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(What's in this: Two large-bootied women enjoy a small feast at a bakery.)

“I just don't think yellow is exciting. The electric blue would have gone with your eyes nicely.”

“Yellow is fine, mom,” Mina defended her choice of highlights. “It stands out but it isn't glaring. I have to look at least somewhat professional for work.”

“Oh pooh,” Terumi pouted, sounding a fraction of her daughter's age. She had chosen neon pink for her hair, finding her daughter's choice too boring. “This is supposed to be a night just for us two. Why do you have to bring your yucky job into it?”

Mina rolled her eyes. When she was young – very young – her mother rolled on the same wavelength as her so well she thought it was some rare gift, the ability to connect with a child on their level. But as she got older and she realized Terumi was just naturally child-like the sense of respect for her 'gift' turned into a weary tolerance for the emotional extremes her mother lived in.

There was no hint of disdain in the young woman's view of her mother, just the wish her mom could maybe meet her on her now-adult level now and then. Not grow bored when Mina talked about her job or financing her new car, not tease her about the cute boys she saw on the street, maybe dress a little more conservatively (their current outfits conveyed the difference in personalities quite well; Mina was wearing a gray-blue blouse with a black pencil skirt, perfect for a night out, while Terumi was wearing the same orange shirt and tan shorts she had picked out that morning).

And above all not constantly tempt her with food-

“Ooh! A new bakery! Let's check it out, Mina.”

Like that.

Terumi grabbed her daughter's arm and pulled her off the pathway trailing down the riverfront, heading for the oaken and brass doors of a bakery-slash-coffee house named 'Fitzgerald's Grindhouse.'

Mina allowed herself to be dragged along, rationalizing to herself that this was a special mother-daughter night and making a fuss would be antithetical. What she kept out of her conscious thoughts was that some cookies or cupcakes did sound good.

That was a skill Mina had mastered while growing up with her mother: using the older woman as a shield from acknowledging her own bad behavior. As mature and responsible as the recent college graduate thought of herself – a view that had only grown as she had moved into her own apartment and gotten a nicely paying office job – she still had many of the same vices as her mother did. Cartoons, sappy rom-coms, and above all the 'worst' foods. Sweets, junk food, greasy fast food. Anything salty or sweet or fatty Mina could not say 'No' to, a weakness inherited from Terumi.

Years of enabling and indulging this weakness had made themselves known on each woman's body, but Mina could only truly see what it had done to her mother. Terumi weighed somewhere in the neighborhood of a quarter of a ton, her body adhering to a pear shape with the conviction of an environmental activist chaining herself to a redwood scheduled to be cut down. While her upper body was a series of rolls and inflated parts, her lower half was where her body sent most of the fat she piled on. Always bigger, always heavier. Her hips and butt were like a giant wave of fat somehow frozen in mid-crash, threatening to wipe out any village of island-dwelling natives it collided with.

Many was the person who had gotten too close to Terumi when she was on the move, or had not noticed her approaching their vicinity, only to be struck aside by her heavier-than-expected bottom. Mina herself stayed a couple feet apart from her mother, long aware of how disruptive a brush of her mother's hips could be.

Deleted from her mental narrative was how Mina herself had an exaggerated pear-shape, a mere tidal wave of fat to her mother's tsunami but still large enough to stand out in any crowd, anywhere that her mother wasn't. And because her mother's personality (and body) loomed so large in Mina's mind, the young woman was never without Terumi around to make her feel thin.

Still, she did have to put up some resistance to the plan no doubt forming in Terumi's mind to try half the bakery's menu, stopping only when she was so full it was painful.

“Let's just get a drink,” she said. “I want to make it to the art gallery, remember.”

“Sure, sure,” Terumi said, walking through the doors first and skipping excitedly to the counter in a way that made her body jiggle in five different directions at once. Mina followed behind at a slower pace, taking in the eatery.

The wood and brass motif extended from the entrance inside, making the place look more like a well-lit pub than a coffee house. A ring of couches to either side was the only cozy aspect often found in abundance in these kinds of places, the rest of the space taken up with booths and chairs. Along the counter there was a row of stools, furthering the pub image. It was there that Terumi went, taking a seat closest to the food.

“Welcome to Fitzgerald's,” said the waitress on the other side of the counter. She had red hair done in a ponytail, a very slight Irish accent (family-owned business, Mina guessed) and a button-down shirt and vest combo. She was quite chipper, perhaps because Mina and Terumi were the first customers in however long. The rest of the place was disquietly empty.

It wasn't until Mina was taking a seat next to her mom, her hip and butt pressing against her mother's emphatically, that she saw the waitress in her entire, surprisingly corpulent, glory. From the waist up she looked soft, at most, but below the waist she had the same explosion of fat radiating from her hips and butt that Terumi had.

