A Sundae Fantasy
By Lupine, for my good friend Siya.
It was about 6:30 on a warm Sunday evening, and dusk was falling. The leopard Siyahamba sprawled across a set of plump cushions with one eye and half an ear open. Most felines, when given the choice, curl up into an impossibly small ball, but Siya was lying stretched out on his side.
This was to accommodate his stomach.
It was a great stomach, in every sense, and he was proud of it. He shifted his weight slightly, making that big, soft mound of fat quiver sluggishly. When standing on all 4 feet it dangled scant inches above the floor, a proud badge of his diligent and enthusiastic gluttony. Every step made it wobble and shake like a marmalade-filled rubber sack. Around its furry, barrel-like proportions, the spots of his coat were stretched into fuzzy splodges, like ink spreading on wet paper. The paleness of his round expansive underbelly made him look as though he’s been walking through long grass covered in white paint. Currently one side of it was flattened against the ground as the paunchy feline’s body spread out. He resembled the comfiest looking beanbag or sofa-sized overstuffed soft toy imaginable. His tail, apparently the only part of him not padded with plush plumpness, twitched and flickered over the floor. His limbs splayed in the lazy angles that seemingly only felines at rest can achieve, each leg thick and chunky, with chubby rolls bunching up around the joints. His hind-legs in particular were well-rounded, thighs swelling broadly to connect with an expansive rear that was perfect for sitting on, although he much preferred to use his belly or back. His head rested sideways on a cushion like a golden moon rising over the landscape. The chubby cheek on the pillow rippled and jiggled as it was mooshed into the soft surface, whiskers bending ticklishly. The other cheek bounced softly in time on the other side of his muzzle, jiggled by the motions of his head. His powerful neck had long since ballooned into a thick spotted muffler of adipose, a double chin dwarfing his original ration whenever he nodded. The leopard in the moon looked as though he’d stopped having to find, stalk and kill his own food years ago. It looked more like he had to keep asking people to stop stuffing his muzzle with lovely yet extremely fattening meals. Needless to say, he didn't ask often.
This was a leopard who’d discovered takeaway and, even better, home delivery. And he was in the mood for ice-cream. He was waiting for it to arrive. So all felines had a serious weakness for cream. Sue him. Better yet- stuff him. He purred under his breath with anticipation of his order. The urge for ice-cream had been a sudden craving that had overtaken him about an hour ago. He could just imagine it, winging its way here from his local ice-cream shop, ‘The Dairy’. It wasn’t a chain, but family owned, and as such did the most marvellous homemade full-fat flavours. Their vanilla really tasted of vanilla. And if they had time- and if the owner liked you- you could order specialised flavours at no extra cost. Siya was a very good friend of the owner and an even better customer. The extra-large leopard smiled at the thought of Bill, the burly lion that owned and ran the Dairy. He’d been a big, powerful animal, but now frequent taste testing of his stock had got to him and a sizeable paunch adorned his bulky frame. Bill didn’t mind: it had worked as an outrageous advert for his wares. Animals seemed to prefer buying off someone who obviously liked their food- ‘buying in bulk’, as it were. It was an assurance of quality. And Siya didn’t mind at all either, because he liked to see big animals, especially when they liked their food.
He smiled again, glancing at the clock and mentally counting down to when he expected a knock on the door. He’d hear the car first, though. It was such a small operation that Bill usually did the home deliveries himself this late in the evening. That was another great thing: most of the big chains refused to be flexible about opening and closing times, but Bill would accommodate almost anything, including a couple of very successful all night ice-cream parties. Siya’s stomach gurgled. Sometimes the delicious, appetite-sharpening wait that came with home delivery was almost as good as the meal itself. It was the time when you fantasised, dreaming about what incredible delight would await you inside the package you received. Or, in this case, the tub.
Our food-loving hero was so engrossed in this mental delectation that he quite missed the muted sound of a small vehicle drawing up outside, and it came as a startling shock when the doorbell rang unexpectedly. He jerked abruptly out of his reverie, it taking him a few moments to respond, looking at the clock with surprise. Well, this was turn-up. It was the first time he’d ever known Bill to be early.
Siya laboriously rocked and shuffled himself more onto his stomach, and then hoisted himself onto all 4 feet with a grunt of effort. He padded towards the door, his gait made slightly awkward by carrying the heavy obstruction of his belly. It hung like the counterweight on a construction crane. Fortunately, the walk to the front door wasn’t far. Reaching up, Siya flipped the catch and swung the door back wide, letting in a waft of cooling, sweet twilight air.
“Hello Bill, it’s nice to- ohh….”
Siyahamba blushed, because it wasn’t Bill as he’d been expecting. It was another lion. Well, more than just another lion. Standing in front of him was the biggest, FATTEST lion he'd ever clapped eyes on. He was round- immensely round. Wearing trousers with a large black and white check, they must have had a waistband of at least XXXXXL, and they were still too tight for him. It cinched around the lower portion of a gigantic, flabby stomach. Siya could see that the material stretched snugly down to just above his knees, where pressure kept his belly from falling any lower. They resembled a jester’s tights on his legs, the material skin-tight around the big, doughy columns of flesh. His feet were bare. In the fading light, the leopard could see only scant inches between his chequered hips and the doorframe. The humungous bulge of his top half was swathed in the white of a traditional chef-style jacket, the double row of buttons reaching all the way around to one side. In what was probably contrary to all common-sense laws of health and safety, they had all been forced to do up. Deep, irregular dents surrounding them spoke of the strain they were under, trying to keep this lion’s gut under wraps. It was if anything slightly wider than his hips. In a misguided attempt to look slimmer, the sides of the jacket were tucked into the trousers. All that happened was the lower parts bulged out beyond the check, emphasising the fat they tried to hide. Out of the short, tight sleeves bulged hugely chubby arms, giving him shoulders that he hadn’t in fact got. At the end of each was a plump paw. His fur was a rich, buttery golden yellow, and he had had a longish wavy brown mane, although his chins- all three of them- were bare. Siya was surprised to see a fairly young face, in his mid 20’s, but one massively blown up with baby-fat. His face was rounder and more full than the leopard’s, muzzle poking out cutely from between his rotund cheeks. His eyes were a bright, sunny blue. Under each arm was a two-gallon metal drum, condensation beading on them.
