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Babbs is still asleep when you wake up the next morning and check on her. Things are about as you left them when you scampered off last night, the bear woman taking up the whole mattress as she lays on her front. You realize this is the first time you've seen the room illuminated properly. The strange neat-but-messy nature of it stands out in the early morning light. There's not much room for a proper mess to happen, but the horizontal spaces are all taken up with papers, boxes, and various knick-knacks. But the way Babbs' fur catches the light is much more enticing. Her coat seems much brighter, almost glowing along her top-most curves.

The pause menu music of her game still plays softly.

You stop yourself from repeating last night. The memories brought up by the music are partially why. They follow you as you make your way back down the mammoth stairs; lust, pleasure, guilt, regret. Climbing up on top of Babbs and enjoying her mega-sized rear was what you wanted, but you left it feeling hollow. The thing earlier in the day -- her sitting on you -- was something you dreamed of. But her assurances that things between you two are more than just pleasure felt flat when you found out she fell asleep when you were worshiping her ass. Those moments of ecstasy turned to ash in retrospect.

Mostly, anyway.

You focus on what's real to try and clear your head. You've found making breakfast here requires it anyway. Navigating the giant kitchen could be dangerous if you weren't paying attention. Since you had Babbs set your human-sized cookware up in one of the cabinets, at least getting up onto the counter is easy. You clear a space of dishes and get out some waffle mix. A loose bag of chocolate chips catches your eye, and you add them to the mix as you prep the batter; the massive mixing bowl swallows most of them. It's a bit of a struggle to lift it out from the sink and get it to the mixer.

As it starts with a soft whir, guilt assaults you once again. Those chips weren't yours. You know Babbs probably doesn't care -- and you shouldn't either -- but it still eats at you. Pulling the wafflemaker from the cabinet clears your head a little. You're still astounded at how big it is, even after using it the past few days. You swear the irons are the size of hubcaps! The bowl you used for the mix itself is practically as big as well. The mixer finishes around when you get the waffle iron set up, and you look at the speckled batter again. You've just been pouring mix into a quarter or half of the iron, since you don't need a waffle as wide as your torso. Babbs usually uses the extra batter whenever she gets up.

But you don't feel like waiting this morning. Pouring it all out at once is easier anyway. You manage it with minimal spillage, and sit on the edge of the counter while the machine does its thing.

Why are you doing this, making breakfast for the bear? Who knows if she cares? You don't know if you just can't tell. Her record with other men isn't great, why would you be any different?

You sigh, swinging your feet. Thinking like this is only winding you up. There's no point in worrying about hypotheticals or things you don't know for sure. You do know for sure that you really like Babbs. Her hobby, body, and the easy-going part of her personality. Just focus on that, put on a smile, and show her you appreciate her.

And maybe, with a little luck, she'll really show it back.

Taking the plates up the stairs makes you reconsider for a little bit. Even though yours is normal sized, holding just a quarter of the a gargantuan waffle, making your way up is a challenge. You can't hop up them like you normally do. The waffles and berries would jostle themselves off. It makes going up the stairway a slow and tedious process, but you manage to make it without any unfortunate accidents. Babbs' door is open; she's snoring when you shuffle in, searching for a spot to set your plate. The bear snuffles, and the bedsprings creak as she shifts and mumbles something incoherent.

"Babbs?" you say quietly. "Babbs, wake up."

The bear's face is smushed in the pillow when she rolls towards you; despite that, there's something so cute about it. The way her nose twitches, her fluffy ears droop, and her eyes are shut so tight. It's almost a shame when she wakes up.

"I-I made breakfast," you say as she gives you a bleary look. Her sleep-soaked groan is both piteous and terrifying at the same time. She shifts into a half-seated position and takes the plate from you, scooting back to make sure there's room.

"Mmnmn... Thank you, Cameron," she says. Her expression brightens a little after some vigorous blinking. "Ohh, waffles and fruit?"

