Jenna smiled as she lay naked in bed. In her mind she replayed the images of some church-themed porn she'd watched last night. As she pushed a trusty old vibrator into her vagina, she began to fantasise that she was a nun being pounded by the fat old priest in the video. Almost too quickly, she had a massive orgasm.
She was so glad she hadn't had to accompany Reverend Morris to the religious conference he was attending in Manchester. It would've been extremely tedious. But on the downside, he'd be away for four days...not good given that she'd been hornier than usual these past few weeks. Jenna sighed as she glanced at the clock. It was time to get up. The Sunday Eucharist would be starting in an hour's time. A smile formed on her face. A different vicar would be doing the service this week, due to her husband's absence. She was eager to introduce herself to this mystery man, who'd kindly volunteered at short notice.
Meanwhile...
Gordon Leesmith's eyes widened as he stared at himself in the bedroom mirror. He was wearing nothing but his white y-fronts, and his bulging belly was straining against the waistband.
"Bloody hell. Have I really gained that much weight?"
He and Mia had enjoyed a fantastic holiday in Tenerife last month. It had been their first trip together and it had been wonderful. They'd both savoured every moment, and to say that Gordon had overindulged on the all-inclusive food had been an understatement. He'd certainly got his money's worth. The church organist had a weakness for brandy, cakes and steak. Now he was seeing the result of his gluttony.
"I look like a beached whale. Not a good look!" He said out loud.
"Aww, I like your cuddly belly," Mia said, walking into the room.
"You're too kind, love," he said, trying to suck his stomach in. "I'm not self-fat shaming, but I would like to slim down a bit. I've gained a stone. I'm going to cut down and get myself back to pre-Tenerife levels."
"Tenerife was brilliant. I enjoyed that holiday so much. Thank you for making it so special, Gordy-Pie. I love the bones of you."
He embraced her. "I love you too, my chucky-egg. We'll go away again in September. Where do you fancy next? We could try Fuerteventura. The beaches are nicer there. It's golden sand instead of black, volcanic sand. Or we could go to Turkey. I really like Antalya..."
"I'll give it some thought. But first...time's getting on. Aren't you forgetting something?" She pointed to his underpants.
"Eh? These are a clean pair. Honest!"
"No, that's not what I mean." Mia whipped out a pair of neon pink y-fronts from the pocket of her dressing gown. "You promised you'd wear these today."
"Oh...did I?" Gordon grimaced as she held up the pants. They were so bright, they were almost radioactive. "I guess I forgot..."
"It's for a good cause, Gordy. For every pair sold, half of the money goes to a breast cancer charity. You know the church is doing a special breast cancer awareness week."
"Well yes, you're right." He held up the y-fronts. "The colour is enough to give you a migraine."
"Men can get breast cancer too," Mia continued.
Gordon relented. "Ah, what the hell." He removed his usual underpants and put the pink ones on. "My aunt had breast cancer. I remember the ordeal she went through. Just...don't tell a soul that I'm wearing these. Please!"
"Nobody else in the universe knows you're wearing them, Gordy. My lips are sealed. You look sexy in pink ones." She winked at him.
"Aye, true! Hmm, well the colour isn't my taste, but I must say these are a really comfortable pair of underpants. You must've got a larger size. Right, we'd better hurry and get dressed. We have to be at church for nine. The pipes are calling!" Gordon said, pulling on his navy blue trousers. "Damn," he muttered, as he struggled to fasten the zip and button. He really had put on more weight than he first thought. He could barely fasten his belt.
Reverend Jim Conway was a frustrated man. A small, balding, angry and frustrated man. He was rich, powerful and had almost everything he could want. He was vicar of St. Peter's -- a large Victorian church. He had plenty of vergers and laypersons to boss around, lived in a most luxurious barn conversion in the upmarket part of town, owned a Bengal cat and three luxury cars. His pride and joy was his brand new electric Porsche. It made him look good when he drove onto the church car park and it made him feel good too, knowing that he was a carbon-neutral clergyman. But his marriage to Sandra was not a happy one. He married her not for love, but for her family's money which enabled him to start his own business back in 2000.
GodHub -- a Christian-themed Internet café that pioneered a "pray and surf" approach, where people could learn the then-newish art of web design, coding and other online skills. The business had proved highly successful at first, but by the end of the decade, it was on the wane, and Conway decided to jump ship and train as a vicar. Fast-forward to 2024, and after being at several smaller churches around England, he'd taken over at St. Peter's.
At work, Conway was king. At home, he was miserable. Sandra only let him have sex with her once a year on his birthday, if he were lucky. Because he had to find his sexual release in other ways, he had amassed the largest collection of porn in the diocese. As unhappy as he was with his home life, he didn't want to lose his social status so he endured this sexless marriage.
He took out his anger and frustration on other church members, especially the latest unfortunate curate -- St. Peter's had gone through four curates and six organists since Conway had taken over. Other vicars who had the misfortune to meet him also felt his wrath. In particular, Simon Morris, the vicar of St. Michael's on the other side of town. A dim-witted, incompetent dullard if ever there was one (in Conway's opinion). His much-younger second wife Jenna however, was an absolute knock-out. What the hell she saw in Reverend Morris puzzled him no end, for he knew the vicar wasn't rich, and had no wealthy relatives either. Conway enjoyed ogling Jenna at church functions. In fact, his favourite porn stars were petite redheads that closely resembled her.
Jenna was on her way to St. Michael's. The late May sunshine was warm and pleasant, though the sky was already clouding up. A thunderstorm was likely in the afternoon. The weather had been disappointing for this time of year, and she was looking forward to a week in Crete next month. The British summer was turning out to be non-existent. The pale green dress clung to her body and accentuated her figure. She was carrying a modest white cardigan, but her upper arms were bare and a slit up the side of the dress showed off her slender shapely legs, that always caught the eye of Norman the churchwarden and a few others.
Inside the church, Gordon fidgeted about on the organ stool. The belt of his trousers was virtually chopping in him half. He unbuckled it. Relief. His larger belly burst out. But that wasn't enough, so he unbuttoned his trousers too.
