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Already sweating as they ascend the sandy boardwalk onto the beach, Daria grimaces under the blazing, mid-summer sun. “I’m too fat for this heat.” She complains. The oversized, unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt that acts as a rather ineffectual coverup clings to her clammy skin as she reluctantly shuffles along.
Jane chuckles sunnily, a small grin on her naked lips as she drags along a wheeled cooler with one hand and carries a stuffed tote bag with the other, an umbrella tucked underneath her armpit. Strands of raven hair frame her face, having already fallen out of her hastily tied ponytail. Her Wayfarer sunglasses are pushed up, resting on the top of her forehead. She looks beachy in her own way, despite the sweaty fussiness of her girlfriend beside her.
“Oh, you’ll be fine,” Jane assures as the coastline comes into view across the dunes. “Anyways, the fresh air will do you good.”
“It’s 93 degrees.” Daria continues to huff, her hand now underneath her bangs desperately wiping perspiration.
“With a breeze.” Jane adds.
Daria is forced to swallow her trepidation as she steps off the boardwalk, the worn wood of it sighing in relief as she does. The sand is shockingly hot under her bare feet as she scans the beach. Neon umbrellas and towels decorate the dusty beige of the sand as families mill around the coast. Children squeal as they build sandcastles, young women sunbathe with Top 40 music blasting on boomboxes, couples walk along with the low tide. The water is a clear, bright, blue; rolling up the shore in rhythmic waves as the ocean twinkles under the warm, friendly sun.
Daria quickly gets out of breath as they search for a place to drop their stuff. Neither of them are directly ignoring the handful of stares they’re getting, per se. But the beginning of an ache in her knees, the unbearable slipperiness in every crevice of her body from the sweat, and the task of trying to keep up with her girlfriend’s speed-walking at her own lagging waddle occupy the forefront of Daria’s mind, rather than the eyes of people who have apparently never seen a fat person before.
Having spotted a less populated patch of sand, Jane hurries over to it. She’s propped up the umbrella and is setting up chairs by the time Daria catches up, eyes flicking around to see if they’ve garnered much attention. It’s a quiet bubble of the beach, mostly made up of adults trying to relax peacefully. Thank god.
“Y’know, I feel a little…exposed.” Daria begins. “Almost as if I’m walking around in my underwear.”
Not looking up to respond, “It was your decision.” Jane says plainly, in reference to Daria opting to wear a bikini. Nothing strappy or overly complicated, of course. Her reasoning being that she didn’t want to deal with more clingy, wet Lycra than she needed to, especially not around her midsection. Though the reality of her choice was setting in.
Never one to be particularly concerned with the opinion of others, Daria’s nerves were from the newness of the experience rather than a place of self-consciousness. It was an experience she’d never had before, as freeing as it was nerve-racking. She’d never truly put herself on display like this. Every shake and quiver of her bulk visible; every roll and fold that constituted her immense body able to be seen. Unlike the front of her swimsuit bottom, which was hidden under the round overhang of her pillowy gut. With only a sliver of black fabric coming out from the sides under her fleshy love handles and wrapping around to just about cover up her plush, wide ass in the back. The snug waistband hung low by design, with the top at least being supportive and cupping her girls nicely, even if the straps dug into the tender flesh of her shoulders a little. There she was standing, inches and inches of soft, creamy skin exposed.
Wasting no time, Daria relaxes into her beach chair that had to be specially ordered through a catalog (which resembles more of a beach loveseat) with a relieved sigh. Her cheeks return to their usual shade as Jane sets up her own non-catalog-ordered chair and begins rooting around in their tote bag. In an effort to get comfortable, Daria slips her slightly damp Hawaiian shirt off and tosses it at Jane so it can be tucked away. Free from its covering, her sweat-slick skin dries faster in the mild ocean breeze.
Sighing again, Daria gives her buried leg muscles a little outward stretch as she relaxes further. Maybe this wasn’t so bad. Her eyelids start to feel a little heavy when-
“Not so fast, missy.” Jane interrupts. “Sunscreen.”
Craning her head up from her reclining position, Daria finds Jane standing above her, shaking a colorful bottle of sunblock. With a violent sputter, she squirts some into the palm of her hand.