It was a vision out of Siyahamba’s dreams. For a few moments he goggled, spellbound, trying to uncleave his tongue from the roof of his mouth. His back legs twitched giddily, ready to faint. Finally, he blurted out,
“You’re not Bill.” His face glowed like a rose, and his ears cringed at hearing what his mouth was saying. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from that figure. The lion also blushed, but much less pinkly.
“No, I’m not,” he agreed. His voice wasn’t particularly deep, but it had a rich, almost melodic quality, as though his stomach were giving it an added base harmonic. He sounded like ice-cream would if it spoke. “I’m a friend of Bill’s family. I’ve just started working for him at the Dairy, about two weeks ago.”
Siya realised that he was still staring, and managed to put his eyes back in their sockets. The lion blushed more.
“Probably a dumb idea, huh?” One hand crept across and squidged a pawful of that bountiful white expanse, making the buttons quiver. “I mean, I’m more than fat enough already, aren’t I?” Siya didn’t trust himself to answer.
“I’m sure Bill’s glad he hired you…” The lion’s muzzle broke into a shy smile.
“He says I’m good for trade, and that sales have gone up since I started. He said I was the best walking advert ever.” The paw didn’t relinquish its grip on the cotton clad stomach. The large leopard found himself smiling, and before he knew it he’d said,
“Well, as long as you don’t spend all your wages there…” he stopped, mortified. Fortunately, the lion chuckled loudly.
“Right!” He lowered his voice conspiratorially, although there was no-one else about. “I was sort of hoping that being around it all the time would mean I ate less. Y’know, that it would lose it’s appeal.” His expression became part chagrin, part bewilderment. “But whenever I’m serving, people always say things like ‘I’ll buy you one of these, too,’ or ‘help yourself on me.’ They pay for me to eat ice-cream!”
Well, said a voice at the back of Siya’s mind, I definitely would. He tried not to watch the lion’s front ripple and jiggle as that super-sized stomach jiggled within it, and concentrate on the lion’s face. The trouble was that was just as fat. The lion shrugged helplessly at his own tasty dairy-product dilemma.
“And I just balloon up if I so much as sniff the stuff.” Around the two drums, he used both hands to grab at his tightly packed uniform, pulling. It gave the fraction of stretch it had left in it. “I mean, when I started, this thing actually fit me. Now I’m having trouble getting through doors!”
At this piece of information, Siyahamba’s heart began to beat harder. He didn’t even dare guess how much this lovely lion weighed, but the knowledge that he was getting bigger added a whole new dimension to his attractiveness. He ached to experience more of him, to drink in his heady presence. He wanted to touch that huge tummy, weigh it, feel its texture against his body and face. He wanted to run his paws through those rolls and deposits of flab that had built up so deliciously on that bountiful body. He wanted to explore every square inch of his surface. He desperately wanted to tell this lion that it was ok, that he shouldn’t ever fight his miraculous expansion. He should let himself go, just eat whatever he wanted, and feel proud as he grew fatter, and fatter, and fatter, because it just made him all the more magnificent…
The lion broke the subtle, lingering spell by abruptly remembering why he came.
“Oh, yes! I have a delivery for a ‘Mr. Siyahamba’?” The leopard blinked and nodded.
“That’s me.” The lion smiled and blushed.
“I sort of guessed that you were. To start with, I was sure that Bill had got the order wrong. But now I guess I know why it was so large…” His blushed deepened as his tongue ran away with him, but Siya giggled in surprised delight. Even if it was entirely accidental, he was glad to see this lion could dish it out as well as take it.
“I did order a lot. I love ice-cream.” The lion gave a rueful sort of half-shrug, and smiled.
“Where would you like me to deliver it?”
“Oh… in here please.” On impulse, Siya led the way into the living room. Deep down, he knew that he wanted to delay the lion’s departure for as long as possible. The living room was by no means modest, but with this lion’s bulk taking up the volume of three normal animals the atmosphere became distinctly warmer and more cosy, as if the whole place including walls and ceiling had suddenly been covered in thick carpet. With great care, the lion leaned down and deposited the two drums upright on the floor.
“There!” he announced. “That’s two of them, Mr. Siyahamba. Two gallons of Coconut, and two gallons of Mint and Chocolate-Chip.” His shy smile returned. “The other two are still on the bike. I’ll go and get them.”
“The bike?” Siya knew about the delivery-bike that Bill had used to use to deliver his frozen wares to various homes. It wasn’t a real motorbike, more a sort of very large scooter with very specialised refrigerated panniers on both sides and stabilisers underneath. It couldn’t go extremely fast, and Bill had stopped using it about a year ago when he said he’d got too heavy for it. The lion nodded sheepishly.
“Uh-huh. We had a lot of deliveries tonight, so Bill took a load in his car, and I’m delivering the rest on the scooter.” His blush returned fleetingly. “To be honest, I think its starting to bend under me.”
Siya tried not to giggle whilst with a smile the lion waddled out to retrieve the rest of the leopard’s order. The leopard watched him do it. His stomach truly was enormous, dwarfing Siya’s diligent efforts, and it got in his way quite considerably. At each step his legs pressed into its overhang, fighting it for possession of that space. Almost all of the time his legs lost, defeated by the ponderous inertia such a belly possessed, and were forced to slide out and to the side, out of his middle’s way. Sometimes, though, the leg would pull off a victory against the oppressing poundage, his belly then slipping sluggishly to one side, surprisingly retaining its shape as it did so. The front of his belly reached out to the level where his knees would be if his legs were out straight, and each footstep created a jiggling concussion in the flabby mass regardless. Siya imagined that he could clearly see the colour and outline of that stomach through the material of the coat. With his back to him the leopard finally got a clear view of the lion’s square-spotted bottom. It bounced almost as much as its counterweight belly did, the thickest parts of his thighs being at the back pushing up against a bus-sized seat. The check pattern moved continuously as the material stretched and distorted in the simple act of walking. The effect was hypnotic. The lion moved with deceptive slowness, covering a surprising amount of ground in an easy, wide swinging gait that spoke of long practice with his midsection.
