Culinary Librarian - 7 - Personal and Environmental Factors

You know that saying about best-laid plans? That's what the last few weeks feel like. There've been a thousand and one things getting dropped into my lap, so I haven't been able to write as much as I'd like. Instead I've been endlessly on the stories I've got in progress, mentally tinkering even if I can't be at my keyboard. And it seems like something finally clicked, because I finally figured out exactly what I wanted to do for the next (and, I realized as I wrote it, final) chapter of Culinary Librarian.

This was the note I jotted down for myself a week and a half ago and then couldn't stop thinking about until I finally wrote the whole chapter out: 

Sonya stuffing herself nervously before a big event, and Magnolia for once having to put the breaks on like “girl you need to chill, you’re going to have a hard time standing” and Sonya being like “okay but what if one more canape solves all my problems”

That little kernel of an idea led to an ending I am very pleased with, and I hope you will be, too. Thank y'all for being patient while I worked on this series, and all the others. I'm finally getting into the time of the year that's less harried at work, with lots more time for writing plus the (ahem) seasonal inspiration of the best, stuffing-est holidays of the year here in the U.S., and I'm looking forward to what it'll bring.

***

“There is a need to target all family components with enjoyable, self-rewarding, emotionally gratifying, and pleasant tasting food… Income is an overestimated driver in healthy food choices. Women are strongly influenced by personal and environmental factors, mainly personal control, feelings, and… habits.”

—Gender and Food: From Production to Consumption and After, 2016

Magnolia almost didn’t feel like herself as she put a hand on Sonya’s plush forearm. “You have to present in five minutes. Maybe it would be a good idea to take a breather?”

Sonya responded by stuffing yet another hors d'oeuvre into her mouth. She was a little red in the face, even sitting down, and Magnolia could tell she was so stuffed she would have a hard time standing up. “I’m fine,” she said after she swallowed. “This is helping take the edge off. I’m so nervous,” she said, most of the last word getting garbled by yet another bite-sized treat.

Magnolia felt two parts of herself warring: the half that wanted to be a good, supportive girlfriend and drag Sonya to the conference room she should’ve already been in five minutes ago, and the half that was jelly-kneed over the thought of Sonya being so intent on tanking up her tummy that she missed her presentation entirely. The supportive girlfriend won out in the end, barely. “Sonya. We have to go.” She left an important detail unspoken: even if they left right at that moment, they would be late, slowed by Sonya’s cumbersome waddle.

“But what if one more canape solves all my problems?” she said with a pout. But she knew Magnolia was right, and set aside her plate with a sigh. “Let’s get this over with,” she said, reaching her hands out for Magnolia’s assistance.

Magnolia took Sonya’s plump hands in her own and helped tug her up to her feet. Neither of them thought much about this; it had become normal fifty or so pounds ago, an everyday assist that was necessary so often as to be mundane. Sonya started to walk, a hand resting on her stomach. It was difficult enough that she fantasized for a moment about a mobility aid of some kind to get her from one end of the conference to another, before brushing that off. She wasn’t nearly that big yet. (But then again, if she was having the thought…) She could feel her breath starting to puff a little as she tried to rush.

Magnolia walked beside her, already mentally preparing to whip out a fancy water bottle filled with ice water and a small handkerchief Sonya could use to blot at her face and neckline once they made it. In the meantime, she enjoyed the view.

It was a marvel to Magnolia that Sonya still looked rather graceful as she walked. Her hourglass shape sent her hips and backside rolling back and forth, the sway sending her vast cleavage into an unsubtle bounce with each step. She was undeniably fat these days—huge, even—but still looked as stylish as ever. She had her hair perfectly done up in a smooth bun, skin-tight pencil skirt showcasing her vast thighs and heart-shaped ass, red button-up perfectly fitted so not a single button gapped even after she’d spent the whole morning swallowing her anxieties (though she did still leave the top two buttons undone, because being professional didn’t mean she had to sacrifice being sexy). Even forced into a rushed waddle, every step seemed purposefully seductive, inviting gawps from onlookers who would later lie in their hotel beds staring at the ceiling and questioning various aspects of their previously stable sexualities.

By the time they made it to the conference room Sonya was scheduled to speak in, they were nearly ten minutes late. Sonya was more than a little flushed, chest heaving in a way that left Magnolia feeling marvelously distracted. Thankfully, the organizers had let another speaker go on early, giving Sonya just enough time to chug a few mouthfuls of ice water and dab a bit at her cheeks and neck while she caught her breath.

“You have your notes?” Magnolia whispered.

Sonya nodded.

“You’re incredible. They’re going to love you.”

Sonya smiled, breathing almost back to normal. “I don’t doubt they already do.”

The first speaker finished her presentation on some other form of specialized library collection—poetry periodicals, from what little Magnolia caught and what the program said—and the moderator asked for questions. Being an academic crowd, and more specifically a crowd of librarians, the questions were highly specific and largely over Magnolia’s head. She was a researcher who benefited from these people’s work, but didn’t have quite the same appreciation for various forms of organization, curation, and display that librarians like Sonya did.

Eventually, it was Sonya’s turn. Magnolia went and stood against the wall, biting the corner of her lip to keep herself from giggling as she heard a few murmurs ripple through the crowd.