“I could do some of this myself, you know.” Daria playfully rolls her eyes as Jane eagerly goes for her belly, rubbing in wide circles.
“Hmm. While I could think of worse things than slathering you in aloe for the next few days..” Jane begins. A painterly hand slips between a soft roll of untoned fat. “I don’t want to have to hear you bitch at me about it either.”
“Besides, I think I do a pretty good job.” She gives Daria a brief kiss on the cheek before continuing to rub in the thick, white streaks. Blending it in as the distinct, cloyingly tropical scent of sunscreen permeates the warm air.
She works downwards, from her smooth upper belly down to her chunky love handles. Soon enough, every inch of Daria’s immense middle is adequately coated in a layer of SPF 50. Deciding to go the extra mile, Jane even remembers her underhang; lifting it up off her lap to caress the sweaty, hidden skin there. Daria’s gut flops back down into place on her thighs when let go, sending enough jiggles through the sunscreen-slick flab to make her blush.
With another big squirt of lotion, Jane moves onto Daria’s arms. Picking up speed now that she’s passed the more sensual part, she rubs them quickly down to the hands. Holding them in her own for a spare moment, she gently coats their delicate backs and dimpled knuckles. Jane repeats this for the next arm, giving Daria a quick smile before transitioning to her legs and going through the same process. Then, she straightens up again.
“Bend over.” Jane requests, warming up another palmful of sunscreen between her hands.
“Hm?” Daria blinks at her, a little dazed from the massage, the warm air, and the sound of the waves.
“So I can get your back?”
“Oh.”
Daria shimmies forward in her seat before bending down as much as her stomach will allow as Jane gets behind her and starts slathering her back.
“I could use a paint roller for this.” She jokes.
“You s-“ Daria starts to defend herself.
“I’m not complaining.”
Moving her chocolate brown hair out of the way, Jane gives the tender points of her shoulders a discreet massage, before trailing down to the multiple, thick rolls of fat along her sides. Jane’s fingers disappear into the deep folds, giving the typically unloved skin some attention. Playfully, she slides them back out around to Daria’s belly, even as it sags heavily onto her legs. She gives the thickest, juiciest roll a quick squeeze, making her gasp. With a chuckle, Jane straightens herself back up, her task complete.
“I’m sure you can do your face by yourself.” Jane teases, taking Daria’s hand so she can dispense some sunscreen into her palm.
She goes to root around in their tote bag again as Daria pushes her glasses out of the way so she can smear the handful of sunblock across her face. She runs the extra down into her neck, swiping her fleshy double chin with her thumb to coat it. Finished, she turns around to her girlfriend.
“I can return the favor if you w-“ Daria pauses. “You brought a spray?!”
Jane shrugs with a smirk as she sprays down herself with a can of sunscreen she fished from the bag. “Forgot we packed it.” She lies. “Either way, you emptied the other bottle.”
“You just wanted an excuse to…” Daria thinks. “molest me in public.” Her tone says anything but actual offense as she watches Jane rub herself down effortlessly. She also elected to wear a two-piece, albeit a much sportier looking one. Proudly, Jane showcases the lean muscle tone that makes up her trim, athletic body - Of which Daria eyes appreciatively.
When she’s done, she tucks the spray-on sunscreen back into their bag before making her way back over to her girlfriend. “Forgot your nose,” Jane says as she flicks the tip of Daria’s with her thumb playfully. Smiling, she leans in for a kiss, and Daria tips her head up to meet her, hand instinctively going to her slim waist. As they part, she trails a pudgy finger down Jane's subtle v-line, its details highlighted by the greasy sunscreen.
"Wow...you've really let yourself go..." Daria jokes. "Better hit the gym."
"Oh god, I know. I look like a total whale." Jane grins. "Hope I don't embarrass you."
She collapses into her chair with a chuckle, finally; kicking her flip-flops off as she reaches into the bag again and tosses Daria a newspaper. She begins thumbing through it as Jane pulls out her own sketchbook.
They rest quietly for a while in comfortable silence, Daria reading and Jane drawing like they always do. The etching sound of pencil on rough paper can just barely be heard over the soundtrack of the beach. Daria flicks through page after page, her eyes technically reading the words but not processing them. With a sigh, she peers over the rim of her newspaper to the shoreline.