In minutes he returned with two more drums, the extra width they imparted to him looking entirely natural. He put them down with the others.
“And that’s two gallons of honey-vanilla and,” he swallowed slightly, “two gallons of Deep Dark Chocolate.” Siya had already taken the lids off the first two drums, and he set to work on the second two. The lion obligingly helped, ripping the top off one of them, revealing a container full to the brim of deeply brown ice-cream. The surface was rough where the very top layer had been torn off with the lid, coating it lushly. They were all as full as that- the Dairy found that it paid to be generous.
Propelled by the warmth, a creamy vapour stole up from the first two open tubs, and wafted temptingly into the lion’s nostrils. Siya watched as his eyes grew a little rounder, and a glaze filmed over them.
“Oh… those smell good, Mr. Siyahamba.” Instead of closing fully once more, his mouth remained slightly ajar, and the leopard could see a pink, rough tongue slide slowly in and out as he breathed. The lion almost unconsciously took a deep sniff, and a deep purring growl rumbled from his interior. “You… you really know what makes good ice-cream.”
“Like I said, I love the stuff.” He didn’t have to think hard at all about what came out next. “Would you like to stay and have some?”
“Oh, I couldn’t!” The lion’s blush returned at full force, rampaging across his fuzzy cheeks. He hesitated long and hard, obviously battling within himself. But his entire demeanour begged that he lose the argument. Siya smiled gently up into his eyes.
“I’d love to share.”
The lion thought longer and harder, in an agony of indecision. Then he said, slowly and shyly,
“I… could, couldn’t I?” He thought more, and slowly that smile peeped out again. “Yes… I could. You’re my last delivery, Mr. Siyahamba. I could stay… if you wanted me to?” Siya smiled reassuring, and nodded firmly.
“I want you to stay. It’d be a pleasure sharing this with you.” The lion looked bashfully delighted, and Siya’s smile broadened. “It must have been torture for you, lugging all this delicious stuff around, thinking you wouldn’t be able to have any of it.” The lion’s smile became more of a grin again.
“Actually it was worse than that- I had to mix all these flavours up and put them into the tubs before I brought them.” The leopard giggled.
“Then you must stay and try your own work! You can taste-test them.” The lion chortled gently, and shut the front door. That decision made, his stomach gurgled and his gaze settled hungrily on the open drums. The sight and smell was having an amazing effect on his appetite, by the looks of it. He cast Siya a grateful look.
“Where should I sit?”
“Oh, just throw yourself down anywhere!” His fellow feline called out cheerfully as he went into the kitchen for bowls. The mental image that conjured up meant that he couldn’t look at the lion until he returned with two extra-large dessert bowls and spoons, along with an ice-cream scoop. He’d dithered over the cutlery, about to choose teaspoons, but plumping for serving spoons eventually. He wanted to encourage this big boy to eat his full and fair share, and you couldn’t do that with pathetic little mouthfuls.
He came back into the living room to find the lion in the act of settling his behind into one of the two big, wonderfully soft and overstuffed sofas. From the time it had taken him and his highly sheepish air, Siya guessed that the inviting armchair wouldn’t fit. He watched that leonine rump descend and make contact with the cushioned surface like a planet about to touch down. With a groan of fabric and stuffing that masked an echoing groan from his taxed uniform, he sank down low into it. Far too low, actually- Siya suspected that the sofa would never be the same again. But he didn’t care. He’d managed to get this lion’s beautifully big bottom down to ground level in his home, and he hoped for it to stay that way for some time. Smiling warmly, the leopard padded to the cluster of drums and looked enquiringly at his hungry houseguest.
“Visitors first! Which would you like? Or,” he smiled impishly, opening the way to temptation, “would you like some of all of them?” The lion’s blush, which hadn’t completely faded away, returned with new strength. He was patently panic-stricken at the idea of being thought a pig.
“Oh no, not all of them! But could… could I have some chocolate, please?” The wistful way he said it made it all too clear where his main weakness lay.
With great care, Siya scooped out a large, rounded curl of the darkly glistening chocolate ice-cream from the abundance in the pot. And then another. And another. And another! The lion’s eyes grew wider and wider with each new scoop, and he looked as though he were about to protest. Stopping at the fifth- and largest- scoop, the plump leopard slipped a spoon into the bowl with the heap of home-made goodness, and gave it to the lion. He took it a little hesitantly.
“Wow…” he exclaimed shakily, “T-thank you, Mr. Siyahamba.”
“My friends call me Siya.” Surprised at his own audacity, the smiling leopard gently placed a paw on the side of the lion’s overflowing bulk of a belly. It sank a little. For a moment the surprised lion’s eyes met his, and a warm, genuine smile lit up his superlatively fat features.
“Siya,” he corrected himself softly. Then his attention was dragged back to the full bowl in his pudgy paws. The heat of his massive body was already beginning to melt the contents, the molten ice cream dripping thickly down the inside to pool beneath the all-dairy island. He picked up the spoon between two pudgy fingers and cut into a scoop. His blue eyes never left it as it made the short journey to his muzzle. Then those eyes shut blissfully, and Siya thought he saw a quiver of pleasure pass through his fat frame as the mouthful slid down his throat. The eyes opened again guiltily, and for a few seconds he sat there as though expecting divine retribution for that sensuous sin. When none came, he smacked his lips, and the spoon sneaked out for another taste. He seemed to enjoy it even more than the first. After that, the spoon didn’t stop, and chunked through a scoop, cutting it in half. A big, creamy glob of chocolate ice cream slipped between the pearly gates of leonine heaven.
Even though it was a big bowlful, it didn’t take the lion long to demolish it. Siya watched every mouthful go in. He couldn’t resist fantasising just a little about what it would do to that fine figure: he imagined it settling around his belly, thrusting it out even further, or adding a touch more sloppiness to his sides. Maybe it would stretch the seat of his trousers another half-inch, or even pad out those gorgeously rounded thighs. When the spoon clanked against empty china, the lion sank back with a deeply satisfied noise that seemed hot-wired straight into Siya’s sense of well being. It was the most wonderful sound his ears had ever heard, amplified and rolled around by that jiggling paunch. He wanted to hear it again. Almost before he realised what he was doing, the leopard was refilling the lion’s bowl for him, scooping more deeply into the drum for the colder, firmer brown gold. Again, the lion looked about to protest, but the sight of seconds gliding towards him so invitingly weakened his willpower. With a sheepish grin he took it and began to eat.
