"Titanic"
a story by ScareGlow

“Really, I don't see why anyone should make such a big deal out of a ship. What was it again? The Colossal? No, that's not it. The Gigantic?”
“Come on, you know the name of the ship. Everyone does. Anyway, it's the largest ship ever built, I should think that counts for something.”
“Well, enough talk of ships. Just think, in a few short days we'll be married. Oh, it's been such a whirlwind, all those villas, and palaces, and cafes we visited. Speaking of cafes, I'm famished. We should go to supper.”
Trent and Ashley left the deck. Ashley fixed the lavender ribbon in her hair, her scarlet tresses gleaming in the waning sunlight. She walked down the stairs slowly, her ponderous bulk shifting back and forth with every step. Trent followed, tall, dark and imposing. The sumptuous dining room for first class passengers was humming with activity, as obsequious waiters doted on captains of industry and other notables. Trent ate slowly, knowing that he would be there for quite some time. Ashley began with a plate of mixed fruits, then moved on to more substantial entrees, proceeding at such a pace and for such time as to make even the most experienced trencherman blush. At the conclusion of the meal, as Trent sipped a cognac, Ashley was filled near to the bursting point, her huge breasts and belly straining painfully against her corset.
“My corset is soooo tight. You'll have to loosen me up,” she said, running the fingers of her right hand through Trent's hair. Trent smiled.
They returned to Trent's stateroom. As he unfastened the last stay, her enormous gut hung in the air for one fraction of a second, then bulged out obscenely, hanging down to mid-thigh. Trent could scarcely imagine how something so big had been contained so well.
“Ooh, I feel so full,” Ashley moaned. “And yet, it felt so good...” Trent moved to caress her, his hands nearly disappearing in the folds of her body.
---
Ashley was resplendent in her elaborate couture dress and white gloves, de rigueur for the first class deck, and carried a parasol. She waddled down the deck towards Trent, her plump white cheeks having gained a delicate tinge of pink from the days of lounging on the ship's deck.
“I feel as big as this ship,” she said.
“Oh, don't say that. You look wonderful,” said Trent, leaning in for a kiss. He inhaled deeply, the fresh, salty ocean air mixing with Ashley's perfume in an intoxicating combination.
“It's just, I can't help it sometimes. I mean, there was this little shop next to the ecole in Switzerland, run by the nicest old man. And they had every kind of chocolate, and marzipan, and peppermint. I probably went there every day after school. And when we went to Italy, the prosciutto di Parma, and panna cotta...I guess I do get carried away.”
“I wouldn't mind if you got carried away every day. When we get back to New York, I'll have all the finest chefs, and they'll make whatever you so desire.”
“Oh, Trent, I can't wait. It seems like nothing could ever get in the way of our love.”
---
“So, what did you do this afternoon?” asked Trent.
“Well, after lunch I met an artist in steerage. No, don't laugh. He was really interesting. Well, at least until he told me about his home life. I mean, he lived in the middle of nowhere - in Wisconsin. He showed me these nude portraits he did, and I asked him to do one of me, but he was like oh, maybe later.”
“The nerve. Well, my day was fairly boring too. These men, they talk ceaselessly, which stock's up, which one's down. I mean, they couldn't tell Petrarch from Plutarch.”
“Hm, we really shouldn't leave each other's company. Say, you want to get a bite to eat?”
Trent obligingly followed Ashley back to the dining hall, where they had spent so much time already. Still, he treasured every moment. Watching Ashley consume plate after plate of rack of lamb or Lobster Newburg, licking her lips in satisfaction, enchanted him beyond all other concerns. He put down his work to watch her, amazed at seeing someone so beautiful, eating with such vigor and enjoyment. Her charm was further enhanced by the setting, as he gazed about the dining room, looking at the elaborate gilt and floral arches, the Minton place settings and sterling trays.
As she finished her last bite, Ashley leaned back, her soft belly now bulging all the way to the end of the table. Trent looked admiringly at the towering stack of empty plates to her left.
“The duck confit is truly to die for.” She rested her hands on her enormous, plump thighs. “They really spoil you in first class,” she said. “Well, I guess I've always been a little spoiled. Mother and father could never turn me down, whether it was a new dress, or another ice cream cone...” Trent sat there rapt, tracing Ashley's development. He imagined a cute, chubby little girl, doted on by her adoring parents. Then a plump teenager at the ecole in Switzerland, her tiny breasts and hips just starting to develop. Then finally, the beautiful, enormous young lady in front of him, breasts and ass, thighs and arms, all fattened to a perfection which made him delirious.