“Hm, really glad I decided to come. This is so much different than me wasting my time on the couch at home." Daria muses, folding the paper up and setting it on her belly. "Except here I don't have AC."
“Well, here you can be nearly naked.” Jane doesn't look up.
“Implying I don’t lounge about naked at home?” She raises an eyebrow.
Although the winter months are accredited with being the most fattening ones, being the months America has dedicated to glutting itself, there’s still something to be said about the summer. The heat - god, the heat. Practically trapping Daria in the air-conditioned haven of her house, leaving her tied to the couch or to her bed desperately eating ice cream or drinking soda in an attempt to cool herself down. The sweltering Texas heat that makes the sluggish waddle from door to car whenever she does decide to leave the house a sweaty nightmare. The heat that makes even such a proud glutton slightly regret the fact she’s been swaddling herself in layers of blubbery self-insulation for the majority of her teenage years. The kind of heat that also carries the comforting smell of a backyard grill in the air. The heat associated with summertime indolence, with the freedom from academic obligations for a short while. Enabling her to laze around the house in shorts and a tank top, pigging out as she pleases - whether on food, television, or books. Heat encourages growth, much like dough set to rest, rising in the warmth.
“You’ll cool off better in the water.” Jane indirectly suggests.
“Uhm…I don’t know…” Daria looks away, palming the armrest of her chair in discomfort. “I’m not really much of a swimmer.”
“Oh, c’mon. It’ll be fun. Refreshing, even. It's the entire point of going to the beach.”
“I thought the entire point of going to the beach was getting to buy those little ceramic dolphin statues they sell at souvenir stores.”
Jane springs up, sketchbook discarded so she can take Daria’s hand. Her enthusiastic speed is halted as she helps pull her out of the chair, supporting the struggle to her feet. She gives her just about a second to breathe before dragging Daria down the beach, laughing.
There's no fabric to hide the sway of fat as she nearly falls down the sand to the coast. No t-shirt or jacket to cover up the jiggle of naked, pale flesh.
And it feels amazing.
A shiver courses through Daria’s bulk as the cold water meets her feet. Her footprints sink deeply into the wet sand before it slips away again with the receding tide. The waves are low today, gently rolling with the wind before curling towards the shore in a gentle spray of foam and spilling up the sand. Jane continues to pull Daria farther into the swells until they’re both knee-deep in the clear, blue water.
Daria reaches down and lets a wave run through her fingers before using them to mischievously flick water at Jane; the corners of her mouth tilted up in her own blank-faced version of a shit-eating grin. Chuckling, Jane splashes her back, officially engaging the two in splash-warfare. It’s the kind of childish fun you expect from a beach day as they both laugh and stumble about, flinging water at each other. Cynical austerity be damned.
“Augh…” Daria coughs briny water out of her mouth.
“Daria, quit drinking the fish pee or you’re gonna ruin your dinner.” Jane jokingly scolds. With all the staggering they’d drifted away from the shoreline; now nearly up to their chests.
“I gotta admit, this does feel kinda nice,” Daria says earnestly, waving her arms out underwater. “It takes a lot of pressure off my joints.”
“Does this mean you’re gonna take water-aerobics classes with all the old ladies at the Y now?” Jane teases. A flock of seagulls pass overhead.
“Oh, shut up,” Daria replies, blushing.
It’s peaceful farther out, despite the constant swelling of the water around them. The breeze is crisp - combining with the water to keep her cool even under the blazing, July sun. There’s a feeling of weightlessness that comes with being cradled by the water that's entirely unfamiliar to Daria. Usually, she finds comfort in the softness of her body, in its heaviness, but this new sensation is exhilarating. The tension out of her knees as she lets the sea flow around her.
Jane moves closer and snakes her arms around what she can of Daria’s sides, her hard midsection pressed against her soft one. Their bodies are entwined, melded together as they both rock with the swaying ocean. She leans in and Daria tips her head up to meet her. She opens her mouth and moans into it as Jane’s hands slide down to her waist, her palms spread out on the width, fingers sinking in. It tastes like salt, sweat, and sunscreen.
Jane’s hand comes up to cup her face as they part, cold and wet against Daria’s cheek. A string of saliva that connects from each of their mouths glistens in the sun, like the pure, blue waters that surround them. They both breathe with each other, out in the ocean, alone. The families on the shoreline feel so far away.
