The Fat Friar
by Psychosanta

Brother Cassius wasn't happy very often. Although he was one of the best versed in the Holy Scripture amongst those at his monastery, even as a friar he had to spend much of his time in the confession booth in private sessions with his Father.

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been . . . one day since my last confession."

"Confess all to the Lord and your sins be forgiven. What troubles you, my son?"

"I have indulged myself again in matters of gluttony."

This scene had been repeated almost every day for the last ten years, ever since Brother Cassius pledged himself to the endless service of his Lord.

His bouts with loneliness and depression were always consoled with food, ever since he was a little boy. He was fat as a child, and chubby as an adult. When he joined the congregation, a regional doctor weighed him at 220 pounds. Ten years and countless indulgences later, he was weighed in again at well over 450 pounds.

He stood outside on a street corner, ringing a bell and standing over an iron pot which was slowly being filled with coins. Talking with passing people, chatting about idle subjects, even assisting people and giving spiritual guidance. All in all, he was receiving every bit of what he dreamed about whenever he joined the congregation as a friar -- he was completely at peace and at the most emotionally pleasant time of the day.

He had just said goodbye to a child when he spotted a woman whose beauty took his breath away. His bell ringing slowed to a stop, as time for him. She crossed the street just before a carriage obscured his view of her. When it had passed, she was gone.

Oh, well. Even though his religion allowed it, nobody would attach themselves to someone his size. But her image was burned into his brain.

His thoughts continuously drifted back to her in between conversations and the "The Lord bless you," he responded to each and every person who tossed coins into his pot. He returned to his peaceful bell ringing and watching the blue skies as clouds passed. . . .

"Excuse me, Brother . . ."

He turned to face the voice, and was rewarded with her proximity to him. She was even more beautiful up close . . .

"How may I help you?"

"Nothing crucial . . . I just have a few questions."

"If I may answer them?"

"I was wondering how you were feeling today?"

"Why, I am feeling fine, and yourself?"

"Wonderful."

"God bless."

"But that's not quite what I meant . . ."

"I'm not sure I understand."

She set her hand on the side of his belly, just above the rope used to keep his friar's habit close, leaned close to him and whispered in his ear, returning to her casual stance after a few moments.

"Surely you toy with me, ma'am . . ."

She ran her finger across the front of his belly as she walked off, calling "Have faith, Brother," behind her.

Brother Cassius slept in the nude most nights, especially in the summer. The knot on the side of his rope belt (he tied it to the side, as the front of his habit was too difficult to reach) came undone easily with a single tug, and he pulled his habit over his head and tossed it to the side of his room, which was mostly a bed, a bench, and a mirror (one of the only luxuries he had requested). He looked at himself in the mirror and wished that the woman was serious about what she said. But the simple sight of the mammoth rolls of fat that spilled off of his bones was enough to refute any possibility of that happening.

He crawled into bed, the springs protesting every pound of the way, pulling the sheets up to his shoulder. He'd probably get hot during the night and toss it off, sweat and take a bath in the morning. He was used to it by now.

His dream was most sinful, for in it he was having glorious and gratuitous sex with the woman in the street. It was so real he could almost feel it, feel the gush of his orgasm and the semen jetting its way into her. He could feel her wet juices on his blubbery thighs, feel her breasts rubbing against his gargantuan stomach. He heard her groan his name, and he whispered hers back . . . Liona . . .Liona . . .

And when he woke . . . he was alone. But his penis was sore. The confusion lost itself when he dunked his head in the cool water of the bath.

As he stood on the corner, ringing his bell and preaching The Word, he saw her come back his way.

"Good morning, Brother,"

"Good morning, Liona." he caught himself after he said it. How did he know it was her name? Was it her name?

But she just smiled. "How are you today?"

"In which way?"

"Both."

"Satisfied."

"Really?" She quirked an eyebrow. "My offer still stands,"

He didn't answer.

Again, she ran her hand along his belly as she walked away, stroking around the front, around his love handle, and behind him, where she discreetly squeezed his left buttock.

He yipped and jumped (the full inch), not turning to see her expression as she giggled and walked off. "Have faith, Brother."

