The Trainer - by Uncle Jack (~BBW, ~~WG)

[Uncle Jack]

~BBW, ~~WG - Author's Note: If this seems like a bit of a slow start, don't worry. It will pick up. I hate stories on these boards that hold back the goods as much as you do.

The Trainer
by Uncle Jack

The day I started at the call centre started off as the worst day of my life. It ended by being the best.

I suppose it says something about the cushiness of my North American life that the worst day of my life involved no greater tragedy than starting gainful employment. I had been unemployed for several months, turned down by every job I interviewed for, had been reading about the wonderful life pursuits of people I knew in my university’s alumni magazine and on the home page of Facebook, which I masochistically refreshed every couple minutes as my body aged and life passed me by. My first day at the call centre seemed so incredibly bleak because it was the ultimate culmination of my depressed worldview at the time. As everyone else I had gone to college with were making their marks upon the world, I was reduced to becoming an anonymous voice over the phone, that people only ever talked to when they had problems of the most annoying kind. Needless to say, I had never fought in any wars, never lost any relatives or loved ones, never been subject to true degradation of body and spirit in the way that hookers and junkies and rape victims and the literally paralyzed are. I was young enough to be ungrateful, old enough to realize the world rarely lives up to expectations. In fact, the world is very often pointlessly boring.

The job involved inbound customer service. If you’re lucky enough to be ignorant of this terminology, it means that people call me as opposed to my calling them, which would be outbound. I worked for a large and omnipresent telecommunications company. When people had some sort of problem with their phone service, or their internet service, or their cable service, or they just wanted to kvetch about their bills, they would call up and speak into my ear, or an ear much like mine attached to some other body. Most everyone has been on at least one side of one of these phone calls before, and often yelling is involved.

You may be surprised to learn that this job involves six weeks of training.

As I slouched into the training room at 8 a.m. and saw that most of the seats were already taken, a voice to my right chimed up and politely asked if I would sign the attendance sheet. I looked over to see who the voice was attached to. In the split second between hearing the voice and seeing the woman it belonged to.

She was a beautiful fat China doll. She had beautiful porcelain skin that was white the way that opulent wealthy women in 17th century portraits are. She had raven black hair and a slight smattering of freckles, the kind of freckles pale people have that really only show when they get too much sun. She had straight white teeth that pinged out at you, and really made you think of the way that ‘straight’ and ‘white’ rhyme in such a perfectly harmonious way.

She had a sexy double chin. Her whole face was generally chubby, with fat cheeks and even a fat neck. She was sitting down, wearing a white top and blue jeans. Her belly went a little past her breasts, not in the sloppy way of the beer belly, but just a little bit. It was the sort of belly that showed she really enjoyed her food, as I can imagine her breasts and belly both growing together, but her belly pushes ever so slightly ahead because it is always full of food.

In general, she gave off a sense of having gained the weight, as opposed to always being fat. Maybe I’m being stupid, but I’ve always felt I could judge the difference between gainers and lifers. Whereas lifers often look very round and, if not solid, at least wholly put together, gainers have always seemed to me to show where they gained the weight. I’m sure this theory is wrong 50 percent of the time, but with this girl that was in front of me right then, I could swear that I could envision what she may have looked like in the past, perhaps in high school, perhaps just a year ago, before she was fat, maybe when she was thin, or maybe even chubby, but before she had become undeniably fat.

Because she was undoubtedly fat. Her belly spilled into her lap and pushed against her shirt. Her belly button was on full display, creating a hollow indent in her t-shirt. Her thighs were wonderfully plump, and she spread out in her desk chair in a way that made me suspect her ass would look amazing if I could just get a peek.

“Just sign there on the sheet please,” she said, smiling. She took a chocolate covered pretzel from the bag and popped it in her mouth.

“Um, kay,” I spluttered and did so, wishing my peripheral vision was like a horse’s, with my eyes on the sides of my head so I could watch her put another chocolate treat between her plump lips as I put my John Hancock on the paper that was beside her. As it was, I settled for the crinkle of the bag and the barely perceptible mmm that vibrated in her throat.

Totally shaken, feeling like I lived in a different universe from twenty seconds ago, I awkwardly walked to the second last row of seats, forcing myself not to swivel my head around to catch a glimpse of this fat beauty again. I took a seat between a middle-aged hick-woman with missing teeth and a bald dude who was probably thinking about child support as he downed his energy drink. Once I was seated, I was facing the front of the room where my new obsession was eating her snack next to a projector screen. Only one person came in after me, a confused Indian guy who smelled like he hadn’t showered in awhile. He performed the same peccadillo I had, totally not seeing the attendance sheet, but he was so out of it that my fat beauty, with her mouth full, had to ask him to sign four times, finally reaching out a fat arm and tapping the sheet with her index finger three times. Each time she tapped the sheet, her upper arm jiggled. Definitely a gainer, not a lifer; that arm had no muscle mass to it at all, it was just jiggly sexy fat.

The dark-haired beauty took a look at her phone, presumably for the time, because she seemed surprised and started to shovel the remaining pretzels in her mouth. A fat girl who would rather devour her entire snack right away than save it for later. So perfect.

It was 8:07 a.m. With the last pretzels in her mouth, she stood up. Her shirt rode up for a split second and I could see that her form-fitting jeans were unbuttoned. She quickly pulled her shirt back down and walked towards the center, gearing up for oratorical mode. For the brief moment that I saw her from the side, I saw that her butt wasn’t simply amazing. It was awe-inspiring. A perfect bubble, a big shelf, a flabby couple of cheeks that bobbed up and down with jiggly delight. The kind of butt that no one could fail to notice. The kind of enormous ass that basically defined a person’s entire physical image for mass memory. Dark hair, big eyes, pale skin, average height? No, don’t think I know her. Oh, the girl with the giant butt! Yes, of course! Have you ever seen a butt that big? Grown adults gossiping about butts like boys in kindergarten.

Whether she had previously been chubby or thin, or even if I was totally wrong and she had been a porker her whole life, that butt had defined her. She could have been rail thin from the waist up as a teenager; she would still have had a huge fleshy butt. What I’m getting at is it wasn’t just wide like a lot of fat butts (although it was plenty wide, as the spread of her hips showed when she turned to face the class again). Her butt was bubblicious. It was blown up, sticking way out from her body. I imagined her knocking things over obliviously with her huge rear end, or maybe hitting someone in the head as she walked by, sheepishly apologizing, and I tried to stem my thoughts, as I was getting the kind of rock hard erection that you would remember when you were old and gray.

“Um nom nom,” she began to speak, and then stopped. She chewed for a few more seconds and swallowed her mouthful. She licked her lips with her rosy pink tongue. It should be noted that her butt was so gargantuan that it could be seen from the front.

“Hi everyone,” she began, “My name is Jocelyn, and I’ll be your trainer for the next six weeks.”

And that’s the turning point, the zero on the axis, where Worst Day started to transform into Best Day.

[Uncle Jack]

“Now, I know that training can be very boring. How many of you have worked in call centres before? A few of you. So you know already that sometimes training isn’t the most fun thing in the world. We’re going to be getting to know the products you’ll be selling, what sorts of problems you’ll be helping out our customers with, and how to use the software. So how about we go around the room and we’ll each say our names and a little something about ourselves. I’ll go first. So, like I said, my name is Jocelyn. I’ve worked at the company for two years, and up until a couple weeks ago I was working the phones, same as you guys will be after your six weeks are up. This is my first training class and I’m a little nervous, but excited too. Okay, now you go.”

People started to say their names, but I don’t think I took a single name in. Jocelyn. Jay oh see eee ell why enn. Something about it was so sexy. Or maybe it was her fat belly that was driving me crazy. Probably a combination of the two. Someone must have said something funny, because everyone laughed, including her. She had a boisterous laugh, very enthusiastic, and her whole body jiggled when she did it.

I stared at her body and imagined touching every inch of it with no notice of time’s passing, because before I knew it she was looking right into my eyes and asking for my name. Dry. My mouth was suddenly very dry. I worked up some speaking spit.

“Um, my name is David. I uh, have never worked in a call centre before, just left a job at the supermarket that had grown stale, I like to play piano, um, yeah…”

I felt like I had made the worst introduction of myself that I could. Had I drooled when I talked? Maybe I built up too much spit. What was with the piano part? This wasn’t a first date, this wasn’t really anything, why was I so nervous?

But then she said, “Nice to meet you, David. I love your glasses. Very cool.”

I almost fell out of my chair.

She proceeded to delineate the company’s history, mission statement, and other boring introductory matters. I hardly absorbed any of it, as my eyes were glued to her beautiful face, her double chin that enveloped her face whenever she put her head down, her round belly, and her titanic ass. She was such a vision. I could tell she was heavy from the way she moved. She had no difficulty moving, but every movement was deliberate and had a great deal of presence. Jocelyn had none of the flighty, manic movements of smaller girls. She took up space and made you sense the space taken up.

After the introductory presentation was over, she asked us all to turn on our computers so we could test our login IDs. A girl to the far right in the row in front of me , a girl who was probably in her late twenties but was dead-set in adolescence for her entire life, shrieked out that her computer wasn’t working.

“I’ll be right there,” said Jocelyn.

With that, she waddled over to the entrance to the girl’s row. The rows of computers were set up so that the tables were pushed up right against the left side wall, so that you could only enter the row from the right side. You had to pass by every other person in your row if you were sitting over by the wall. This dumb dumb girl was sitting right by the wall, so Jocelyn had to wedge herself by every person in the row to get to her. The rows weren’t too spacious, but they were roomy enough to walk down. For most people. Jocelyn was way too fat for such easy access. She would have had to get everyone to vacate their seats and have all the seats pushed right into the table to have a chance at walking face forward down the aisle, and even then I doubted such a voyage would be successful. Also, there was of course no way she was going to get people to leave their seats every time someone needed assistance. I’ve never been able to read minds, no matter how many birthday wishes I’ve wasted on telepathy, so I don’t know if her thoughts were focused on embarrassment at her girth, or whether she was cheerily oblivious to the problem that only affected her out of everyone in the room, but regardless of what synapses were cracking in her brain, she plunged right into the row. Sideways.

Ah, the classic fat girl sideways entry. Why is it so sexy? And this was the sexiest one I had seen up to that point in time. She was going down the aisle with her denim-clad ass facing our row. Her belly rubbed up against the first person’s head and Jocelyn giggled an apology. At the second person, she tried to compensate in the other direction and knocked my neighbor’s monitor backwards with her tank ass. I don’t think she noticed however. She proceeded to do the same thing to my monitor. In fact, she booty-bombed it so hard that it started to fall over onto its screen. I caught it, and she looked over her shoulder at me.

“Whoop. Good catch. I woulda been screwed if I’d broken that thing.”

The next person she had to pass was a big dude. Defensive line big. He could only pull his chair up to his table so far. The difference is that this dude was pretty evenly split between fat and muscle. Jocelyn was pure flab, so it was up to her to squeeze her way between a PC and a hard guy.

First of all she backed up, thrusting her butt right into the space between my monitor and the one of my left-hand neighbor. It was about a foot away from my face, and I had to fight back the urge to reach out and spank one of those luscious cheeks. I could imagine them swaying back and forth as the adipose tissue rippled. I settled for getting a good eyeful of her big fat ass before she sucked in her gut, with a dramatic inhalation noise, and slowly wedged herself between the computer and the guy. Even still, she managed to press her flabby stomach right into the back of the guy’s head and push my neighbor’s monitor back.

“Sorry guys, (grunt), almost there,” she said, and she sounded a little out of breath. She had to be a gainer. She was so casually out of shape, and gave no real sign of embarrassment, other than the slight touch any regular sized person would feel if they got too close to someone passing through tight quarters.

I wished so hard that I could have been the head that her stomach was pressing into.

She popped out the other side, her ordeal over until the return journey.

“Okay, what seems to be the problem?”

She bent over to study the girl’s computer for the problem. Her ass looked like it could split the seams of her pants. Her ass-crack could be made out against the material. A little bit of blue and green panties stuck out above the waist, as did a good inch of the small of her back. Perfectly white. Perfectly fat.

“There we go! Shouldn’t be a problem again.”

“Thanks Jocelyn.”

And so she proceeded to make her way out. This time, her ass was facing the other way. She didn’t knock over the first monitor, but she did basically cover Big Man’s head in pillowy ass. As she got past him, Big Man looked around at her with a trace of disgust on his face. Seriously? A guy the size of you, and you can’t appreciate a big beautiful woman?

She looked down at me, her double chin looking huge, making her look like a whale of a woman, her colossal gut bulging out toward me, and she panted and said, “I’ll try not to break any computers this time!”

Winking, she moved a strand of hair off her forehead and proceeded to move past my monitor. Her belly rubbed against and I could hear the fabric rustling against the plastic. Her heaving breasts brushed across the top of the monitor. I wished that she was wearing a cleavage bearing top, but I suppose you can’t get everything. She really seemed to be concentrating very hard on her passage, with her eyes down on her boobs and stomach, her fat bunching up around her chin.

She made it past and managed to barely nudge the monitor at all. Her shirt had ridden up, revealing a half-inch crescent curve of her pale white stomach. I saw one faint stretch mark, not a red scar, but a faded lightning bolt along her doughy roll near me. She made it past the next two people, rubbing her sexy ass against the backs of their heads, nudging the monitors forward ever so slightly, and generally looking like a total hippo. The whole class was taking in this spectacle, and I heard some whispered muttering from the row behind me.

“Look at that cow.”

“She really should lose some ass flab.”

Their conversation was so muted that Jocelyn didn’t pick up on it. She had made it out of the row. She had a hand on her chest and was breathing heavily. That sexy fatty had gotten out of breath simply helping a student turn on her computer.

“I think this (pant) is a good time to take our first break. See you (pant) back here in fifteen.”

[acadm]

that was...that was a very good introduction...imagery and the details are delicious...please continue

[Uncle Jack]

I had gone outside to check my phone for texts. Nada. Fresh air in this part of the city meant exhaust fumes and homeless veterans, so I went back inside and decided to scope out the break room. Jocelyn was in there, on a vending machine safari with a chunk of change for a weapon.

“Hey Jocelyn, what’s up?” I managed to squeak out.

“Hey. David, right? I remember the glasses.” Again with the glasses. Was this some sort of fetish thing? Did she just wish she wore glasses herself?

“Whatcha getting?”

“So far I got a bag of Doritos, a bag of Dill Pickle, an Oh Henry, a thing of Peanut M&Ms, and a bottle of Coke.”

She gestured with a pudgy arm at the counter next to her. It was true. She had assembled a little meal of junk food for herself.

“Should I get Starburst? Or a cookie? I already have chocolate, which is why I’m thinking Starburst. But those cookies are super good. Can’t decide.”

“Get both,” I said, half-joking, thinking there must be limits to her piggishness.

“I don’t have enough change.”

What I did next is one of the super coolest things I’ve ever done, and I believe it was solely responsible for everything that occurred later between Jocelyn and me.

“I have some change here. You can have it. Get both.”

“Really? You don’t want anything.”

“No, I’m fine, I – “

She snatched the change from my outstretched palm and immediately set to slamming it into the coin slot.

“Thanks! You’re great!”

Great.

Great!

I’m Great!

With the Starburst and the cookie out of the machine, she had assembled her junk food meal. She opened up the Doritos and crammed a handful of the nachos into her mouth.

“So, you’ve never been at a call centre before?” she asked, her mouth half full.

“No, this is my first one. I kinda avoided them up to this point, but I desperately needed a job, and couldn’t avoid it anymore.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. It’s not the best job in the world, but this place is better than a lot of others, from what I hear.” She was eating the entire time she was talking to me. “And the nice thing is, you can get a promotion without even being around very long. It took me two years to apply to this trainer job, but I could have done it after a few months if I hadn’t been so lazy.” She turned over the bag and greedily dumped the last of the chips into her mouth. “And being a supe or trainer is way better than being on the phones. I wish I had done this a long time ago, being a trainer is gonna be sweet.”

“So it’s not that bad here then?”

“Totally isn’t.” She unscrewed the cap off her Coke and started to chug, not stopping until she had emptied a full third of the bottle. She pulled the bottle from her lips and it made that suction noise. She wiped the back of her hand across her lips. Then she burped, low and loud and long.

“Whoo. Excooooooooose ME!” She said it in a silly voice, with a rising pitch like it was a little song. She reddened a little bit, but she didn’t seem mortified, like so many girls would be if they were caught by a stranger burping like a frat boy.

“No worries.”

“We should probably get back.”

She screwed the top onto her pop and gathered up her junk food haul in her arms. The motion caused her shirt to ride up again, this time all the way up to her belly button. That much bare belly flesh on public display was making it very difficult to keep my eyes on her face. As she took a heavy step, the M&Ms fell to the ground.

“Dammit!”

“Don’t worry, I got it.”

I picked up her M&Ms and when I was vertical again, she was holding out her junk food toward me.

“Could you carry this for me? It would really help.”

“Um, sure.”

She handed me her feast. My hand brushed against her chubby arm and a thrill ran from my head to my toes. She held onto her bottle of Coke.

“Thanks! Okeydoke, let’s go.”

She led the way back to the training room, her heavy steps authoritatively carrying her big body, my eyes glued to her bouncing spherical ass cheeks. She opened her pop again and started sipping from it. She let out a series of burps, much smaller, but continuous.

“We have to fill out (burp) a lot of paperwork (bellllch) scuseme, before we go for lunch (burp burp BELCH). Excuse me! Don’t know where that came from. So it might be a little boring (burp). I wonder (burp) what I’ll have (burp) for lunch.”

As we entered the classroom and I deposited her treasure trove of calorie-laden treats on her desk, I wondered the exact same thing.

[None]

This is an incredibly well written and spectacular beginning to your story. You do an amazing job establishing a distinctive and infectious voice in your narrator David, which makes all the descriptions of Jocelyn so wonderful to read. One of the best stories or beginning of one that I've read in a while. I look forward to see where you go with the rest of the story.

[AngelStryker]

You know, for a new face around here you have some awesome writing skills.

[Uncle Jack]

I'm not as new as you'd think. I actually have an old story archived here from a year ago called Pizza With Katie, if you're interested.

[Uncle Jack]

After everyone returned from break, Jocelyn didn’t have too much to do. We all had to fill out tax forms, insurance forms, contracts, endless forms that have to be signed multiple times so that you can start maybe making some money. Jocelyn passed the bundles of paper down each row, and sat back down in her chair. She was one of those people who, when they sit, sort of bend at the waist and just let gravity take them down into their seat, instead of doing a controlled descent. This resulted in her ass slamming into the desk chair, making it squeak in agony. While everyone in the training class went through the tedium of scanning fine print and perusing company policy, Jocelyn helped herself to her feast.

