Nicole was never slim, but she hadn't minded being full figured. Or at least, she thought she hadn't minded. And her two children with David were such blessings. But now she faced biological fact: Mother Nature saw fit to bestow Nicole with layers of matronly blubber, thickening her hips, rounding out her belly, and ballooning her tits.

David turned to her, noticing she looked troubled. "Love you, baby. Was it okay?"

She turned away. "Honey, I need new pants. I've outgrown another pair."

David was puzzled by the change in subject. "I'm sorry baby."

"That was triple-XL. My lard-ass can't fit a triple-XL anymore. I can't even shop in the fat section of a normal department store any more." She held back a sob.

David started, "Don't talk that way about--"

"Dave, I want to enjoy sex with you," she said, holding back tears. "But my body is so gross. I've always been curvy, but this... I'm fat."

He wore an expression of sympathy. "Baby, you aren't fat!"

She turned to him. "Don't LIE to me, David." Her voice wavered.

"I'm not. And besides, you'll always be sexy to me." He smiled.

"I'm not talking about how YOU feel. I'm talking about how I feel." She sniffled.

David looked into her eyes. It pained him to see Nicole unhappy with herself. But he couldn't change that. All he could do was support her.

She rest her head on his bare chest, and he cuddled her. He felt her tears stream to his fur.

* * * * *

The next day, Saturday, Nicole found herself at a local strip mall. She stood at the door to Ample, the plus size clothing store. Silently, without acknowledging it within herself, she'd always looked down on people who shopped here.

Her gams were packed into her pants, which still fit her if she left the zipper all the way down. A baggy shirt draped low enough over her to cover it. Which was lucky, because she hadn't noticed her ass crack escaping the top of her jeans.

She wandered through the aisles before finding the women's pants. Looking at the racks, the size of the clothing struck her as absurd. She stopped at one rack with blue jeans. Hanging flat, they were two feet wide. Whose body would ever be wide enough to need this? She picked up the first pair on the rack and held it to her hips. Flattened, it was almost as wide as her. She grumbled. Even with the elastic waistband, she could never wriggle into these. She checked the size on the tag: 2XL. She'd blown past mom jeans clear into tubby jeans. She flipped through the rest of the pairs on the rack, found a 3XL and a 4XL, and quick-walked to a dressing room.

She closed the door behind her and faced a mirror. She spun around before she suffered a decent look at herself. She kicked off her flip-flops, then pried her thumbs into her waistband. It practically choked her waist, and she had to press her thumbs hard into her side girth to work them into her pants. Once there, she pushed down as hard as she could. The waistband dug into her corpulent hips and rotund ass, pinching her flesh and resisting downward progress. Nicole wondered if the jaws of life might be an easier way to peel these fatass pants off of her fatter ass.

After her butt finally blubbed free, she bent forward to pull her pants down along her thighs. Her portly belly compressed between her waist and legs, forming new rolls as her body squished it. From there, she dropped the pants and stepped out of them.

She picked up the 3XL pair first. She knew she couldn't fit them. But she didn't want to admit it.

She stepped into the pair one leg at a time, yanking them up to pull the cuffs above her ankles. There she stood, bending forward, hands gripping the waistband.

Well, there was only one way to find out for sure if they fit.

She pulled up, and they ran past her thighs fine. With a little resistance, they even pulled partway up her rump, which sagged with adipose. She experienced a moment of hope. She dragged them up to their final challenge, the crest of her hips. It was here that her prospective pants met their defeat. For all their comfy stretch, and for all her grunting and wiggling and tugging, they just could not conquer her hips teamed up with her ass. She was too wide. They couldn't even reach as far as her old pants.

Her old pants were 3XL, too. Why did they fit better? She must have stretched them. The narrative came to her immediately: her bulky, overfed hips had subdued her old pants over time. For so long, they strained successfully to keep up with her weight gain. Now she had finally outpaced them. She wondered why her monumental backside hadn't ripped them.

Defeated, she dropped the pants she was trying on. She looked hesitantly to the 4XL pair. What if nothing in this store fit? Maybe she was just so enormous that no one had considered making pants that could accommodate her bulging obesity.

She timidly stepped into the 4XL pair. She pulled it up cautiously. They comfortably caught her butt cheeks and handily swept over her hips. She buttoned them, and even her stomach had some breathing room. She zipped them up. These felt good. She had forgotten the sensation of fitting pants. To feel comfortable and natural in her clothing.

She was relieved that the battle was over. Then, she realized she still had to walk out of the store in her old pants. Ah well.

She took off the 4XL pants, coerced her old pants back up her legs, and slipped into her shoes. Then, she went to the rack to put the failed 3XL pair back. She glanced one aisle over and noticed it was lingerie. Who would make lingerie for a whale like her? She stared at it, confused, pants in hand.

