Fat Farm Counselor Ch. 06

Darlene didn't bother with clothes.

"Come on," she said, "you have me starved, all that energy we used up."

I pulled on my clothes as she stood, kind of spectacular really in nothing but her flip-flops.

I was starting to get used to the place I suppose. Anyway, I didn't feel odd walking across the open area to the main building with its dining hall with a large naked woman on my arm. Well, with a beautiful combination woman on my arm, so slender from the waist up but so huge below.

We ran into Oliver on the way in.

"Hi Dave," he said in that casual way of greeting, one man to another, "and hello gorgeous," he said to Darlene, his full attention on her.

I smiled and thought, "Good job."

She giggled, obviously enjoying the attention and he said, "May I escort you to dinner? Maxine has been looking for Dave here."

She looked at me, her smile showing she liked the attention, and asked, "Would you mind?"

I kissed her hand, kissed her mouth, and released her.

"You kids don't do anything I wouldn't do," I said.

She giggled.

As they started to move toward the dining hall I felt a bump in the back of my leg.

Maxine was smiling up at me from the seat of her mobility scooter.

"Feed me, handsome," she said and when she smiled she was kind of pretty, "then you promised to take care of me."

I smiled down at her and said, "Come on, good lookin'."

She took my right hand with her left, leaving her right hand free to operate the little joystick on the arm of the scooter, and led me to the table.

Dinner was served family style, with platters heaping.

"Oh, yummy, meatloaf," she said.

I loaded a plate for her, meatloaf, two big slices, mashed potatoes, gravy, and corn, something that I might have had at my grandmother's house. I filled a small bowl with a salad too.

She made no move to reach for a knife, fork, or napkin and it was pretty obvious that she meant it when she said "Feed me."

So I tied the big napkin around her neck, like a bib under her chin, and offered a forkful of lettuce and tomato liberally soaked in French dressing.

"Salad," she said, giggling, "ewwww."

I laughed and brushed the salad against her lips.

"Eat your greens, Maxine," I said.

She scrunched up her face and then opened her mouth.

I quickly discovered that feeding a fat girl is an intimacy that is truly special. I loved watching her face as she would take the next bite, her eyes closed as she savored the new taste.

When her plate was empty, and it had been a fully loaded plate, she surprised me by saying, "Seconds, please."

So I reloaded the plate.

As I looked around the table I saw that five of the staff, the two handymen, the two counselors, and Greg, were all feeding one of the girls. The others had pretty much paired off and were feeding each other. It was obvious that meals were a time for celebration of size, and I heartily approved. Greg was making Darlene peep like a bird for each bite, drawing giggles around the table.

Maxine was finally winding down as I forked another big bite of mashed potatoes suffused with corn into her mouth.

"Finish your plate," I said, "there are children starving in Africa," I added, mirroring one of my great-grandmother's favorite admonitions.

She giggled and said, "I always finish my plate."

"Dessert?" I asked as she swallowed the last bite.

"You know it," she said.

So I looked at the dessert table, selected a big piece of Cherry cobbler, added a double scoop of ice cream, and fed that to her as well.

Along the way I had cadged about one bite to every four of hers and I was stuffed.

She was full too, and that big piece of cobbler took a while to get into her. Meanwhile, I enjoyed the casual banter around the table. These were women who were obviously comfortable in their size and who enjoyed each other as well as the men.

"Hey, Dave," a big brunette across the table called, I dug into my memory banks but just could not come up with a name, "I'm hungry too."

"Hush now, Brenda," Maxine said, filling in the blank for me, "he's taking care of me tonight. Put in your order for tomorrow."

Brenda laughed and said, "Hey, Dave, breakfast tomorrow?"

I flashed my best grin and said, "It's a date, what time?"

"The crack of nine," she said and I gave her thumbs up.

Maxine's pudgy fingers covered mine and she said, "Now, handsome, I need someone to take care of my itches."

"I will follow you, beautiful," I said, standing. I gathered up plates and silverware, took them over to the big tub into which I had seen others putting their dirty dishes, and added mine to the pile.

And then I jogged to catch up with her as the scooter was humming through the front entrance.

"What's the hurry?" I asked.

"Davey," she said, not slowing or even looking up at me, "this ITCHES."