Contrary to the single-minded tackling of the Doritos that I had witnessed earlier, Jocelyn seemed to enjoy a grazing approach. She would open her M&Ms, have a few, then move onto the potato chips, open them up and have a few, and et cetera. She got all of her items opened and mixed it up, chubby hand reaching for salty, then sugary. She did not want to limit herself to one taste at a time. I never much cared for (or thought of) mixing a chocolate bar with dill pickle chips, but that’s what she did when she took the first bite out of her Oh Henry while still chomping on the mouthful of flavoured potato.

“Excuse me, Jocelyn? I don’t know what this means, here on my tax form?”

She raised her head to speak, and when she opened her mouth a tiny burp came out. She giggled cutely, and so did a couple other girls in the front row.

“Scuse me. Now, what is it you don’t get?”

She grunted as she hoisted her mass off of her chair and went to see what the problem was. The guy who had asked for help was, fortunately for her, seated at the entrance end of his row, so she didn’t have to go to the trouble of squeezing her bulk through the narrow space to get to him.

“So what’s up?” she asked. She had brought her bag of chips along, and was eating them as he explained what needed explaining. She then explained what needed explaining (to him) with her mouth full. He came to understand it right as she finished her bag, tilting it into her mouth to gather up any last fried survivors.

Jocelyn’s gluttony was really something to behold. She sat back down and resumed mowing down her reserves. She never stopped eating, and when a couple other people asked for help with their paperwork, instead of going to the effort of getting up to help them out, she just attempted to answer them from her chair. She encouraged them to check with their neighbors, in what was clearly just an act of pure laziness.

She finished her sweets and drank the last of her Coke. All that junk in her stomach, mixed with the fizzy sugar water, produced a belch so loud and forceful that the room was left dumbstruck and silent. She didn’t excuse herself; she seemed completely sated, to the point of forgetting where she was. After a couple minutes of her resting her hands on her substantial belly with her eyes closed, a girl piped up and asked what we were supposed to be doing.

“Huh? Oh, sorry… Ummm…”

She looked at the clock and cutely bit her lower lip. It was only 10:30.

“Well… It’s the first day, and you all finished filling out the forms, right?”

The class nodded collectively, wondering where this was going.

“In that case, how about an early lunch? Kinda like brunch, huh? Let’s make it extra long too. Come back here at 12. And don’t tell anyone I let you do this! This is a one time thing!”

Jocelyn got up out of her chair, lifting herself with a grunt that sounded piggish to my ears. Her shirt rode up slightly, revealing her skin again. She really needed a size upgrade. I mean, I certainly didn’t mind, but there was no way she could be comfortable, particularly with her shirt clinging to every roll and showing every fold as she lumbered toward the door. She was already on her way out, with her shirt showing about three inches of prime small of back real estate. She shouted over her shoulder on her way out:

“Please put all relevant paperwork on my desk for when we return!”

And she was gone.

Everyone was kinda bewildered, including me. While the others were likely wondering what the story was with this ineffective new trainer we’d been landed with, trying to determine whether it would be beneficial in the long haul to just breeze through our training period taking ninety minute lunches, I was thinking of only one thing.

I was going to make that girl mine.

In my head, it had already happened. I came home from work, my ritzy job as a Hollywood lawyer, a Bay Street fat cat, the show runner of the hippest show on television, a Vegas crooner, something that earned me a nuclear fuckton of money, something I would never actually achieve, I arrived at the home in my head, loosening my tie, and shouted out, “Honey, I’m home!”

And I heard:

In my head, it had already happened. I came home from work, my ritzy job as a Hollywood lawyer, a Bay Street fat cat, the show runner of the hippest show on television, a Vegas crooner, something that earned me a nuclear fuckton of money, something I would never actually achieve, I arrived at the home in my head, loosening my tie, and shouted out, “Honey, I’m home!”

And I heard:

“Oh baby, I missed you so much!”

Or:

“Did you bring any pizza?”

Or:

“Where the fuck have you been? I need food!”

Or:

“Fuck me! Right now!”

Or:

“BRAAAAP”

And I made my way down my double-wide hallway, through my double-wide doorway, and saw my double-wide wife perched up in her double-wide adjustable bed, resting comfortably on her quadruple-wide ass cheeks, belly resting like a boulder on her lap, arms as thick as most thighs, sauce around her lips, or maybe ice cream, yes, ice cream, and I took her in, and no matter what the first thing I did was, whether it was fuck her or feed her or rub her or some combination of two or all three at once, whatever I did, I was happy. Ecstatic. Jubilant. On cloud nine. Over the fucking moon. In my head.

If any woman could ever actually make these thoughts become reality, it was Jocelyn.

[acadm]

brilliant; i just love how "raw" you portray Jocelyn, her belching and her seeming disregard, against the confused trainees; really captivated by this, looking forward to the next part

[Propp Matt]

Good work!
One of the absolutely best stories ever!

[Uncle Jack]

But while I was locked away inside my thoughts, other people were already up and heading out of the drab windowless training room. I wasn’t the first one out. I needed to follow Jocelyn, to find out where she was heading, to see if I could have lunch for her! That was something I could not miss.

I bolted up from my chair and raced to the door. I elbowed my way past the guy and the girl ahead of me. They gave me dirty looks but I didn’t care. I had a mission.

Turns out I needn’t have been so worried. When I turned the corner out of the doorway, I saw Jocelyn’s big fat ass bouncing up and down as she ponderously made her way for the lobby. She didn’t take up the whole hallway in terms of brushing the walls with her hips. She wasn’t near that fat. But she was definitely too fat for anyone to pass without making full body contact with her. She effectively blocked up the hallway with her large voluptuous body, and despite the determination she had conveyed in leaving the room, she was moving pretty leisurely. The message seemed to be: I do not go much faster than this voluntarily. I got up pretty close to her so I could really admire the contours of her shelf butt. VPL: Visible Panty Line. It scrunched up and cut into her ass fat. Clearly, if I could have ripped her pants off right now, I would have seen fully half of her fat smackable cheeks hanging out of her outgrown panties. And the small of her back was not small at all. It was a wide expanse of mercilessly white blubbery skin.

God, when was the last time Jocelyn had bought new clothes? Did she have anything that fit? If this is what she chose to wear on her first day, to make her first impression, what did the rest of her wardrobe look like? And was she oblivious? Or did she just not care? Or was it somewhere between the two? Confident, knowing she was fat, not knowing how fat? Not knowing was driving me mad, and I made a mental note that I had to have a real conversation with her at the meal and not just voyeur and eyefuck her the whole time, or I would enter Creep territory, and what the word Slut is to women, Creep is to men. If she ever saw me as a Creep, I would be dead to her. I wouldn’t stand a chance.

People behind me were grumbling about how slowly we were all going. As we passed the break room, a few turned off to get things from the fridge and read through whatever papers had accumulated in the break room. The rest of us continued following our fat leader until we reached the exit. She opened the door and walked right out, neglecting to hold the door open for me, but I caught it on the back swing.

The centre was located on the top floor, along with other office and empty office spaces for lease, of a small mall. The mall looked like it had seen better days. There were a number of empty locations, and what was left wasn’t the height of commerce. A hair salon, a dentist’s office, another hair salon, a little coffee place, one clothing store that seemed to market toward 40 year old women, a bank, a convenience store, and a drug store. Oh, and restaurants.

There was a pub, serving all the greasy and boozy things a pub will serve, named The Blue Dingo. There was a Middle Eastern place that looked pretty good, named Tarboosh. There was a coffee shop that seemed to have a wide assortment of pastries and treats, named Cocoa Bomb. There was a healthy deli kinda place, with smoothies and salads and pita wraps and such, named Wrap It Up. And there was a Subway.

As Jocelyn made her way to the stairs, I gathered up my nerve, quickened my pace and started walking beside her. I steadied myself, made sure I could not pre-emptively detect a quaver in my voice, and spoke:

“Hey Jocelyn.”

She spun around and stopped in her tracks, gasping.

“Oh, you startled me!”

“Jeez, sorry, didn’t mean to.”

“I didn’t hear you approach.”

“I’m a ninja.”

“Really?”

“No.”

“Well, at least you save money not having to buy swords.”

“Yeah. Say, I was hoping I could tag along with you for lunch, if you don’t mind. I’m not really sure what’s supposed to be good.”

“Yeah, sure. I was just planning on hitting up Subway. You know what Subway tastes like, right?”

“Yeah. Tastes like Subway.”

“Nah, that’s cool though. We can eat at the Blue Dingo.”

“Sounds good. A place named after a non-existent animal can’t be bad.”

“Oh, it’s so good,” said Jocelyn, as we started down the stairs. I let her go ahead of me, to get a downward view of her luscious ass. It jiggled slightly as her feet hit the steps.

“Good is great!”

“I didn’t get a chance to have breakfast this morning. Normally I wouldn’t have broken for lunch so early. Seriously, you can’t tell anyone, it’s super against the rules.”

“No worries. Why no breakfast?”

“Well, it’s my first day on this new schedule. I’m used to starting at 12, rolling out of bed at 9, having something to eat and watching some TV. Just a more relaxed schedule all around. I barely made it to work today. Woke up without much time to spare. Ran a comb through my hair, threw some clothes on and hopped in the car.”

“You have a car?”

We stepped out of the stairwell, Jocelyn holding the door for me.

“Gentlemen first.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, my dad gave me a car when I moved out. I know how that sounds, but he picked it up for a grand from a client who felt he owed him a favour. A 2004 Malibu. I can’t believe it’s still running. My life is basically in that car. It’s a mess, but I love it.”

The Blue Dingo was visible from the stairwell, across the way and a few doors down. Jocelyn started her enthusiastic semi-waddle over.

“Come on, slowpoke! I’m starving!”

I easily overtook her and held open the door to the Blue Dingo. She flashed me a brilliant white smile. Her mouth looked exceptionally wide, so that I could see teeth all the way to the molars. I couldn’t help but wonder how much she was gonna pack away.

“Ladies first.”

“Why thank you kind sir!”

She smacked her lips and the look of hunger was so clear on her face that I thought she might even start drooling. She brushed her hips against me as she entered, and my free hand briefly brushed against her revealed love handle. The feel of her soft perfect skin made me want to jump her right there, but she didn’t seem to notice. With single-minded determination, Jocelyn entered the Blue Dingo for a ninety minute lunch, and I followed.

[Propp Matt]

Ireally like this story! Very nice and detailed description of the lovely trainer.
Eagerly waiting for next sequel.

[Uncle Jack]

I've been very busy, I'm hoping to write some more this weekend. I don't know why the last installment didn't format into larger font, I'll try to do my own formatting the next time I post.

[Coop]

Liking what I see. Keep it up.

[Uncle Jack]

We picked a booth near the entrance because Jocelyn, quote, “wanted to get eating.” She squeezed herself into the booth. She wasn’t so big that she couldn’t fit, but she did have to position herself just right to get in comfortably, mostly because her big ass skewed her body so that she took up more room than another similarly-fattened girl would who was less rumpy. She really did concentrate her weight down below. She had big hips, a big butt, big thighs. She oofed each time she jerked her massive butt over in the booth until she was positioned in front of her placemat, engines ready. That butt must have weighed a ton; she seemed to have trouble moving it along.

The waitress came right over. There was literally no one else in the pub, because of the time of day presumably, and also because it was kind of out of the way for casual morning drinking.

“Hey, how you guys doing today?”

Jocelyn wasted no time.

“I’ll have a chocolate mint milkshake and twenty chicken wings, ten honey mustard, ten tnt, to start. And a tower of onion rings. Oh, and nachos! Hey,” to me, “would you like some nachos? They bring a lot.”

“Ummmmm… kay?”

“Nachos then. With chicken and extra sour cream.”

I was amazed, but the waitress must have been familiar with Jocelyn, because she simply raced to take down the speedy order.

“And for you?”

“Uh, just a water for now.”

“Okay, be right back!”

“Make it quick!” yelled Jocelyn and laughed. The waitress laughed too, but it sounded hollow.

We made small talk waiting for food. Jocelyn kept swiveling her head around, craning her neck to see if any food was heading our way yet. We were talking about tv shows or something when the waitress brought our drinks over, a cool glass of water for me, and a giant milkshake for Jocelyn. She yoinked the milkshake glass from the waitress’s hand, not letting her set it down before thrusting the straw between her lips and sucking away at her creamy treat. The waitress set down the metal mixing container holding the rest of the shake, and placed my ice water in front of me, with condensation already formed and dripping three drips down the side.

Jocelyn was incommunicado while she sucked away at her milkshake. I watched as she drained the whole glass dry. She came up for air with a smack of her lips.

“Mmm! So so good! You shoulda got one, they make them the best here!”

“I’m more of a water guy.”

“Not me. I’m a milkshake girl.”

As she went to pour the rest of her shake from the metal mixing container into her glass, our waitress materialized from nowhere like some junk food genie, carrying a tower of onion rings and a bundle of chicken wings. She placed them before Jocelyn, who accepted her bounty like a queen accepting a pittance.

“Oooh yeah, that’s the stuff!” She swiped an onion ring with a pudgy hand and crammed it into her mouth. “Hey,” she said, mouth full, “where are the nachos?”

“They’ll be out in a flash.”

“I sure hope so!”

The waitress, with the faintest hint of disgust in her body language, left Jocelyn to her gorging. In true O.G. grazing style, Jocelyn would have herself a ring, then have herself a wing, ring, wing, back and forth, even alternating between honey mustard and TNT on the wing turn. She squirted a puddle of ketchup onto her plate, so even her rings alternated, ketchup, no ketchup, ketchup, no ketchup.

RING (K) » WING (HM) » RING (NK) » WING (TNT) : REPEAT TO COMPLETION

And Jocelyn did repeat to completion, eating and eating until everything was all gone. She had wing sauce all over her fingers, around her mouth, and some on her right cheek. She had not once offered me a bite of what was supposed to be the shared appetizers, and I did not ask, because I wanted to see her make an utter pig of herself, because I couldn’t believe I was seeing it, and because I was slightly afraid of offending her. Or worse. Watching the way she ate, methodically, with such joy, sucking up food like a Dirt Devil sucks up dust, I got the distinct impression, however crazy and irrational, that if angered, she could take a bite out of me. I don’t mean in a sexy nibble-on-your-nipple way. I mean cannibalistically.

She was moaning and sucking the sauce off her fingers when the plate of nachos, which seemed big enough to make crop circles with, was brought over by our waitress, who seemed to have beamed in a la Star Trek, the way she silently conveyed food to our table. Her biceps were bulging out of their short sleeves as she landed the outsized nacho plate on our meager little table. She then began picking up Jocelyn’s empty plates.

“Was it good?”

“Great as always!” said Jocelyn.

“Um… yeah,” I said.

“I’m going to have the Bacon Buster,” blurted Jocelyn. I was stunned. More food? After all this?

“With fries?”

“Yep! And I’ll have a Coke with that too.”

“Pepsi fine?”

“Pepsi’s cool.”

“And for you?”

“I guess I’ll have,” I slowly said, “the BLT.”

“Fries?”

“Salad.”

“Anything to drink?”

“Water’s fine.”

The waitress went back to wherever waitresses go, and Jocelyn was tucking into the nachos. She was holding a hunk of cheesy chickeny nacho chip mess, so cheesy in fact that she was holding it in both hands so that it wouldn’t fall apart. She shoved it into her mouth. Her cheeks were bulging like a chipmunk’s as she liberally applied the extra thing of sour cream all over the top of the appetizer.

“Gnhd. Hfzm.”

“Huh?”

Jocelyn chewed in an exaggerated fashion and swallowed her massive mouthful.

“Go ahead. Have some! I ordered them for the both of us!”

I took a single chip and dipped it in some salsa. I was hungry, but I was more interested in seeing how much Jocelyn could put away.

She was a machine putting food in her mouth with one hand while picking up food with the other. At one point she spilled some sour cream down the front of her shirt, right on her left breast, but she was so caught up in her gluttonous ecstasy to notice. I ate a chip here, a chip there, to give the impression that I was eating my share, as she would occasionally look up from the plate and across the table at me, smiling her pretty smile while filling her fat self with victuals. Her shirt rode up her belly as she packed said belly with pounds of food. Her double chin kept wobbling as she kept eating.

The nacho plate slowly decreased until, with the exception of the couple dozen chips I had eaten myself, it was nothing but a few spare leavings. This plate, meant to be shared among a group of three to six diners, had been devoured by the pig across the table from me. She was picking the carcass clean, lazily reaching over with one hand and picking up the little bits of cheese, chicken and onions attached to the tinfoil. She had eaten herself into a stupor. Her eyes were half shut as she picked the remains clean. She remained utterly motionless, except for the arm mechanically placing little tasty bits between her lips. Finally, finally, every scrap of food, everything remotely food-like, was removed from the plate. To top it off, she picked up the last little thing of sour cream and stuck her pinky in it. She swirled it around and extricated her finger, placing it in front of her mouth as her tongue emerged from its hidey-hole and licked the pinky clean, in what seemed like slow motion to me. Then she sat back, fat and bloated, boobs heaving, belly surging in and out with every labored heavy breath, and proceeded to hiccup.

I had never been so turned on in my life.

“Well,” she said, quietly, “those (hic) nachos didn’t (hic) stand a chance with us (hic), huh?”

Did she think I had actually helped? Or was she joking?

“You bet. They sure were good.”

“I’ve had better.” I never would have guessed, the way she demolished them. “But yeah (hic), they’re good.”

She went back to the long delayed task of drinking the rest of her milkshake. She didn’t bother with transporting it into the glass, or with a straw for that matter. She was past such pleasantries, as she just tilted the cold metal conveyance up into her mouth and chugged. After a few seconds, she placed it down. Ice cream now mingled with the chicken wing sauce, salsa, and sour cream that was on her face. A drop dripped off her chin onto her shirt. She placed her cute pale hand on her bloated beast of a belly and –

“BUUUUURRRRRRRP!”

That was the moment our server came back, holding our entrees.

“I hope you’re hungry,” she said.

[MadPie]

very well done! :) i am going to read this again and again!

[acadm]

extraordinary; please continue, i find myself salivating at the next part, I don't care how that sounds, the story is that damn sexy and brilliant and every other positive word; and your other story is fantastic as well, pizza with katie

[Uncle Jack]

The waitress placed the Bacon Buster platter down, with the tall glass of Coke next to it, and my decidedly meagre sandwich/salad platter. She bustled away without saying a word, seemingly eager to be done with us for the time being. She did seem to eye the mess on Jocelyn’s face for a split second, but it may have been my imagination.

Jocelyn sighed and grunted.

“I don’t know if I can eat all this. (burp) It looks pretty good though, huh?”

“Yeah, tasty tasty.” It did look really good, an excellent example of a greasy tasty bacon burger.

Jocelyn smacked her lips.

“I’ll eat what I can and take the rest to go. That’s a good idea, right?”

“Oh yeah. Just eat whatever you can.” Eat up, fatty. Eat.

Jocelyn slowly raised the burger to her lips, fully grasped in one hand. She took a slow methodical bite. She moaned with her mouth utterly full. She looked right at me and rolled her eyes. She said something, but I didn’t catch it at all. All I caught was seafood (or rather, see-food).