"Yeah. I made enough for a full one, and I wouldn't be able to finish it on my own."

The bear rumbles again and takes a forkfull of the sugary monstrosity. A little syrup gets caught in the fur above her lips, and she lets out another deep rumble. Her eyes flit down to you; she presses a kiss to your forehead. You don't even mind how sticky it is.

You occasionally do the same thing over the next few days. Babbs often takes naps, and when you're not working, you wake her up with a plate of something to snack on. You don't know if that's what's helping her open up, but it probably doesn't hurt. Your routines stay similar beyond that, each of you working through the morning and early afternoon before relaxing in the evening. After a few days, Babbs started coming down on 'break.' It wasn't explicitly for you -- there was usually food involved, or the living room couch -- but you don't think it's a coincidence that you're there most of the time.

Usually, the discussion between you and the bear is on games, but other topics slip in as well. You learn that her job is indeed like yours; she's a programmer for hire, working under a management company that finds her clients. Right now, it's a shipping company's port management software that's in serious need of an update. There's some overlap in your languages, but the two of you still exchange new tips and tricks every now and then.

You're in the middle of talking about that, actually, when your phone goes off. "Mom" flashes on the screen.

"Oh, sorry Babbs, I-I should probably take this," you say. The bear nods, her easy expression hardly changing as she shifts her attention back to the TV. You adjust yourself on the couch before answering with the video screen; your parents' faces flash up after a second, brightening when they see you.

"Hey mom and dad, what's up?"

"Hey Cameron!" your mother says, "we were just out, and we wanted to see how you're settling in."

"Your mother saw a robot poster, and she thinks its from one of your games."

"Harold!"

You smile as your mother swats your dad with a newspaper. He chuckles, turning the camera towards a cardboard stand of a Mechmorphosizer. You recognize it as Wasp, who turns into a Shelby Cobra. But you're not surprised your parents don't, nor that they don't know it's probably for the new movie. They're both very kind, but they never quite got your hobbies or your generation's pop-culture.

"It's not, Mom, it's for a new movie," you say as they shift the camera back to them. "And I'm pretty well settled in. The wifi works, and that's what matters."

The two of them chuckle, but they still look a little anxious.

"That's good. Uh, how is your, um... 'girlfriend?'"

Babbs' ear flicks. You haven't talked much to them about her, since you were still getting to know her. They seemed hesitant about you moving across the country for a girl you'd never met, much less one twice your size.

Funny, that.

"Uh -- she's right here, actually!" You say, turning to the bear. "Uh, Babbs, you mind saying hi to my folks?"

She pauses her video with a grunt and nods. The cushions rock as she shifts a little closer to you -- you're both thankful and aroused when she tugs her top up to look more presentable. You wait until her rack stops bouncing before turning the camera.

An "oh!" of surprise escapes your mother; your father just raises his eyebrows. You managed to mostly keep the bear's upper half in frame, but you suppose it's still surprising to see just how small you are in comparison. Babbs offers a small wave.

"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Womack," she says. "It's nice to meet you."

"Hello, Babbs," your mother replies. "My, I -- I didn't realize how big you would be!"

"Mom!"

"Oh! I, uh -- I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything by it. It's just, well -- Surprising!"

"Has he been behaving?" Your father asks.

"Yeah, he has," Babbs replies. Her expression and tone hardly change. "We've gotten along well."

"Well... good," your mother replies. The sounds of the mall filter through the screen for a few seconds as the four of you look at each other.

"W-well, uh, we were actually on break," you say, "we should probably get back to work soon."

"Of course! We didn't mean to hold you," your mother says. Your dad just nods.

"Right. I'll talk to you guys later," you reply. After a few goodbyes, you slump back with a sigh. "I-I'm glad that went okay...ish."

Babbs grunts quietly and unpauses her video. You probably should get back to work, but something nags at you.

"What is your family like, Babbs?" you ask.

The bear stiffens slightly, so subtly that you probably wouldn't notice it if you weren't leaning partway up against her. It takes a few moments for her to answer.

