Cake and Cookie Dough (Story)

(Revamped a couple of very old characters that I wrote about a couple of times. Here are those stories: Syrup and Sweatpants , Chocolate and Chicken Wings )

'“So I always get this, like, kinda awkward, uh… vibe… when we talk and stuff, or if I bring someone home, just rando stuff like that.” The swamp-furred cat shifted in her seat, idly chewing her lip with enough force to leave small tooth marks. Despite her squirming, she maintained her perpetual grin, though her eye contact was as erratic as ever. Espy tapped her pen to her own lip and responded with a moderate smile and a steady gaze.

              “That’s definitely something we can work on for next time,” she said with a soft nod. “One thing I have noticed today, Sketch, is that you’ve been making good observations. You’re noticing when you feel awkward or uncomfortable, whereas you weren’t doing that when we started out.” Sketch perked up at her counterpart’s encouragement, and Espy couldn’t help but smile a little more genuinely. Her client was nothing if not receptive to good news.

              “Yeah? Man, I dunno. It’s all the stuff you keep saying about active noticing, and the exercises we’re doing and stuff. Guess they’re helpin’ out, huh?” With that, she rose, hips waggling with her tail.

              “Mhm, keep noticing for next time, and if you feel comfortable, try to talk to your sister about how you feel, ok?” Espy rose with the more energetic catgirl, her own sleek pink tail drifting lazily to and fro behind her. Moving to the office door, she handed off Sketch’s coat and stood back to let her pass.

              “You got it!” Buoyed by her own energy now, Sketch practically danced out the door, with Espy quietly following her out. Once out in the hallway, Sketch abruptly pivoted and embraced her feline therapist in one of her typical hugs. “You’re the best, girl!” Espy could only smile stiffly in reply as her face began to redden, especially given that Sketch was rubbing up against her and purring audibly. Eventually, the more energetic girl pulled back with a massive grin. “Heyy, you’re softer than I remember. Been putting on the holiday padding, huh?” Before Espy could react, Sketch was prodding the pink catgirl’s blouse where a visible bulge in her midsection tightened it. “Looks good! Anyway, see ya when I see ya!” With that, Sketch was skipping down the hall, leaving Espy to stand in silence, her face steaming.

***

              She hung up her jacket and kicked off her boots with more restraint than she’d have been able to muster back at the office. Though it was frigid outside, Espy always found it easier to walk home than cram herself onto a bus or streetcar, where countless eyes could re-enact what Sketch had done with her finger.

              “Should have called sexual harassment,” she mumbled as she made her way into the central area of the apartment. The sound of sports were audible from the next room: the den, where Buster was almost certainly camped on the couch, a plethora of snacks surrounding him. Creeping toward the den, Espy put on a little smirk, her tail swishing behind her. “Well well w-” she began as she poked her head into the doorway, only to find the couch empty and the room neater than she’d seen it in months. Pouting, she stepped inside and scanned the room, which Buster frequently lived in these days. Sports memorabilia of various types filled the room to the point where even the coasters and table lamps were football themed. The centerpiece was of course the large television to the right of the door, which was rarely silent. It figured that Buster had left it on in his usual fashion. Despite the aggressive game on the TV however, Espy found her eyes drifting to the ottoman, on which sat a circular tray, and atop that, a large, pitch dark chocolate cake drizzled with red icing. Her eyebrows lifted. An instant later, a scream lurched from her throat as a pair of powerful arms wrapped themselves around her waist and hauled her off her feet.

              “Gotcha bitch!” her assailant cooed as he hugged her tight against his cushy bulk, the scent of smoked meat reaching Espy’s nose. Despite her amusement, she growled and squirmed against the man, before finally nipping at his arms until he released her.

              “Calling your wife a bitch,” she huffed as she straightened herself out. “You’re supposed to wait until at least menopause before you start doing that.” She turned to face her hefty husband with her best imitation of a scowl, before grinning as she watched him shrink back with an anxious laugh. Despite his act, there wasn’t a man in Dystopolis gentler than Buster. “What’s the matter? Not such a tough guy now, hm?” Seizing the opportunity, she slipped forward and pressed up against him, resting her gentle hands on his waist. “I assume that cake in there is your apology.”

              “It is now,” Buster sighed and pulled her deeper into the embrace, his scent giving her immediate comfort. “Espy…” His warm eyes settled on her face as he dipped in to peck her lightly on the nose. “You’re cold! Walked home, huh?”

