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!”

“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 moved 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.

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.

“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.

“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?!”

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.

Squish liked the idea too, revealed by her dreamy gaze into the distance. “Ya think? You think people would come all the way up to the Sky deck during the day to meditate to soft, healing music?”

“I would!”

The others agreed.

“You don’t have to dress up like Swash Buckle or anything else: you’ve got the perfect Earth Mother healer look going on right now.”

She liked the idea even more, and the compliment. They brought her beautiful, fun, sexy smile back.

Whale’s face lit up. Reaching across the table and touching Squish’s hand, with glittery eye contact she said, “Best of all?: you can get as fat as you want! Flowing dress, no bra—unless you want one on a given day.”

It turned on Chonky anew to feel Squish’s left breast suddenly swell kinda sorta in her hand. Neener felt another swelling in a different place.

“Nice and personal and intimate” Neener continued. “You’d be one of the healers on the ship.”

The return of a familiar presence ended this conversation.

“How’re we doing here, Cali crew?” asked freshly-returned barmaid Lita.

“To be inclusive for those of us who haven’t gone through the official Cali girl or boy qualification process, collectively we’re Team Succulence” known-to-Lita-as Beryl explained.

“Thank you; I definitely want to be inclusive! Delighted you’re having a great time and glad to be of service to you today. We are 20 minutes past the next seating at this table, having already reassigned the one an hour ago to a different table, with limited seating due to the pandemic. Is it in any way an option for you all to be so kind as to allow another group to have at least a fraction of the fun you’ve had with us today?”

“You’re correct, and you’ve been very kind to us and that’s the best way I’ve ever heard anyone politely tell me to move on. Whaddaya think Team Succulence? Shall we call it a meal and vamoose?”

The others agreed, verbally or otherwise in various ways, often atop one another’s utterances.

Beryl/Whale attempted to get the momentum going via getting her hefty momentum in motion, sliding out of the booth.

The effort failed.

“Ha! I’m totally stuck!” she laughed uproariously, wholly unable to move. “I’ve gloriously fattened up so much that the only way I’m gonna get outta here any time soon is by having another whole grand meal or two and blowing this tabletop to splinters!”

As earlier when she didn’t want to force herself to smile, Lita was glad none of them could see her mouth twitching behind her face mask.

“Sorry hun. I think you’re going to have to keep feeding us noms and beer until we all together swell up further and destroy this thing.”

“But then nobody else can sit here, so what’s the point of that?” Wood questioned her.

Communicating non-verbally to disconnect themselves from each other, the Chonky-Neener-Squish side of the table presented an alternative, soon as Neener replaced Squish’s left Girl where that part of her belonged inside her flowing dress. Stuffed as she was, Squish managed to extricate herself with minimal trouble and (thankfully) no dress shredding. {Holy BPM! I’ve eaten and drunk myself huuuge!} she thought regarding her obviously bigger, heavier, food-filled belly.

Neener had no trouble sliding out, other than needing to be careful given how tipsy he was.

It surprised Chonky that she’d eaten and drunk enough that her bloated belly along with her usual fat presented meaningful friction between belly and table edge. She nevertheless managed to slide out, without the need for menu nor alternative friction-reducing shims, and without ripping clothing. {Glad I know I’m drunk. Otherwise I’d be concerned about how much I’m enjoying these sensations of excess. Wish we could get going so I can go lie down, though.}

“Let’s get this Whale outta here” Neener grinned to his lovers.

“Isn’t calling her that over the line?” Lita inquired.

“No, because that’s my official Team Succulence name” exclaimed the Whale a.k.a. Beryl in question. “Good luck getting all this profoundly wonderful fat outta here!” she taunted her standing team peers, gleefully sharing with the rest of the pub.

“We have science, specifically physics, on our side” smiled Wood. “Esteemed barmaid Lita, if you will kindly loan us a pair of menus, working together here on Team Succulence we ought to be able to extricate this mighty Whale from your booth.”

“My flab precedes me! And follows me!” Whale drunkenly exclaimed, leaving many wondering how exactly her proclamation was in any way relevant to the situation at hand wedginess.

Lita returned with the menus, including some extras if needed.

Soft and squishy as she and it was, it took a team effort to squeeze Whale’s profoundly-expanded flab out of the way even the 1.8 millimeters from the table edge needed to slip in a pair of the menus. Neener, Chonky, Cali on the other side, and Whale herself all working together were needed to create this small gap for Wood to be able to quickly slide in the menus.

The menus were none too happy to receive the significant force placed upon them, most visible in the way her significantly bulging fat above and below the table’s edge bent them severely.

“We’re going to have to work fast” Wood advised. “OK Whale and all of us: we’re moving you out on the count of three.”

Everyone got into position, bracing themselves.

“One. Two. Three!”

Nothing, other than energy depletion and muscle fatigue for the helpers.

Whale waved off any further help at this time, “Wait, I got this.”

BuuuurrrrAAAAPPP! Flup Flup Flup Flup Flup! she released significant intestinal gas from both ends around the same time.