“What’s that?”

She chewed, chewed, chewed, swallowed.

“This is sooooo good!”

“Can I try a bite?”

Her face darkened.

“No way. Get your own!”

She took a couple quick angry bites, as if I was going to snatch it out of her hand. She was such a greedy pig that her cheeks were bulging out like a chipmunk. A little piece of bacon was poking out of her mouth. She pushed it back in with her pudgy index finger.

With her burger in her right hand, her left hand grabbed two or three fries at a time. She alternated between burger and fries, burger and fries. She grunted like an ape while gesturing with her elbow at the bottle of ketchup. I poured a little puddle of ketchup on available space on her plate, while she continued eating.

“Ngoo,” she said. Thank you, she meant.

I was admittedly hungry myself, so I picked up half my BLT and ate, but my focus was completely on Jocelyn. She brushed some hair out of her face before plucking up two more fries and cramming them in her mouth. Her double chin wobbled as she busily chewed. She wasn’t eating as quickly as the sonic pace she had consumed the appetizers, but she made up for lack of speed with diligence.

We sat there, not speaking, the only sound being Jocelyn noisily munching. She pushed the last bite of burger, which was really more like a bite and three-quarters, into her wide open mouth. Her mouth was unusually big, optimally suited to stuffing oneself with as much as possible.

I finished half my BLT as she swallowed the last of her massive meat sandwich. She dragged the Coke across the tabletop, leaving a path of perspiration, and maneuvered the straw in her mouth. She had to bend her spine a bit, which seemed uncomfortable for her, as it scrunched her fat full belly a bit. I wondered why she didn’t just pick up the glass. Maybe she was just tired of having to pick things up.

She drained half her Coke and when she came up for air, she let loose a five second belch that vibrated the table. I could smell a faint mix of Coke and burger from my side of the table.

Jocelyn laughed and waved a hand in front of her mouth.

“Oh jeez, sorry about that! How embarrassing!”

She didn’t seem particularly embarrassed though, as she slowly picked away at her fries, just eating one at a time now. A rush of blood ran through me as I admired her mix of hedonism and confidence. She still had food around her mouth, on her chin, and on her shirt. In fact, a couple dollops of ketchup had found their way onto her white shirt, which was pretty much ruined at this point.

We talked about this and that while she finished her fries. Tv shows we liked, stupid things our friends had done, where we lived, how long we had lived in the city. Jocelyn was a great conversationalist, funny and interesting, a great storyteller while also showing the appropriate amount of interest in what I had to say. If I needed further proof that her niceties did not extend to food, she piped up with:

“Are you gonna eat that?”

She was pointing at the other half of my sandwich. While we were chatting, I had been poking around at my garden salad and sipping at my water, and hadn’t touched my sandwich. I had been enjoying our talk so much, I had forgotten to eat. I had gotten so used to Jocelyn talking with her mouth semi-full that I hadn’t even noticed she had cleaned up every single fry from her plate. She was eyeing my sandwich greedily. Apparently, since I hadn’t devoured it within minutes of receiving it, I wasn’t planning on eating it at all. My initial reaction was anger; she hadn’t even let me have a bite of her burger, she had eaten like a fat fucking pig, and now she wanted to take food out of my mouth? But the anger only lasted for a second, if that, as a barely perceptible blast of emotion that sent endorphins through my body. Those endorphins, and the thoughts that lead to them, made me feel horny all over again. This fat girl can’t stop eating, won’t stop eating, does not want to stop eating, so who am I to deny her a satisfied stomach?

“No, go ahead and-“

Before I had finished, Jocelyn had hooked the edge of my plate with her index finger, dragged my plate over to her side, and started scarfing down on my sandwich. She dealt with it handily and started sucking off her fingers, cleaning them of any traces of food. I didn’t want to take the chance that she would take my veggies away, so I ate the rest of my salad very quickly, so that I would have something in my stomach for later. She certainly seemed less interested in the healthy stuff, but I was willing to guess that with Jocelyn, food was food.

Jocelyn sat back, huge and bloated, filling up her side of the booth. She patted her stomach and it made a THUMP. She was packed full. She looked down at her shirt.

“Oh no, I got food all over myself. Guess I was a little too eager. I’m not like this all the time, I swear.”

Oh, I bet. “Of course not, you said you didn’t have breakfast.”

“You don’t have a problem with how much I ate, do you? I know some people too, but I’ve never really bothered with counting calories or anything. I get plenty of exercise normally, so I’m good.”

That exercise comment came out of left field. To judge by her pudgy face, shirt-straining boobs, and globular gut, Jocelyn wasn’t much for exercising. She started hiccupping bad, and letting out little burps, as she processed her enormous meal.

“Excuse me,” she said.

“That’s okay. You just had a really big- um, a really good meal. It’s natural to burp after a big meal.”

Her eyes went wide and she smiled.

“I know, right? God, some people are so uppity about it. My mother, for one. Always telling me to be more ladylike. Ladylike, what a stupid word. This isn’t Mad Men, I’m not Betty Draper. Women burp, just like men.”

“Totally. It really isn’t a big deal.”

“Personally, I’m kinda proud about my belching. It’s so cool that you’re cool with it, it’s a little pet peeve of mine, the way women think we should hide our natural human imperfections. My friend Natalie is like that, she became a total health nut and gets on my case whenever I have something that isn’t a salad. You gotta live, y’know?”

With her newfound confidence in me, she sipped at the last of her Coke. She then let out three forceful belches and laughed heartily.

“Personally,” she said, “I think burps are awesome. And a great cure for the hiccups.”

The waitress came over and cleaned up. She really looked over Jocelyn, the piggish mess she had made of herself, and the tightness of her lips made me think she was holding her disgust in with full restraint.

“Did you enjoy your food?” she asked.

“Oh yeah, it was delicious. BURRRRP.”

The waitress did not seem amused by Jocelyn’s noisy rudeness.

“Will that be one bill, or two?”

“Hold on,” said Jocelyn, “first I’m going to get dessert.”

[runningman]

Best thing I've read on here - or anywhere for that matter - in quite awhile.

Bravo. Looking forward to more. :bow:

[acadm]

is this something, or is this something...i love these kinds of stories, right to the point, you know what your customers want and you give it to them, without any extraneous garbage; please keep going, i want to see what dessert she gets, and how the guy with the glasses and the rest of the trainees will react to jocelyn when she gets back to the classroom/meeting hall place...

[MadPie]

you can't say no to dessert!

:eat2:

[Richard1955]

There's so much to admire - your handling of dialogue is fabulous - the physical descriptions are remarkable- and I think the description of the training center, the shopping center, the looks and comments of those at the training center sound completely drawn from life. What a pleasure!

[acadm]

is this the end of the story? re-reading it again, this one is on par with "coming home" in the general archives, and other greats; had to bump this up so it stays in the rotation, up top where it belongs

[Uncle Jack]

Not the end of the story at all. Just been very busy, and haven't had time to write more. Don't worry.

[Uncle Jack]

The fork hit the clean plate with a clang. Jocelyn had polished off a wedge of New York style cheesecake, drenched in chocolate sauce, and then licked her plate clean.

“Mmm mmm. Really good cheesecake,” she said. She started shifting around in her seat.

“Something wrong?” I asked.

“I dropped my purse under the table. Could you get it for me?”

“Sure.”

I slid my torso down to get under the table and, sure enough, there was Jocelyn’s purse. There was also Jocelyn’s big gut, poking out of her shirt, looking absolutely stuffed with the meal she had. It bulged onto her lap, spreading on her thighs, and her belly button was exposed. Her big thighs and fat ass spread out in the booth, making her look like a real wide load. A hand dove down from above the table and began rubbing her belly in tiny circles. I wanted to stay submerged in that undertable ocean forever, but I forced myself up, taking the purse with me. On the surface, I was greeted by Jocelyn grinning from ear to ear. She looked very satisfied with herself, her double chin bunching up, her eyes relaxed and drooping.

“Nothing like a good meal. I was feeling like this day was going to be terrible, but now it’s shaping up to be pretty good.”

She hiccupped and sighed.

“I’m going to head to the washroom,” she said.

She started moving herself, but incredibly, her belly was lodged against the table, making it very difficult for her to move. She grunted and exerted herself, her breasts and upper arms jiggling as she slowly moved herself along. I got up out of my chair, sensing an opportunity.

“Need a hand?” I asked, extending an arm.

“Yeah, thanks,” she said, grabbing my hand for help.

I tugged and tugged, but it was no use. Her hefty bulk was not that easily moved. I thrust out my other arm and now, both of my hands holding both of her hands, I began to move her pudgy body out of the booth.

“On the count of three,” I said, “push yourself out with all your might.”

“You got it.”

“1… 2… 3!”

She popped out of the booth and fell into me. She almost bowled me over, but I held my ground. Her soft belly came into contact with my crotch, and I thought I was going to faint or turn into a werewolf or something, but still I stayed on my feet.

Jocelyn blushed, the red filling her pale cheeks and making her freckles stand out.

“Sorry about that. Jeez, that was a tight squeeze. Can you hand me my purse?”

I picked her purse off my chair and gave it to her. Her shirt was riding up, and when she stretched her arms above her head, her belly lifted so that I could see a faint bit of her panties.

“Back in a flash,” she said as she lumbered off to the ladies’ room. I watched her hustle her big butt off to the back of the bar. While I stood around, the waitress brought the bill over.

“Here you go,” she said brusquely, happy to be rid of us, I could tell. I surveyed the damage as she strode away; it was one bill, not two. My first instinct was to rush after the waitress and get the charges split, seeing as Jocelyn had eaten something like nine-tenths of the food. But I quickly thought better of that. How better to get in a girl’s good graces then to pay for lunch? Especially a girl like Jocelyn, to whom food was clearly so very important. I went up to the till and put it on my Visa.

Jocelyn came back, face cleaned of food and shirt tugged down as far as it could go, which still left a pale sliver of skin.

“You shoulda told me I had food all over my face! I looked like a ghoul!”

“Nah, you looked fine.”

“Kinda embarrassing.”

“Trust me, you looked fine.”

“If you say so.”

She cradled her stomach in her dainty hands.

“We better (braap) get going back. Did she come with the bill?”

“Yeah, I got it covered.”

“You didn’t have to do that. I totally would have paid my share.”

“Well, don’t worry about it. This one’s on me.”

Jocelyn gave me a saucy look, her eyes widening. She smiled and the tip of her red tongue licked her philtrum. I don’t know what angel touched her, but my guess is it was the Patron Saint of Gluttons.

“You can pay for me anytime. A girl could get used to that!”

She burped with her mouth closed, but it was bigger than she must have expected, because it increased in force and volume until her mouth was forced open. She laughed uproariously and slapped her thigh, causing her leg meat to wobble in its tight denim confines.

“Awesome! Alright, we better get back.”

She left the Blue Dingo, gut first, cradling said gut in her hands, burping and hiccupping as she digested. She shook her raven hair from her face as she passed me by. She looked incredibly wide as I watched her pass me in side profile. Her massive butt cheeks shook and thumped as she opened the door. She held it open for me, and shot a look over her shoulder, her cheek looking very chubby and her double chin bunching up around her face. She looked fat, she looked foxy, and if I wasn’t mistaken, she looked horny.

“You coming, or what?”

I followed her out of the Dingo. I walked beside her over to the stairs. I couldn’t wait to witness her make her way back up the stairwell, but around the corner was an elevator that I hadn’t noticed on my way in that morning.

“Nah, don’t take the stairs,” said Jocelyn, “I am way too full to bother with that shit.”

We waited for the elevator and I felt she was standing closer to me than she necessarily needed to. Occassionally, her fat hip would swing into me. I would look over at her, and she would already be looking at me, very intently. We did this a few times, and when we got on the elevator, the silence was palpable. I thought maybe about leaning in and kissing her, just sticking my tongue in her throat, damn the consequences. But of course I pussied out and did nothing. If I kissed her and she rejected me, I would be crushed. And even if she kissed me back, she was supposed to be my trainer. And we had just met! Things like this just don’t happen and so of course, since I thought that, it didn’t. This is the most that happened.

“I’ll try to (burp) make the (BURP) afternoon go by as quickly as possible. Maybe we’ll play some games or something. Whatever.”

She pounded on her chest a couple times and erupted with a juicy one. Need I add that her breasts joggled in her top and too-small bra while she was slapping herself? Because that totally happened too.

“Excuse me. Oh right,” she said with a titter, “I don’t have to excuse myself. You’re cool.”

The elevator opened and she got off, heading for the call centre, taking her beach ball buttocks with her. I stood behind a minute, so stupefied that the doors actually began to shut with me still inside the pulley-powered glass coffin. I was cool.

I was cool!

[Propp Matt]

Hey, You really are a good writer! Love your detailed descriptions of the lazy self-indulging beauty.

//Matt

[acadm]

best story in a long, long while - please keep it coming, the imagery and dialogue are fabulous - can you imagine if this was a TV show?

[Uncle Jack]

Everyone in the training room was agog at the state of Jocelyn. She was stuffed to the brim, her massive gut bulging much more than previously, and looking particularly solid with all the food packed within. The afternoon up until break was spent with Jocelyn seated, going through Powerpoint presentations and spiels about products and company policy. We were supposed to do a tour of the production floor, but she claimed that ‘today wasn’t right’. She wasn’t fooling anybody; she was too lazy to even get out of her chair. When our second break came along (which felt like forever, seeing as our lunch had ended so early in the day), she sluggishly rose from her chair and went off somewhere at a snail’s pace. I declined to follow, as much as I wanted to, because I figured I should ease off a bit, not to come off too eager or, worse, creepy.

With her huge appetite assuaged, Jocelyn spent the rest of the day, aside from the fifteen minute break, seated in her chair, being aggressively immobile. Her stained white shirt would occasionally ride up as she gesticulated with a fleshy forearm about this, that or the other. I studied her from my chair the way some people study works of Greek sculpture. I wanted to memorize every bulge, every roll, every curve of her body. I wanted to retain a photographic image in my head of the bob of her hair, the twinkle of her eyes, the roundness of her cheeks, the slenderness of her nose juxtaposed with the plumpness of her neck and chin. Her beautiful skin was a shade of off-white that I tagged and ID’ed in my head as Jocelyn white, or maybe Jocelyn eggshell. I’m sure this is ludicrous and racially ignorant, but she had the kind of body I did not usually associate with a white girl. Fat, yeah, sure, plenty of fat white girls; not very many with such defined curves. Even if she was ‘thin’, which I found it hard to believe she ever could have been, she would have had a huge bubble butt and jiggly eye-catching knockers. She would have had the kind of exaggerated Marilyn Monroe figure that had men falling over their own erections. Instead, I seemed to be the only person in this class to show any interest in her as a sexual being. And I had never seen a more sexual being in my life.

As Jocelyn had alluded to, we did spend the period after the last break basically playing games, like hangman, trivia, and word puzzles. We then spent the last half hour in free-for-all discussion, which got pretty loud and unruly. Through it all, Jocelyn maintained her spot at the front of the room, filling out her chair with her enormity, occasionally hiccupping, or holding her hand to her mouth to stifle some tiny digestive belch. For the last ten minutes, she closed her eyes and actually seemed to fall asleep. I suppose a meal that size would make anyone sleepy.

Four o’clock came and everybody went.

“See you tomorrow,” I said to Jocelyn, on my way out of the room.

“Yeah, tomorrow.”

“You staying here?” She was making no moves to leave.

“I have to have a meeting with my supervisor, just discuss how my first day went training, stuff like that. I won’t get to leave for awhile, like another half hour. It totally sucks, I just wanna go home and nap.”

“Well, make sure you don’t mention the long lunch.”

She whispered and giggled.

“Don’t say anything! The walls have ears!”

I said goodbye again and walked out. I afforded myself one last peek over my shoulder. She was bent over some paperwork, filling out a form. Her shirt rode up the back and her pants rode down her butt. Her panties stuck out, alluringly. One thing I’ve always admired about fat girls is how often they have to adjust their clothing, always tugging at their shirts and pulling up on the waist of their pants. All of that sexy flab is fighting for freedom, moving around imperceptibly inside the confines of the wardrobe. I knew just how it felt. I wanted to see Jocelyn out of her confining clothes too.

I let that image linger as I went home, taking the bus, thinking of her the whole way. The image was just starting to fade as I got in the door, kicked off my shoes, and ran to my bedroom, shutting the door behind me and pleasuring myself, until I was tired and fell asleep. When I woke up, it was dark out and I was starving. I thought of Jocelyn, and how unreal she seemed now that I was back in my familiar apartment. I had a slight worry run through me: she wouldn’t be there tomorrow, or for any of the future training classes. She was too good to be true. I let the feeling pass, but I couldn’t deny that the day had certainly been special.

And, of course, she was there the next day.

[acadm]

the weird thing is that from the start, I thought Jocelyn was - and still view her as being - Chinese or Korean American, while the narrator was white...might have had to do with that "China doll" reference...

[Uncle Jack]

Huh, didn't think of that. By China doll, I meant old dolls made out of glazed porcelain. Funnily enough, they usually depicted white women, as they were mostly a nineteenth century Europe thing.

View her however you want though. Whatever floats your boat!

[acadm]

Well it's great still; please continue

[acadm]

not to insult you or anything, cause we are all busy, but maybe you should have done like that other guy did and written the whole story out first, corrections and all, then post all of it in like one day or something, like a movie, instead of piecemeal like a serial...but we are all still on the edge of our seats, rest assured

[Coop]

I've just read this and I love it. The explainations are perfect!

[Uncle Jack]

Other guy???

Anyway, I post the sections when they're completed. I'm not sitting on finished stuff and posting snippets when I feel like it. I literally haven't gotten to the next part yet.

Glad to read positive feedback though, it's what keeps me coming back.

[acadm]

so how are things going man. okay I hope. the waiting is the hardest part, like if you have to wait for the result of some medical test to come back, it's like the time just slows down to a crawl

[Gendo Ikari]

This story is highly addictive. Need moar

[mouse]

wow so fantastic!

[acadm]

Sooooo...is the story over, or is there hopefully more to come?

[B00TS]

acadm - patience man! These things take time...

[acadm]

yes, sadly, they do take time. which is good! but for those who need to do something while they wait, though, i suggest you go to www.dailymotion.com, turn off the family filter, register and sign in, and search for someone named vanessabbw, and watch her videos there - specifically this one http://www.dailymotion.com/video/xgs4fp_flummy-bbw-vanessa_sexy

[acadm]

long layoff - what's the haps, mister writer man? in the interim, the lions and packers are 5 and oh, the nba season is in jeopardy, hockey got underway, tigers versus texas, and st louis versus milwaukee. hopefully this story doesn't share the nba's fate

[Uncle Jack]

I got to class early the next day. Only one person was there before me, a middle aged lady who exuded sadness from her pores. I was a keener so that I could spend more time with Jocelyn. She showed up right after I sat down, wearing a green tank top with a black bra underneath, and tight lululemon yoga pants. Those tights must have been more comfortable than jeans, with their restrictive denim and unforgiving buttons. Even still, these tights were mercilessly tight, showing off every little jiggle of her flab.