              “Always,” Espy replied with a purr, her body loosening against the tanky frame of the tall fox. She remained there for a moment, before exhaling her most manipulative murmur. “Carry me, you lazy ass.” A moment later, she felt Buster’s powerful mitts on her back and rump. A little squeak slipped out as she was lifted back into the air, coming to rest in the boy’s arms. His face showed no obvious strain, his natural strength undiminished by his slothful lifestyle, though Espy couldn’t help but wonder if he was hiding a grimace at his wife’s weight. No, doubtful. Buster was no good at hiding things. “How’s Nicole?”

              “Like a log~” Buster chuckled as he hauled his thinner wife into the den, his thick brush of a tail dusting the floor behind him. “Sleeping, I mean. I thought babies were supposed to be a pain in the ass, but she hasn’t made a peep.”

              “Do you think she’s deaf?” Espy mumbled as she buried her cheek in Buster’s cushy chest. “We could get her checked out.” As her eyes drifted shut, she felt him shake his head.

              “She responds to me when I come in,” he explained. “I think she just takes after her mother~”

              “More like her father if she does nothing but sleep all day!” Espy snorted and cracked open an eye as she was set down on the couch, Buster slipping in and draping his wife’s legs over his lap. With her head resting against a cushion, she lazed back and let her breathing soften. The room was silent for a moment, save for the white noise of whatever sport Buster had been watching. As Espy rested, the day’s events slowly made their way back through her head in their usual fashion, allowing her to analyze troubling events or ponder the significance of other, less clear occurrences.

              Her musing was interrupted by something light brushing against her mouth. Pouting softly, she opened up and let a generous helping of cake pass into her maw, before wrapping her lips around the fork as it slipped back out again. The rich, swoon-worthy taste of chocolate briefly erased all other thought from her mind. As she recovered from her silent reverie, she felt another piece batting at her lips.

              “Mhh- Bus…” She mewed, before letting him push the second mouthful in. She could tell he was waiting for her to continue, so she chewed and swallowed with some swiftness, before resuming. “I shouldn’t… eat all this cake. Even if it is delicious.”

              “Why’s that?” There was no judgement in her husband’s voice; he was merely acknowledging her words and prompting her to explain, though she figured he already knew why.

              “Nothing new,” She responded, moving one hand to her midsection and giving it an awkward stroke. “Just that I’m getting fat…” she cracked open one eye and put on another pout. “…ter.”

              “Oh, I getcha,” Buster attempted solemnity, his ears twitching while he tried to hide a grin. “You know, I’m worried that I’ve been getting fat too.” Resting both hands on his thick belly, he gave it a series of pushes and jiggles, letting the orange tub wobble against the tight confines of his T-shirt. “What do you think?”

              “Shut up,” Espy laughed, both eyes fluttering open now as she gazed with bemusement upon the plump fox. “I’m serious! It’s alright for you to be a big fatso, Mr. Stay-at-home-dad.” She wiggled her fingers in the direction of his belly with each syllable, unwilling to exert the effort required to sit up and physically prod it. “But I’m a registered therapist and hard working mother. I have a reputation to uphold.” She watched Buster hum with feigned thoughtfulness at her words- with one eye on the television- and hoped she hadn’t struck a nerve. He’d offered to take mat-leave after all, and she knew he missed coaching. Eventually, he refocused on her with a sheepish laugh.

              “Can’t argue with that,” he chimed, before offering her another forkful of cake, which she happily accepted despite her worries. Then his face turned serious. “Nobody’s, um… talking about your weight, are they?”

              “What? No, no. I… one of my patients commented on it is all.” Espy’s face burned anew at the memory of Sketch’s shameless observation. “But I really should watch my weight. You know how it gets this time of year.” As if on cue, Buster’s tum released a cavernous rumble, betraying his excitement.

              “Well, if that’s what you want, I’ll do my best not to tempt you,” the gentle giant agreed, resting a hand on his wife’s thigh and gently stroking up and down. “You think you’ve put some on since having Nicole though?”

              “I think even you could answer that,” Espy murmured and averted her gaze. Obviously she’d put on weight during her pregnancy, but she hadn’t expected to keep putting it on for months after. Force of habit, she supposed. “I guess I could check.” She slowly swung her legs around and rose to her feet, savouring a long stretch once she was up. Buster rose as well, with significantly less grace.

              “I’ll weigh myself too,” he grinned, lightly bumping his hips to hers. “Then you can feel better about yourself, alright?”