The invisible odiferous cough-inducing cloud barely had time to start clearing when she said, “OK, let’s try again.”

“One. Two. Three!”

Whhhomm bluh bluh blommm bluh bluh blommm: she was out, her prodigious fat gleefully expanding into the additional space.

{You are a whale} thought Lita. {Apt name.}

For whatever reason, Cali’s fat remained softer and more pliable than had been Whale’s, making it easy for Wood to slip the menu pair between her and the table, with her essential help pressing her own flab towards her body core. As during her ingress, the plastic-on-plastic friction reduction eased her egress. This was a multi-step process, with her and Wood each moving one position to the left with each iteration until he then finally she was out.

About as stuffed as she’d ever been (and this atop her lifetime peak fatness), Cali joined the others (apart from Whale) being taken aback by her currently-food-heavy bloated weight and dimensions. She felt the need to hug everyone in turn, including momentarily-hesitant Lita.

{Wow} thought Lita, once the hug started. As it got deeper this became {Oh my gosh WOW! You’re as soft as the beds on this ship!}

“OK Team Succulence: to whereabouts are we moving this party?” asked Whale, with enthusiasm.

“I really need sleep” whined Squish, suddenly feeling and looking tired.

“Let’s please all clear ourselves outta this wonderful establishment, so others can get in” urged Cali, to Lita’s great relief and appreciation.

On their wobbly way out, Cali and Wood declared their intention to return to her stateroom, effectively ending the Team Succulence meeting for the time being. Only Whale seemed to have the energy to even mention getting together again for dinner, making the idea a non-starter. With gratitude, fullness, and intoxication, they shared squishy hugs (to the annoyance of the ship’s ushers) then let themselves be shepherded in their separate groups back to their disparate lives (and usual names).

The moment they were back in their (originally Leigh’s) stateroom Squish (again for the moment) squished her lovers into a deep 3-way hug. “You two are wonderful” she sighed.

“So are you” Clark replied with a kiss.

She burst into tears.

“I’m sorry! What did I say?!”

She shook her head and waved his comment off. “I’m drunk, and I’m a weepy drunk, and life is great in the here-and-now of this moment for the most part, but I’m sad.”

Leigh found herself wanting to cuddle more into Jayne, in her mind on the pervy pretense of better feeling her current bulging fullness against her own. “Why are you sad?”

“I want to have more sex, but I’m exhausted!”

“You have a lot of sleep to catch up on.”

Clark’s hot breath during that last sentence intoxicated Jayne in a manner different than the beers. “But this is all going to end soon, somehow! They’re going to have to let all you passengers off sooner than later, and the pattern so far is they force us crew members to remain on board.”

“It’s not going to be good sex if you’re tired, Squish” he ended with a kiss.

“Nor technically can any of us give consent to either of the other of us, since we’re all drunk” noted Leigh.

Too tired to cry any more and with her mood having shifted anyway, she made pouty bird lips.

“How about a sensual shower with either me or Chonky, then you and I can lie down and cuddle so you can sleep?”

“I don’t think Squish and I can fit in there together with both of us all bloated like this, Neen.”

“Do either of you even want a shower? Or am I just projecting my wants again?”

“I want one please.” The moderately gentle, reasonably brief kiss Jayne gave him somehow dazed him to the point where his knees grew week.

Leigh was too happy with the day so far to be momentarily omitted from the kissing. Part of this may have been due to enjoying feeling each of their butts with her hands, in her inhibition-lowered state.

Jayne’s mood continued to swing during the entire shower-to-bed process. When she could keep herself in the moment, she was happy, even contented at points. When her mind drifted to the future—even the near-term future—she felt sad, upset, or otherwise discomposed.

Leigh had glasses of water to hand to them soon as they emerged all clean and dry from the bathroom. “Hydrate, hydrate, hydrate.”

Bed was better, especially with Leigh gently rubbing her bloated belly along with Clark, the latter cuddled into her backside. She dropped off to sleep like a rock—a soft, sexy rock—within very few minutes after getting horizontal and being cuddled.

After a few minutes of being at loose ends and with soft conversation between her and Clark having faltered several times, Leigh wobbled over behind him, struggled to get atop the bed without waking up Jayne (and succeeded), then squished into her man’s backside. Originally meant as the start of some sexy time, the alcohol and food digestion ensured she and he dropped off into sleep, nearly as quickly as had Jayne.

Up in his cabin after dinner that evening, inactive Captain Cameron Cranch took his temperature and otherwise did his nightly round of COVID-19 symptom checking, which he had routinely been doing at this time given that his and many people’s symptoms tended to be worse in the evening and pre-bed night.

{Hmm, no measurable symptoms for the third day in a row} he concluded. {Tomorrow may be the day to be more thoroughly reevaluated by Medical.}

He turned his attention to his nightly newly-incoming email review. One message in particular caught his attention:

Inactive Captain Cranch gazed blankly out the window lost in deep thought, not truly focusing on the last of cloudy daylight departing, dropping Coos Bay into the new night’s chilly darkness.