I went up to talk to her before class, drinking in as much of her as I could. She had eaten breakfast that morning (“Thank God, I actually woke up early enough to grab McDonald’s in the car on the way over!”) and so, after everyone from the class had shown up, things went much more routinely. We took a break in the morning, during which I volunteered to get Jocelyn’s snack for her.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” she said, while already sitting her big butt back down.

“Don’t worry about it. You sit easy, I’ll get it for you.”

“Okay!”

With only the most minimal persuasion, she dug out her wallet, gave me instructions on exactly which six items to get for her, and flashed me a toothy smile. I brought back everything on her list, plus an extra bag of dill pickle chips.

“I didn’t ask for dill pickle chips,” she said petulantly.

“I paid for them myself. A well-fed trainer is a happy trainer, right?”

She sort of blushed, and stammered a thank you right before shoving chocolate-covered peanuts into her face.

At lunch (today at our regularly scheduled time), Jocelyn wasn’t quite so quick to leave the room. She slowly got up from her chair, and I could see little rips in the inner thighs of her tights. She hung around the front of the room.

“Hey Dave, you wanna join me for lunch? I’m meeting up with my friend Tiffany at the Subway.”

I agreed, of course, and in no time, we were entering the food court Subway. A small mousy girl with chunky glasses waved both hands at us.

“Tiffany, meet Dave. Dave, Tiffany. I’m gonna get some grub.”

Jocelyn waddled over to the checkout line to pick up her food. I made small talk with Tiffany.

“So, how long have you known Jocelyn?”

“Oh, we were both in the same training class when we started.”

“You work at the centre too?”

“Yeah, I’m still up on the floor. I applied to the trainer job too, but Jocelyn got it.”

“She had the skills to pay the bills.”

“Yeah, well,” here Tiffany leaned toward me, conspiratorially, “Joss is a dear friend, so don’t tell her I told you, but… I heard the people in charge of the decision wanted her off the phones.”

“Was she no good? Why not just fire her?”

“Oh, she was good, good with the customers, good at sales. Good at her job basically. But…” Tiffany glanced over at Jocelyn, who was bouncing her butt up and down impatiently as she demanded more veggies on her sandwich, “She had this problem she just couldn’t shake. She would eat while she was on the phone.”

“Oh?” Intriguing.

“You’re really not supposed to eat up there at all. Let alone when you’re actually on the phone with someone. But she would just load up on snacks, sandwiches, you name it. One week it was chocolate covered pretzels every hour of every day. Another week, I swear, she ate chicken nuggets. Had dipping sauces and everything.”

“Wow.”

“She would be chewing while she was talking with people, talking with her mouth full. Like, you could hear it. People would ask her about it. Some would ask her to please stop eating, and she would just straight up lie, say she wasn’t eating, say there must be some disturbance on the line or something.”

“She never got in trouble for that?”

“Oh, she did. Several times, she got reprimanded. And she would stop for awhile. But inevitably, she would complain of hunger pains and slowly start eating again, a little at a time.”

“And so what? They just let her do it every time?”

“Well basically, she was a model employee in every other way. I mean, they had to make a show, to enforce the rules, but weighed against the average performance of the other employees, she still came out way ahead.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing.”

“Tell me about it. We both applied for the trainer job, along with a few other people. I wanted it to make a little more money to help out my sister. She’s a single mom. Joss, well, she wouldn’t say this, but I imagine she just wanted less work to do. Don’t get me wrong, I love her to death, but she’s lazy as shit.”

“So you think they made her trainer to get her off the phones?”

“I’ll put it this way: We submitted our applications, then shortly afterward, Joss was on the phone with a retiree from Calgary. She was chowing down on something, I don’t remember what, and, well, she let out this big honking burp. I’m sure you could hear it over my line and I wasn’t even sitting next to her. It was actually pretty funny, but the old lady got really mad, lodged a complaint against Jocelyn specifically, and then the next day she got the trainer job. Now, what does that sound like to you?”

Sounds like my kinda girl.

Speaking of, she had lumbered back over to us, carrying two subs, a bag full of cookies, and a bottle of orange pop. I thought she would sit next to Tiffany, but instead she sat next to me. I could feel her heavy side pressing into me, forcefully.

“Aren’t you getting anything?” she asked me. I had been so absorbed in the straight dirt Tiffany was giving me that it hadn’t even crossed my mind.

“Um, no. Not hungry, I guess.”

“Don’t go asking for any of mine,” she said, very seriously, as she unwrapped Sub Number One and stuffed it in her face. Bits of vegetables and steak fell from the sandwich onto the table, and even her lap. She ate with a complete lack of restraint or decorum.

“So Tiff,” said Jocelyn, demonstrating what the kids call ‘see-food’, “what were you two talking about?”

“Oh, nothing.”

“Were you flirting? You hot for Dave? Watch out for her, Dave? She’ll pounce!”

Tiffany rolled her eyes.

Tiffany and Jocelyn upheld most of the conversation, talking about people and things at work that I knew nothing about. Tiffany picked at her tuna sub, while Jocelyn had food in her mouth at all times. It didn’t seem to faze Tiffany at all when Jocelyn stuffed the last large bit of steak sub in her mouth and her whole mouth bulged, so that what she said was so indecipherable. Jocelyn snorted and moaned in near sexual ecstasy as she unwrapped her second sub, a chicken bacon club, and prepared it for a similar fate as the first one. Tiffany seemed unfazed by Jocelyn. Clearly, she was used to this sort of gluttonous behaviour. I watched with awe as Jocelyn’s lips bounced around while she chewed, as her doughy arms brought the food up to her mouth, as her chubby cheeks inflated with enormous chunks of bread, meat and cheese.

An amazing thing happened at the end of the meal. Tiffany, a slow eater, still had a little less than half her sub left when Jocelyn crammed the last of her chicken sub into her gullet. Wasting no time, not even swallowing, Jocelyn reached an arm across the table, grabbed Tiffany’s sandwich, and immediately plowed into it. Her first bite was so big that fixings fell out the bottom, draping across her cleavage. Amazingly, Tiffany seemed completely unaffected by this theft. What’s the deal?

“Tfnee sid I cin et hrfud neetie.” Her mouth was so ludicrously full that it was gibberish.

Tiffany translated: “We have an agreement that she can eat my food anytime she wants. I lost a good amount of weight thanks to Jocelyn’s help.”

Jocelyn swallowed and let out a five second belch that rose in intonation and volume until, by the end of it, everyone in the vicinity was staring at her.

“Yep,” said Jocelyn, beaming, “and I think some of that weight ended up on me!”

She resumed devouring her friend’s food. When she finished, she leaned back in her chair and put her hands on her globular belly.

“Ugh, I was already full,” said Jocelyn, “but your sandwich looked so good, Tiff. I just had to have it.”

Jocelyn opened her mouth and a belch effortlessly came out of her. She brushed her hair back with both hands and arched her back, stretching out. Her boobs jutted out like zeppelins. I hadn’t noticed before, maybe because she was sitting across from me, but her cushioned butt made her seem taller than me while sitting. She looked like a greedy raven-haired goddess, sitting next to me with food on her clothes. She looked down, double chin bunching up, and noticed the scraps on her bosoms.

“Clumsy me!” she said. She picked up the bits of food and placed them in her mouth. She then cranked open her orange pop and chugged.

“I was a little overweight when I started here a couple years ago,” said Tiffany, “I was trying to diet and exercise, and Jocelyn came up with the idea of having control over my meals when we’re together. If she wants to, she takes food away from me, and then I eat less.”

Jocelyn belched and sighed. “So much good food. No reason it should go to waste.”

“It’s really helped,” said Tiffany, “I’ve lost 60 pounds.”

“I’ve gained a couple. But it was worth it to help out a friend,” said Jocelyn, seemingly without irony.

It was time to head back. Jocelyn got up, her belly now hanging out of her yoga pants. We began the walk back to work, walking slowly to accommodate Jocelyn’s fat girl shuffle. She was nibbling on her big bag of cookies. I was holding on to her pop for her.

“Y’know, I miss hanging out with you Tiff.”

“But being a trainer is great, right?”

“Oh yeah! It’s super relaxing, and the pay is great.”

I wasn’t sure, but I thought I saw her look at me out of the corner of her eye, for a brief moment, and then dart his look away just as quickly.

“So far,” said Jocelyn, “it’s pretty great. Still, wish you were there Tiff!”

Jocelyn bumped Tiffany playfully with her gargantuan hip. The impact made her giant butt wobble endlessly. Tiffany fell over. Jocelyn clearly didn’t know her own strength. Or rather, her own size.

“Oh Tiff, I’m sorry! Are you okay?”

“Yeah yeah,” said Tiffany, giggling a bit, “I’m fine.”

“Dave, can you help her up?”

I helped Tiffany up while Jocelyn put half a cookie in her mouth. Tiffany confirmed that she was a-ok, and we made our way back to the heart of the call centre.

[acadm]

17,000 plus views on this story is really saying something about the quality of your work; interesting touch adding another woman into the mix, let's see how it unfolds --

[Uncle Jack]

The day passed, as these days do, in a numbing haze of computer screens and trivial sales statistics. The training period at a call centre is designed to dull the pain that comes with having to become a robot for a living. My training period was buoyed by the monumental girl I had a monumental crush on.

After our trip to Subway, Jocelyn spent the rest of the afternoon sitting on her cushiony ass, occasionally snacking on treats she had squirreled away under her desk. She flat out refused to get out of her chair to help anyone. One girl, who clearly had never gotten her high school education, was near in tears because she was having so much recurring trouble with an application. Jocelyn kept brushing her off. “Just ask your neighbour,” she would say, mouth often full of chocolate. At the end of the day, with twenty minutes to go, this girl asked, voice quavering, “Please, Jocelyn, can’t you just please come here and help me with this? I don’t know what I’m doing!”

“It’s really not that difficult,” said Jocelyn, burping the word ‘difficult’.

“But I can’t!”

“Just try again.” Jocelyn put another handful of M&Ms in her mouth and shifted in her chair.

The poor girl gave up and ran out of the room, taking her coat and purse with her. Jocelyn watched her go.

“She’ll be back,” she said confidently, candy-coated chocolates muffling her words.

The next morning, she did not come back. She did not come back any day afterward either.

Jocelyn may have not been the greatest trainer. In fact, she was probably in the bottom of the pecking order. But most people in the class were so desperate for work that there was no way they were going to quit. Most realized how easy the class was with Fatso (as a couple witty wags in the back row had deemed her). They could goof off, text, surf the internet, and not get in any trouble. The girl who left must not have complained to HR, and the people upstairs must not have been monitoring the daily Internet history of the students, because Jocelyn didn’t get in any trouble that week for anything.

On Wednesday and Thursday, Jocelyn brought large assortments of food with her to class. She told me, during afternoon break on Thursday:

“Oh, you noticed that, huh? Well, I always liked having a little snack at work, but it was always kinda difficult. Here, I don’t have anyone breathing down my neck, telling me don’t eat this, don’t eat that. I think it really helps my job performance.”

Quite the opposite. There was the aforementioned refusal to move from her seat, which was exacerbated by the weight of the food that was always bloating her belly. There was the lack of respect she received from the class. If Jocelyn was just going to sit there in ill-fitting clothes, stuffing her fat face, getting food on her clothes, and burping like a bullfrog, then why should they try any harder themselves. There were also the occasions that something was ill-explained due to her words being lost in a haze of chewing and swallowing. Sometimes, she was too lazy to bother explaining things in detail. A notable example was Thursday morning when, in the midst of explaining different service tiers for cable customers, she just stopped and grabbed her big belly. She was wearing a tight red blouse, and the buttons were hanging on for dear life.

“Ugh, I’m sorry, I forgot what I was saying. I’m so hungry. Dave, could you go fetch me something to eat?”

This request startled me, but I wasted no time rushing off to the convenience store, grabbing jerky, chips, Hostess cakes, enough Coke to drown a cat and a big container of honey roasted peanuts. She was so grateful when I returned with the food that she didn’t even bother getting back to the cable tiers. She just started putting the junk food between her pretty lips and told everyone we could have a short ‘in-class’ break, which meant that we couldn’t leave the room, but we could do whatever we wanted. As the weeks went on, we would have more and more of these in-class breaks.

Jocelyn’s demand for me to save her rumbling belly was not the norm. In fact, since our Subway lunch on Tuesday (I guess I should say her lunch, since I wasn’t a consumer myself, but just a voyeur), we had not spent much time together at all. I didn’t want to appear too desperate, and so had been forcing myself to avoid her, in hopes of future payoff. Whether she was doing something the same, or was just not thinking much about me was hard to tell. On Wednesday, she jiggled out of the room during lunch without saying anything to me. She came back at the end of the hour with bread crumbs on her chest. I don’t where she went, or what exactly she ate, but judging by the slow deliberate pace of her walking, she had eaten a lot of it.

On Thursday, I forced myself, with Olympian resolve, to beat it out of the training room right when Jocelyn announced the lunch break. I’ve heard many girls talk about playing hard to get, but just try and bug a girl you’ve just met all the time. It doesn’t work; they’re interested to begin with, but something about the sustained proximity so early on makes them go a little squirrely. I ate lunch at a small café far away from the centre. Jocelyn had a car, but I knew she usually just picked up food from the derelict mall, so I was right when I guessed that she wouldn’t be there.

Friday came, and I was in love. Again, I should reiterate how much time I really did spend looking at her. I mean, we all did. She was right there at the front of the class, and while she may have been a pretty apathetic trainer, she did set the syllabus and determine what we were going to be doing at any given time.

On that Friday of that first week, Jocelyn showed up wearing a cleavage-bearing argyle dress, blue and grey, with one of those big chunky belts that girls, particularly fat ones, tend to wear right under their boobs, in order to accentuate their figure and cinch it all together, I suppose. All I know is it looks damn good to me. I missed the jeans and tights, just because there was less of her big jiggly ass to see in a flowing dress, but the way her back end thrust out, giving hints of its exact shape, was titillating in its own subtle ways.

As a perk for reaching the end of the first week of training (or just for being thankful we stuck around), the higher-ups at the call centre made a habit of supplying free pizza for lunch to classes of new recruits on Fridays. Around 11:30, there was a knock at the door. Jocelyn got up and shuffled over to let in the Head of HR.

“Hello everyone,” said The Head, “I hope you’ve had a great first week! Is everybody having a good time?”

The response was, to say the least, noncommittal. Jocelyn was shuffling from foot to foot, redistributing her weight. She smacked her lips with a wet sound, and darted her tongue around her mouth. The Head of HR kept spewing welcome-babble as the pizzas were ferried in by two strapping young men. They each had a stack of five boxes, and Jocelyn quickly snatched the top box off the first guy’s stack, cradling it in her beefy arms. She opened it up and her eyes sparkled.

“Meat lovers! Oh yeah!”

She grabbed two slices from the box, sandwiched them together, and took an extra big bite. The class, somewhat used to Jocelyn at this point, still couldn’t believe this display of hoggishness. She kept the meat lovers pizza to herself, hunkered over it so that no one else could get at it, and ate all eight large slices in four pizza sandwiches. Later, during a digestive conversation on break, she told me why:

“I knew that she would be bringing pizzas for the newbies, she always does to butter them up. When I was in training, someone snatched the pizza away from me and I didn’t get enough. I only had, like… a few slices. BURP. So anyway, I skipped breakfast this morning so that I would have tons of room. And I made sure no one would take it from me. I love meat lovers! And I deserve it. I’m the trainer after all!”

I was familiar with what Jocelyn was like when she skipped breakfast.

“By the way, some of the staff is going out to The Voodoo tonight. If you’re not doing anything, you wanna come?”

Was she asking me out? It sure seemed that way. Her glistening eyes looked right into mine. Other than her demanding me to fetch her food that one time, we hadn’t spoken to each other all that much other than a few exchanged words during breaks. I was getting the sense that we were both playing the same game of cat-and-mouse, with each of us seeing ourselves as the cat. With my lean build, I was probably more suited to mouse. With her heavy paunch and lazy attitude, Jocelyn was more cat. Housecat, that is. She looked at me, hungrily. I knew, then and there, that I was a mouse she wanted desperately to gobble up.

“Uh, sure, I’ll come. Who else is gonna be there? Anyone from the class?”

“Maybe. I dunno. It’s for staff, so they might. It’ll be a great way to meet people.”

I didn’t want to meet anybody. I just wanted to get to know my uber-chubby trainer a little better, with my brain, and with my hands.

“Yeah, I’ll be there.”

“Awesome! Should I wear this, or change?”

She spun around, giving me a great view of her chubby legs, her fat butt, her round hips. I was mesmerized, trying to mentally put some measurements to her proportions. I felt like an early astronomer, foolishly trying to mathematize the wonders of creation. Given the choice of pics between the Horseshoe Nebula and a cheesecake pin-up of Jocelyn, I would choose the pin-up anytime, preferably with her eating a cheesecake.

“You look fantastic in that. But you might want to wear jeans. Just a thought.” I hadn’t seen her in denim since Day One, and I was missing the unique way that jeans cradle and caress a fleshy posterior.

“Okay! Jeans it is.”

She was very eager to please. I wasn’t just physically attracted to Jocelyn, although my lust was overpowering. She was a wonderfully nice person, always positive and peppy. I’ve been focusing on her obsession with food, but in all other matters, she was the sort of person I would love to hang out with. But when it came to food, she had no desire to please anybody but herself. Food transformed her into a greedy gluttonous pig.

“Hey, do you need a drive home at the end of the day?”

Of course I said yes, and after the day came to an end, and the week with it, I found myself sitting in the passenger seat of Jocelyn’s two-door Accent. She had her seat pushed back into a comfortable position, so that there was room for her belly and boobs. Again, I thrilled at how tall she seemed sitting down. Where standing I was a few inches taller, sitting down I had to look up slightly to make eye contact. It made her seem that much bigger.

The seats were filled with fast food detritus. This was the vehicle of a slob. I had to push some burger wrappers off the seat before I could sit down.

“Sorry about the mess. I try to keep it neater than this, really I do. I’ll give it a good cleaning tonight. Just move all that shit out of the way, into the back.”

The back seat was unsittable. I added to the hills and valleys of the fast food landscape.

I gave her my address and she drove me home. We listened to Mos Def’s Black on Both Sides, a classic, and when “Ms. Fat Booty” came on, I took another glance at the pale-skinned goddess next to me. She was bobbing her head, shimmying her thighs, shaking her boobs imperceptibly, and running a hand through her hair to get it out of her face.

“Love love love this song!” she said. She spoke so often in exclamation marks that it was contagious, and soon I was bobbing my head to the music too.

On the way, she stopped off at a neighbourhood bakery.

“Can you run in and get me some things? They have the most amazing donuts here, I like to get them to ring in the weekend. Here,” she said, handing me her wallet, “get a box.”