Clad in blue-plaid leggings, she was almost as large down below as Mina actually was, which, when run through Mina's 'I'm not as fat as I actually am' mental filter made her seem huge in the young woman's eyes.

Terumi had already grabbed a menu and scanned the sweets option, quickly deciding.

“We'll have the double chocolate cake along with the Oreo crème donuts.”

“Mom! I thought we were just getting drinks.”

“Oh! And two milkshakes,” Terumi added, misinterpreting her daughter's protest as only an innocent naif (or someone dedicated to obliviousness) could.

“Coming right up,” the redhead said. Her smile was wide and warm. You would expect that from any service industry employee, but given the waitress' own dimensions Mina figured she was unlikely to be judging her mom, and that her cheery demeanor was genuine. Perhaps she was happy to meet another woman with a kaiju carriage like her.

“Did you really need to order all that, mom?” Mina asked.

“I didn't not need to order it,” Terumi reasoned, “I left room for dessert at dinner, so what's the problem?”

“Gee, I don't know...” Mina turned in her seat, resting her arm on the shelf of her own rear with room to spare. She looked over her mother's body, from her plump upper arms straining her shirt sleeves to her belly and side rolls happily unencumbered by a stitch of clothing, to her hips that all but flew off the sides of her stool and crashed into Mina's own womanly curves. Simply pointing out Terumi's girth would be fruitless, as proven by prior conversations, so Mina tried something a little more subtle. “Didn't you say you wanted to get more exercise?”

“Can't exercise now, sweetie,” Terumi laughed, and before Mina could think of something else the waitress came over carrying a tray with their cake and milkshakes.

“I'll have your doughnuts in just a minute,” she said, bouncing off to get the rest of their order. Terumi picked up one of the forks and started eating, and the conversation was as good as done.

Unable to look at such an inviting confection – the frosting was a shade of dark brown, while the cake itself was pitch black – and not eat some, Mina picked up the other fork and joined her mother.

When the waitress came with the doughnut – large, soft circles covered on top with crumbled Oreo bits and filled with the famous cookie's creme – each woman picked up one and ate it, the cake forgotten for a moment, but then they began alternating between the two dishes.

Before long, the deed was done. Cake and doughnuts gone, Terumi patted her belly, finding it severely food-deficient.

“Would it be wrong to have another cake, pumpkin?”

“It wouldn't be 'another' for me,” Mina said, grumbling, “I barely got any of that first one with how fast you ate it.”

“I'm sorry! But I didn't know their cakes were so small,” her mother said, perceiving Mina's frustration at not getting enough better than her daughter herself did. Mina thought she had delivered a mild scolding over her mother's voracious appetite, missing that she let slip how said appetite denied her her own secret-to-everyone-but-herself desired indulgence. Her mother caught the waitress' attention. “Can we have two more of the cakes, one for each of us, and...” she scanned the menu again, because if she was ordering a second round of food why not make sure she was getting all she could want, “Ooh! Those raspberry tarts look good. But they must be small... Do you sell them by the dozen?”

“Yes, we do!” the waitress said, still all smiles.

“Do you want anything else?” her mother turned to Mina. “Look, they've got cinnamon and apple spice muffins. Your favorite.”

The waitress turned to Mina. Huffing and looking down, Mina mumbled something.

“I'm sorry?” The waitress kept smiling, leaning closer.

Sitting up straight and clearing her throat, Mina mustered as much dignity and maturity as she could and said

“Could I please have a few of the cinnamon and apple spice muffins?”

She was blushing like a stop light, but that did not prevent Mina from eating both her cake and all her muffins. She just did so at a slower pace than her mother, but Terumi finishing while her daughter still had food in front of her gave the older woman a chance to look over the menu a third time.

“Coconut Danishes? I've never heard of those, are they a house special?”

“My mother's recipe,” the waitress said. “It took her a while to get right, but mostly because she's a perfectionist.”

“If you have any, bring them out,” Terumi said, waving her hand with a flourish. “I love anything with coconut.”

“In that case, we also have a coconut and banana pudding eclair.”

“Oh my god!” Terumi practically shouted. Mina, still working on her muffins, simply shook her head.

When the waitress came back Terumi picked up a Danish, bit into it, and moaned.

“Mina-!” She stopped, swallowed, then spoke again, “Mina, you have to try this. Here.” And she placed a Danish on Mina's plate. Then she repeated the bite-moan-insist process with the eclairs.

Mina could have just sat there and waited for her mother to finish eating, waiting for her chance to say 'OK, you've eaten your food. Let's go.' But that would mean sitting there, looking and smelling the wonderfully appetizing food, and not having any. And for all the self-control Mina thought she had, even she didn't think she had that much.

After eating the Danish and eclair her mother had given her – they were good, but Mina was never big on coconut – she idly picked up a menu and looked it over.

