The Beach House Mirror - Part 17 (An X Chapter) (Patreon)

Part 17: Queen-Sized Summer

After the shoot, still sticky and grinning, they collapsed onto the oversized couch. It wasn’t meant for two women their size, but they made it work. Bellies overlapped. Breasts pushed up. Fat touching and moulding together like warm dough.

The kisses started playful. Teasing. Little pecks on chins, cheeks, swollen lips. But hunger turned them deeper. Tongues. Teeth. Hands roaming soft, bulging parts, squeezing, clutching, trembling. Their bodies were hot and full and slick with sugar and sweat.

Tessa kissed her way down SJ’s neck, across her soft collarbone, dipping into the deep valley between her breasts. SJ moaned, fingers tangled in Tessa’s hair. Her belly lifted and fell with every breath, jiggling slightly with each motion.

They didn’t stop. Couldn’t. Not until they’d explored every inch, kissed every fold, rubbed every stretch mark. They rocked the couch, the room, their world. The house echoed with soft cries and creaking furniture. It was more than sex. They worshipped each other.

Tessa’s tongue traced lazy circles around SJ’s navel, eliciting another whimper. “You like that?” she whispered, lips brushing soft skin. SJ could only nod, too breathless to form words. Her belly heaved, thick thighs spreading to make room as Tessa moved lower.

Soft bites. Slow grinding. Bellies colliding. Rolls folding together, their friction thick and hot and relentless. They came together in waves, moaning and melting into each other, trembling messes of desire and delight.

Later, dazed and drowsy, they lay tangled. Tessa’s hand rested on SJ’s hip, thumb lazily tracing the curve. SJ's belly was pressed against her lover’s, their weight sinking deep into the couch.

“I could do that every day,” SJ murmured.

“You might have to,” Tessa replied with a grin. “I’m insatiable.”

In the days that followed, they lived in bliss.

Beachside lounging. Sunset gorging. Morning feasts that turned into afternoon naps. Shared showers that left the bathroom flooded and them flushed, ravenous all over again. They fed each other fruits and pastries, licked crumbs from each other’s lips.

Sarah-Jane took to sitting naked on the porch, belly out, watching the waves with a croissant in one hand and her phone in the other, fielding compliments from fans across the globe. Her following doubled. Then tripled. The world was watching, and she didn’t care. She loved it.

She never thought of the attic. Why would she?

But time passed.

And something strange began to happen.

One morning, curiosity tugged her back to the attic. She went back to the mirror, not really knowing what reflection to expect. The thin version she had left behind, or the new, gluttonous version she had come to be. 

What she saw, was neither. 

A thinner version of her looked back. But not as thin as she remembered.

The reflection was fuller. Curvier. Noticeably chubbier.

Day by day, week by week, every time she peeked in the mirror, her thinner reflection grew fuller. Softened. Rounded. Filled out.

It was as though the longer she remained in this bigger world, the more real it became. And the skinnier version of her? It was catching up.

Eventually, both reflections matched. No more disconnect. Every mirror showed her as she truly was: the proud, plump 350-pound Sarah-Jane who had embraced herself fully.

And with that, she no longer needed the attic mirror. Every mirror was now as it should be.

Next week the story concludes with the final chapter of The Beach House Mirror