"They're okay, I guess. They don't talk like yours do."

"Mine were... used to me being around them a lot. I was still living with them before I moved in with you. I think that's why they're like that."

She grunts.

"Mine visit me as much now as they ever have."

Her words give you pause. You look up at her for any sign of emotion, but she's blank as a slate again.

"...W-were they off at work all the time?" you ask. Babbs nods slowly, still focused on her gaming video.

"Some of the time. They were busy," she says. "If it wasn't work, it was social things -- parties, but not the fun kind of parties. If it wasn't that, it was their friends. If it wasn't that, it was their hobbies."

"They took care of you though, right?"

Babbs' "mmhm" is a barely recognizable rumble. "They fed me, clothed me, got me where I needed to go."

"I can't say they neglected me," she adds after a moment, a little quieter. The way she says it makes you think otherwise.

You're not sure if it's wrong to think it, but her distant behavior is beginning to make sense. You don't know the whole story, but she's said enough to make it clear that her parents didn't have much time for her. Not in the ways that matter.

You lean into her side and give her a half hug as you sink in. The bear doesn't react, staying focused on her video. Even when you give into the urge and give her stomach a slight squeeze. You attempt to speak, starting and stopping as you try to find the right words, but settle for burying your face back in her fur and holding her harder. The tentative weight of her arm on your back is as much reciprocation as you get. It actually traps you there for a bit, her thick limb practically as long as you are all -- and heavy to boot. You don't mind, relaxing a little against her and breathing in her now-familiar scent.

It makes your loins stir. That's when you fight to free yourself, stammering something about getting back to work. After what she just told you, another round of pleasuring each other doesn't sound right. The concerns you had about a deeper connection come to mind. Showing her you really mean what you said about that is what she needs. You think, anyway. You've got no experience with girls. But you think it will help.

It's hard to tell if it helps over the next few days. The two of you go on almost like usual, but whenever you are enticed by her, you force yourself to decide if it's just desire or real passion. Most of the time, you back off except for kisses. Babbs gives them to you almost absentmindedly now, but she never goes beyond that. Searching her face for emotion proves just as fruitless as before.

After enough time, it all comes to a head. You can't wait anymore. You don't hesitate at your doorway this time, and head to Babbs' work room with purpose. You thought through what you're going to say and why you want to say it. It's been eating at you, not knowing if she's alright. Alright on a deeper level, alright with you. And you don't know if withholding those sex-related things -- the rubbing sessions, the squeezes, the requests -- has made things worse for her rather than better.

You know that it hasn't been great for you.

You swallow, and step through her doorway.

"Uh, hey, Babbs?" you ask. The bear glances your way briefly, claws still tapping away at her keyboard with unusual deftness.

"Yeah?"

"S-so, I know it's a bit early, but -- later tonight, when you lay down -- o-or whenever you do -- could you do it on your back?"

The clacking of keys goes on.

"I... I want to have sex with you. N-not like the stuff we were doing before. Well, a few days ago anyway. I -- I want to see you while it's happening. I want to have a connection while we're doing it. To show you what it means to me."

Babbs pauses. Just for a second or two. But she only grunts before continuing to code.

You stand there in her work room longer than you probably should. You wait, hoping she'll say something, anything, even if it's just 'no.' But it's not the bear formulating a response. She doesn't even look up when you slip back out the door. You're not even halfway down the hall before you catch your heart beating a mile a minute and a flood of heat washes over your face. The feeling is familiar. The house spins a little as you're taken back to all those awkward moments in secondary school.

Getting paired with all girls and tripping over your words. Being forced into debate and going off-script into nothing. Feeling like you should stay out of the spotlight since every time you were there, it got awkward.

