Given that Dmitri’s parents had sent him to fat camp last month, I expected to find a spread of health food in meager portions. Instead, I first smelled and then saw that Tracey Henner had prepared a huge, traditional Thanksgiving meal (in July). Creamy mashed potatoes loaded with garlic and swimming in butter, cornbread dressing with plump sausages and fragrant sage, crispy roast Brussels sprouts tossed with baked Parmesan and sherry vinegar, homemade dinner rolls, sweet potatoes buried under marshmallows, cranberry sauce with orange zest, and several deep boats of gravy fought for space among the four place settings. Mrs. Henner was at the kitchen island carving slices of a twenty-five pound Turkey onto a platter, which she then placed onto the table centerpiece. I thought the creaking of the table a little ominous, but my mouth was already watering thinking of loading my plate with this delicious fare.
Was the size of the feast really that surprising, given the waistline of the man of the house? No, not Dmitri. At 6’ and just under 200 pounds, Dmitri Henner was stout, maybe a bit chunky around the edges, but not exactly rotund. He was filling out his shirts and shorts a bit more than last summer, hem riding up over his growing pot belly when he reached above his head. But he wasn't really all that fat. No, it was Rhodes Henner who made the meal weighing down the creaking table look appropriate. Dimitri’s father was already seated at the table, huffing and sweating after his short trip from his home office to the kitchen. At 6’2” and pushing 500 pounds, Rhodes was rotund. With the obesity epidemic in full swing in the town of Hesper, he was not the fattest man I’d seen in person. Still, being best friends with Dmitri for so long meant that when I thought of a “fat man,” Rhodes Henner was my go-to mental image.
Tonight, he wore a casual Hawaiian shirt and shorts. The clothes looked like they fit better twenty pounds ago. His thighs puffed out the bottoms of his shorts like two balloons. His wide hips and globular ass required two seats—one for each swollen butt cheek. The flabby ass lifted up butter-soft back rolls that merged with neck rolls. His belly peaked out slightly between his shirt and shorts, making diamond-shaped gaps between all the buttons of his shirt, and reached halfway to his knees across his soft lap. His full beard hid a jiggling ring of chin and neck fat. His breathing was heavy, and his forehead was already coated in a sheen of sweat. Every year, Mr. Henner looked a little bigger. I could remember a time when he was merely chubby, rather than morbidly obese. What could make a man literally double in size?
Actually, that was pretty obvious. As I took my seat, Mrs. Henner came back and placed a huge beer stein in front of her husband with a heavy thud, brimming with frothy, dark lager. He smiled up at her, and she gently stroked his beard with one hand and teased at one of his straining shirt buttons with the other.
“I know Thanksgiving food is your favorite, and just because it’s July doesn’t mean we can't have turkey! Besides, making it a few times a month is good practice for the main event in November! Be sure to try plenty of everything and give me some feedback. And I don’t want too many leftovers in the fridge! I’ll need the space to cook for the potluck this weekend. So eat up, Mr. Man!
Dmitri guffawed, “Geez, mom. Would you make up your mind? One day you think I’m a prime candidate for fat camp, and the next night’s dinner could feed four families. What gives?”
“Honey, you’re young. How are you going to meet someone if you get too chubby?” While she spoke, Dmitri’s mother started to load up a plate for her blubbery husband, who joined in the conversation.
“She’s right, son. Not every man gets so lucky as to meet a women who can cook like your mother. When we met in college, I weighed 175 pounds.”
Mrs. Henner reminisced as she finally placed the heavy plate in front of her husband. She needed two hands, and not a sliver of the top of the plate could be seen. Even though the dinner plates in the Henner household looked more like serving platters in their own right, Mr. Henner needed every square inch to support his first helping.
“He’s right, sweetie. When I first met your father, I only wanted to date guys with six packs! If your father hadn’t been fit when we met, I might never have grown to love the absolute keg he’s become!” At that, she gave her husbands belly a firm slap, held her hand sinking into his flab, and gave it a few heavy shakes like a human water bed. He purred up at her in response.
“Mom, dad, come on! You’re making Conrad uncomfortable!
“Nonsense! Conrad has been around long enough to have heard this story before! You are lucky to have parents who still love each other so much!” Mrs. Henner picked a few morsels for her own plate, and sat down daintily next to her giant sack of a husband—now several deep gulps into his beer.
It was true that I had been around this family long enough to have seen this behavior before. It seemed like every cookout, birthday party, holiday, and Tuesday was an opportunity for Mrs. Henner to pile fattening food in front of Mr. Henner and dote on her bloated husband. As the years and pounds accumulated, I had come to appreciate the loving way she watched him gorge himself on her cooking before presenting him with an unprompted seconds, thirds, fourths...
I've been friends with Dmitri since we were little, when I liked Mrs. Henner because she was always so caring and present. But ever since puberty struck, she became my go-to mental image for a future wife. I was a little jealous of the way she gently stroked her husband's new flab, the way he melted from her touch. I loved how she not only stuck with her man as he ballooned, but seemed to revel in having such a loyal recipient of her cooking. Objectively, Mrs. Henner was hot! While her husband had multiplied in size, she merely gained an extra twenty or so pounds since her wedding photos: all just giving her a pair of heavy MILF breasts and hips that made me imagine them in my hands every time I saw them sway. And this just made me more attracted to her loyalty—that she would still openly love her husband despite the insane contrast between their bodies. It made me imagine that I was the one sitting across the two chairs, being fed by a beautiful woman who seemed set on making me need three. My own parents did seem to love each other, but theirs was an adventurous relationship that took them all over the globe and left little time for simple domestic bliss. Mrs. Henner made me dream of a home life without distraction, just calm and serene togetherness.
I noticed I had been staring a bit, and shook my head to refocus. With thoughts of Mrs. Henner swimming around my head, I grabbed the nearest serving spoon to load food onto my own plate.
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