It was nice that I didn’t have to pay for these, though I would have. I was a slave for her, and raised no fuss about running into the bakery for her while she went over her reflection in a compact mirror. I grabbed a glance at her applying lip gloss before I entered the bakery, old-timey bell chiming as the door opened and closed.

“Hello, welcome. How can I help you?”

They did have a large collection of donuts, as well as other pastries. I looked in the wallet, looked at the prices. She had enough cash for a box of twelve donuts, and that was it.

“Yeah, a box of twelve donuts, three chocolate glazed, three Boston cream, three maple glazed, and three jelly-filled. And two éclairs, and a small bag of croissants, and a cherry cheesecake.”

Screw saving my money. I’d spend her money on what she asked for and get the extras with my own cash. I knew that she would eat it, no questions asked. (Maybe one question, to appear polite, but her stomach would be screaming EAT.) Besides, I got a thrill on spending my dough on her appetite. Enabling her piggy behaviour, I hoped that she would get fatter, that her clothes would get tighter, and that she would eat more more more. What else did I spend my money on anyway? This was my optimal way of contributing to the economy; feeding a bottomless pit.

I came out with Jocelyn’s baked goods in a big bag. She gave me an O mouth of jokey surprise through the windshield, and when I got in the car, she clapped her hands together, which shook her tits around in her dress.

“Now, don’t worry,” I said, pre-empitvely, “I got the extras with my own money. To thank you for… driving me home. And, uh, being such a cool trainer.”

“Extras?!” She rifled through the bag and squealed with high pitched girlish glee.

She took an éclair and began to feast. Digging in with relish, she exhibited the gusto of someone who hasn’t eaten all day, not a greedy fatty who had hogged a whole pizza to herself and spent her whole day at work sitting and eating. She moaned and licked excess cream and chocolate from her lips. Jocelyn was such a messy eater, she should have worn a bib.

“Thank you soooo much, I love their éclairs, but I hardly get them because they’re so expensive.”

“Well, you could always just get one.”

“No way. I can’t have one without wanting four or five.”

Damn. “Whoops. I didn’t know. I only got two, but I got other stuff too.”

“That’s okay,” she said, simultaneously plunging the éclair back into her mouth, “Next time.”

I was thrilled at the idea of a next time. Jocelyn started up the car and resumed driving, one hand on the wheel, one hand eating the decadent pastries that I ferried to her from the bag, which I was keeping on my lap. After finishing her two éclairs, she started in on the donuts. She had eaten four when we pulled up to my apartment building.

“Here you are.”

“Thanks for the lift.”

“Thanks for the food. I wish you were still gonna be in the car to help me get it. I almost got in an accident a couple weeks ago when I bent over to get some fries out of a bag. Wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“Be careful out there!”

“Haha, don’t worry, I will.”

There was a brief second of silent tension, but I got out of the car without allowing it to develop. I could feel the electricity, could feel that we both wanted something to happen, but I didn’t want to risk making things awkward for us later on. A last minute make-out, and then she heads home? She might think she did something wrong, that it was a mistake, I don’t know. I don’t pretend to understand the female mind. I assured her that I would be at the Voodoo later. Jocelyn pulled out into the street and sped off.

[Uncle Jack]

The days passed, as these days do, in a numbing haze of computer screens and trivial sales statistics. The training period at a call centre is designed to dull the pain that comes with having to become a robot for a living. My training period was buoyed by the monumental girl I had a monumental crush on.

After our trip to Subway, Jocelyn spent the rest of the afternoon sitting on her cushiony ass, occasionally snacking on treats she had squirreled away under her desk. She flat out refused to get out of her chair to help anyone. One girl, who clearly had never gotten her high school education, was near in tears because she was having so much recurring trouble with an application. Jocelyn kept brushing her off. “Just ask your neighbour,” she would say, mouth often full of chocolate. At the end of the day, with twenty minutes to go, this girl asked, voice quavering, “Please, Jocelyn, can’t you just please come here and help me with this? I don’t know what I’m doing!”

“It’s really not that difficult,” said Jocelyn, burping the word ‘difficult’.

“But I can’t!”

“Just try again.” Jocelyn put another handful of M&Ms in her mouth and shifted in her chair.

The poor girl gave up and ran out of the room, taking her coat and purse with her. Jocelyn watched her go.

“She’ll be back,” she said confidently, candy-coated chocolates muffling her words.

The next morning, she did not come back. She did not come back any day afterward either.

Jocelyn may have not been the greatest trainer. In fact, she was probably in the bottom of the pecking order. But most people in the class were so desperate for work that there was no way they were going to quit. Most realized how easy the class was with Fatso (as a couple witty wags in the back row had deemed her). They could goof off, text, surf the internet, and not get in any trouble. The girl who left must not have complained to HR, and the people upstairs must not have been monitoring the daily Internet history of the students, because Jocelyn didn’t get in any trouble that week for anything.

On Wednesday and Thursday, Jocelyn brought large assortments of food with her to class. She told me, during afternoon break on Thursday:

“Oh, you noticed that, huh? Well, I always liked having a little snack at work, but it was always kinda difficult. Here, I don’t have anyone breathing down my neck, telling me don’t eat this, don’t eat that. I think it really helps my job performance.”

Quite the opposite. There was the aforementioned refusal to move from her seat, which was exacerbated by the weight of the food that was always bloating her belly. There was the lack of respect she received from the class. If Jocelyn was just going to sit there in ill-fitting clothes, stuffing her fat face, getting food on her clothes, and burping like a bullfrog, then why should they try any harder themselves. There were also the occasions that something was ill-explained due to her words being lost in a haze of chewing and swallowing. Sometimes, she was too lazy to bother explaining things in detail. A notable example was Thursday morning when, in the midst of explaining different service tiers for cable customers, she just stopped and grabbed her big belly. She was wearing a tight red blouse, and the buttons were hanging on for dear life.

“Ugh, I’m sorry, I forgot what I was saying. I’m so hungry. Dave, could you go fetch me something to eat?”

This request startled me, but I wasted no time rushing off to the convenience store, grabbing jerky, chips, Hostess cakes, enough Coke to drown a cat and a big container of honey roasted peanuts. She was so grateful when I returned with the food that she didn’t even bother getting back to the cable tiers. She just started putting the junk food between her pretty lips and told everyone we could have a short ‘in-class’ break, which meant that we couldn’t leave the room, but we could do whatever we wanted. As the weeks went on, we would have more and more of these in-class breaks.

Jocelyn’s demand for me to save her rumbling belly was not the norm. In fact, since our Subway lunch on Tuesday (I guess I should say her lunch, since I wasn’t a consumer myself, but just a voyeur), we had not spent much time together at all. I didn’t want to appear too desperate, and so had been forcing myself to avoid her, in hopes of future payoff. Whether she was doing something the same, or was just not thinking much about me was hard to tell. On Wednesday, she jiggled out of the room during lunch without saying anything to me. She came back at the end of the hour with bread crumbs on her chest. I don’t where she went, or what exactly she ate, but judging by the slow deliberate pace of her walking, she had eaten a lot of it.

On Thursday, I forced myself, with Olympian resolve, to beat it out of the training room right when Jocelyn announced the lunch break. I’ve heard many girls talk about playing hard to get, but just try and bug a girl you’ve just met all the time. It doesn’t work; they’re interested to begin with, but something about the sustained proximity so early on makes them go a little squirrely. I ate lunch at a small café far away from the centre. Jocelyn had a car, but I knew she usually just picked up food from the derelict mall, so I was right when I guessed that she wouldn’t be there.

Friday came, and I was in love. Again, I should reiterate how much time I really did spend looking at her. I mean, we all did. She was right there at the front of the class, and while she may have been a pretty apathetic trainer, she did set the syllabus and determine what we were going to be doing at any given time.

On that Friday of that first week, Jocelyn showed up wearing a cleavage-bearing argyle dress, blue and grey, with one of those big chunky belts that girls, particularly fat ones, tend to wear right under their boobs, in order to accentuate their figure and cinch it all together, I suppose. All I know is it looks damn good to me. I missed the jeans and tights, just because there was less of her big jiggly ass to see in a flowing dress, but the way her back end thrust out, giving hints of its exact shape, was titillating in its own subtle ways.

As a perk for reaching the end of the first week of training (or just for being thankful we stuck around), the higher-ups at the call centre made a habit of supplying free pizza for lunch to classes of new recruits on Fridays. Around 11:30, there was a knock at the door. Jocelyn got up and shuffled over to let in the Head of HR.

“Hello everyone,” said The Head, “I hope you’ve had a great first week! Is everybody having a good time?”

The response was, to say the least, noncommittal. Jocelyn was shuffling from foot to foot, redistributing her weight. She smacked her lips with a wet sound, and darted her tongue around her mouth. The Head of HR kept spewing welcome-babble as the pizzas were ferried in by two strapping young men. They each had a stack of five boxes, and Jocelyn quickly snatched the top box off the first guy’s stack, cradling it in her beefy arms. She opened it up and her eyes sparkled.

“Meat lovers! Oh yeah!”

She grabbed two slices from the box, sandwiched them together, and took an extra big bite. The class, somewhat used to Jocelyn at this point, still couldn’t believe this display of hoggishness. She kept the meat lovers pizza to herself, hunkered over it so that no one else could get at it, and ate all eight large slices in four pizza sandwiches. Later, during a digestive conversation on break, she told me why:

“I knew that she would be bringing pizzas for the newbies, she always does to butter them up. When I was in training, someone snatched the pizza away from me and I didn’t get enough. I only had, like… a few slices. BURP. So anyway, I skipped breakfast this morning so that I would have tons of room. And I made sure no one would take it from me. I love meat lovers! And I deserve it. I’m the trainer after all!”

I was familiar with what Jocelyn was like when she skipped breakfast.

“By the way, some of the staff is going out to The Voodoo tonight. If you’re not doing anything, you wanna come?”

Was she asking me out? It sure seemed that way. Her glistening eyes looked right into mine. Other than her demanding me to fetch her food that one time, we hadn’t spoken to each other all that much other than a few exchanged words during breaks. I was getting the sense that we were both playing the same game of cat-and-mouse, with each of us seeing ourselves as the cat. With my lean build, I was probably more suited to mouse. With her heavy paunch and lazy attitude, Jocelyn was more cat. Housecat, that is. She looked at me, hungrily. I knew, then and there, that I was a mouse she wanted desperately to gobble up.

“Uh, sure, I’ll come. Who else is gonna be there? Anyone from the class?”

“Maybe. I dunno. It’s for staff, so they might. It’ll be a great way to meet people.”

I didn’t want to meet anybody. I just wanted to get to know my uber-chubby trainer a little better, with my brain, and with my hands.

“Yeah, I’ll be there.”

“Awesome! Should I wear this, or change?”

She spun around, giving me a great view of her chubby legs, her fat butt, her round hips. I was mesmerized, trying to mentally put some measurements to her proportions. I felt like an early astronomer, foolishly trying to mathematize the wonders of creation. Given the choice of pics between the Horseshoe Nebula and a cheesecake pin-up of Jocelyn, I would choose the pin-up anytime, preferably with her eating a cheesecake.

“You look fantastic in that. But you might want to wear jeans. Just a thought.” I hadn’t seen her in denim since Day One, and I was missing the unique way that jeans cradle and caress a fleshy posterior.

“Okay! Jeans it is.”

She was very eager to please. I wasn’t just physically attracted to Jocelyn, although my lust was overpowering. She was a wonderfully nice person, always positive and peppy. I’ve been focusing on her obsession with food, but in all other matters, she was the sort of person I would love to hang out with. But when it came to food, she had no desire to please anybody but herself. Food transformed her into a greedy gluttonous pig.

“Hey, do you need a drive home at the end of the day?”

Of course I said yes, and after the day came to an end, and the week with it, I found myself sitting in the passenger seat of Jocelyn’s two-door Accent. She had her seat pushed back into a comfortable position, so that there was room for her belly and boobs. Again, I thrilled at how tall she seemed sitting down. Where standing I was a few inches taller, sitting down I had to look up slightly to make eye contact. It made her seem that much bigger.

The seats were filled with fast food detritus. This was the vehicle of a slob. I had to push some burger wrappers off the seat before I could sit down.

“Sorry about the mess. I try to keep it neater than this, really I do. I’ll give it a good cleaning tonight. Just move all that shit out of the way, into the back.”

The back seat was unsittable. I added to the hills and valleys of the fast food landscape.

I gave her my address and she drove me home. We listened to Mos Def’s Black on Both Sides, a classic, and when “Ms. Fat Booty” came on, I took another glance at the pale-skinned goddess next to me. She was bobbing her head, shimmying her thighs, shaking her boobs imperceptibly, and running a hand through her hair to get it out of her face.

“Love love love this song!” she said. She spoke so often in exclamation marks that it was contagious, and soon I was bobbing my head to the music too.

On the way, she stopped off at a neighbourhood bakery.

“Can you run in and get me some things? They have the most amazing donuts here, I like to get them to ring in the weekend. Here,” she said, handing me her wallet, “get a box.”

It was nice that I didn’t have to pay for these, though I would have. I was a slave for her, and raised no fuss about running into the bakery for her while she went over her reflection in a compact mirror. I grabbed a glance at her applying lip gloss before I entered the bakery, old-timey bell chiming as the door opened and closed.

“Hello, welcome. How can I help you?”

They did have a large collection of donuts, as well as other pastries. I looked in the wallet, looked at the prices. She had enough cash for a box of twelve donuts, and that was it.

“Yeah, a box of twelve donuts, three chocolate glazed, three Boston cream, three maple glazed, and three jelly-filled. And two éclairs, and a small bag of croissants, and a cherry cheesecake.”

Screw saving my money. I’d spend her money on what she asked for and get the extras with my own cash. I knew that she would eat it, no questions asked. (Maybe one question, to appear polite, but her stomach would be screaming EAT.) Besides, I got a thrill on spending my dough on her appetite. Enabling her piggy behaviour, I hoped that she would get fatter, that her clothes would get tighter, and that she would eat more more more. What else did I spend my money on anyway? This was my optimal way of contributing to the economy; feeding a bottomless pit.

I came out with Jocelyn’s baked goods in a big bag. She gave me an O mouth of jokey surprise through the windshield, and when I got in the car, she clapped her hands together, which shook her tits around in her dress.

“Now, don’t worry,” I said, pre-empitvely, “I got the extras with my own money. To thank you for… driving me home. And, uh, being such a cool trainer.”

“Extras?!” She rifled through the bag and squealed with high pitched girlish glee.

She took an éclair and began to feast. Digging in with relish, she exhibited the gusto of someone who hasn’t eaten all day, not a greedy fatty who had hogged a whole pizza to herself and spent her whole day at work sitting and eating. She moaned and licked excess cream and chocolate from her lips. Jocelyn was such a messy eater, she should have worn a bib.

“Thank you soooo much, I love their éclairs, but I hardly get them because they’re so expensive.”

“Well, you could always just get one.”

“No way. I can’t have one without wanting four or five.”

Damn. “Whoops. I didn’t know. I only got two, but I got other stuff too.”

“That’s okay,” she said, simultaneously plunging the éclair back into her mouth, “Next time.”

I was thrilled at the idea of a next time. Jocelyn started up the car and resumed driving, one hand on the wheel, one hand eating the decadent pastries that I ferried to her from the bag, which I was keeping on my lap. After finishing her two éclairs, she started in on the donuts. She had eaten four when we pulled up to my apartment building.

“Here you are.”

“Thanks for the lift.”

“Thanks for the food. I wish you were still gonna be in the car to help me get it. I almost got in an accident a couple weeks ago when I bent over to get some fries out of a bag. Wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“Be careful out there!”

“Haha, don’t worry, I will.”

There was a brief second of silent tension, but I got out of the car without allowing it to develop. I could feel the electricity, could feel that we both wanted something to happen, but I didn’t want to risk making things awkward for us later on. A last minute make-out, and then she heads home? She might think she did something wrong, that it was a mistake, I don’t know. I don’t pretend to understand the female mind. I assured her that I would be at the Voodoo later. Jocelyn pulled out into the street and sped off.

[runningman]

still loving this. Excellent story, well written. :bow:

[Uncle Jack]

In the purple-dim recesses of the Voodoo, past the stonefaced bouncers, past the surly coat check girl, past the bar where drinks were pricey, past the tables where people sat with half-empty glasses talking nonsense, out on the throbbing dance floor, where the light changed colour and the beat never changed at all, was Jocelyn.

I had come fashionably late, alone, hoping that she would already be there. I didn’t have her cell, or any other way of contacting her to know for sure. I considered adding her on Facebook, but thought better of it. Her profile pic was a shot of her face with her chin thrust out. You could never tell from this picture that she was fat. Maybe she wasn’t as carefree as I had thought. Best not to add her just yet. Hang with her at the club, play my cards right, then add her, and maybe more.

I discovered Jocelyn, out there on the dance floor, and it was like discovering El Dorado. She was wearing a shiny blue halter top, made from synthetic material. It was riding up on her torso as she moved her fat body, so that the bottom of her belly was hanging out. She was indeed wearing jeans, a different pair from before, a black pair. These ones were buttoned, but they looked painted on. They didn’t contain her gut at all, and it bounced up and down in plain sight. Her dancing style involved a lot of thrusting of her butt behind her, shaking it around, then thrusting her pelvis forward and moving her arms and hips. Repeat to perfection.

She was dancing with a couple of girls, and didn’t see me at all. I revelled in the opportunity to play the voyeur. The way her fat body always threatened to take up space, more than is normal, was made very manifest here in the close quarters of the club. She kept dancing into people, swinging a hip into some twiggy hipster, ramming some dorky bro with her butt, falling into some dancing queen. It was all accidental; she was so into the dancing, and so large, that she couldn’t help it. She was clearly intoxicated, as her equilibrium seemed distinctly off. The girls she was dancing with were equally unsteady on their feet, and would sometimes fall into Jocelyn, laughing uproariously. Jocelyn would dependably prop them up, but the favour was not returned. When Jocelyn stumbled into her two friends, they would get knocked back. At one point, the shortest of the two girls was almost crushed under Jocelyn going timber, but fortunately the other girl, ropey biceps bulging, managed to hold Jocelyn back. They all laughed drunkenly at Jocelyn almost squashing her friend into oblivion, and then Jocelyn turned around, so that her back was to me.

Up to now, she had been in side profile, but now that I was drinking in the sight of her luscious ass, I saw that her pants did not cover the whole thing. The top of her ass crack was sticking up out of the top. The small of her back, which wasn’t very small at all, wobbled as she moved. She attempted to pull her pants up, grabbing at the waist above a fleshy buttock, but it was futile. There was just too much junk in that trunk for those black denim pants to contain. I couldn’t tell where her hips ended and her ass began. The whole rear end situation was just huge.

“Say no to crack.”

I turned around, to see who had said that. A guy with stretched earlobes and red spiky hair was laughing at Jocelyn.

“Girl needs to cover that up. For serious.”