Those memories hadn't popped up in the week or so that you've been with Babbs. But now that they're back, they're back in force. You recall why you were skeptical of the Matchmaking program, how you figured it would just be you on your own. It was a new round of incentive programs that pushed you to even submit an application. Things looked up a little when they first went over Babbs' profile with you, but now --

You shake your head with a restrained groan. Step by step, you go to the kitchen. Babbs keeps sweets all over, and you found a stash of wine gums in one of the lower drawers. The bear cares as much about you skimming from them as she does the rest of her food. As she does about you as a whole. Popping a few in your mouth doesn't help clear your thoughts, so you go to your room to stew.

She'd been making progress. She was less monotone, occasionally. But it all slid back when her parents got brought up. Maybe it's your fault. Reminding her of them and then limiting your shows of affection could've seemed like a pattern. You shifted your side of the relationship a lot -- you've never had a live-in friend before, but that's almost what it feels like when the two of you go on break together. Perhaps it's not what she wants or was expecting.

But you're not her first match from the program. And Cecilia said she was as disinterested in them as she's been with you. At the worst of times, at least.

You sigh. You do that a lot as time flies by. The hourly chime of your watch coaxes you out of bed. Babbs should be done with work now; maybe she'll be more open to talking. Or you could try leaving her a note. Her snoring draws you upstairs once more -- after-work naps are a common occurrence, helped by her black-out curtains and soft asmr videos. The scene when you arrive is little different this time. The soft glow of some playlist or another washes the room in a light violet, illuminating the sizable curves on the bed. Small things stand out as your eyes adjust. The bedsheets are cast aside, draping down to the floor like a waterfall. The computer chair is pulled in, and Ice isn't even open. You see her clothes -- scant as ever -- cast on the floor.

And she's laying on her back.

Another deep, whooshing snore rolls through the room as you stare.

"Babbs?"

No response. You walk toward the head of the bed -- with the mattress, it's almost as tall as you are, so you have to climb up on some shelves to get a look at her face. The bear's head is sunk deep into her fluffy pillows, shielding her from view. You try to hop onto the bed but bounce off the mattress; you need more height. The foot of it has a proper human-sized ladder for you to climb. Babbs' boundless curves stretch out before you, filling out the whole bed. The view with her on her back is different than on her front -- her stomach forms a subtler, soft hill than her rear. Navigating her thighs is still awkward. You again settle for slipping your legs between to avoid hurting her. The bear's breasts don't look nearly as big from this angle, sagging off to the sides.

They're still enormous; they squish up around you when you cross her stomach and flop between them. A little bit of pink tongue tells you Babbs is definitely asleep. It's lolled out to the side, opposite the way her head is tilted. There's something so cute about it. Her fuzzy ears slip into the folds of the pillow, and her eyes are scrunched up tight. The bear's nose twitches, even though you don't have a snack for her this time.

A hitch in her snoring bounces you on her chest, sending her breasts jiggling. The urge to touch her strikes you again. All those things you were hoping to do with her flash through your mind -- you have the chance, right here, right now. But her being asleep hampers your enthusiasm. All those things you had in mind would be nice, but you wanted to do them with her. Babbs said you could 'fuck her in her sleep' if you wanted, but you'd never expect to actually be doing it.

You back up and look down at her. The violet light casts vibrant shadows over her form. She told you you could do it. And she almost never sleeps on her back. The bear flops down on her front to play on her phone or lays on her side -- she told you her boobs had rolled down onto her face before. Sleeping sideways has no such risks. You blush again, looking down at her smothering curves. Babbs wouldn't have laid on her back without a reason. And she told you that you could take her in her sleep if you wanted.

Maybe she did listen.

You sink your hands into the softness of her breasts. You wouldn't want them to slide down and suffocate her, after all. After a few seconds of bliss, the worry actually settles in when they slip off to the sides. Babbs' fur makes it difficult to get a firm grip without completely manhandling her mammaries. As easygoing as she is, you expect she'd be mad if you woke her by trying to squeeze the life out of her tits. Scooping them gently feels amazing, but the satisfying heft and pressure that they have makes them almost impossible to control.

