Preview Snippet! The lady wot lunched... Part 8

Unpolished and subject to change, but here, as promised, is a snippet from the upcoming chapter of TLWL! Hopefully there's some enjoyable imagery here, and a little tease at the next chapter, which I'm straining every sinew to finish and post very soon!

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Slowly, cautiously, like an astronaut stepping onto an unfamiliar planet, David lifted his left foot and placed it on the next step up. He paused for a moment, turning it slightly for a stronger stance. Then, bending at the knee and drawing in a deep breath, he brought his right foot up to join it.

He was surprised, as he did so, to feel a twinge in his quads, and to hear the breath he'd drawn in hiss out again through gritted teeth. Carrying drunk Holly up the stairs was a workout David had completed hundreds of times over the years. And although it was always awkward (Holly being the kind of drunk whose limbs went all limp and floppy) he couldn’t remember ever struggling this much - even before he’d become a personal trainer.

The conclusion was inescapable.

She's putting on weight faster than I'm putting on muscle.

David smiled fondly. As revelations went, it wasn't a particularly shocking one. Always sultry rather than sporty, Holly had never shared his passion for fitness. A few token gym visits and some fairly energetic "bedroom athletics" were about as close as the auburn beauty got to an exercise regime. But though Holly couldn't have hoped to keep pace with her husband on the treadmill, it was a different matter entirely at the dinner table. Many a surprised glance had passed between relatives at family meals as the muscle-bound six foot two personal trainer puffed his cheeks and pushed his unfinished plate over to his five-six estate agent wife, who'd wolf it all down eagerly and still go on to eat the most pudding. And many a waiter's eyebrow had risen upon discovering that the extra portion of cheesecake ordered to the table was for the petite young lady rather than the tall athletic man.

Or at least they used to, David thought, his smile quirking a little. By now both families were quite accustomed to Holly's "healthy appetite". And recently he'd noticed that restaurant staff seemed less surprised to find that the extra helpings were for her rather than him, even at places they never been to before.

A glance at the abundant caramel rump that was bursting through the hole in Holly's onesie made it pretty obvious why.

David wasn't blind, of course. He'd been aware for a long time that his beloved had been putting on pounds - gradually growing thicker, and softer, and plumper. But that was the thing: it had been gradual. Seeing her every day and loving her as he did, David never really registered the extent of Holly's weight gain, except at certain stand-out moments. The winter just after her 18th birthday, for instance, when she'd returned from her annual family skiing holiday with some pretty dangerous looking slopes of her own. Or the time she'd popped the top button of her favourite jeans while reaching for a fifth Badusha doughball at her favourite Indian.

But it wasn't until the last day of their honeymoon cruise, watching his bikini-clad wife's belly jiggle like the jellied eels she was piling atop her third helping of lobster at the seafood buffet, that David realised just how much weight his once-skinny childhood sweetheart had piled on over the years.

Maybe that's why she's so slippery, he thought wryly as Holly swayed again. Too many eels. David braced himself as her head lolled and her hip slid in his grip. Christ, she was difficult to keep a hold of. It was as if her red onesie was packed out with jelly rather than a human body.

Of course, it didn't help that Holly couldn't even try to hold on to the banister, what with one arm slung over her husband's shoulders and the other cradling her uncomfortably swollen belly. David glanced down at it, a bulging velvety sack, sagging forward and stretching the gold buttons of her onesie. It looked even bigger and tubbier now than it had on the cruise.

Gemma's eating habits are really rubbing off on her, David thought, recalling all the pizza, chicken strippers, peanuts Holly had devoured over the evening - and which audibly sloshed in a sea of prosecco as he took the next step a little too quickly.

'Oooh!’ Holly whimpered, rubbing her palm along the underside of her jostled tummy and pouting uncomfortably. 'Care -uurp- full!'

David gave her cheek an apologetic kiss. ‘Sorry babe.’ He splayed his hand across Holly's lumpy, gurgling paunch, his pointer and index fingers straddling the bellybutton, feeling the pulsing of blood rushing through Holly's body to her overtaxed digestive system. David gave her belly a gently squeeze, just enough for the velvet-encased fat to begin to bulge through the gaps in his fingers, trying to ease his sweetheart's indigestion without putting too much pressure on her overloaded belly.

Holly responded with a grunt, an awkward puff of her cheeks, and then an enormous pepperoni belch.

David chuckled. 'Better?' he asked, moving his hand behind to pat his wife's exposed bottom---and marvelling at the contrast. Where Holly's belly was tight and bloated, her bum was soft and squishy.

Although it still sticks out further, David thought, twisting his head to admire the twin caramel bulges stretching out the gap where her bum flap had sprung off.

Just.

Holly moaned as her husband's long, strong fingers caressed her exposed rump.

'I can't believe my bum came out,' she groaned softly.

‘You just got up a little too quickly babe,’ David reassured her, kissing her hair as she tilted her head onto his shoulder. I don't think anyone else noticed.'

Holly snorted into his neck. 'Hmm. Liar,' she sighed sleepily. 'Peter Pervert's always looking at my bum. At least, when he isn't staring at Gemma's b-'

Suddenly Holly's head jerked up.

'Oh my god! Gemma! We can't leave her alone with that that creepy pelican!'

David chuckled. 'He doesn't seem to bad to me... Definitely fancies her, though.'

'I don't trust him,' Holly mumbled, but already she was sounding sleepy and drunk again. 'He's -urp- sneaky... A sneaky creepy pelican.'

The effort of this tongue-twister seemed to exhaust Holly. She went limp again, her head nestling in the nook of David's neck. After a few seconds she began to snore.

Shaking his head with a smile, David continued up the stairs. Reaching the landing, he paused and looked out through the window. The garden as dark, but the bottle lamps lining the path were still glowing, illuminating was to the the summer house.

David followed their glow, and looked in through the still-lit windows.

And what he saw made his eyes bulge in disbelief.