He went to bed that night, half praying for that dream to happen again and half not. But the one he had that night was even more sinful . . . in his dream Liona took his manhood in her mouth, played with it with her tongue, massaged his testes with her silken fingertips, and he felt it as if it were real -- felt his semen gush onto the bottom of his stomach, felt her hair against his thighs, felt her buttocks as she mounted him again, and felt her breasts in his hands. He even felt her lips against his as they kissed before she . . . .

And again he woke up as the rooster crowed, his penis still sore and a thick layer of crust on the underside of his stomach. He prayed to get it cleaned off before anyone noticed.

He waited that day, not as attentive as usual. His Father was aggravated at him, as he had come to him for confession four times in the last two days and looked as if he was putting on even more weight than usual. He also seemed to be hiding something, and that was not something Brother Cassius ever did. He had even requested a longer rope -- when they measured him, his stomach came out to 95 inches -- two inches larger than his previous one two weeks earlier. Himself, the next largest clergyman, he had a 62-inch belly. Cassius was going through something.

Brother Cassius' rope bit into him more so than yesterday. He hoped to get his new rope in soon, as he caught himself eating more and more than usual. He even went to confession more often to make up for his . . . dreams.

Liona came up to him that day, testing the tautness of his rope belt. "Expanding our horizons, are we?"

He flushed. "One of our Brothers is an excellent cook,"

"I can imagine," She muttered. "My offer still stands, should you decide to accept."

He didn't answer.

"Well. I'll see you tomorrow, then." She walked behind him, squeezing his butt again.

This time he caught himself smiling before continuing to ring the bell and talk with people.

That night, he couldn't sleep. His eyes were closed, but his mind was racing with thoughts and conflicts of issues. He was very awake when the door opened slowly to his room, a candle lit and light footsteps (bare) over the stone floor. The candle was set on his bench, and he heard light cloth rustle against skin, than another rustle as the clothes were set on the floor.

What he felt next shocked him. A hand, massaging the blubber of his thigh. A familiar hand, a female one, and a whisper in a voice very familiar.

He opened his eyes, and, sure enough, Liona was standing over him, her breasts resting on his mammoth stomach, her hand playing with the fine hairs before she pushed his belly out of the way and mounted his erect penis.

"Liona . . ." he whispered without meaning to.

She froze, then saw he was awake. "So you found out, huh? Still don't believe me?"

"Please," he whispered. "Don't stop . . ."

She obliged, sliding herself up and down over his hard cock until he gushed his essence inside her. Then she pulled off, setting a rope on the bench. "I'll come and check on you every day. When this is tight, let me know. I'll send you to Heaven on Earth."

And he knew she could do it.

Father Corinthius watched as Brother Cassius left his room and bathed, then headed towards the kitchen. He noted how he only came out for mass that day, and took three loaves of bread with him the next when he went out to his corner. The rope he wore was loose (now where did he get that?) and Corinthius wondered why Cassius hadn't come to him for confession lately.

Corinthius was no small man himself. He toted around a pondersome 310 pounds onto his short 5'8" frame, and he managed to keep himself mostly under control. He was seriously worried about Cassius.

One night after Cassius skipped his corner duty to stay in the kitchen, he snuck into Cssius' room, praying for forgiveness for his act. He took his rope out and measured it -- to his shock, it was 110 inches long!! And it was getting less and less slack every day. Corinthius made a note to have Cassius see a doctor.

Cassius came back the next day from his doctor's visit with a note describing his physical condition, height, weight, and age. The number written on weight is what startled him. Cassius was hefting around 497 pounds, and only had 2" of slack on his rope. He told the cook to not let Cassius have any more extra meals.

Brother Cassius was proud -- he'd finished his goal! Well, almost. Liona met him at the doctor's, and told him to gain those last three pounds and she would send him to Heaven.

He knew he could do it, even though the cook wouldn't give him any extra meals. In spite of weighing three pounds shy of five hundred pounds (two and a half people, he smiled), he could still walk very quietly and steak out loaves of bread at night. And sneak he did.

The next day, Liona led him off his corner and to her house, where she undressed and untied his rope, pulling his habit over his head. . .

As he slid his penis inside her for the fourth indulgence that day, he knew he was indeed in Heaven.