“You taste salty.”
Eventually, they start wading back to the shore. The waves push them out as effortlessly as they’d pulled them in. Daria’s body feels heavier as she rises from the water, no longer held up by it. She stops before getting out fully, letting the waves gently lap at her ankles. The slippery ocean sediment swirls underneath her feet.
She steps out of the water and onto the beach.
Daria huffs up the small slope to where they’d set their stuff down, Jane dragging her along. She sets a soft, fluffy towel down on her beach chair as soon as she reaches it, pleasantly warm from the sun. Daria plunks herself down when she’s done, easing down into the chair with a bubbling groan. Jane runs off to get something before either of them have a chance to say anything.
Beads of ocean water run down her body, trickle down curves and rolls as they begin to dry in the hot sun. A salty breeze catches the still-wet skin, making her shudder. Daria casts a glance out onto the calm sea she was in just moments before, sighing contently.
Then, out of the corner of her eye, she sees Jane sauntering over with two huge ice cream cones. Eagerly, she hurries over and shoves them in her hands, to which Daria wastes no time in beginning to lick. Swirls of creamy soft serve loaded with syrup and toppings make the waffle cones surprisingly heavy - it’s the most luxurious thing the dinky beach ice cream truck could’ve put together.
“Am I just supposed to double-fist these or what?” Daria asks before licking a dribble of fudge sauce off her knuckles.
“You’ll figure it out,” Jane says, preoccupied digging through her beach bag for her disposable camera that she’d purchased at a drugstore a few days prior. “Make sure you eat them before they melt, though I suppose that’s not really a challenge.” She chuckles.
“Juvenile.” Daria rolls her eyes with a small smile.
She eagerly laps away at her cones as she watches Jane climb down the sand, snapping the occasional picture of whatever she finds interesting. Tourists, the water, a flock of seagulls fighting over a sandwich. The brisk sea breeze fans through her short, black hair, now wet with saltwater and free from its ponytail.
Apparently, she’d needed a cool treat more than she’d realized, practically inhaling the smooth, sweet soft serve. Velvety as it slides across her tongue. As she attempts to lick particularly deep into one of the cones, melted ice cream dribbles onto her chest - a splatter of chocolate pressed starkly against her milky pale skin. With a sigh, Daria feigns some kind of decorum by swiping the mess away before crunching away at the crispy waffle cone, feeling a little bit like a cow chewing mindlessly on cud as she blankly stares out into the ocean.
She quickly licks some syrup off her fingers before resting her hand on the top of her belly, the other on the armrest of her beach chair. Now, the edge taken off her hunger and tired from her exhaustive “swim”, she begins to drift off. The sun’s so warm, the towel underneath her so soft, and the chair so comfortable; the sound of the crashing waves and a few birds overhead so relaxing… her eyes flutter to a close, eyelashes to her plump cheeks.
She’s woken up by the signature sound of a FujiFilm being wound up and then a snap. Jane’s a few feet away, and it doesn’t take a genius to guess she’s probably just captured a great candid photo. Smiling affectionately, she lowers the camera and walks over as Daria blinks awake, yawning and drowsy.
“Uhm, officer, there’s this woman who’s been harassing me all day and now she’s taking pictures of me.” She jokes as Jane sits back down on the chair beside her, the camera slipped back in the bag.
“How was your ice cream?” Jane runs a hand through her damp hair.
“Well, I was gonna save you the tip of the cone with all that chocolate in it that you like but I-“ A yawn. “I uh- didn’t.” Daria shrugs, eyes still ahead.
“How conscientious of you.”
“Don’t thank me.”
Sighing, Jane leans back. “You did enjoy your day though, right?”
“For now. I don’t know if I’ll enjoy finding sand in my crevices for weeks though.”
“Your crevices?” Jane says with a smirk.
Daria scoffs and rolls her eyes.
“Glad you had fun. We should do more stuff like this.”
“Such as?”
“Hmm…” Jane thinks, hand caressing her chin. “A theme park?”
“I didn’t even like rollercoasters when I could fit on them.”
“You could be one of those people who walk around with a big turkey leg, though.”
“I do have some shame.”
“Right.” Jane chuckles. “You have chocolate on your nose.”