I was about to say something threatening, but the dude went over to Jocelyn and squeezed her ass. She turned around, shocked, but recognizing the dude, she squealed and hugged him. I, of course, was crestfallen.

I went over to the bar, got a beer and a shot. Drowning my sorrows at the bar, I was toying with leaving.

“Dave, you made it!”

I spun around and there was Jocelyn, smiling and panting, looking radiant, perfect teeth practically making that TING sound that they make in cartoons. She was holding a vodka cooler in one hand and a Budweiser in the other. She immediately grabbed me in a big smushy bear hug.

“I was thinking you wouldn’t come,” she shouted.

“I’m here now.”

“Come on out and dance!”

“Yeah yeah, definitely!”

I followed Jocelyn’s bouncing butt cheeks over to the dance floor and started moving next to her. Seeing all of her flesh in motion up close was incredible. Her fat belly was wobbling around, her top riding up to her belly button. I noticed she got a couple stares from nearby dancers. Maybe some of them were admiring, but I think the majority were not. Jocelyn’s tits, belly and ass were hanging out of her sinfully tight clothes. Her cleavage was deep, and she kept adjusting her top so that her boobs didn’t fly out of their confines. The tops of her ass cheeks were sticking out of her pants. Those twin mountains of flesh were hypnotizing, as they went back and forth, up and down with the pounding bass rhythm.

She said something to me that I didn’t catch, and finished off her beer.

“What?” I said, “I didn’t catch that.”

I put my ear down to her mouth to hear her. She burped in my face, startling me.

“Whoops! Sorry!” she yelled, “I meant to ask if you could get me another drink.”

She then finished off her cooler and handed me the bottles. I went off to fetch her another cooler-beer combo. In the dense waiting pack of partiers at the bar, I ran into Jocelyn’s friend Tiffany.

“Dave, right?”

“Haha, yeah. How’s it going?”

“Good. Just here with the call centre crew. What brings you here?”

“Oh, Jocelyn invited me.”

“Oh reeeeealy? I think somebody has a crush.”

I gulped, feeling like a nervous Daffy Duck.

“Whatever you do,” she said, “make sure you let her down easy.”

“Huh?”

“Jocelyn gets crushes all the time, and it never ends up well. She’s perennially single. In fact, if I had to guess, I would bet she’s never had a boyfriend.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I didn’t mean to say it out loud, because I thought it would sound like tacit admission that I liked her too. But Tiffany took it to be more general awe at a virginal twenty-something.

“It’s just the way she is. The way she acts. I don’t know, maybe in high school or whatever. I know she was in university for a bit, so she probably did. But I just get this feeling, you know?”

A dark-skinned dude came over, holding out a cocktail to Tiffany.

“Dave, this is Darren. Darren, Dave.”

I shook Darren’s hand, getting a boyfriend vibe off of him. Tiffany and Darren went off into a dimly-lit corner of the noisy club, and I refocused my attention on getting myself through the masses to the promised land of expensive drinks.

Why didn’t I want to make a tacit admission that I liked Jocelyn? Maybe I was still a little weird about liking fat girls in public. I had dated only chubbies for the past five years, but Jocelyn was bigger than any of them. But that didn’t feel right. I think it was because it seemed so unreal, that to say anything out loud about it would somehow make the whole situation vanish in a puff of smoke. And the way Tiffany had immediately proclaimed Jocelyn a virgin to a guy she had only met once previously made me worry that saying I thought Jocelyn was hot would lead her to question me, to find out just what the fuck was wrong with me, a barrage of noncomprehension that I just didn’t want or need right now. Then again, she probably would have been thrilled to hear that her single friend had an admirer. Besides, how could Jocelyn be a virgin? Someone so much the opposite of reserved that she would belch and make a pig of herself in front of a guy on the first day she has met him. It didn’t make any sense to me. I went back and forth, up and down, torturously, inside the confines of my skull, until I finally got to the bar and ordered Jocelyn’s drinks, with a bottle of beer for myself.

Turned back to the dancing floor, I witnessed Jocelyn’s body, built for worship, getting low low low, then bringing it back up. Her ass, the size of Brooklyn out there among the skinny bimbo bodies, would come perilously close to touching the ground and demolishing the dance floor, only to retreat back to its regular altitude. Every time she did so, her pants wiggled their way down a bit. Her thong was showing now, as well as more ass crack than previously. She got tired, obviously, because she stopped dropping her massive ass, and fanned herself off with one hand. She turned around and saw me approaching. Her face lit up, and it was at this point that I noticed she was holding a piece of pizza in one hand. Where the hell had that come from?

“Beer me!”

I gave her the beer, holding on to her cooler for the time being.

“Where did the pizza come from?”

She thrust out her pudgy arm and, hand holding beer bottle, pointed her pinky finger at a side of the bar near the restrooms that I hadn’t really noticed. Down a ways from where they served drinks was a spinning heat rack with a few pizzas inside. As we looked, a tall willowy chick and her teeny boy-bodied friend were waving down a bartender to fetch them a slice. They shared the slice, and I thought about how Jocelyn could have eaten that whole slice in the blink of an eye. These thin girls probably wouldn’t even finish it between the two of them. What a waste!

The night consisted of much dancing and drinking, as well as much pizza eating for Jocelyn. Whatever inhibitions this already uninhibited girl may have had were gone after she had downed a cask’s worth of booze, booze that she had me run and fetch at intervals. I got to feel the distinct sensation of having her cushiony ass backed up into my crotch and moved around. It felt like two heavenly clouds. It gave me a painful erection, that I couldn’t have hid if I wanted to. Jocelyn, feeling me poking her mammoth buttocks, shot me a look over her shoulder, winked, blushed a bit, and started grinding her ass even harder. The cat was out of the bag, the bag was in the river. No more pretending that what was going on between us wasn’t real.

“Hey, question time,” I shouted in her ear, when she was standing up again. Her hair smelled phenomenal.

“Shoot.”

“Who was that guy who squeezed your ass earlier?”

“Who?”

“You gave him a big hug, he had like the big circley earlobes?”

“Oh, that’s just Jarod. He’s super super gay.”

Gay! Super super gay! Outstanding!

“You want another slice of pizza?”

A minute later, I was off to the restroom to do what needed to be done. Coming back, I marvelled at the state of Jocelyn. Whipping her hair around, drunk as a skunk, her belly bared for the whole bar to see, her ass thrusting and shaking, back and forth, side to side, and, to top it all off, she had a slice of pizza in each hand and was taking alternating bites while shaking her groove thang. When I had offered another slice, I had meant two, because that’s just the kind of guy I am. She was a dream. A waking dream.

[Uncle Jack]

We stumbled out into the night. Jocelyn had picked up her black denim jacket from coat check, and she looked very cool in it. It was starting to get a little cooler at night now, and I regretted not having a jacket of my own.

Jocelyn had been stumbling around the club, completely blitzed, and she had been in the middle of stealing a girl’s drink when I decided to grab her by the forearm and tell her it was time to go. The flesh of her arm had a pleasant give, and her skin was soft and smooth. I told her I would walk her home, make sure she got there safe.

“I just live down in the South End, it’s real close.” She told me the street name. “You know where that is?”

“Sure do.”

“Hope it’s not out of your way.”

“Actually, I live in the South End too. I’m just a few streets down from you. Remember? You drove me home?”

“Oh yeah,” she said, jumping a bit in excitement, “That’s awesome that you live so close! We can get coffee maybe? Or breakfast? So much fun.”

She groped my waist and came in close. I could smell the shampoo she had used in her hair.

“I’m soooo drunk. I can’t believe I forgot where you live. God, I… BURRRRRP. Uh, jeez. BURP. Oh, man.”

She clutched her belly in both hands, tightened her lips and furrowed her brow.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I just (urp) feel a little (brapurp) unsettled.”

“You did drink a ton of drinks, Drinky.”

“I can drink anybody under the table, just watch me,” she said proudly, patting her belly and belching again.

On our way to her place, we passed by a trifecta of pizza places. Despite having eaten pizza pretty much all day, Jocelyn started licking her lips like Wile E. Coyote.

“Oh man, I want some pizza bad!”

“Really? I would have figured you’d be sick of pizza by now.”

She set her sexy mouth in a mock-shocked O.

“Sick of pizza? A girl doesn’t get sick of pizza.”

“Some girls do.” Most girls do.

“Not this girl! What has two thumbs and loooooves pizza pie?” She waggled her thumbs clownishly at her chest, opened her eyes wide, scrunched her face and bobbed her head up and down, rocker-style. I laughed.

“Okay, so let’s get some pizza then.”

She dragged me into a place notable for its sumptuous donairs. If you don’t know donairs, then you don’t know from messy food.

“I’m getting a donair, definitely,” said Jocelyn.

“What happened to pizza?”

“I want pizza too,” she whined, “Weh. What to get?” She pouted, half-sincerely.

“Why not get both?”

She bit her lip and looked into my eyes.

“You don’t think that would make me a pig, do you?”

Well, yes, I did, but that’s exactly what I was going for. If it seems weird that this girl who had so brazenly stuffed herself in front of me beforehand should be asking this question, I should note that there was a flirtatious overtone to her voice as she asked. She assumed I would say no, but she needed to hear it. She wanted permission.

“Of course not. If you’re hungry, you should eat. Don’t deny yourself. Indulge.”

“Davey, I like the way you think.”

She got a slice of the works and a large donair. I had to pay for the food, as she had spent all of her cash at the bar. I had wanted to get a slice for myself, as I had worked up a bit of an appetite, but I only had enough cash to fill Jocelyn’s order.

We took the food outside and seated ourselves on a low stone wall that ran along the perimeter of a nearby church. Jocelyn’s tempting ass crack peeped out of the back of her pants as she plumped herself down and tucked into her feast. Donair meat filled her mouth at warp speed, and the white donair sauce got all over her cheeks, hands, and boobs.

A couple drunk bros walked by, talking many decibels too loudly. They gaped at Jocelyn making a spectacle of herself.

“Hey, I got some meat for you, fatass!” said one of them, lewdly grabbing his crotch. His friends bellowed laughter and they walked on.

Jocelyn said something indecipherable through her mouthful.

“What was that?”

She swallowed, burped, and said: “What a douchebag. So what if I’m a little fat. You’re a lot douchebag. Asshole.”

“You’re not fat.”

“I’m a little bit fat.”

“No no no. You have curves. You have a womanly body.”

“Well thank you, David.”

She proceeded to Hoover up the rest of her donair, and performed the same disappearing act on the slice. Her belly bulged hugely onto her lap when she was done, and donair sauce mingled with pizza sauce on her face and chest.

“Okay, (burp) I am (BRRRRAP) full. I gotta get home and get some sleep. Ugh,” she cradled her bulging belly, “Dave, can you pat me on the back?”

I thumped her between the shoulderblades, which made her hair shake and her back fat jiggle lusciously. She erupted with a T.Rex belch that made passersby take notice.

“Whoo, that’s so much better! One for the record books! Help me up please.”

I grabbed her hands and pulled. Nothing doing. She looked up at me expectantly, head cocked to the side, like an expectant dog.

“Come on Dave! Use them man muscles!”

“Maybe you could… help out a bit?”

“Alright, alright, (burrrrp) I have to do everything around here.”

I pulled again, even harder this time, exerting my biceps to their limit, and Jocelyn grunted and brought her bulk forward, boobs first, and she slowly lifted off the stone fence. When she got to her feet, she stumbled, trying to get her centre of gravity. Her fat girl clumsiness was what brought us together, as she tripped right into me, nearly knocking me over, her breasts pressing into me, her stomach pressing into my rock hard erection. Without thinking, I reached my hands around her, grabbing her fat ass, as much as I could in my hands, which wasn’t really that much, but the fact that my arms couldn’t reach around, that there was still more to explore, more than could be grasped in a couple handfuls, just made me want her more, and I kissed her hard, smearing the sauce on my face, but I didn’t care, because she kissed me back, and there was a lot of tongue, and she tasted like food, and sex, and it was undeniably great.

(Continued in post 53 of this thread)

[Propp Matt]

I really appreciate your stories! Already looking forward to next part!

Thanks

Matt

[Uncle Jack]

I'm working on The Trainer, slowly but surely. I've hit a bit of a road block, but I know once I'm on the other side of it, it'll flow smoothly.

I haven't written any Spoiled Brat in a long time, but I do know the story. I have both of these things planned out, it's just a matter of putting in the work.

The real reason I've been so slow getting work done on either of those is I'm working on another story that I don't want to post until it's complete. It's a self-contained story, not a serialized narrative, and I don't want a third uncompleted thing on this site bugging me to finish. But it's almost done.

It's always a thrill to read encouragement and support. Thanks for reading!

[B00TS]

Well, I can assure you we're on tenterhooks for all three! The quality of the writing and the plots is second to none. Hope they give you as much pleasure to write as they do us to read...

[acadm]

dude are you still around to write these, or will these (trainer, company jack, other story with spoiled girl) be put on permanent hiatus? not rushing you or anything, but it has been a long while

[Uncle Jack]

From there, things seemed to move blindingly fast. Jocelyn invited me over to her place and I heartily accepted. We started to trudge there, but Jocelyn, both hands cradling her immensely swollen gut, started complaining almost immediately. She called a cab, and we sat in the back. Her butt took up a lot of room, and she spilled over so that she was almost touching me. She had never looked quite as enormous as she did right then, burping and rubbing her bare belly. The driver seemed unfazed; he probably dealt with weirder stuff from drunk people every night.

The cabbie dropped us off outside Jocelyn’s small brick building. I paid with my debit card as Jocelyn busied herself extricating her mass from the confines of the sedan. With the dues paid, I hustled to Jocelyn’s side, grabbing a bit of exposed love handle. She fumbled for keys in her purse, grumbling and burping, with a fidgety energy that belied a bundle of nerves jangling within her.

And so I followed her up the stairs, her bulbous buttocks tick-tocking inches from my eyeballs. She lived up on the third floor, and when we arrived at that second landing, she was flushed, breathing heavily. It was only a matter of moments before she had let us into her apartment, invited me to take off my shoes, and make myself comfortable, while she popped into the bathroom briefly.

I sat on her bed, which was central to her somewhat abbreviated one bedroom apartment. For someone of a more optimistic bent, inclined to view glasses as being half full, it might be classified as an extended bachelor. The bed occupied the main “room”, which the door to the apartment opened into. There was a little table set up in the corner with three chairs, under a window, some shelves with knickknacks, a big screen tv at the foot of the bed, and not much else making up the main entertaining area of Jocelyn’s abode. There was a little kitchen set off, but rather than being a wholly separate room, it was sequestered from the rest of the room by a small island.

I sat on her bed, I sat and sat, as endless grains of sand fell through some internal hourglass. The location of my condom was checked and re-checked. The quips I could make when she exited the bathroom were analyzed and dissected like canonical poems. Calculations were made, regarding how much I had spent on her that night, extrapolated into the future so as to determine how much I would spend forever onward, and determining whether it was worth the forfeiture. A vision of her succulent ass floated before me, and I knew the answer was yes.

Jocelyn emerged from the bathroom. She was not stripped down to sexy underwear, as I had been hoping. She was weeping, and murmuring unintelligible miserablisms. Leaping from the bed, I enveloped her in a hug.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? What’s the matter?”

“I just… (sniff) I don’t… I never…” and the wailing began anew.

I calmed her down, seating her on the bed, whispering platitudes, wondering what the hell had happened.

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Yeah, could you get me a box of Oreos?”

A box? I stepped into her micro-kitchen and opened the first cupboard I saw. It was packed with bread, cereal, cans of soup, the usual kind of stuff, and no cookies of any kind in sight.

“The one to the right.”

Opening the next one over, I saw a cupboard jam packed with every kind of cookie, chocolate bar and chip (potato and corn) imaginable. Sure enough, there was a box of Oreos, unopened. This was the cupboard of a girl who took junk food very seriously.

I brought her the cookies and she tore into the bag, clawing it open like an animal. She grabbed two cookies and crammed them in her mouth at the same time. This seemed to calm her. We sat silently, as she ate a row and a half of cookies. Sated, she sniffled and wiped a tear from her cheek.

“So,” I said, a hint of exasperation sneaking, “want to tell me what that was all about?”

“Yeah. I suppose the best way is to just blurt it out is to say that I’m a virgin and I’m terrified.”

“Of what?”

“What do you mean, of what? Of sex! Of having sex, tonight!”

“Well crap, obviously we don’t have to if you don’t want to!”

“I know that! But I do want to!”

“So… ?”

“Look, it’s scary, okay? I’m twenty-five years old and I’ve never had sex? I mean, I’ve built it up and… oh you have no idea how much I want to do it with you.”

I gulped, and my dick went rock hard so quickly that I almost fainted.

“I wish I could,” she continued, “but it wouldn’t feel right. I’m sorry. I know I’ve lead you on, inviting you up here but… BUUURP.”

“It’s okay, really.”

“And that’s another thing.”

“What’s another thing?”

“I know I’m fat. I’m not a total idiot. I don’t know why I eat the way I do, I don’t know why I’m such a pig, but I can’t help myself. Do you have any idea how many cookies I eat? That cupboard was nearly empty yesterday, and I restocked it.”

“All by yourself?”

“Well, my mom helped, but yeah.”

With her revelation out of her, she seemed to be calming down, and resumed eating the box of Oreos, rubbing her exposed gut in small circles with her other hand.

“So I just eat and eat, and I can’t stop myself, and most of the time I don’t really want to, most of the time I don’t even notice that I overeat a bit. But in the bathroom, I sobered up and realized how much I had eaten tonight and… I just realized that you would never want to be with me.”

She started to blubber again and began shoving Oreos into her mouth at an alarming pace. They were disappearing at the speed of light, and I was amazed to see she was on the last row.

“Easy there. Why do you think I would never want to be with you? Of course I would. You seem so confident. And you are crazy hot.”

She stopped eating, a single Oreo halfway to its destination, her jaw hanging open in shock. She just stared at me, silently, until a cookie burp came from her gut.

“You… really think I’m hot?”

“Crazy hot.”

“Crazy hot?”

“Oh yeah.”

She stood up, her belly hanging out of her halter top and over her unbuttoned pants.

“I’ve never heard that before.”

“Well, it’s true. And if you’re not ready… then we won’t do anything.”

“I really want to, but… I just can’t.”

“That’s fine.” My blue balls had a different opinion on the matter, but what was I to do?

“And me being hot… I hate to be a broken record, but you’re serious? I mean, look at me.”

She posed, her gut leading the way, her hands on her love handles. Impulsively, I stood up and placed my arms around her bare sides, jiggling and lightly squeezing them. The motion made her burp.

“You look, and feel, amazing.”

“So you don’t have a problem with me being… a tad overweight.”

Understatement city, but I was willing to run with it and nodded my agreement.

“And you wouldn’t mind it if I gained a little more weight? Or lost it.” This last was added in a hurry, her mouth betraying her brain, which was surely thinking that the losing of weight was a pipe dream.

“I just want you to be exactly who you are.”