* * * * *

A husky voice interrupted her inner monologue. "Are you finding everything you need, miss?" Nicole turned to face the voice, belonging to a black-haired sloth woman in front of her. She smiled politely. Her chin hovered in a waterfall of fat along her jaw. She wore a hot pink v-neck blouse with lace from her neckline to the bottom of her chest. It was open at her chest, showing small breasts and shallow cleavage. Her stomach was a dome pressed firmly into the blouse. Her dignified black skirt covered her slight hips and stopped at her knees, leaving her flabby calves on display. They formed cankles above her glistening dress shoes. Her blouse had a pin reading "GRACE."

Nicole noted with jealousy how good Grace looked. Then she realized Grace's build was awful. Her tits were tiny, and she had no curve aside from the gargantuan gut hanging from her midsection. It should've looked weird. And yet, Grace was beautiful, even alluring. She was a snappy dresser, but that was just part of the picture. She stood there with confidence, with nothing to hide or apologize for, from her outfit to her bearing.

"Miss?" Grace said.

Nicole snapped out of it. "Sorry," she said. "I was just looking at the lingerie. But there wouldn't be any that could fit me." She gave a nervous chuckle.

"Of course there is, miss," Grace said. "We service patrons of all sizes."

"Okay, okay," Nicole said. "But obviously, you know... I'm not really someone who should be wearing something like that."

Long ago, Nicole had enjoyed sexy underwear. It made her feel exciting and enticing. But as she accrued weight, she promised herself to work it off before buying anything new. She hadn't worn anything exotic in years--she was too ashamed to see herself in it until she had shed the pounds.

"Can I ask your name, miss?"

"Nicole."

"Nicole, there's no reason you shouldn't. It's okay, we have something for all body types."

"Oh, I'm sure. It's your job to sell me ridiculous clothing, to make sure I spend more money."

Anger flashed across Grace's face, quickly replaced by a thin smile. "I don't do this often, but you've hit a nerve." She took out a business card and a pen, then signed the card and wrote "LINGERIE" on it. She handed it to Nicole. "I see you're buying pants. I want you to find something fun, too. Give this to the cashier, and they'll ring up the lingerie without a charge." She was clearly more than a clerk.

Nicole furrowed her brow. "Why?"

"Because," Grace replied, "you should be happy." They stood in silence a moment before Grace continued. "And besides, if you're happy, you'll come back here to spend more. But hey, if you don't want the free stuff, it's no skin off my back."

* * * * *

Nicole stood nude in her bedroom facing a full-length mirror. Her tits, thick and heavy, oozed atop her rounded stomach. Below, her chunky thighs smothered each other and billowed out beneath her hips. They had started to form a crease above her calves. Under her belly, her mound pooched out and smushed between her thigh cleavage. She put her paw to it and squeezed. It was soft and yielding. Her pussy was embarrassingly frumpy.

From the nearby dresser, she plucked her new erotic underwear. Two pearly white breast cups were lined with ruffles of lace. From the bottom of the cups hung a soft, sheer fabric, and two straps were attached to clasp around her back. She poured her tits into the cups and clasped it around her. On one hand, she enjoyed the feeling of her breasts when they were free and open; on the other hand, she appreciated the help that bras offered her back.

Then, she picked up white panties with half-an-inch-thick waistband and tiny bows on the outside of each hip. They looked ginormous and silly as they hung from her fingers. She pulled the panties on, and they stretched gracefully past her hips and rear. The sweeping curves of her haunches filled them out.

She looked back in the mirror. Her breasts filled out their cups, which helped to mold their gelatinous weight into ripe melons. They compressed into rolls against her chest. Sheer fabric hung from the cups, obscuring her belly fur ever so slightly in a seductive tease. The fabric covered the sides of her gut, parting down the middle. Where the fabric parted, it showed a direct view of a few tempting inches of her chubby tummy. The panties' waistband was thin, casting a dash of white in the fold under her lovehandles and over her hips. Its front was big enough to cradle her full mound. The panties didn't hide her pussy; they tastefully highlighted its size.

She imagined herself a present waiting to be opened. Maybe this really could work.

It was Saturday evening, so her daughter and son were at her parents' place. Every Saturday night was her date night with Dave while her parents looked after the kids. He was out running a few errands before they were going to go out. She bit her lip as she devised one more errand for him.

She called David and invented a story about her mom being sick. The kids were home, so they should order in Chinese for the whole family, she said. Knowing full well that it would just be her and Dave. He cheerfully complied, none the wiser to her scheme.

In half an hour, David stepped into the house, the bag of Chinese food in hand. "I'm home!" he yelled.

He heard Nicole shout "In here!" from their bedroom.

Dave walked back to the master bedroom. Holding a big paper bag of food in one hand, he opened the door with the other. He was floored by the sight waiting for him.

Nicole stood next to the bed, her back facing him. She leaned on one hip, put her hand on it, and left the other arm hanging straight down. Her tail swung slowly, tantalizingly, left and right. She was scantily--no, sexily clad in a way Dave hadn't seen for years. A bra strap clung to her back, under the thin layer of pudge over her shoulder blades and above the gratuitous handfuls of her soft lovehandles. Thin fabric flowed over her lower back and sides, almost hiding her plush back behind a seductive curtain. Around the flabby bicep of her hanging arm, he could just barely peek a sliver of tit stuffed into its cup.

