Merging Universes

Productive as her midday gym session had been, between grazing on her brunch leftovers most of the afternoon then overdoing it with the many delights offered in one of the Sapphire Prince’s numerous other restaurants, getting onto the dance floor was as much about burning off some more calories as mingling. On-ship wedding chapel notwithstanding, this wasn’t the Love Boat as far as Leigh was concerned, nor was she explicitly roaming for romance. Sure, if chance circumstances brought someone special into her orbit and vice-versa, she’d keep an open mind. Seeking or working at it? Nope, not so much.

The sight of Clark Barr in the distance soon as she stepped onto the open-air outdoor dance floor of Club Troposphere (up on the top level Sky Deck) almost made her walk directly back off it. {Of course you’re at the same dance club I am! Grrrrr.}

Rationally, Leigh had no reason to be surprised. Of the ship’s 4 1/2 dance venues (one was mixed-use, hence the 1/2), Club Troposphere was the largest, meant as the main event for the majority of cruisers seeking live DJ dancing. Only 2 of the others were nighttime operations along with this one, one of them focusing on country & western line dancing, the other rotating through various niche genres, tonight’s being ballroom dancing to 18th. century (and thereabouts) classical music.

Several hundreds of other cruisers were on the dance floor along with her and Clark, making it entirely easy to maintain distance and mostly forget about the other’s presence.

DJ Swash Buckle looked as hot as the tunes she spun, in her sexy pirate outfit complete with a real, live, apparently very well-trained parrot on her shoulder (most of the time) and her trademark wide black belt with its shiny and outrageously large buckle. No one but her knew that her dark black pencil mustache (matching her head hair color) was her own totally real facial hair.

{Damn your incessant beauty and mad DJ skills} Leigh briefly caught her mind thinking, {but seriously, glad you’re up there doing what you’re doing}.

Part of Leigh’s issue was indeed Swash Buckle’s youthful beauty and bounteous cascading wavy curly locks combined with her outstanding talent for merging vastly disparate danceable musical genres spanning the majority of the history of recorded music with smooth organic flow, beat-matched to boot. Most of it was one specific physical focus: breast envy. Swash Buckle had a nice (and very much on display) pair of well-formed orbs in the 32F or G neighborhood, whereas Leigh barely made 32B on a good day.

There were plenty of other ample bosoms for Leigh to envy in Club Troposphere, the largest pair within her sight of which belonged to a doe-eyed huge-boobed blonde haired breast-predominant BBW with a strikingly outsized-large nose. Neither beak nor schnoz, hers was closer to pig-rounded, but without the highly visible pointing-outward piggish nostrils.

The current part of the set lended itself to free-form singular dancing as well as mingle-minded dancing up to someone (or -ones) to get some couples or group action going. Leigh finally let her body get fully into the move of the groove (though DJ Swash Buckle was mostly playing files from SSD, thus not jockeying any form of disc nor disk, nor records with anything close to grooves), making her way through ever-shifting openings on the dance floor she sought to explore.

{Holy Cannoli Guacamole!}

Leigh’s ability to forget about the presence of Clark Barr proved short-lived, despite the distance between them remaining beyond ample. Beyond ample barely began to describe Clark’s current dance partner. She stared at him and this hugest-of-all people she’d yet seen on the ship, much less just in Club Troposphere, putting nearly all the vastness she had into grand motion.

Having already lost the beat, she walked off the floor to a shadowy spot along the outside wall, fixated on Clark’s and Beluga’s (her mind had arbitrarily and harshly decided) ongoing rhythmic interaction.

{He’s doing his sexy smile.… They’re butt bumping.… They’re chest and belly bumping, over and over! He actually likes her… like that. Like… oh my. Oh my goodness: he’s grabbing her butt and she’s smiling! He actually did lust after my fat! It wasn’t an asshat put-down!}

Leigh’s reality spun more than the big well-lit disco mirror ball suspended above the center of the crowd, whose colorful beams of light lit the way for Clark and Beluga (along with several other couples) to joyously walk hand-in-hand together out of Club Troposphere off to other (presumed) adventures, in C & B’s case loudly conversing and laughing, apparently having a grand old time.

Before her wildly inscrutable, nonsensical feelings could mess with her cruise experience any further, she heard a stranger’s voice quite near her say, “Come shine in the light”.

At first she thought the man (judging by voice pitch, initially) must have been speaking to someone else. Only once she looked up did she see his smiling, friendly face on his round, lightly hair-challenged head gazing directly at her.

Tentatively, he reached out his hand towards her, “I’m Shawn, and I would love to have the honor of dancing with you, even briefly.”

The disco mirror ball now had a new smile to illuminate on the Club Troposphere dance floor, as Leigh joined Shawn for some hand-holding arms-outstretched moderately vigorous dancing, amongst the ongoing hundreds of their dance-minded fellow cruisers.

Leigh’s and Shawn’s interactions remained more about dancing than romancing, notwithstanding a pleasant restful seated conversation they briefly shared at the conclusion of their dancing together fun. Pleasant enough as they found one another, there wasn’t a spark to take anything further. They left on good terms, Shawn heading back to his stateroom and Leigh back to the dance floor, for another roughly half hour of mostly solo dancing before she too called it a night and headed for her superbly comfy bed.

Peals of tickle- and joy-induced laughter echoed off the walls of the stateroom of one Beryl Beech, making an entirely different use of her equally-comfy bed with one Clark Barr. Nude since not long after she’d invited him in, they remained in the throes of broad-definition sex. For Beryl, this was a great way to start off her cruise! For Clark, this was hands-on the best sex he’d ever enjoyed in his life, directly related to doing so with far and away the fattest woman with whom he’d had the honor to get sexually intimate in his life.

Beryl had quite a bit of everything, most predominantly a huge belly. This, and truly all of her, had Clark wound up tight. The conversation they were about to share took care of springing him.

“Are you a feeder?” she asked, during a moment when both their mouths were free.

“The opportunity’s never presented itself. Why?”

“I love being fat and I very much want to get fatter, ideally teamed up with a feeder as driven as I am towards my goal.”

“HHHAAAAANNNNNGGG!” he exclaimed during his sudden, powerful orgasm.