“That’s fantastic! I want to celebrate. Get me those Chips Ahoy!”

Her wish was my demand, and her sniffling face visibly brightened at the sight of that blue packaging.

“Mmmmm. Droolskis.”

And she tore in, as if she hadn’t eaten anything in hours.

I watched her eat voraciously, lying on the bed across from her, admiring the way her blubbery hips forced her shirt up, no matter how much her chubby little hands pulled it down. Her weight sank into the bed, that fabulous butt pushing its way deep into the mattress, and her gut pressed out, filling with more cookies, more calories, always more for Jocelyn, sweet sexy Jocelyn…

A spear of sunlight hit me, violently bringing me back to the world. I had drifted off, watching her eat cookies, and now the daylight had returned. I was where I had left myself, on top of the covers, fully clothed, a patch of drool glistening from where my mouth had been gaping open during my log-like sleep.

She was beside me, beneath the covers, slowly breathing in and out. She had the covers pulled up snugly to her neck, so I couldn’t see what she was wearing, but I could see that she had taken the time to remove her makeup before coming to bed. Her plain looks, unaugmented, were dazzling. Such perfect white skin, the kind that so many white women these days want to eliminate in an orange inferno, sacrificing their pale beauty to a tanning bed. I love women of all races. My biggest crush in high school had been on an obese black girl named Mariana who was taller than I was and had beautiful dark skin. And when I fall for a white girl, it’s always a white girl. Not an orange girl. That gorgeous women should feel bad about their pale skin is a stone cold crime. Jocelyn’s, in particular, was like a statue, and as I watched her sleep, she seemed to glow.

She started to stir, her bulky body rustling beneath the sheets. I retreated back to my side of the bed.

“You awake?”

I pretended to be asleep and uttered a wordless grunt.

“Wake up Dave.”

I ‘woke up’.

“Good morning Jocelyn.”

She smiled, beamed even, and the contentment on her face was palpable, like it would leak out into the air, a benevolent gas, a happiness oxygen.

“It’s good to have someone in my bed say that to me in the morning.”

Her stomach rumbled, like a kraken emerging from the depths.

“Enough chit chat. I am hongry!”

“What would you like for breakfast?”

“There’s a couple great places right outside my building!”

A couple?

[Uncle Jack]

In no time at all, we were fully clothed, sitting in a place called Cotton’s Snack Bar that was in the property adjacent to Jocelyn’s apartment building.

“They have the best breakfasts here! The best, David! The best!”

“I believe you, I believe you.”

Our waiter came over, a rough-looking elderly guy, short, with a bit of a paunch, a scraggly beard to make up for his bald pate.

“Joss, honey, how are you this morning?” He beamed at her.

“I’m doing great, Cotski. This is my… friend, Dave.”

Cotton stuck out his hand, and Dave shook it. It was the handshake of a man who ran his world based on the collective solidity of other men’s handshakes, a handshake that sussed out who made the grade. Dave and Cotton locked eyes; Cotton’s chin moved slightly. They broke off handshakes.

“I like him! I like this one!” he said, “This one, this is one of the good ones!”

“I certainly hope so, Cotton.” Jocelyn made eyes at me and blushed.

“Can I get you the usual?”

“Yessir, and David will have the same. Trust me Dave, it’s great. Perfect breakfast win!”

“Okay, okay,” I said, chuckling, “I believe you.”

“I gotta go tinkle, bee are bee.”
She got up from her chair and hustled her fat ass off to the bathroom. Both Cotton and myself watched her walk off. She was wearing a pair of sweatpants with the waist rolled down, the way girls do. She probably shouldn’t have bothered, because her ass crack poked out of the top, and with each heavy step more was revealed, the top of her flabby ass jiggling in plain view, until she one-handedly raised her pants back up before stepping into the bathroom.

“That girl,” began Cotton, in a conspiratorial tone of voice, “I swear, that girl was already pretty big when she started eating here. But she was a nice kinda big. Lately, she’s gotten even bigger, and soon that bottom of hers is gonna be as a big as a house.” He laughed boisterously. “It’s already as big as my car, but my car, it’s a small car! Hahaha!”

I wasn’t really sure what to say, or if I was even supposed to say anything.

“I suppose that Jocelyn, she is more than just a friend? Am I right?”

“Um… well, I…”

“Come now, you can tell me! I know there are men who like the big ones, the bigger the better, and you are one of these men, I am right.”

Because he said it like a statement, and not a question, I nodded my head and said, “I hope so, yeah.”

“I have seen it all. I have had quite a life, been around the world, and seen everything. You don’t need to feel embarrassed, so let me ask you a question, and I want you to answer me honestly: Would you like her bigger?”

“…Excuse me?”

“I imagine you quite like Jocelyn’s figure, and I am wondering, would you like her to stay the size she is now, or would you like her to get bigger? Because I could help out in my own small way, whichever you would like. I am a very good judge of character. I think you would be good for her. I adore Jocelyn, she is my best customer! So, if I can make you happy, and you can make her happy, and certainly her business makes me very very happy! then I would like to help.”

What could I say after all of that? I couldn’t really believe it, any of it, but I mumbled:

“Bigger. Bigger.”

“Alright, I will see what I can do.”

He shuffled off to the kitchen. As he disappeared, Jocelyn emerged from the ladies room. Before leaving the house, she had thrown on a white Adidas t-shirt that was woefully small. She said she used to jog in it (“back in the dark ages”), but now she just wore it around the apartment, and when she did laundry and got breakfast. Her stomach up to her belly button was revealed, and the jiggling from her confident sashaying walk was a sight to behold. Other customers in the diner stared at her, many of them older women giving her dirty looks, for being so fat, so young, and so free. She crammed herself back into her seat.

“Dang, I was hoping to come back to find my food waiting for me. Hey Cotton, hurry up with the grub!” She had no qualms about yelling this out in the diner, bothering other customers.

“He’s usually very quick,” she said, “I wonder what’s taking him.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing.”

I was staring at her as she talked about her dream last night (is there anything more tedious than other people’s dreams, even the dreams of those we adore?), taking her plump cheeks, her thick neck and double chin, her sparkling large eyes, like a cat at night, and I thought about desire. Desire named Jocelyn, desire lost last night, and desire regained, right now and into the future. As my thoughts unspooled with the clarity of morning, a young waitress, stick-thin and all of thirteen, brought out two cups of coffee, two glasses of orange juice, two glasses of milk, and two milkshakes, one chocolate, one strawberry.

“Milkshakes?”

“Grampy said they were on the house. For being our best customer.”

“Oh yeah, give it here.” She was gesturing at the chocolate.

Our drinks were placed before us. Jocelyn immediately went to town on her milkshake, sucking with ferocity through two straws at once.

“So you always get coffee, milk and juice?”

She sucked up a little more and pulled her lips away, a little dribble of chocolate finding its way onto her belly shirt. She let out a small burp.

“Yeah, I believe in a full breakfast. It’s the right way to start the day.”

She grabbed cream and sugar and stirred it into her coffee, with a particular focus on the fine white powder.

“I like my sugar with coffee and cream,” she giggled.

She sipped at her coffee, and moaned her approval.

“Cotton makes good java.”

I took a sip of the juice. Fresh pressed. A sip of milk. Whole?

“Whole?”

“Yeah, I like my milk homo. That’s homogenized, sucka.”

“Too thick for me.”

“You sure? Give it here.”

She unceremoniously grabbed my glass and gulped it down. After chugging that, she chugged her own glass of milk, there never being enough for Jocelyn. She let out a juicy burp that made her giggle. The blue-haired biddy behind her crane her neck around and glare.

“Nummy moo juice.”

Around this time, our waitress came out bearing two huge platters that had her huffing and puffing. They were really too much for her adolescent musculature: colossal omelettes, heaping piles of pan fries, buttered toast glistening in the morning light, bowls of oatmeal sprinkled with cinnamon, and enough bacon, sausage and ham to feed a family. Jocelyn was literally drooling, and sucked it back noisily as her food was being set in front of her. She grabbed a piece of bacon off the plate before it had even made it to the table.

“There’s a little more of everything. And Grampy said he cooked it up extra special for you.”

“Awesome!” said Jocelyn, as she stuffed a gargantuan bite from the omelette into her mouth. Chewing with her mouth open, she readied her next bite.

Our waitress gazed at her with an odd expression, one I might call “familiar disbelief”. She couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing, even though she had seen it countless times before.

“Is this your first time… sharing a meal with Jocelyn?” she asked me.

“No.”

“Ah, I see.”

She went off, and left us to eat our breakfasts. These plates looked like the sort of plates that are usually used to cook turkeys, and they were filled with food. These omelettes must have taken six eggs to make. The toast was piled up in two towers. The amount of food was mind-boggling, but I was also really hungry myself, having not eaten a decent meal since lunch the day before, and so I tucked in myself.

I ate away, keeping one eye on Jocelyn the whole while. She was really pushing herself, seeming to goad herself on with each new bite. She would have some fries (“mmm, so good!”), then try the omelette (“oooh, extra cheese!”), then crunch on some toast, crumbs flying everywhere (“more butter than usual”).

The meal was huge, even for a trooper like her. She took a breather halfway through, having already eaten enough for one person (maybe two). Smacking her hands on her belly, she let out a contented sigh.

“So, I’m making a pig of myself again.”

I put down my fork. “No, no, don’t say that –

“No, I am, I can’t help it.” She did have some egg yolk on her chin, and ketchup on her right hand. “It’s who I am. I just (urp) love food. I don’t get people that don’t love food. But I guess that’s how they stay so thin.”

She curled up her lip and crinkled her nose, registering some annoying discomfort. She pressed her hands into her stomach and:

“BRRRRRAAAAAAPPPPPOORRRRRP! BUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRP!”

: unleashed two sonic boom belches. The patrons of the diner were understandably shocked and disgusted by this display. The blue-haired biddy sitting behind Jocelyn turned around.

“Excuse me, young lady,” she said, “but it is usually considered polite to say ‘excuse me’.”

“Yeah, well it’s usually considered polite to mind your own damn business, so why don’t you turn back around?” Jocelyn forced a small belch in the old lady’s face for emphasis.

“You should learn to watch your appetite, or soon you’ll be too fat for your boyfriend there.”

“Oh yeah? He thinks I’m crazy hot, he told me so, and when is the last time anyone said that to you? Now why don’t you turn around and focus on your senior special before I gobble it up on you!”

The biddy turned away, muttering curse words under her breath.

“Wow, very ballsy,” I said.

“Ballsy? You saying I have balls?”

“The lady version of ballsy.”

“I think that’s called brassy. And thank you.”

“Any time, brassy lady.”

“I wanted to check in with you, make sure you still want me to be me.”

“Of course. You being you is… the best you.”

“Because if you don’t like the way I’m eating, or behaving in general, like certain old bitches I could mention, then maybe we wouldn’t work out. I don’t want you to think I’m just (hic-burp) desperate for sex.”

“Like I told you last night, I want you to feel comfortable to be yourself. All the time. Okay?”

“Okeydokey. Say, you never touched your milkshake.”

“Huh?” It was true. “I didn’t really want it. Too early in the day for a milkshake.”

“Too early? No such thing. Give it here.”

I passed her the strawberry milkshake and she proceeded to suck it up.

We went back to eating, me slowly picking away at my massive portion, her packing it away like someone was going to take it from her. She had drained her OJ, finished her coffee, delivered her six-egg omelette to an untimely death, shovelled the pan fries in, and cleaned her plate. Her lips were greasy as they curved into a satisfied smile. A parade of hiccups began marching from her mouth, jiggling the fat around her chin and arms.

“Oof, that was (hic) sooooo (hic) good (hic). It feels great to really (hic-burp) pack it away.”

“I have to say, you certainly have a healthy appetite.”

“I always have (hic hic), even when I was a skinny-mini, but over the last (hicCUP!) few years, I’ve really just (hic) embraced it. I’ve gotten (hic beeeelch) fat in the process, which isn’t exactly ideal, but I can’t seem to control myself anymore.”

“I think it looks great on you.”

“I know you do,” she said, slyly, “you think I’m craaaaazy hot. (hic) I don’t think I’ll ever forget that. You didn’t just make my day, you made my whole life.”

“Come on, you are super pretty. I find it hard to believe that you’ve never heard you were pretty before.”

She shrugged her meaty shoulders.

“I had a couple dates in high school, but I never felt totally comfortable. I felt like I was just expected of me.” She put a clenched fist to her mouth and stifled a burp so rumbling that it resembled a dubstep bass drop. “Excuse me. I’m a pretty girl!” She giggled.

“So you never dated after high school?”

“Right after high school is when I started putting on weight. I felt too embarrassed to date anybody. And I kept getting… bigger. I wasn’t a huge fan of it, but I didn’t want to fucking exercise, or eat less. Speaking of eating…”

She stared at me, hunger in her eyes.

“When you said I should be myself, you meant it, right?”

I nodded yes.

“Then let me have your food.”

“Huh?”

“You’re not going to finish that, right? I mean, it’s just been sitting there for, like, ever.”

I wasn’t completely full. I had just been taking a breather while I talked to Jocelyn, and had been planning at picking away at a bit more.

“Are you sure you can eat anymore?”

“Don’t question me when it comes to food.”

She said it with a certain determination, like a person with no sense of humour trying and failing to tell a joke. I felt like I didn’t want to cross her and so, still hungry, I pushed my plate over to her.

She set to it, much slower this time, but with a ferocious resolve. Jocelyn couldn’t stand to see any food leftover. With every last morsel of my food in her bloated belly, Jocelyn let out a prolonged belch, looking completely greedy and gluttonous.

“Thanks Davey. All that leftover food on your plate was too tempting. Ooof.” She rubbed her belly, which was almost entirely visible, a fact she had just picked up on. “Oh jeez, I am popping right out of this shirt. I didn’t realize it had gotten so small.”

“I think it looks great on you.” She looked enormous, like she was wearing a kid’s shirt, filling up her side of the table, looming slightly above my line of sight on the cushioned throne of her own jumbo buttocks.

“I think I’m about ready to go. I need a nap.”

I got up and went over to her side of the table. She was waggling the fingers on her left arm about, indicating she wanted some help rising. It was hard to tell how capable she was of getting up under her own power; how much was the amount of food in her gut, and how much was simply sloth. Either way, it was quite a struggle to slide her out of the booth, but it was worth it to feel how massive she was, to see how jiggly she was, and to hear her huffing and puffing. Once standing, she gave me a peck on the cheek. I blushed, taken off guard by this kiss.

“I like you more than cake,” she said, cutely.

“Is that a fact?”

“Maybe the same. It’s definitely close.” Her eyes shone in sync with her jokey inflection. She marched toward the exit, her blown-up butt beckoning me to follow. She turned, catching me perving her out, and smirked.

“Could you get the bill? I’m gonna head over to Starbucks and pick up a coffee.”

Again I was stuck with the bill, and again I had no complaints. This woman ate through my wallet, but watching that greedy girl gorge herself in public was worth the price of admission.

I paid the young waitress who had served us, leaving a generous tip. Just as I turned, on my way to reunite with my gluttonous girl, I locked eyes with Cotton. He winked at me.

[jdpoodoo]

wow! just when i thought the best story here was dead. man oh man was that good! I loved the dubstep bassdrop belch, i never laughed so hard in my life. please, you must continue this story.

[B00TS]

A super instalment. So glad you continued - great work!:)

[Uncle Jack]

Outside of Cotton’s, Jocelyn was holding a coffee cup with foam on the top, as well as a bag.

“Whatcha got there?”

“Got myself a caramel machiatto!”

“I meant in the bag.”

“Just a couple cookies, some banana bread, and a lemon square. For later.”

We walked (I walked, she waddled) back to her building. I opened the door for her.

“Milady.”

“Thank ye, milord. I feel like Game of Thrones here. Just don’t lop my head off.”

She looked at the staircase and sighed.

“I get so sick of going up and down these stairs all the time. The down part, not so bad. It’s the up that gets me.”

“I got an idea, if you’re game.”

“Idea? For what?”

“Just start climbing those steps.”

She placed one pudgy foot on the a step, then as she moved her other leg, I took the plunge and planted one hand in the middle of each mammoth ass cheek and pushed that whale of a woman up the stairs.

“Oh Dave!” she yelped in surprise.

“This… oughtta… do the trick,” I said, really putting my biceps and back muscles to the test.

Jocelyn giggled like a kid. She took out a piece of banana bread and got to work on it as I pushed her weight up the stairs. She had to move her feet, of course, but the sweat forming on my brow was telling me that I was supplying most of the upward momentum. By the time we reached the top of the stairs, I had to take a breather. Jocelyn was breathing heavily as well, despite all the assistance I had given her.

“I gotta say,” she said around her banana bread, “I don’t know how I feel about you grabbing my butt like that.”

“Sorry… I just thought… it would (puff gasp)… help… I didn’t mean to… overstep my bounds.”

“No no! I actually liked it…” she turned beet red.

“Oh yeah?”

“I just… my butt is so big, and wobbly and jiggly, I don’t know why any guy would like it. I know that I don’t. I would love to have a smaller butt.” She spied the instant erection I got, which was trying to break right through the denim. “Though I see there’s at least one guy that likes it.”

“C’mon, haven’t you heard Baby Got Back? Or what about J.Lo? Guys love big butts.”

“Yeah, but that’s just a song. And J.Lo is all athletic and shit. I’m not really the J.Lo type.”

“Well, if your butt ever gets smaller, I will lodge an official complaint with the Registry of Big Booties.”

Jocelyn laughed her delightfully boisterous laugh.

“Good to hear. I still wish it was smaller sometimes. A couple weeks ago I was line at the theatre to get popcorn, and I turned around too fast and bumped a kid to the ground with my butt!”

“No way!”

“She even cried. I was mortified!”

“Did you hightail it out of there?”

“Um… no… I really wanted popcorn! I apologized to the kid’s mother, but she seemed pretty upset all the same.”

“If you ever knock over any kids while you’re with me, I’ll catch them before they hit the ground.”

“You’ll be like my butt insurance!” She laughed nervously, comfortable joking, slightly uncomfortable with the topic of discussion.

“Absotutely.”

She spun around and rammed her butt into my crotch. My rock-hard dick poked back as I took a couple of steps back from the impact, to keep myself standing upright.

“Booty blast!” she said.

Watching her walk to her apartment door, I was struck by her natural beauty. The elegance of her exaggerated proportions and her lustrous black hair played in front of my eyes like a dream. Whereas the women I had known before Jocelyn had endeavoured to create the successful illusion of happenstance natural beauty, with Jocelyn there seemed to be very little effort. Her beauty actually was a festive quirk of the cosmos. When she reached the door and looked back at me, inquiring why I was lagging behind, the impact of her face on my synapses reinforced the ease with which beauty settled upon her, like a gentle snowfall. Without makeup, without fancy clothes, without wiping the food off her face, without even trying Jocelyn had every other girl in the world beat, fat or thin.

“What are you looking at?”