You decide to focus on one at a time; it's still a struggle, but you manage to pull one of Babbs' boobs back onto her abdomen. The other settles at her side, blocked from going further by her splayed-out arm. You decide you'll leave it there. The one you've got spilling from your grasp will be more than enough. The bear's breast shifts slightly with her breaths, adding to the massaging and squeezing you're doing. You can practically give it a proper hug. Something rubs against you when you do, and you feel Babbs' snoring hitch. She murmurs something as you discover her nipple, almost lost in a sea of fur.

You give it an experimental rub; the bear shudders beneath you. Her nipple hardens as you palm it and squeeze gently, drawing out a soft moan. It sharpens when you pinch it and pull slightly. You look up with a mix of fear and anticipation, but Babbs is still asleep. It doesn't change after a few more loving tugs and rubs. You groan quietly, and lay flat against her stomach. Part of you was hoping it'd wake her, so all those things you wished for earlier could happen.

As you press your mouth against her, that hope still remains.

Babbs' nipple tastes different from her fur. It's more salty, and the texture of her skin isn't covered by the feeling of hair in your mouth. You groan into it as her scent fills your nose. She feels so soft against you all over, even softer than your t-shirt. You take it off -- you need as much of that sensation as you can get. The slight chill of the AC is quickly burned away from her heat. You feel her shudder as you begin to suckle.

The bear's deep rumble of pleasure sets you off. You roll over on top of her and fumble with your pants, almost slipping off her. You roll back over and sink into her curves as you slide down between her legs. The heat between them warms your stomach. Positioning yourself at her entrance is made no easier by the bundle of nerves you've become. After a fair amount of grunting and scrabbling at her doughy hips, you manage to find something that will work.

Thank God her legs are spread.

You work yourself in by feel, hands tightening on her love handles as the sensations wash over you. You feel every strand of fur, every fold, every stray bump and twitch along the way. Babbs is tight enough that you need to spread her lips when your head slides against them. They're slightly slick; if you weren't in such a precarious position, you'd take your time and massage her more. But the pleasure that washes over you when you finally drive in reminds you how awkward the position is -- you nearly lose your grip. She feels better than you'd ever imagined. A low groan escapes you; you bury your face in the soft fur of her stomach. You almost don't want to move. Being inside her -- not even all the way -- is already making your head spin. But small sensations convince you otherwise. The hitched, pleasured way she breathes against you. The occasional twitch of her hips.

The way her walls squeeze and pull at your member, drawing you in.

Even thrusting gently terrifies you, but the pleasure pushes you through. You tighten your grip as you plap against her, each movement bringing risk and reward. You can feel her body ripple against your chest and arms. It only adds to the ecstasy that you feel, sending your panting groans lower and lower as you bury your face in her belly. It feels so good. She feels so good. You're so glad she's let you do this, but you wish --

You let out a muffled cry when you feel your leg slip. You flail and try to fix it, feeling yourself slipping out of her heat when something heavy lands on you with a crushing thud.

Dull claws poke into your rear.

"Keep going," Babbs rumbles, her voice husky from desire and sleep. You freeze, save for your pulsing dick.

"A-are you su--"

"Yes," she growls, cupping your rear and pulling you in tight. There's no arguing with that -- you're muffled by her stomach now anyway. The bear grunts and continues squeezing you against her as you readjust yourself. Her support lets you drive deeper, sending bolts of pleasure through both of you. Soon everything becomes a rhythm between the two of you: your thrusts, your squeezes, your breaths, your moans.

Even the throes of your orgasms are in tune.

Babbs' whole body shakes when you blow your load. Her hips spasm against you, her arm tightening around you in time. It makes her stomach and thighs jiggle against you. And her groan seems to vibrate through the both of you. Yours is much more muffled, your face pressed deep into her stomach. You don't realize how tightly she was holding you until it stops and you realize you're short of breath. The bear is too; you're lifted with each huff and puff. It slowly evens out as you crawl up her stomach and back onto her chest. Babbs helps, trapping you between her breasts with a gentle hug.