The waistband of her panties was very nearly lost in the fold between her waist and hips. Her panties left her ass on full, unabashed display. Her cheeks were beginning to lose their round shape, billowing atop her thighs and slumping at their sides, forming rolls at the border between rump and leg in a sensual display of pure weight. Cellulite had delicately visited her butt and thighs, and dimples of it dotted her like stars in the night sky. Her thighs themselves also hung wide and heavy, smushing against each other and forming a bawdy crease at the backside of her knees. Her leg lard tapered thinner along her calves, ending in cute, small feet with toes and bridges thickened gingerly by subtle layers of pudge.

She looked over her shoulder at Dave. "Welcome home," she said in a hush voice.

He was speechless for a few moments. "Baby..." he managed to utter. "Baby, wow! You look great!"

Nicole blushed behind her whiskers. "I hoped you would like it." She turned around to face him. "I... kind of like it too."

Dave smirked. "Something tells me the kids aren't here. But if I ordered food for you AND them..."

"You always seem so thrilled when I eat, so I figured..." She diverted her gaze to the floor. "Really, the Sczechuan chicken and pork fried rice are both for me." She looked back into his eyes.

David raised his eyebrows, incredulous but smiling. "This is not the Nicole I know. What's going on here?"

Nicole thought. David had a point. Feeding was his fetish, not hers. Who was she doing this for, anyway? "David. I'm flabby and dumpy. I don't know if I'll ever feel about my body the way you feel about it." She began to remember what had brought her here in the first place. "But I don't deserve that. So, I don't know. I guess I figured I would try playing along."

Now David was genuinely speechless.

Nicole's stomach grumbled, and she chirped up. "C'mon, gimme the food already!"

* * * * *

David pulled his reading chair next to the bed. He put its back to the nightstand so that its arm ran alongside the bed. Then, he piled pillows at the head of the bed, fluffing them up as he went. "Okay," he said while gesturing to the bed, "lay down, and we can get started. My lady deserves to be fed like a queen."

Nicole sat on the bed and scooched her immense butt up to the pillows. Laying back, they propped her back up almost fully upright, even as her heft sunk into them luxuriously.

David took a seat in his chair and looked in the paper bag. "What's first?" he asked.

"Pork fried rice," she said. Whenever they ordered Chinese, they always got a pork fried rice for the kids. Together, their little ones could only finish a small. Nicole always insisted on a large just in case--in reality, she wanted leftovers to surreptitiously snap up later. Tonight, however, the rice was all hers.

David reached into the bag and took a white carton with a red pagoda printed on its side. He unfolded its top and brought it to the front of her belly. "Hold this," he said, and she wrapped her fingers around the carton. Then, he dug into the bag and plucked out a plastic fork. Finally, he placed his paw at her back. She leaned forward a little to let him slide his arm behind her, putting his palm under her farther shoulder blade. She melted into his arm's grip, utterly relaxed.

Now, David leaned out of the chair and over her. He scooped one bite of rice from the carton and brought it to her muzzle. She parted her lips, granting the fork passage to her mouth. David slid the fork inside and laid it upon her tongue, and she slowly closed her luscious lips over it. He gently pulled the fork out.

Despite the variety of its ingredients, the rice was overcome by the combined tastes of fried butter, soy sauce, and sesame oil. It was rich, enhanced by the various textures of rice, carrots, peas, egg, and--of course--pork. She loved the way everything came in tiny bits, like grains of rice or cubes of carrots. It allowed the components to jumble together excitedly as they passed over her tongue into her gullet. She swallowed happily.

"I can't remember the last time I've had that fresh," she confessed.

David took another scoop and lifted it to her lips. She again swallowed. They went on like this, working through the carton. Nothing existed for her except for the pleasure of the fried rice and the security of David's arm across her back. He took a bite for himself here and there.

Sitting up in bed, Nicole's belly rest in her lap. Her arms were relaxed, and she held the carton against her midsection. Her boobs loomed above the carton, suspended in midair by the dam of her lingerie's cups. To get food from the carton to her mouth, David had to chart a course from under her tits, around their globular fronts, and over their vast expanse to her waiting mouth. Her bra held them neatly in place, forming a tightly-sealed cleavage down the middle of her chest. David yearned to feel how deep it was, but he continued feeding.

Completely unwound, Nicole let her thickened legs lay as they please. They rest flat on the bed. Her thighs sat in pillows of their own fat, and even her calves had a little squish. With Nicole's hands on the carton of rice, her forearms rest on her upper thighs, and her elbows leaned on her plump waist.

David hit the bottom of the carton. "That's it," he said.

"That's it?" Nicole asked. It was like she snapped free of hypnosis. Time had a strange contradictory feeling--as if she had been eating forever, but she had only started a moment ago. Her stomach confirmed the passage of time, since she no longer felt empty.

"Well. We've still got my General Tso's and your Szechuan chicken," David replied.

"Ooh," Nicole cooed. "I want the Szechuan."

David carefully pulled his arm out from under her back and leaned over to the bag. While he did, she spied the tent in his pants.