So I walked along beside her to the other cabin and then into her suite.

In her front room, I watched, curious to see how she handled things, as she slowly swung her legs around and very carefully got her feet on the floor. She rocked twice and then stood. I moved, thinking I might need to steady her but she got upright okay.

She turned then, slow and ponderous, to face me, smiled, and pulled the oversize sack dress, too shapeless to be called a muumuu, up and over her head.

Okay, I stared.

Maxine is, well, huge is the only word that fits. Her oversize head sat on a thick neck with four chins and a roll. Soft, flabby arms laid against soft flabby side fat. She had no breasts, just another roll of fat with dark nipples. A second roll almost covered the third. The third roll hung well down her thighs, a fat girl's natural modesty, and the deep crease of her navel looked like I could put my hand in it up to my elbow. Her legs were just as fat, thigh fat hanging, almost covering her knees, calf fat almost covering her feet, her feet like fat sausages with little stubs of toes sticking straight out.

She looked happy as she turned sideways to get through the door into the bathroom and then came back with a big tube of Desitin.

She smiled at me and handed me the tube, lifting the roll of fat that had her nipples. "It itches," she said.

I helped her onto her bed. She had a step to get her high enough to get onto it. She laid back, hands behind her head, and said, "Take care of me, honey."

I just looked for a moment. She was breathing hard, and sweating heavily, the simple act of moving to the bathroom and back and then climbing into bed had clearly tired her.

I got up on the bed beside her, on my knees, and started at her chins. Between the second and third rolls, I found a bit of redness at the bottom of the crease so I smeared the Desitin on it. I was surprised at how intimate, and how erotic, that simple act was. This was intimacy far beyond sex. The look on her face, the pure pleasure and relief, and satisfaction it showed was beyond orgasm or sexual release, this was pure bliss.

I kissed her, very softly, and she kissed me back, just as softly.

The next two rolls of her chins were clear.

At her armpit though, where the soft flab at the back of her arm made a crease against her ribs, a very raw-looking rash needed attention. As I pulled soft, warm skin taut and gently applied the ointment, her breath caught and she sighed a long, sibilant, barely audible, "Yessssssss."

Another of those soft, barely-a-kiss kisses before I found another rashy spot deep in the crease that was her navel. I spread the two hemispheres of that huge belly apron and worked the white cream onto the little circle of very red rash. I left my hand where it was and released the fat I was holding out of the way. It turned out I couldn't quite get my entire forearm into that deep crevasse up to the elbow, but I did have it in well past my wrist.

The last rash I found on her front was where the thigh fat of her left leg almost covered her left knee.

Each time I applied the Desitin we shared one of those soft kisses.

"Roll over," I said.

It was fun watching her gather up enough momentum to roll over and then wriggle around, making me think of a National Geographic television special I had seen once about walruses. She managed it, though, although she was panting and sweating by the time she was done.

Her body was fascinating from this view. Her big belly sort of spread under her. Her ass, big by any reasonable measure, looked small against the great rolls above it, framing it. And I could see that it was a mess. Not a rash, as I had been tending to, but rather, covered in pimples, more like a teenager's acne. I thought it was cute.

"Do you have any Clearasil or something like that?" I asked.

She giggled into the pillow. "Bathroom vanity, right drawer," she said.

I left her on the bed and went into the bathroom to get the Clearasil. Actually, it was something called Proactiv.

Again, as I sat back on my feet and started touching each individual pimple with a little drop of the medication, I was struck by how intimate, and personal this simple act was.

"You like my big ass?" she asked, her voice muffled by the pillow.

I patted it and said, "Yes, but then again, I like ALL of you."

I moved up then, straddling her, reminded of the one time I had ever ridden a horse the way my legs were forced apart by her size and started checking her back.

Her ass was a mess. Besides the pimples I had already attended to, when I used my hands to spread her cheeks she looked like a baby with a bad diaper rash.

"Help me, Maxine," capturing her hands and guiding them to hold her cheeks apart.

God, she was hamburger. The puckered round circle of her anus was so rashy there was blood showing, and the darkly stained area around it wasn't much better.

"Hold that pose," I said, chuckling and patting her big ass before heading into the bathroom, finding a small handtowel, wetting it, and returning to clean her up.