The delicate way he held the spoon in his pudgy mitt bespoke of many years of being painfully conscious of his eating, of taking little bites, of the shame of being so big, so greedy, so fat. Nevertheless, the ice-cream won: it’s one of the few things that is physically impossible to eat either delicately or cleanly. The melting contents of the spoon spread and brushed against his lips, turning them dark brown. It tingled, both there and on his tongue as it slipped and swirled beguilingly, coating him in chocolate from the inside and fat on the outside. It went down faster than the first bowl, and Siya listened with thrilled ears to the ceramic scrape of the spoon around the bottom of the bowl, scooping up the last molten remains.
With a final genteel slurp on his spoon, Siya’s calorie-consumed dream leaned back into the embrace of the seat, the spoon clattering into the bowl. He’d got a stain on the left-hand side of his jacket, on the upper swell of his curvaceous gut. It was narrow at the top where it had dripped from his unheeding spoon, but it had widened as it had spread down and across, an irregular teardrop of chocolate.
The lion looked across and, for some reason, began blushing all over again. He looked as though he were trying to hide himself behind his bowl. It took a few moments for Siya to realise: he hadn’t even filled his own bowl yet. He was just sitting there, one foreleg over the open drum, watching this lion eat. Staring. The leopard’s own mortified blush blazed across his cheeks. He didn’t know which way to look. Picking up the scoop he went for the ice-cream, to one of his personal favourites: honey vanilla. He filled his bowl as full as he’d filled the lion’s, and then bashfully enquired if he’d like some more. The lion looked embarrassed, and a little uncomfortable. Siya gave him another bowlful anyway in mute apology.
Deliberately not looking to see if the lion picked it up, the leopard tucked into his own bowl, setting it on the low table between them. He didn’t bother with cutlery- it just got in the way. He licked at his dessert, rough tongue rasping off the surface, slicking his muzzle in luscious sweetness. No matter how rich or how creamy it was, vanilla ice-cream always seemed light to him. He never got tired of it. The smoothness was like cold velvet, and he found himself lapping harder at the bowl, head dipping lower and lower as the contents shrank.
His tongue licked over the glazed smoothness at the bottom of the bowl. After the giving sweetness of the vanilla, the flat tastelessness came as something of a shock. Carefully, he twisted his head to let his tongue roam, looking for the last traces. None. Oh well, there was plenty more where that came from. His appetite sparked anew, the leopard lifted his head from the bowl to look straight into the wide eyes of the lion. Siya understood what it felt like to be watched, now. He felt his blush redoubling. The lion was watching him in bemusement, his lower lip coated in chocolate. It seemed to have had something of a calming effect on him. His bowl had a few spoonfuls missing, and it rested at an angle on top of his gut. Siya realised that his own chin was dipped in vanilla, and he self-consciously wished that he’d used a spoon. He felt so… unsophisticated.
But although he might be embarrassed about how he ate, he refused to be ashamed about how much he ate. The leopard scooped himself another large bowlful, deliberately going around the edge of the drum to get all the gooey half-melted ice-cream. He set it down and prepared to eat. Unable to help himself, he glanced at his guest. To his surprise, the large lion, after some hesitation, leaned forward slowly, belly rolling along the top of his legs, then carefully and deliberately set his own spoon down on the table with a ‘plink’. He raised his bowl in a sort of toast, then lifted it to his muzzle in both paws. He took a few tentative licks.
It was as though they’d passed through some level of intimacy: on some metaphorical level, they’d both taken off their jackets and ties. The lion began to pick up speed, licking more forcefully. Siya felt a relieved grin stretching from ear to ear, and he dipped his head to his own helping, dragging his tongue over it, savouring the sensation. It was good, almost better than usual. He remembered what the lion said- he was obviously very good at his job. The leopard ‘mmm’d softly in appreciation, then was surprised to hear an answering ‘mmm’ from across the table. Unwilling to stop eating, he glanced up, to witness his guest lost in bliss. The bowl was tipped at 45 degrees, and his chin and neck were working vigorously. Another noise emanated unconsciously from the lion, and his head tilted to take an extra large lick. Siya blinked, realising that his tongue had stalled half-way out of his mouth. Hurriedly, he got it back into gear. The lion finished before him, and tried unsuccessfully to wipe the rogue chocolate stains off his face. It was hopeless: chocolate was a devil for staining, and without the protection of a spoon he looked messier than ever. The individual hairs spiked out, some glued together with sweetness.
When Siya had finished, the lion looked over at him and gave him the most enchanting, beautiful smile, cheeks dimpling.
“I’ve… I’ve never eaten like that before. It felt good,” he admitted. Siya’s grin answered the lion’s own.
“It does, doesn’t it?” The leopard padded around the table to him and asked gently, “Would you like some more?”
“Fourths?” It was obviously more than he ever dared have before in one sitting. Uncertainly, his paws pressed that blubbersome belly of his again. It sagged and quivered hypnotically at the touch. Siya nodded kindly.
“There’s plenty to go around.”
The lion’s big face crinkled in indecision, but, swayed by the friendly atmosphere, his paws crept out, away from his embarrassingly fat body, with the bowl.
“Yes. I… I think I would, please, Siya.” His voice gave the leopard’s name a bell-like quality. He wouldn’t have responded any more quickly if it had been angels calling to him. The leopard took the bowl, then hesitated.
“Would you like to try one of the other flavours? He winked. “The vanilla’s better than ever.” His new friend blushed at this subtle compliment, but still looked torn. Siya made it easier. “After all, you can always come back to the chocolate later. It’s not going anywhere.”
The option sank in. The indecision on that beautifully big lion’s face slowly melted away, to be replaced by that knee-weakening smile of his. He looked at Siya in a new light, as though a great weight had just been lifted from his shoulders, to be wrapped around his middle where he could more easily carry it. At the same time, his belly gave a rippling, organic gurgle from deep inside, as though some mysterious engine had started up. He leaned a little closer, his innocent face smiling bashfully.