You look into her eyes, trying to come up with words, but she smothers you in a kiss. It's different from your first one and the ones you've shared since. It's sloppy yet forceful. Her hand isn't behind your head, but you find yourself being pressed against her anyway. You come away from it as woozy as the first one, blinking a few times and wiping your eyes to stare down at the bear.

"B-Babbs, I-I -- That was so wonderful!"

Warm air washes over you as she grunts with satisfaction.

"Yeah. It was pretty nice."

"I-I'm sorry if I took advantage o-of you. I --"

"You didn't," she interrupts. "I told you it was okay. And I liked it."

Her ear flicks, and you think you see some emotion in her violet-drenched eyes.

"Maybe I'll lay on my back more often."

You heart flutters.

"So... y-you're not mad at me, then?"

She shakes her head. "No. Nope."

"Th-then -- would you mind if I slept with you for a while?"

"Sure," she says, still staring up at you. "I don't move much. It should be alright."

You gasp a little when she grabs your shoulders and hips, manipulating you like a doll. You end up sitting on her breasts with your dick on full display.

"We probably should take care of this first though."

"W-what do you -- Ah!"

Babbs silences you with a well-placed lick. You curl up and grab onto the thick fluff of the bear's ears, but she doesn't seem to mind. Her tongue is broad and soft; you truly understand how long it is when she noses forward and manages to coat your entire undercarriage in one stroke. The sensation makes you shudder and try to escape, but she easily holds you in place by the waist. You have to settle for gasping as your entire nether region gets wet, like wading into the cold water of a pool.

The sensations only get more intense when she starts to kiss your dick. The bear's mouth is so big that she can cover your shaft with only two or three of them, pressing it tight against your pelvis. Teasing flicks of her tongue make you pulse, spurting precum up onto your stomach. You nearly impale yourself on her cold nose when she does the same thing to your balls.

"B-Babbs, please," you say, "I can't -- take much more!"

Her warmth disappears in an instant. She pulls back and looks up at you, licking her lips.

"Well, we can stop, but I thought that you'd want to finish before we --"

"I-I do! I do," you say, fighting back a wheeze. "I just -- I-I didn't want to do it on your face!"

The bear stares at you, then glances at your twitching member.

"Okay. Thanks," she says. "I'll just finish you off then."

It feels like jumping into a hot tub when she engulfs your nethers.

The warm ridges of her roof send you into a spiral of pleasure; her smooth tongue on your sack sends you deeper. You nearly explode when she tightens her mouth, but you manage to hold on by gripping her ears tight. Babbs begins to bob her head, seemingly oblivious to it. You feel her teeth scraping your pelvis as she opens wider to keep up the pressure. You're battered by waves of ecstasy. It's not long before you give in.

Your attempted warning comes out as a strangled cry; the bear squeezes tight as your seed pumps right into the back of her throat. Her pinching teeth make you wince. You feel like a tube of toothpaste as Babbs firms up in time with your aftershocks, gentle gulps barely audible over the ASMR video.

Only when you're completely spent, going limp in her mouth, does she let you go.

You hiss at the cool air on your dampened dick when she pulls away. But you're soon submerged in Babbs' soft flesh and fur as she guides you back down. You feel like putty in her paws. The large bear tucks you back against her chest with ease, and you're more than happy to let her. She's just as happy to let you adjust yourself in her hold. You snuggle into her chest as her arms wrap around you, her thick fur acting like a blanket. Her breasts make it feel like you've sunken into a deep waterbed -- at least, that's what you think they feel like.

You settle with a satisfied huff. You look up at Babbs, not quite able to see her face.

"...You said you won't roll over, right?"

"No," she replies. "I don't move much in my sleep."

"...D-do you promise?" you ask.

Babbs is quiet; then a small chuckle bounces you in her embrace.

"Sure."

"I promise, Cameron."