When I got back it took about ten seconds to realize I didn't have quite enough equipment so I went into the little kitchenette, found the biggest mixing bowl I could find, thinking to myself that it was probably inadequate, ran the water until it got hot, put a few drops of her Dawn dishwashing liquid in it and filled it with the hot water.

The delectable Maxine was still right where I had left her, face down and hands holding herself open.

"Oh, Jesus," she breathed as I started carefully cleaning where she was such a mess, "that's good. Thank you."

I chuckled and patted where I was busy. "You're too beautiful to let this go."

I washed and wrung the cloth and washed again.

When I finally had her all nice and clean I bent, blew softly, and kissed where I had just cleaned.

She giggled.

It took a while to get those deep, fully developed, rashes completely covered, but I took the time, enjoying her soft sighs of relief.

I scooted up, again that image of riding a horse was strong as I straddled her thighs, each as thick as my waist, and started inspecting the rolls of her back. The first two, low on her back, presumably where she could reach to wash, were clear but the third, the roll hanging loosely from where her shoulder blades had to be although they were invisible, had a distinct red line right at the bottom.

The roll at the top of her arms, she was one of those women who stored fat in great soft pads at the back of her upper arms, formed a crease that ran around to the back of her arms and that needed attention as well.

She was so big that she had a roll of fat at the back of her neck and I was surprised to find a distinct red line at the bottom of it. She groaned, a wonderfully satisfied sound as I took care of that final rash.

Since I was already there, sitting on the big soft cushion of her lower back I started working my fingers through her hair.

"No lice," I said and she giggled.

"So tell me something," I said, slowly relaxing, settling onto and, in many ways, into the warmth and softness of her huge body.

"What's that, David?" she asked, her voice muffled by the pillow.

I squirmed up her body a little, smiling to myself because this reminded me of a night I had spent with a woman who had an old-fashioned waterbed, the kind that was just a plastic bag full of water with no baffles or anything. Her big, soft, warm body had that same sort of feel.

I used my fingertips to move the hair away from her ear and then my tongue to trace the outline of its shell.

"Does a beautiful woman know the effect she has on men?" I asked, deliberately squirming to rub my hard dick against her ass to demonstrate the effect she was having on me.

She surprised me with how quickly she moved, rolling and forcing me to move clear or be pinned under her.

On her side now, she did that squirming, wallowing, walrus imitation thing again to scoot to the side of the bed and then patted the mattress in invitation.

I moved to lay beside her, fascinated by the way her immense belly shaped itself to my body as I snuggled against her.

"Ask me that again," she said, and her smile made her pretty at that instant.

So I did.

"Does a beautiful woman know the effect she has on men?" I asked.

There was that smile again.

"Do you think I'm beautiful?" she asked.

"Didn't your mother teach you to not answer a question with a question?" I asked.

"Like you just did?" she asked.

I laughed, squirmed deeper into the immense softness of her belly, and kissed her. It was a good kiss, full of interest and promise. I made it linger, slowly increasing the pressure against her lips and allowing my tongue to explore.

"You win," I said, "now answer my question."

"Answer mine first," she said.

I found her ribs, well, the place where her ribs were buried deeply under the roll of her fat, and dug in finding a solid base and ticklish spot as my fingers disappeared all of the way to my palm.

She squealed and squirmed and giggled.

"No, no, nonono," she giggled, trying to get away.

"Answer my question," I said, smiling and digging fingertips in, making her body writhe, "before I tickle you so much you wet the bed."

"DAVID!" she squealed, and then, "Okay, okay, okay," sort of breathlessly.

I released the pressure.

"David," she said, meeting my eyes and being serious, "I'll answer your question, I promise, but first, please answer mine."

I pulled my fingers free and rolled around so I was on my knees beside her, sitting back on my feet, and met her eyes.

"Maxine," I said, "you are beautiful," and when she started to say something I touched her lips with my finger, shushing her.

"You are Earth Mother and Fertility Goddess. You are the very definition of a Big Beautiful Woman. If all women looked like you, especially your absolutely gorgeous body," and I paused and stroked her cheek, "but the face is nice too," I added with a chuckle, "the world would be a much better place. You are soft and round and warm, as a woman should be."