“If you don’t mind, I’m not going anywhere for the moment either.”
Not mind! Not mind! Siya would have given anything to hear those words. He practically skittered to fetch his friend’s food. He wanted to satisfy the deep appetite that he knew was lurking inside that gorgeous guy. Pale scoops plopped heavily into the bowl, almost glowing in contrast to the black smears of chocolate left in it. Leaving the scoop in the drum for later, he scurried back over. He was in such a rush that, when the lion leaned forwards a little to accept the bowl, he misjudged the distance and accidentally collided with the all-encompassing stomach that so fixated him. He pulled back with an embarrassed squeak, but in that half-second of contact he had felt the delicious heat seeping through that linen material. He could see the jiggles still spreading from the impact site, and could remember from that brief instant how it had felt pressed against him, doughy and incredibly heavy. The lion grunted a little, now holding the bowl so enthusiastically supplied. There was the shadow of a surprised smile on his muzzle. When they looked at each other, the smile grew and both of them giggled.
“That’s ok.” The lion’s cheeks dimpled. “I know how hard it is to stop at this size.” Without further ado he lifted his bowl and began licking. Getting himself another helping and sitting down with it, Siya watched through his eyelashes.
The lion ate with more abandon this time, forgetting about what people would think of him or possibly just caring less, absorbed in the flavour slipping over his tongue. It was obvious that, whilst chocolate might be this lard-lion’s temptation, any ice-cream was sufficient to seduce him. He only blinked when Siya refilled his bowl for him, then refilled it again, both times emptying it without hesitation. He ate faster and faster whilst his belly growled at him. Each bowlful only seemed to increase his hunger. The helpings were doubtless growing less and less satisfying. The leopard wished that he had a bigger bowl for this lovely chunk to use. He himself kept good pace with his friend, the luscious taste of the ice-cream working wonders on his appetite, too. The level of the vanilla sank rapidly, and soon Siya switched to mint choc-chip. It was one of the Dairy’s specialities, with dark, crunchy chunks of chocolate mixed into a refreshing peppermint-cream ice-cream. It was a flavour you could really chew.
After eighths, the lion sank back slowly, rubbing at his belly with a deeply satisfied grunt. The grunts became less pleasurable though, and after a few moments he started to tug uncomfortably at his top. The pale yellow of the vanilla blended into his fur, but stood out brightly on his white jacket. Various irregular splashes now adorned it, witness to his indiscretion. But what drew the eye was the tight, rigid way the buttons sat in their loops, attempting to pull to freedom. Siya was reminded of the sails of a frigate under a high wind, bellied out and firm at their fullest extent. The lion stretched up in an attempt to alleviate the pressure, and for a moment Siya saw a teasing inch-thick roll of superlatively fattened flesh stretch out from under the cloth and vanish again, the top now insufficient to cover all of that grown belly.
Still without success, the lion stood up (and a peek behind him showed that Siya had been correct- a huge double-dent now dominated the sofa). He looked even larger in the room, now, and his body’s bulk sloshed sluggishly, making him sway on his plump paws. That inch reappeared, and stayed. No doubt having experienced such discomfort before, one of the lion’s pudgy paws knew what to do and went for the buttons. But, apparently remembering where he was, the lion guiltily tugged it away, but not before Siya had noticed the motion. Timidly, daringly, the leopard waddled across to the expanded eater and, as gently as he could, put his front paws on a button. It was in the 4th row of 5, the tightest of the lot, holding the jacket closed around the lovely lard lion’s equator. The lion stood stock-still in surprise, looking wide-eyed down at his host. He seemed hardly to breathe: beneath his paw, Siya could feel shallow quivers spasm through that tightly wrapped mass. The jacket creaked a little with each inhalation. Siya hardly dared breathe himself.
His own chubby paws fumbling with it, he managed to turn the stubborn plastic disc back through the reinforced eye. The other buttons shifted in their settings, gratefully taking up the slack but remaining at full tension. Gingerly, Siya moved his paw across to the other button in the row, now taking a lot of stress for its trouble. It was harder to undo, digging uncomfortably into the flesh. He had to pull at the jacket- squeezing and setting all that lion inside it aquiver- then pop the button out. He let go. Slowly, the two overlapping edges of the material began to slide over one another, forming a ruckled ‘v’ as it distorted, and Siya watched some of the tightness leave the jacket. The lion’s body seemed to swell wider within it, pushing out as the confines relaxed. The material kept separating until the edges pulled apart, revealing a flattened diamond of yellow fur in between.
In some imperceptible way, the lion relaxed. Siya watched him take a deeper breath- one of release, and then sigh in relief. The diamond of fur stretched wider and wider, the furry fat beneath bulging through like rising dough. The tableaux unfroze somewhat: the lion smiled down at him, looking a lot more comfortable. The material was tight against him again, though, the gap stretched to its fullest. An area of about 36 squared-inches of stomach hung through the gap, out far enough to leave a small shadow on the material below it. The buttons below it were in torment, being pressed out and down in that hefty ball’s bid for freedom.
“Thanks.” The lion said it so warmly that Siya blushed and stammered inarticulately, embarrassed. But, with growing astonishment, he then watched as the lion’s paws reached down and this time made it to the buttons- the bottom row. His eyes remained fixed on Siya the whole time. Struggling a little, first one, then the other came free, releasing the floodgates. With the deceptive speed of an avalanche, the lion’s belly fell forward, brushing the edges of the jacket aside. He didn’t even have to help pull at them as his stomach forced its way out, spreading forth, sagging down and pushing up. The sides of his shirt strained, then lifted, untucking themselves from the waistband of his check trousers. That constricting band quivered, and then sank down beneath the ponderous weight of the belly above, his bare sides rolling out over it. His bellybutton was exposed to daylight, a squashed dent like a microcosm of the Grand Canyon.