“That’sthe culinary collection specialist? Shouldn’t be surprised…”

“...been sampling her collection a bit too often…”

“...would’ve expected her to be presenting on erotica, but maybe that’s telling on myself…”

Perhaps it was silly, but Magnolia felt proud of herself. Sonya’s blown-out figure, so impossible to ignore in its new immensity (not that it hadn’t always been an easy topic of conversation), was her doing in no small part. Sonya’s appetite was its own powerful driver, but what it craved most was anything hot and fresh from Magnolia’s kitchen. The extra width in her hips, the rounding of her shoulders—it was easy for Magnolia to claim, and no wonder she felt pride as others marveled, for good or ill.

Everyone went politely quiet as Sonya began her presentation. She’d been asked to speak about the value of collections of culinary works as part of a slate of speakers on special collections. Her niche was specific enough that it wasn’t often discussed at conferences like these, and also generally under-funded. She’d only attended conferences a handful of times in her career, and it had felt strange to her to be speaking as a preeminent expert on the topic. The fruits of a lengthening tenure and busting her ass on a shoestring budget, she supposed.

Her presentation was only ten minutes, but it went smoothly, the audience’s reactions positive. The question and answer session was brief, but people showed real interest—her work finally feeling visible and worthwhile to other librarians, a few university deans, and one or two wealthy patrons who might toss some money toward the culinary archives or found others now that they saw the value in it.

The most difficult part of the presentation turned out to be standing up in her heels for what felt like such an extended period (though it was perhaps twenty minutes). The muscles and tendons in her feet and legs ached by the end, and she was grateful for the natural poise that kept her from wincing when it got to be too much. Should’ve practiced, she thought as she went to find a seat after it was all said and done. How funny, to think she’d once been able to stand and walk effortlessly in heels for long stretches at a time. She’d had a few too many extra helpings to keep that up.

Magnolia found a seat next to her, and they sat and watched the rest of the presentations. As other librarians droned on, she took Magnolia’s hand in her own and attempted to communicate a very important message with a single squeeze: I need a bubble bath, a foot massage, and an entire cheesecake as soon as this is over.

***

A couple hours later, after some additional hobnobbing and sitting in on another panel, Sonya was basking in the enormous hotel tub, sipping a flute of champagne and nursing her too-stuffed tummy while Magnolia massaged her feet with the exact level of ferocity a whole day in heels warranted.

Sonya let out a champagne-flavored belch. “Can’t believe you let me get this stuffed.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Magnolia grinned.

Sonya loved how much more confident she’d become in their time together. It had been cute back when she’d been a little more nervous and mousy, but now she felt like she was getting Magnolia in her prime all to herself. “But a whole cheesecake? After a double cheeseburger and that massive side order of fries?” She paused to take another sip. “God, the fries were good, though.”

“You got a milkshake, too, don’t forget.”

Her stomach rumbled as if on cue. “Twelve hundred calories that went down realheavy,” she sighed wistfully.

“And remember, you were grazing all day long,” Magnolia recalled with a smile as she dug her fingers into one of Sonya’s plush calves. She could feel how hard Sonya had worked that day in her tense muscles—but only under a layer of fat thick enough to make her throb. “I thought you might pop before your presentation.”

“It was close.” She hummed into her champagne glass and drained the rest of it. “Especially since that was after lunch… and that ridiculous breakfast buffet. What a way to spend a morning.”

“I thought they were going to kick us out! I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat like that.”

“I told you, I was nervous!” Sonya laughed, water and soft flesh rippling around her. “I haven’t had to give a presentation like that in years. I know we rehearsed it, but it’s different being in front of so many people, especially when I’m…”

Magnolia’s eyebrows raised, waiting for the woman of her dreams to say it.

“When I’m so big.” The word tumbled from Sonya’s lips, ripe with imbued meaning. “Didn’t you see how they looked at me?”

“I did,” Magnolia answered. “Like they’d never seen someone so huge.” And they probably hadn’t. Especially not someone with the nigh-impossible hourglass proportions Sonya had somehow still maintained. Magnolia stopped her ministrations, standing up to strip her clothes off. “I mean, who could blame them?” she asked as she slipped into the tub—just barely big enough for both of them, a little water spilling out onto the floor because Sonya had wanted it filled up to the top. “It’s not like any of them have gotten a chance to see doorstopper hips like these before.” Magnolia gripped them, a rumble leaving her throat as she reveled in the softness. So much bigger than she used to be, she mused.

Her hands slid up, attempting to cup one of Sonya’s breasts in each hand. Each one was so large and heavy her hands were entirely engulfed by them. “And these—most people haven’t even fantasized about tits this big before. All that cleavage must’ve been like seeing the sun for the first time.” She leaned down and left a trail of hot kisses down Sonya’s neck and throat, biting and sucking little marks along the way. One hand drifted down between Sonya’s legs, only to meet Sonya’s hand already pleasuring herself, though struggling to reach and happy to slip away as Magnolia’s familiar touch replaced it.

“Did you ever think I’d get so big you had to help me come?” Sonya asked as building flickers of pleasure ran through her. She smirked as her favorite redhead hissed.

“Always ready to cut to the heart of it,” Magnolia said as she ground against Sonya’s thigh. “But no—I always figured you’d want to stop long before this.” She could feel Sonya getting closer to finishing.

“Nights like this make me so glad I didn’t.” She’d slipped into a rhythm with Magnolia. She reached one hand out to rest on Magnolia’s thigh, and noticed something: a little extra squish beneath her palm.

She looked at Magnolia more closely, and noticed for the first time the little potbelly clinging to her middle. She felt like a shark scenting blood in the water, bracing herself against the edges of the tub and gripping Magnolia’s thigh tight as she came. Sonya pulled her close, relishing the way she sank into her, snuggling up close and panting as she sought her own release.

“Now it’s your turn,” she murmured in her ear.