I paused for dramatic effect, bent, kissed her, and whispered into her ear, "Yes, you are beautiful."

"Okay," she said, smiling, "now, to answer your question."

She took a deep breath and I saw a tear form and then roll down her temple.

"No," she said, "I don't know the effect I have on men because until about six weeks ago I never thought of myself as beautiful."

She was crying in earnest now, and oddly, it made her pretty in the same way her smile had, well, in the opposite way I guess. Her eyes were swollen and red, her nose was swollen and red, big pads were swollen beside her nose as her sinuses swelled, and her nose started running.

I kissed her.

"But right now," she said, her smile infectious, "I can feel what this fat girl is doing to a handsome man. And the last few weeks here at The Farm have persuaded me that at least I ain't hideous."

"You are truly beautiful," I said, kissing her, a slick salty snotty kiss, "and I want you."

She smiled at that, laid back, spread her legs, and pulled her big belly out of the way.

"Nuh-uh," I said, chuckling and kissing her, "you're beautiful and I trust you and I want you on top."

Her eyes got big at that.

"Really?" she said and the odd combination of wonder, surprise, and excitement in her voice made me know I had hit on something she needed.

"Yes, Beautiful, really," I said, brushing an imaginary hair away from her forehead and kissing it.

"Please," I added in what I thought was a nice touch, "please, Maxine, take me, claim me as only an Earth Mother, a Fertility Goddess, can."

"You're crazy," she said, but the smile spreading across her face told a different story. The smile was one of purest lust and excitement.

"Over you," I said and kissed the corners of her smile.

The smile morphed into something avaricious and, oddly, made her almost beautiful.

"Move," she said, that greedy smile taking over her face as she rocked twice to build up momentum. I pushed off of the bed and watched as she made it onto her side on the third swing and with a grunt of effort pushed herself onto her knees. In that position, her sheer size was on display. Mostly, it was her great belly that hung, covering her thighs. But there were the big pads of fat at the backs of her arms and the quadruple chin that hung onto her chest that showed off her size.

I had always enjoyed big women, but Maxine was by far the biggest I had ever known.

And I wanted her, just as I had told her. I wanted her on top. I wanted to feel her weight. I wanted that big body with its beautiful rolls of fat to engulf me. I wanted to merge with her and as I had these thoughts my dick got harder and harder.

"You're sure about this?" she asked.

"Never surer," I said.

I leaned forward and kissed her mouth and then that soft bag under her chin before I laid back, my head on the pillow and my erection standing proud, showing her that my interest was real.

"On my God," she said softly as she grunted and got her leg over mine.

I could feel the softness and weight and heat of those thick thighs covering my knees along with that immense belly laying higher on my thighs, just brushing against my cock, and it was a feeling of such raw sexuality I almost came right there.

By now I was just a spectator. Her weight held me captured, my legs pinned beyond any hope of escape. Even the minimal effort of getting her into this position had her sweating and breathing heavily. The heat of her was like being under an electric blanket turned up to HIGH.

I liked it.

She leaned forward and captured my hands in hers, pinning them on the pillow beside my head. She covered my face with wet kisses before pushing herself back up into the classic cowgirl position.

I watched, fascinated, as she worked her hands under the mass of her belly and then with a loud grunt lifted and pushed it ahead while she knee-walked a few inches forward.

My cock was lost under the mass of her belly and the sweat made me damp. The soft weight and heat of the great bag of fat that was her FUPA, her Fat Upper Pussy Area for those of you unfamiliar with that weird acronym, lay against my upper thighs and my balls. The womanscent of her arousal joined the smell of clean fat girl sweat that the faint odd medicinal scent of the Desitin I had used so freely.

She moved forward again and as I watched she reached under that big belly and I felt her fingers find my erection and point it up. I could feel myself in the fat pads of her FUPA but there was still none of the wet warmth I associate with being inside a woman. Her fingers worked some more and I felt slickness but still wasn't inside of her.

Her eyes were closed as she concentrated and her body was covered in a sheen of sweat. She was breathing hard, as if she had run a race rather than managed to crawl on top.

With one more grunt, she hefted herself up and her fingers disappeared under the roll of her belly. I felt, rather than saw, her pull the pads of fat of her FUPA apart and finally felt the warmth and wetness of being fully inside of her.