“Do you have any almond cookies made?” she asked.

They did, which the waitress was all too happy to bring out. And thus a cycle was set: while Mina ate her treats, Terumi cleaned her own plate. Still hungry, the mother would look over the menu and find something else that sounded good (it all sounded good, but she found something that sounded especially good) and ordered it.

So when Mina finished, her mother was eating something new and often appealing, leading daughter to order some more food for herself. And when Terumi finished Mina was still eating...

This went on for over an hour, the ladies' stomachs inflating round and balloon-like with treats. Beneath them, cushions engulfed by their marshmallow behinds, the stools creaked ominously, straining to hold each bulging beauty up.

But before something disastrous and/or embarrassing could transpire, Terumi called the sweets feast to an end.

“That was wonderful,” she said, leaning until her back touched the rising mounds of her butt, rubbing her swollen belly. “All of it, truly.”

“We still have a number of daily specials, if you'd like to sample them,” the waitress, her smile apparently carved into her face it had never faltered, said.

“Oh, I couldn't possibly,” Terumi said, but Mina knew that tone. It was the 'I couldn't possibly, by which I mean yes, bring on more food, I will make room' tone.

“We really should get going if we want to hit the gallery,” Mina said, lifting herself off her stool and falling heavily to the floor. Her belly, packed so tight, barely jiggled.

“I suppose,” Terumi sighed, doing her own dismount/crash. “But let me have a business card. I need to remember to come back. And here's one for you, sweetie.”

Mina took the card to be polite, knowing deep down she would find it and magnet it to her fridge later that night. She needed to come back and get more of the peach tarts at some point. Maybe bring a box to the office to share.

The two were much slower leaving the coffee house than entering, weighed down by bellies full of sugary treats, but they were barely a block away before Terumi asked

“Do you think the gallery will be catered? Maybe they'll have some finger foods?”

“It's not a special exhibition, mom. I wouldn't count on it.”

Terumi deflated, one hand caressing her belly, before she rebounded immediately.

“Isn't this gallery near Harvest Street? There's a Taco Pit near there, at the corner of 10th. Mexican food sounds good right now.”

Mina looked up to the heavens and sighed, ignoring the phantom smell of sour cream and beans and meat wafting under her nostrils.
Inspired by a picture done by :iconjaykuma: which , at the time of this writing, is only available through his Patreon. He'll post it here sooner or later, I'm sure. is here 

Mature Content

Mother-Daughter Night Out by JayKuma

It really is a spectacular image. Not only did I want to write this story expanding on it (with :iconjaykuma:'s blessing, I should say) but it's also inspired a new thread in a writing-dot-com story I'm working on. Easily one of the greatest 'giant butt' images ever.

I worry I overexplained Mina's willful obliviousness, how she doesn't realize she is her mother's daughter. And I think I could have done a lot more to include some comedy or the characters playing off one another maybe, but that's not really my strong suit. Plus this isn't a real story, just a scene.

Hopefully people like it as it is.
Add a Comment:
Kisame17 Featured By Owner Nov 6, 2015
Either the waitress had the patience of a saint, or she totally understood where Mina and Terumi were coming from. I'm surprised that she handled to two customers very well.
Adipose-Rex Featured By Owner Nov 6, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Or maybe she just loves serving people who so obviously enjoy their food so much. She could be a feeder/obesephile.
Deadpool441 Featured By Owner Oct 9, 2015   General Artist
I like weight gains, but I prefer predators, only because giant women eating other people turns me on!!!
Adipose-Rex Featured By Owner Oct 9, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Duly noted.
lovelymars908 Featured By Owner Oct 7, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
As I don't mind gaining, I do say it was a nice change from the actual gaining for once.
Adipose-Rex Featured By Owner Oct 7, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Onion88 Featured By Owner Oct 6, 2015
This was great - I really liked the pacing for the whole scene.  Hope we check in on the girls again soon.
Adipose-Rex Featured By Owner Oct 6, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
I want to come back to them, if only for practice with non-expansion stories.
Xerxes13110 Featured By Owner Oct 6, 2015
It's a nice one. If I have to nitpick, I think the situation is a bit too calm.

Would have liked some extra action, like chairs getting broken by the girl's weight, or some "fat shaming", like people commenting about their weight or how much they eat. That sort of stuff.
But I like stories where fat bodies are described in all their details and the big girls just gorge, gorge and gorge.
Adipose-Rex Featured By Owner Oct 6, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Nah, I don't do fat-shaming stuff.
Xerxes13110 Featured By Owner Oct 6, 2015
Well, I guess it's just a matter of taste. :)

But I still think this kind of story needs some movement. In normal Wg stories, the weight gain itself is what makes the story progress.
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Submitted on
October 4, 2015
Mature Content


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