It felt like days to Siya, and he wished it would last longer, but in fact this unveiling lasted a minute at most. If he’d been speechless before, the leopard was now struck dumb. The jacket still modestly covered his chest, but the rest of it framed his bare belly in all its glory, like a sun coming out from an eclipse. Like an eclipse, his fur created a glowing corona of golden hairs sticking out from the solid, squishy mass of his flesh. Still supported around the lowest region by his trousers all that poundage hung hugely, deliciously to his knees. Even the tiny adjustments the lion made to keep himself upright made it wobble. To Siya it looked like the biggest supply of Cornish ice-cream in the world. He wanted to leap in and wallow, to chew great big mouthfuls of it. After the tantalisation he’d endured, more than ever he wanted there to be more of it. He looked up at the gorgeously swollen beast in front of him, sure that his appreciation must be as plain on his face as his nose. It was.
“There’s still plenty of ice-cream left,” he mumbled bashfully, “And the coconut hasn’t even been touched…” Loosening his top seemed to have a similar effect on the lion, too. There was still a great deal of shyness, but his smile was far more warm and eager. Hungry. His tail twitched behind him.
“Well… I’ve made myself some more room… Yes please, Siya.”
Siyahamba nearly swooned as his monumental lion sat back down again, this time straight on the floor. Every bit of his body shifted to make room for his flab, the material around his chest bunching and riding even higher. The last few inches were a struggle for one of his girth, as well Siya knew. In the end he simply dropped the last little way to the ground, trusting in the excessive padding of his posterior. He crossed his porky, polyester-clad legs as best he could. His belly filled his lap, the lower front resting against his calves, whilst his sides spilled out even further. The leopard didn’t even dare look, but he was sure that if he went behind this lion he’d see the most spectacular example of builder’s bum anywhere. For now, Siya just concentrated on getting the guy food. That was what he wanted, and what the leopard was determined he’d get. The coconut ice-cream was broached, and a furtive lick told him that it was fit for a king. The coconut milk was mixed into the cream to perfection, feeling light and frothy on the tongue even at the same time as being thick and heavy. He piled both bowls high, and took the pair of them to the lion.
The glutton was more visible in his eyes now, and they sparkled at the sight. A deep, soft purr rumbled through his body and the surrounding floor. It was like a Siren’s song to the spellbound Siya, and he was drawn to it, to sit next to him and watch as the lion worked his way through both bowls, one after the other. The air around the lion felt warmer, his form so hot and bountiful that he heated the surrounding world too, wearing it like an extra-thick insulating layer of air beneath his fur. It felt to Siya as though he was sitting inside the lion’s personal space, and he thrilled at it.
The lion chowed down like a lion should, in Siya’s opinion- in big messy licks and bites, occasionally wiping his mane out of the way. He leaned into his food, devouring instead of just eating. His throat bulged and squeezed with each greedy swallow. It was animated, charged, and he looked truly alive- he lived to eat. Compared to his jaw-dropping size, the bowls were now intolerably little: how was the poor boy meant to get any nourishment out of such wimpy portions? Siya’s eyes fell on the depleted drums of ice-cream, and he had an idea. Tearing himself away from the experience of a lifetime, he went to the metal containers and used his head to nudge them across the carpet, towards an appetite that deserved such quantities in full.
The lion, nearing the end of his last bowlful, watched with surprise, but didn’t take the time away from eating to comment or ask questions. By the time he was putting the licked bowl down, the leopard had manoeuvred a drum to within reach either side of his overflowing poundage- coconut or vanilla. The impish look on Siya’s face told him that this was for more than just convenience. The tubby tabby giggled at the bemused look on his rounded countenance, and fished the scoop out of the coconut. He gave it to his hungry companion. He realised he should have been incredibly embarrassed about what he was about to say, but he wasn’t.
“You’re a big boy… a very big boy. Big enough to make your own decisions, and to be proud of what you are.” He hadn’t been planning on it, but impulse drove him to place his paws on either side of his friend’s tonnage. The flab beneath them was warm, and quivered gently. This close up, he was so overwhelming, so wonderful. “I want you to have as much ice-cream as you want. Pig out and enjoy it.” Siya smiled, “Bowls are so fiddly when you’re hungry.”
The innocent, blubbery lion giggled, and looked down at his glutted paunch. The offer opened up a brand new world to him. A bigger, better world. It looked as though he’d never imagined that there could possibly be such a place, where he was allowed to eat straight from the pot. He put one paw, his free paw, over the leopard’s.
“Thank you, Siya. You’re a real, real friend.” His other paw was reaching for the coconut drum, scoop angled downwards. It dove in and gouged up a big, uneven ball of dazzling dairy the size of his fist. He stared at it hungrily, jaws slightly agape. Siya could see his pearly teeth along each side. Before it even had time to drip he brought it up to his muzzle and began licking at it rapidly, free to indulge. His cheeks wobbled with each long stretch of his head. The rest of him wobbled too: his sides and belly lapped at the waistband of his trousers, a furry tide that could only rise higher, and higher, and higher…
The scoop lasted all of a minute, and the lion didn’t seem to pause for breath once. Flicking a few sticky strands of his mane out of the way, he leaned to the other side, balling up a generous helping of vanilla. The action compressed the rubbery rolls of fat all down his right side, making them swell and bunch up firmly against each other. In contrast, the ice-cream was sagging into that melt-in-the-mouth stage of thaw. His first enthusiastic lick nearly knocked the whole thing off the scoop, so he settled for sucking on it greedily, trying to prevent any drips from escaping. The scoop only lasted 30 seconds. He rocked back towards coconut, obviously exploiting his right of choice to the full. And full he looked- Siya’s wildest dreams couldn’t have furnished the details of how this lion was gaining weight practically before his eyes. Every exhalation seemed to leave perceptibly more lion-gut filling his lap, and his jacket seemed to pull higher with each movement of his luscious, soft body.