***

“170…” Espy murmured to herself, unsure whether to feel anxious or vindicated. 170 was 12lbs heavier than she’d been after having Nicole, which in turn had been 10lbs heavier than she’d been pre-pregnancy. Not an absurd gain, but it was starting to add up. Fortunately, her decidedly pear shaped body meant that a little cushion wouldn’t jeopardize her figure, but her chub was getting to be more than a little. Unbuttoning her blouse and tossing it aside, she turned to the mirror to observe her bare belly, its thickness not as worrying as she’d thought, but still visible and growing thicker every day.

              “Hey, who’s that sexy girl in the mirror?” Buster purred as he approached his wife from behind, his softness smothering her backside. “I think I need her number.” His hands settled on her well cushioned hips, giving them little squeezes and rubs as he enjoyed her curvature.

              “Get lost,” Espy laughed, bucking her rear against the fox to push him back. “I’ll be thicker than April if I keep this up. April. That’s scary.”

              “I dunno about that,” Buster responded from the other side of the bathroom, where he could freely admire the chubby cat’s size. “It’s not like April’s slowing down either.”

              “Touché.” Scooping her blouse off the floor, Espy draped it over her shoulder and slipped out of the room, calling back to her husband. “Anyway, I’m not eating that entire cake. What kind of example am I going to set for Nicole if I keep eating like a- …”

              “Like me?” Buster cheerfully finished her sentence as he remained in the bathroom for a few moments longer. Eventually, he called after her. “Hey, 298! I’m almost in the three-hundo club!”

***

“So I’m watching her crawl around, and she’s just set on that statuette I got you from the Crystal Flats. And I keep picking her up and moving her away from it because I don’t want her to bonk herself on the head with it, right?” Buster rambled on, one hand squeezing Espy’s thigh while the other forked more cake into the reclining cat’s mouth. His eyes, however, were set on the TV. “So eventually she starts pouting at me because she doesn’t understand, so I give in and I tell her ‘ok, you can play with it, but don’t hurt yourself, ok?’ Well, I give her the statue, and I swear the first thing she does is stick it right into her mouth. No hesitation, just instantly!”

              “Well of course she did,” Espy sighed, her discarded blouse draped over the back of the couch. “She’s a baby. What did you expect?” She opened up for another mouthful, her eyes flicking to the diminishing cake as she silently reminded herself to stop accepting the morsels at some point. “I hope you cleaned the statue after.” She lifted her head and peered into the apartment’s kitchen, where the statuette rested by the sink.

              “I… wiped off the saliva with my shirt.” Buster smirked and prodded Espy’s lips with another forkful of cake. “Want milk or anything?”

              “Mmh, sure.” Espy engulfed the cake once more and let Buster push her legs aside so he could rise. As soon as he was out of the room, she turned her attention to her still-uncovered tummy. With one hand, she gave it a little jostle. The doughy pink chub gave a little glorp as it moved. Fatty fat, she mumbled inaudibly to herself, and gave her pudge a few harsh squeezes. How much lighter had she been only a couple of years ago when she first met Buster? All she remembered was that Buster had been shocked by her appetite; he’d never seen a girl as skinny as her pack away so much on a regular basis. At least now her size matched her gluttony, she admitted with a wry smirk.

              “Oof~” The couch shuddered as Buster flopped back down onto it, his own generous paunch bouncing in his lap. Espy quickly let her hands drop to her sides. He’d probably seen her playing with herself, but he’d never admit that. Despite his love of joking, Buster was familiar enough with Espy’s weight concerns to know he could only tease her up to a point. “For the princess,” he announced as he handed her a chilled glass of milk. His free hand drifted to a small tray of cookies on the nearby table, from which he grabbed a handful to stuff into his maw. “Mmhh~” Crumbs tumbled down his curved chest and onto his belly, a lazy paw brushing them off a moment later. “I can finish off that cake if you want… Or we can save it for another day. I mean, it’s for you after all.” He smiled to Espy, who returned the gesture, the chocolate doing wonders for her anxieties.

              “I’ll just have a bit more,” she assured him. “It’s incredible…” Her eyes flitted back to the cake, imploring him to continue his feeding. With a nod, the husky fox obliged, letting his wife sink back into a restful daze as more and more of the cake disappeared into her. She staggered her mouthfuls with sips of milk, savouring the growing fullness within her. One brow furrowed a bit as she encountered once again the utter bliss that came with an excessive meal, reliable but still somehow unexpected even after so many years. Her lightly bloated stomach growled, and she dry swallowed, her pleasure starting to turn to craving. “B-ouurp- …uster,” she giggled with a sheepish flick of her ears, watching her husband closely now.