“My little princess...” he said, taking Ashley's hand in his.
---
They strolled about the lower deck in the crisp, cool night air. Trent wore his greatcoat, while Ashley was bundled up in a luxurious fur coat.
“Hey, is that ice on the deck?” asked Ashley.
“Must have been from one of those bergs. I thought I felt a bit of a jolt. Look at those passengers from steerage kicking the ice around like a football.”
“Excuse me sir, madam, nothin' to see here. Nope, nothing at all...” said a crew member, perspiring heavily. “Hey Will, get that ice off the deck, post haste.” The ship halted suddenly.
“Hm, that crewman sure seemed agitated. Seems like there's something amiss,” said Trent.
“What? You don't think...”
“Well, I'm not sure. The thing is, though, an iceberg doesn't seem so big, when you see the tip sticking out of the water, but you know what they say...”
“Just the tip of the iceberg.”
“Exactly. I mean, some of those icebergs go down for hundreds, even thousands of feet. Making them much bigger and heavier than even this ship.”
“My god.”
“Well, let's not panic just yet. We'll just keep our wits about us.”
Suddenly the deck was a whirlwind of motion, with passengers milling about in confusion. As the deck shifted slightly, the crew began to unfurl the canvas from the lifeboats. Urged on by the crew, the first class passengers reluctantly began to get into the boats.
“Damn. Ashley, we've got to get packed. In a hurry.” Trent ran to his room, with Ashley pounding towards hers as quick as she could, then returned to the top deck. The ship was now noticeably tilted.
“All those paintings I did, they're in the cargo section. Along with a crate of Swiss chocolate bars...oh well...”
“Now, women and children first. Easy does it,” said the crewman.
Trent looked nervously at the madding crowd, then at the paltry number of lifeboats. He followed Ashley through the queue.
“Trent...what if they don't let you on? My...my heart won't go on, without you.”
“Just...don't worry about it. Come on.”
“Hey, I said, women and children first. There are enough lifeboats for everyone. Please sir, if you'll just stand back.”
Trent pulled back his greatcoat, revealing a shining pistol, sterling silver with mother of pearl grips, tucked into his waistband.
The crewman gulped. “Yes sir, right this way sir. Looks like most of the women and children are already on the boats,” he laughed nervously, ignoring the mass of women and children rushing towards the deck from second class and steerage.
With the rope stuck in the davit, the lifeboat was hanging near five feet above the deck. Ashley grabbed the edge and futilely tried to pull herself up. Trent, his arms wrapped around her massive thighs, his face pressed against the soft, warm flesh of her enormous posterior, pushed with all his might. Even then, it took two more crewmen, plus the women already in the boat to hoist Ashley up. Trent followed her quickly.
“Hey! That fat broad's as big as any three of us. Send her back down, and there'll be room a' plenty,” yelled a passenger from steerage.
“Back, you ruffian,” said a crewman, bashing him over the head with an oar.
“Or room for my poor husband,” said one woman, eyeing Ashley venomously as the boat finally hit the cold Atlantic water.
“My husband too,” said another woman. All the passengers were fixed on Ashley. “You're so fat, it's a wonder this lifeboat doesn't sink,” she continued.
Ashley burst into tears. Trent was incensed. He fingered the pistol nervously inside his coat, contemplating opening fire on them all. But he thought carefully about what he wanted to say.
“Listen, all of you. This young lady here, she's the love of my life. How could you be so cruel? Isn't she a human being, just like anybody else?” He held Ashley tenderly.
The crowd in the boat sat there. The silence was punctuated only by Ashley's sobbing and the yelling from the ship. After some time, the second woman came forward.
“You're right. I guess we got carried away.”
“I'm sure my husband will find another lifeboat,” rationalized the first woman. They crowded around Ashley.
“There there. You're very pretty,” said a woman.
“A lady can be beautiful at any weight,” reassured another, herself not very thin, though nowhere near as large as Ashley.
“There's just one thing that's still bothering me,” said a woman, turning to Trent. “How did you get on this boat?”
“Oh, I'm not the only one,” said Trent, deftly deflecting the question. He flipped off the sun hat of the “woman” in front of him. “Look, it's J. Bruce Ismay!”
The women began to berate Ismay.
Ashley's sobbing subsided. “Thanks, Trent.”
“No problem, babe,” he said, holding her tight. He spread his greatcoat over his lap, and they started to play cards. Later, the Carpathia came into view, and picked them up.