By now he had got into a steady, slow rhythm, the scoop plunging from side to side. Both ice-creams were soft to the core, the coconut going fluffy and sticking together in huge sweet clumps that delighted the lion’s appetite. The level in the drums sank, and his sides bulged. His arms and legs looked thicker, too. Messier, certainly. Reaching down to the bottom of the pots, the lion’s scoop arm was ice-creamed to the elbow. His face was a mask of the stuff, chipmunk cheeks bulging as he took bigger and bigger bites. He stalled, futilely trying to clean himself up before his next bite- his tongue simply slathered more onto his fur and spread what was there around a bit. Mutely he looked for Siya for help. Giggling, the delighted leopard took the scoop into custody for a while whilst he made an only marginally more successful attempt at grooming. But, to Siya’s thrill, the lion’s eyes were constantly being drawn by the tubs of ice-cream. Siya suddenly found himself looking up at the lion leaning towards him and the vanilla drum, transfixed, muzzle hanging open pathetically. Mischievously, the leopard plopped a whole scoopful into that richly deserving muzzle. That made his fat, fat friend blink in surprise. He leaned back, chewing automatically. But then a blissful smile suffused his features, and after swallowing he leaned forwards again, eyes hopeful. Siya almost melted like ice-cream there and then. He was now feeding this gluttonous golden Goliath of a lion! Paw shaking a little, he proffered another scoop. Purring loudly, the lion slurped it off the spoon, arms out to his sides. The seams on his jacket creaked woefully as their contents grew by another iota.
Within another two scoops, Siya was scraping out the last of the sweet vanilla, getting as messy as his lion. The big guy himself was groaning happily at every mouthful now, and looking at him with such soulful eyes that absolutely nothing else mattered apart from tanking the glorious fatso to capacity, whatever that proved to be (Siya was sure that even he didn’t know). The coconut lifted clean from the pot in three sticky lumps, one of which the lion held for Siya to eat. He put his arm around the cat to position the scoop, his vastly chubby side spilling and pressing against him as he did so. This lion could cuddle people from 3 feet away! It was so heavenly that Siya couldn’t have refused even if he’d wanted to.
That seemed to be the lion’s state of mind also as the besotted leopard pressed the remaining 2 drums on him, holding about a gallon each. It didn’t even take persuasion. But his jacket certainly needed it. It was a stained wreck, stretched like a bowstring across his chest and around his back like a bra. Some of the seams were starting to pull apart, the stitching visible against a bulging yellow background. Grunting, his muzzle full of sloppy-soft chocolate, the lion tried to undo the buttons with fat, slippery fingers but failed. All traces of reticence washed away by the ice-cream deluge, he looked hopefully at Siya. Willing to do anything for him now, the leopard fumbled and flipped at the buttons with equally sticky paws. He got them undone one by one, feeling giddy. This close up the lion’s scent wound around him, mixing through and with the frosty smells of the ice-cream so that he smelt like a flavour himself. A bumper bucket of irresistible ice-cream.
The last button finally broke away in his paw, the cotton thread giving way before the linen, and the sides of the jacket dropped away to leave the lion going topless. Siya couldn’t help his giggle as his magnificent lion’s chest was revealed. They’d have trouble finding a bra big enough to support him all. Thick bulges and creases marked his sides and distinguished chest from belly, although it didn’t make much difference- each pectoral was as wide as most slim fur’s waists. The expanding lion shrugged the sleeves and shoulders of the jacket into a more comfortable position and, a playful spark in his bewitching blue eyes, nudged Siya for more ice-cream.
It really was getting too soft to scoop, though. This presented a bit of a problem. Through experimentation, they found that they were too large for the lion to grip comfortably and eat from, and so slippery that he nearly dropped one of them in any case. His belly prevented him from leaning forwards to get his muzzle into them, and pushed them out of his reach in any case. Giggling, Siya rolled one of the cold containers across the front of that double-jumbo lard-ball. It made the lion shiver and whimper in a way that brought tingles to the leopard’s spine.
With a stuffed-sounding groan, the pressure from his swollen stomach gently pushed the lion to lay back onto the ground, arms spread wide. His mane lay about his face like a halo. The shape change in his ballooning body as he went from sitting to lying deserved another story in its own right: his gut seemed to stretch in place as he leaned back, then suddenly catch on and flop up out from between his legs. His bulk sloshed up and down his body as he lay back, then settled around his abdomen. The king of all bellies spread out wide and round- not the taut roundness of a beach ball but the natural, landscape-dominating rotundity of an elephant. The top plateau of it sat a bit above Siya’s ears. It was all he could do not to jump straight onto him and hold all of that mountainous mass.
His supine companion’s shape gave Siya another brainwave. He pushed the chocolate closer, until it nudged against that chubby chest. The lion blinked at him, but the proximity of ice-cream made his belly gurgle. The leopard encouraged him to lift the drum, and trustingly that sweet, innocent feline complied, hoisting it up and setting it on his chest. He cottoned on fast, and the big animal gave the fat leopard a mischievous grin. Slowly, he toppled the drum until it lay in the furrow between his pectorals, the open end facing downhill. The contents began to flow sluggishly, the thickest chocolate milkshake ever seen. Holding the drum in place, the lion opened wide and began to guzzle rapturously, half slurping, half chewing, the volume flow satisfying even his desires. He drank a half-gallon milkshake, then looked hopefully for more. Most of his muzzle was dark brown, the hairs dripping with the stuff. He eagerly accepted the mint choc-chip, almost pouring it all over himself in his haste. The cool, minty taste was bliss as it slid down his throat. It really made you feel as if you were eating something cold as it sat in your stomach. Deluged, the lion grew, his middle swelling outwards through volume of food alone, cramming with calories that would go to work later. The effect was the same either way. Siya watched, open-mouthed, not daring to pinch himself in case he did actually wake up. He’d be heartbroken. This was a dream made so-much-flesh.
When it was empty, the lion lightly batted the drum off him. It rolled down the slope and clanged hollowly on the ground. The rim had been licked clean, Siya saw. Only then did he approach the fantastic fatty. To the leopard, it was like having the embodiment of gluttony and weight sprawled in his front room. And what an embodiment. The lion’s fat face beamed beatifically up at him. He was purring almost constantly now, making the room thrum with contentment.
“That was…” he paused to cover a very genteel burp, “lovely.” A slightly wistful expression crossed his features, and his belly made a noise that sounded something like ‘boilgrrrrkip’. He gazed into Siya’s eyes. “Could I have some more?”