              “Mmh?” He turned from the game to watch her in turn, amused curiosity on his face. “Yes, my love?” He quickly returned the fork to the cake, anticipating her words.

              “Mmh…” she swallowed softly in reply. “Don’t stop.”

 

***

Grinning with excitement, Buster helped his wife out of her jeans, the button long since undone and the zipper pulled down to give her breathing room. The tray lay empty on the ottoman.

              “Better?” he laughed once the tight pants were discarded, leaving the cat to laze regally in her undergarments. She exhaled a chocolatey belch in reply. “Are you sated, my gorgeous Queen?” He watched her eyes drift open and settle on his. “Mm?” The bloated cat simply blinked, her smirk widening. The gesture was nothing new to him. “Alright,” he cooed and began to rise, carting the tray off to the kitchen with a pleased flick of his tail. He soon returned to her side with a carton of ice cream and a litre of soda. She continued to watch, and the fixedness of her gaze sent several tingles through him. This was the Espy that could not be suppressed; though her weight worries were legitimate and to be taken seriously, Buster knew her too well to believe she would ever give up her love of food. He was the plumper of the two, yes, but Buster could never match his wife’s sheer desire to feed, and to be fed. “It’s cookie dough~” At the mention of cookies, he turned his attention back to the plate behind him. “Say aaa…” he chimed, before stuffing a few more cookies into his mouth and dangling a couple more in front of his wife. She snapped them up without hesitation, chewed, swallowed, and shivered with delight.

              “Bus,” the stuffed girl whispered through half-shut eyes, refusing to let the food out of her sight. “I just wanna… Mmmh…” She drifted off with her lips parted, waiting for him to fill them.

              “I know, babe,” he soothed in reply, snuggling up close to Espy and pulling her up into a seated position. His muzzle pressed against her cheek, then imparted upon it a kiss. “I’ll take care of you.”

***

Espy chugged back what was left of the soda, gulping audibly as her throat bulged with each swallow. Finally loosening her grip on the now empty bottle, she allowed Buster to take it away and replace it with yet another spoonful of ice cream, which was soft and dripping by this point. Her husband’s hand rested on her now taut belly, drifting across it in an act of quiet worship.

              “Just one more,” he murmured as he watched her slurp up the spoonful. “You ate all the sweets, babe~”

              “Mmm…” Espy’s tongue slipped out to clean her lips once the spoon was gone. “Snacks…?” she ventured, focusing her gaze on Buster once more. He merely shook his head.

              “I would, but then you’ll be even less happy with me tomorrow,” he explained. “Besides, you’re starting to look pregnant again. Not that… I’m complaining.” As he slipped the last spoonful into her mouth, he released his hold on the spoon and shifted closer to the once again reclining girl, who gazed back with no turmoil visible behind her ensnaring eyes.

              “So mean…” she burped, letting the spoon tumble off the couch and to the floor. “I could look more pregnant, you know…”

              “Another time then.” He placed both hands on her rounded belly now, savouring its soft girth. He certainly wouldn’t mind if they were to have another kid. Despite the difficulties of pregnancy, Espy had taken it well and looked absolutely radiant. Then again, she always looked stunning. Her unique charm was difficult for him to resist, especially when she got into one of her food reveries. How could he not encourage something that made her so happy, so full of love? Swallowing, Buster rested his bulk against hers, watching her spherical gut rise and fall with each laboured breath. Then, he felt her hands on his sides, lightly rolling up his shirt.

              “298…” She purred with a giggle, letting him lift his arms so she could finish tugging off his top. “My sexy, sexy fat boy...” Without further warning, her lips met his right breast, softly tickling his plump nipple. A light gasp escaped his lips despite his best efforts.

              “My… sexy… wonderful… wonderful, fat, babe…” he breathed his response into her ear as he laid himself out atop her, his lips swiftly locking with hers as his hands gripped her plush hips with mounting desire.

              “Aghn~” Espy gasped in turn, her body squirming heavily beneath her heavy lover. “Mmnhh…” Fat… Despite her bliss, somewhere in the back of her mind, a brief flicker of her previous anxiety surfaced. She took a moment to consider it, lost as she was among the warm, blanket of love that was her husband. Then, she shut her eyes and broke into a wide grin.

              Fuck it.'

(Sketch, Espy, and Buster are (c) Me)