“M-more?” Siya whispered, feeling his eyes glaze a little. He had considered himself unshockable, but this was something almost beyond a dream. This abundantly fattened animal had consumed just under 7 gallons of ice-cream in one sitting, and he wanted more? He couldn’t even ask where he was putting it all, because he could see. The sight of all that tonnage spurred him to action. He looked around, but he was right the first time. “It’s all gone. But I’ve got a couple of small tubs in the fridge. Nothing special I’m afraid…”
The lion chuckled softly at something, exhaling a cloud of cocoa butter on his breath. His beached-whale of a body jiggled softly up and down its length.
“There’s a couple of spare drums on my bike.” He blushed and smiled at the leopard’s dumbstruck expression. “A couple of people cancelled their order when I got to their house. I was hoping to have some when I got back.” He bent his arms and pushed to raise himself, the effort evident in his expression. Siya pushed at his chest, the gentle pressure sufficient to thwart him. The lion flopped back to the ground, and the leopard purred.
“I’ll get it for you. You look too comfy to make you move.” The lion’s purr answered his own, deeper and richer than a cathedral organ. Siya hurried to fetch them, his belly bouncing and jiggling underneath him as he scampered. His hindquarters rippled and his tail whipped from side to side. It had got dark outside. Siya found another pair of 2 gallon drums. He brought them both in, hardly daring to hope how much more his beautiful butterball might want to consume. His return was greeted by an eager grunt from the lion, who had bent sufficiently in the middle to prop himself up on his arms. It was a precarious arrangement, though. The first taste of the second drum of chocolate dropped him flat on his back again, murring rapturously. They propped the drum between them and companionably took it in turns to scoop out pawfuls, the lion’s bigger by far. The final drum revealed a surprise: cookies n’ cream, so gooey that a centimetre stuck to the lid. Siya licked that, and let the lion have his fill from the rest.
He emptied it. With the fullest expression that Siya had ever seen, the drum rolled away and the lion let out a monumental, earth-shaking belch. It signified a last trump of kinds. Satisfied at last, with a stuffed moan he seemed to sink even further into the floor, although that could be explained by the world bending under him like a reverse Atlas. His eyes were half-shut and half-crossed, and his breathing was labouring beneath his supertanker-sized girth. His face was a tribal mask of splash-lines and multicoloured marbling. He looked too full to even try licking it off. It was doubtful that he’d ever rise again, more whale-like than ever. The ridge of his chest was no longer discernible from the corpulent continent of his gut. The pectorals had almost vanished beneath an avalanche of fat, replaced by a smooth curve reminiscent of a hot-air balloon full of custard. His shoulders were hidden amongst innumerable tyres of flab, and his arms were thicker than many furs full stop. From what could be seen of them, his legs were equally enormous, the check of his trousers stretched to its utmost and begging for mercy. His tail was nowhere to be seen, buried by a behind the size of Mount Rushmore. His paws were so massive it was a wonder he could even flex them. Softly, Siya started to lick those irresistible good looks clean. The lion’s purring became deeper, contented noises, some from the throat and some from the gut. His face contorted into a series of sleepy ticklish smiles. As he licked, the leopard’s paws began to rub softly at the massive guy’s chest, feeling the fur brush beneath his paws and the landmass of flesh below ripple with tectonic slowness and unstoppability. The lion groaned and shifted happily, looking zonked out from all his weight-gaining exertions.
Siya hopped onto that titanic lion-belly, sprawling out as far as he could, trying to encompass all of it in his grasp. The lion let out a deep, stuffed noise.
“Oooooogh…” He wobbled like a bouncy castle, spreading out even further, an ocean of calories beneath the leopard. His weight and gut dwarfed the rotund leopard on top of him. For a second Siya wished that he could be slim again, just for a moment or two, so he could appreciate the full size of this creature.
Through the broad buffer of their belly contact, the lion actually felt cool, the 11 gallons or so of ice-cream inside him sucking the heat back. He wriggled at the feel of Siya’s body heat soaking into his skin, purring raptly. Siya’s paws began to skritch and knead their own personal world, the planet lion. They discovered strata upon strata of lard beneath the fuzzy surface, going down through feet of doughy blubber. The rest of the lion squished and bulged around Siya, a surprisingly firm form holding him a couple of metres off the ground. The lion was stretched out to his full length, and the best way to describe him was in breadth and depth. Siya at last pressed his head into that paradise paunch, revelling in the rasp of fur on fur, the pressure of fathomless depths of greedy chub against him, the scent of his lion Sundae in his nostrils, so perfectly juicy and tender, so just completely wonderful.
Neither knew how long they stayed like that. Eventually, the lion started to come round from his glut-fest, rumbling delightedly at the aftershocks of the skritching. His body began to warm up again, the heat from so much bulk feeling better than a warm bath. He was still growing bigger, too. Siya could feel his skin stretching slowly, and could sense himself gently being lifted higher. Their eyes met for a long moment, and then Siya nestled his head against the lion’s chins. He sighed in delighted. The lion’s sigh echoed his. With effort, he lifted his arms and flopped them around the leopard’s neck. They felt warm and oh-so-heavy. The lion’s belly gurgled sluggishly, and he gave a sleepy little giggle.
“I think I’m a little too big for my bike tonight.” Siya nodded his agreement into his neck. “Oof… I’m bushed.”
“You’re welcome to stay here for the night.” The lion made a show of craning his neck at his floor-level surroundings.
“What, right here on the floor?” Siya giggled and nodded.
“If you like.”
“Mmm… I don’t feel like moving.” Lazily, the lion’s arms contracted into a hug around his fellow fat feline. Siya murred and squeezed back, snuggling down a little more and feeling his own eyelids grow heavy. He made a divine bed, beyond king-sized. Besides, the lion was way too big for the sofa, now- he’d crush it. And he wasn’t sure about the stairs either. And, come to that, how would he get this lovely blimp to move if he didn’t want to?
Siya blushed for the last time.
“I’ve just realised… I don’t know your name.” The lion had finally digested his dessert and had finished growing for now. He was bigger than anything Siya had ever fantasised about and set to get bigger, enveloping him in an all-encompassing mountain of obesity. He smiled shyly, and pressed his nose against Siya’s in a feline kiss.
“Call me ‘Fatty’.”
This time Siya nearly did faint.