“Just admiring your beauty.”

That blush again.

“Never heard that one before. My absolute lack of allure usually prevents it.”

“Come on, you never heard you were pretty? I find that exceptionally hard to believe.”

“You believed that I’ve never been called hot easily enough.”

She opened the door and we moved the conversation into her small apartment.

“Okay, yeah, but other men… maybe they can’t appreciate your unique sex appeal.” She tittered, embarrassed. “But pretty… you have an objectively pretty face.”

“Oh stop.”

“It is. It’s a model’s face.”

“Yeah, but it’s round. Fat-faced models aren’t running the catwalk.”

I was about to suggest plus size modelling, but I realized that she was probably bigger than most, if not all, plus size models.

We hung around the apartment, chatting about this and that, still playing get-to-know-each-other really. She ate up all of the treats she bought at Starbucks, including her macchiato (I guess it was technically “later”). She finally seemed to be done eating, and she lay back on her bed, shirt riding up to exposed her entire bloated belly.

“Blargh, I am full.”

“You need some help there?”

“What, you gonna feel up my fat ass again?”

“No no, I thought maybe you could use a belly rub. For digestion.”

“Oooh yeah, that would be heaven!”

I sat next to her, admiring how much of the bed she took up, and began to rub her belly back and forth. All that malleable blubber felt amazing under my fingertips. Jocelyn sighed, purred, moaned, and burped.

“Nice one.”

“Pshaw. That’s nothing.”

She sucked in a couple small breaths and unleashed a mega burp right in my face, rude crude and full of attitude.

“Wow. Now that was a nice one.”

“I’m a champ.”

Suddenly a low rumble emerged from her rear end.

“…whoopsie.”

“It’s okay.”

“Excuse me. See, this is why I’ve never been with a guy. I’m hopeless! I’m just a fat pig. I’ve only known you, god, less than a week! And I’m already farting in front of you, parading my jelly belly around.”

“Listen, I want you to stop saying things like that. From now on, I want you to forget all that bad stuff. You’re damn perfect the way you are. Okay?”

“I can’t help but think that way sometimes. Not often, but when I’m with you, I think bad thoughts more often.”

“I don’t like that, hearing that I’m the cause of you feeling bad about yourself.”

“No no no! I mean that I’m just nervous and excited, and I just want to make a good impression, and I just realized that I ate so much for breakfast, and I’m worried about what you think of me, and oh god… BUUURRP.”

“I kinda like it when you eat a lot.” Now it was my turn to blush.

“Say what?”

As easily as doing advanced calculus, and about as voluntarily, I launched into a shambling monologue about how she was a large woman, and that that was fine, and there was nothing wrong with that, and there was nothing wrong with having a large appetite to go with it, but it takes a certain kind of man, a connoisseur, to appreciate such a woman. The way I said it implied that I was that certain kind of man, that I wanted very much to be that kind of man for her. The exact words, I don’t remember; I was barely aware of what I was saying while I was saying it. All I am sure of is that Jocelyn cut me off with a finger to my lip and, her other hand insistent, grabbed the front of my shirt and pulled me down on top of her. She was spread out underneath me, her wide body preventing any part of me from touching the mattress. We began making out, our tongues intertwining, the delicious taste of bananas and chocolate and caramel in her mouth, as sweet as her, and when she burped in my mouth, she didn’t excuse herself, didn’t pull away, but kept passionately grabbing me. I felt free to squeeze her, squeeze her breasts, squeeze her arms, her love handles, her fat belly, and nary an objection raised. I tried to squeeze her luscious derriere, but her weight was too intense and I couldn’t wedge my hand underneath, so I settled for her bulbous hip. We made out for I don’t know how long, and just as I was starting to grunt like a gorilla, she pushed me off.

“We have to stop,” she said, “I just… I don’t want to go too far yet.”

“Okay, okay.” I attempted to regain my composure. My cock was throbbing so hard that she could see my heartbeat through the crotch of my pants.

“I see someone is excited. Would you like me to… take care of that?”

“You wouldn’t mind?”

“I’ve never done it before, but there’s a first time for everything, right?”

She went to sit up, putting her arms under herself and grunting. She fell back down.

“Ugh, too stuffed to suck dick.” We both laughed.

“It’s fine. Really.”

“Come here.” She patted the mattress on a spot closer to her arm.

I scooched over and she began fumbling with my zipper. I did the work for her, extricating my boner. She began stroking up and down, applying a very light pressure that was orgasmic agony.

“If you like me big, then I think we’re going to get along famously,” she said, “because I just can’t seem to control myself these days. The other night, I think it was, oh, Wednesday? When I got home from work, I ordered a big thing of nachos and the student special from my favourite pizza place. The student special is two medium pizzas and a 2 liter of Pepsi, all really cheap. I knew while I was ordering it that it was too much food, but I just couldn’t help myself, I wanted food so bad and no one was around to tell me no. My mother always used to tell me to watch what I ate, that’s how I stayed relatively skinny. But I would eat at school, where my friends would tease me, tell me I was going to get fat, but I didn’t listen to them. I remember this one time, we had a school assembly in the auditorium. Me and my friends sat at the back, and I snuck in a McDonald’s bag, Quarter Pounder with fries, and my friends thought it was a laugh riot, and I laughed along with them, but I also was secretly thrilled, like I was getting away with something, and I was kinda turned on. I never told anyone before, and I didn’t really understand it back then, I still don’t, but I gobbled that fast food up while Principal Blumen went on and on. I bet now I wouldn’t even fit into one of those auditorium seats! If I was in Grade 12 now, I might be the biggest girl in school. I forget most of the time, it doesn’t even occur to me that I’m fat, but then I do what I did on Wednesday night, I ordered all that food, I ate every last morsel while I watched tv and chatted on Facebook. I was chatting with my friend Holly, about normal stuff, and if she could have seen what a pig I was being, sitting in my computer chair, bloated and greasy and gassy, she wouldn’t have believed it. Just a second…”

Keeping up her handjob, which had only increased in intensity along with her speech, she patted herself on the chest, and produced a low, greedy, gluttonous, shameless belch, at which point I exploded, spurting across the floor and oozing over her hand.

“Ooooh, so that’s what that looks like,” she said, “I’ve seen videos, but never the real thing.”

I couldn’t say anything. I could barely breathe.

“So, did I do a good job?”

“How… how did you know to talk like that?”

“I dunno, it just poured out of me naturally. Why, did you like it?”

“AbsoLUTEly.”

“I really feel like I can be myself with you. Are you doing anything tomorrow? I already made plans for tonight, but I’m free all day tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah, definitely, yeah.”

“Could you clean that up?” she asked, pointing at my mess, “I’m feeling kinda sleepy. I’m gonna grab some shut eye before I shower.”

“Okay. I’ll just head home. I could use a shower myself.”

“You don’t need a drive, do you?”

“No, I just live in the area, remember? It’s not far.”

“Okay. I really don’t feel like getting up just now. I wouldn’t want to walk there, but then I’m not fit and trim like you.”

Walking home, after cleaning up and kissing her goodbye, I punched the air, fist-bumping God.

[Uncle Jack]

Very excited to be getting back to this story. Coming soon: back to the call centre!

[Uncle Jack]

Sunday. Coffee with Jocelyn at Starbucks by her house, after the theatre, talking about the things we liked about the movie and the things we didn’t. She had three big bags of popcorn and three large sodas, sending me back to get all the refills. She was wearing black leggings with a dress that white around the chest and sky blue around the belly, with a chunky black belt under her breasts. She slightly overpoured her single seat, so we had the arm between us up, so her hips could rest on the edge of my seat and push me to the side of my own chair. She was, frankly, obnoxious, laughing louder than anyone else, chomping noisily, and occasionally burping, with no attempt to quiet herself. She got some looks, and even a ‘shush!’ at one point, but to no avail. After the movie, she ran out of the theatre, having to pee like crazy, and the image of such a big pear-shaped beauty run was amazing, every footfall an earthquake, sending tremors through her ghetto booty, that image was still in my brain as we enjoyed our coffee.

“I had to pee so bad, I almost broke the toilet seat!”

“Haha, I don’t really follow.”

Jocelyn took a nibble from her muffin.

“When I got in the stall, I just tore down my tights, lifted my skirt, and sat down so fast that the seat kinda squealed. I broke my toilet seat at home before, so I recognize the sound. Sometimes when I’ve been out late, I’ll rush home so fast, running up the stairs, I’m sure my neighbours can hear me!”

Jocelyn running. A rare sight, like an endangered bird.

“So, there’s something I’ve been meaning to bring up, but I didn’t really want to.”

“Kay.”

“I am, technically, your supervisor.”

This weekend, since the night at the Voodoo, had been so incredible that I had forgotten about work, and had somehow forgotten how it was we knew each other to begin with.

“And since you’re still in training,” she continued, “I’m not really supposed to be dating you.”

“Oh. That doesn’t sound good.”

“It’s not a big deal. Like, at all. But while we’re at work, we gotta keep things on the DL. In fact, at work we should just act like we’re not dating at all. Keep everything secret.”

“If that’s what we have to do, then ok.”

“Unfortunately it is. But hey, it could be fun. I actually like the idea of having a secret relationship. Maybe it’s because I’m not used to having a bo- not used to dating a guy, but I still don’t know how to be casual about it. Like, do you just walk around telling people you’re dating someone?”

“Only if it comes up. Otherwise you might look like a crazy person.”

“Too late, already am. All work and no play makes Jocelyn something something.”

“Go crazy?”

“Don’t mind if I do!”

She made a silly face and flung her beefy arms around like a maniac. People at Starbucks stared. It was somewhat unusual to see such a fat girl being so vivacious and goofy in public. I laughed hysterically.

“I didn’t think it was that funny,” she said, “but I’ll accept your laughter, humbly and graciously.”

At this point, a tall skinny man with glasses, a professorial looking type who had been pecking away at a laptop in the corner, packed up his things and left.

“Look at that,” said Jocelyn.

“What?”

“He just left his sandwich behind.”

It was true. He had been slowly eating his sandwich while he worked on his computer, and hadn’t bothered to take the rest with him.

“Go get it for me.”

“What?”

“No reason for it to go to waste. It’ll just get thrown away.”

“Joss, it’s someone else’s food. I don’t think…”

“I want it. Now.”

She was getting that serious tone in her voice again, the one that was so unlike her regular speaking voice. Feeling like a fool, I got up, nonchalantly, and quickly went over to the table. I snatched up the sandwich and darted my eyes around, to see if anyone noticed me. A middle aged couple were staring at me. Pretending I was being absolutely normal, I brought the sandwich back to my goddess. She took a huge bite, getting a spot of mustard on her right cheek. It didn’t take long for her to inhale the rest.

“How can people just leave their food behind? Waste of food, waste of money. Oh well, more for me. I gotta tinkle again. Too many drinkskis!”

She hauled herself up and wiggle-waddled to the little girls’ room. While I waited for her, I overheard the middle-aged couple whispering behind me, trying not to be heard.

“That poor boy, stealing food for that girl. As if she needs it.”

“I don’t know how people can let themselves go like that. Rick, shoot me if I ever let myself get that big.”

“The thing is, he’s just enabling her eating problem. He’s probably been seeing her a long time, watching her turn into a hog, and he’s too nice to say anything.”

“You don’t know that, Rick. Some men are into that sort of thing. I’m not saying it’s not weird, but it’s presumptuous to assume he doesn’t like her that way. All kinds of people are into all kinds of weirdo stuff.”

“Oh, please.”

I supposed that it was true, that what Jocelyn had was an eating problem. It certainly wasn’t healthy to eat that much. But I was never going to deny her. I would get her food anytime, under any circumstances. I was powerless to the principle of plumping her up as best I could. And she was happy, and I was happy, and who cared what Rick and his wife thought? Who cared what anyone thought? How could I have told Jocelyn to be herself, when I felt embarrassed? I made my own promise, to myself. No more shame.

Jocelyn waddled back, her belly looking blue and bountiful in her flowing dress, her arms slightly out to her sides. She was my sexy Miss Piggy, and to prove it she tossed her dark hair back and belched.

“Are you ready?”

I took a look back at the middle-aged couple. Rick was reading the paper, but I made contact with the wife. I nodded, barely, but I think she could tell. I looked back to Miss Piggy.

“Ready.”

[Uncle Jack]

Just wondering if anyone has any comments regarding what they would like to see happen in the story. This isn't a guarantee that I will include things that are mentioned, but it's nice to know what people like, what they don't like, what they want to see and don't want to see. I see a good number of thread views, and I just want to know why so many people are interested (or alternatively, why people keep coming back over and over).

[Doodleduh]

Just wondering if anyone has any comments regarding what they would like to see happen in the story. This isn't a guarantee that I will include things that are mentioned, but it's nice to know what people like, what they don't like, what they want to see and don't want to see. I see a good number of thread views, and I just want to know why so many people are interested (or alternatively, why people keep coming back over and over).

From reading "Company Retreat," I have to say that I really like your writing when the girl begins to admit she is fat and becomes proud of it. It would be nice if Jocelyn would start to try and get fatter for the Main Character.

[Lardibutts]

I just love your writing - what was going through the guy's mind, while he sat in her flat waiting for her to come out of the bathroom, stayed with me a week or more
:bow: :bow:
What I'd like is for her to really enjoy losing her sexual inhibitions, them to move in together, and all the comedy to come from them having to disguise the relationship at work.
Oh - and maybe hopefully figure out a way they can afford to keep her in a manner in which she will clearly blossom.
L

[B00TS]

Totally agree with Lardibutts' comments and ideas. It would be good to see Jocelyn slowly become more content with her size and enjoy teasing David with it. I suppose more internal confidence to go with the outward devil-may-care attitude.

Obviously, David's six weeks will be up at some point, meaning less time for the protagonists to be in contact. May be an opportunity for a bit of a twist up - Joss gets 'let go' from the training job maybe? They decide to strike out together in some other enterprise?

Other thoughts - A bit of mild stuckage always floats my boat... Growing/busting out of clothes is always a winner...

I'm sure based on the quality so far, whatever you decide will be awesome.

The characters are so rich and the angle so good, I'd happily see this run to a full-on novel!

Cheers, Boots.

[bbwsrule]

Great story! I like stories that are "FATaFAT" i.e. Funny And Titillating about FAT" and this one sure is. I like an already fat girl getting fatter.

Lots of "LOL" lines!

[acadm]

imo, readers shouldn't be telling jack what they want to read/see about Jocelyn or Dave or anybody else. let jack develop it how he wants to develop it. i realize now that if it takes time for him to do this, then take the time. this is easily one of great wg stories that I've read, up there with Coming Home and My Roommate the Fatty, Smokehouse Sundae and the Best Secretary in the World and Her Belly from the old stories board (granted I haven't read many), and I don't want to tell jack oh, put jocelyn in a scene where she's eating kumquats, or have davey gain weight to match joc. let the story develop on it's own, at jack's own pace and time. peace, looking forward to the next part, whenever it will come

[jdpoodoo]

I agree with acadm. I'm sure we would all love to have our .2 cents added to Jacks story however we need to realize that we are not writing the story, Jack is. his characters should develop how he sees fit. (but wait they should move in together)(she should enjoy losing her sexual inhibitions) I personally think they should ride off into the sunset on the amazing horse but thats going to be in the story that "I"write, I'm just saying...

[B00TS]

I agree with acadm. I'm sure we would all love to have our .2 cents added to Jacks story however we need to realize that we are not writing the story, Jack is. his characters should develop how he sees fit. (but wait they should move in together)(she should enjoy losing her sexual inhibitions) I personally think they should ride off into the sunset on the amazing horse but thats going to be in the story that "I"write, I'm just saying...
Er, the author did ask for comments on where the story might lead...

[Uncle Jack]

As I said, I never intended to incorporate what people told me into the story wholesale. I already have ideas for where to take it. I just wanted to know what it was that people were connecting with in the story. The things people predict might happen and the things people wish would happen are equally valid indicators about what's working in a story and what isn't. So to acadm I say there is no need to worry. Everyone else, thank you for your suggestions and feedback.

As to the issue of Jocelyn losing her sexual inhibitions... the majority of WG stories feature women who are total feedee vixens, or are completely oblivious and/or apathetic about becoming huge and eating like pigs. A great many of these are stories I really really like, but something I'm trying to do is walk a middle path between these two extremes, something that is a little closer to reality while still hitting all the sexy notes that I fantasize about every day.

[acadm]

dude where have you been? i'd like to see more occurring at the call center itself, especially a comparison contrast kind of thing, jocelyn's big belly after another feast versus a woman who is anorexic or something, nice comparison contrast of fat versus thin. i like others am anxiously awaiting the next part, bumping this up so it gets more views

[Uncle Jack]

Ask and you shall receive.


All good weekends must come to an end. I found myself walking back into training class, full of losers and the uneducated, full of people I wished I didn’t have to count myself among. But Jocelyn was there, at the front of the class, eating a McDonald’s breakfast, and all was right with the world. We grinned at each other, said hello, and that was it. Playing it cool, so that no one would ever guess what we had been up to.

The morning passed, with Jocelyn going laboriously over the product line. She was wearing a hoodie, because it was a little chilly, but it fit her rounded form nicely. Her legs were covered in green khaki Capri pants, which were devastatingly tight. The button was miles away from being buttoned, and the zipper was half-zipped, so that the class could see the front of her Canada flag panties. The hoodie was actually big enough that it covered this underwear exhibition when it was pulled all the way down, but it only stayed that way if Jocelyn didn’t move at all, but unfortunately she was standing up to walk over to the projection and point to what she was talking about. Then she would walk over to the computer to scroll or click on to a new product, taking the opportunity to help herself to some mixed nuts that she had in a large plastic jar. This would bring the hoodie back up again. I had a feeling that Jocelyn didn’t realize how much she was showing off. Girls were whispering and guys were chuckling, but she soldiered on obliviously.

And so Monday bled into Tuesday. We had been purposefully avoiding each other at work, only making small talk, but with extra eye contact, as if we were having a telepathic conversation. On Tuesday, she was having lunch alone, reading a book, so I took the opportunity to sit with her. She had a fruit smoothie from Wrap It Up, a beef wrap from Tarboosh, and two double chocolate brownies from The Cocoa Bomb.

“Why hello,” I said, loudly, “would you mind if I sat here?”

“Not at all,” said Jocelyn, also loudly, “have a seat David, it’s always good to have a chat with the new people, to gauge their feelings and attitudes toward the workplace.”

We both silently chuckled.

“Small lunch. Not hungry today?”

She had a mouthful of beef that she tried to talk through.

“What was that?”

She swallowed.

“There was a complimentary breakfast upstairs for all the training staff and supervisors. Pancakes, waffles and French toast! And tons of fruit, melon and pineapple. I could not stop eating. It was soooo good. It was like one of those moments where your belly is like no more please, but your mouth is just like more more MORE! You know what I mean?”

I didn’t, but I nodded yes.

“So I ate until there was nothing left. And then Gerald, who works in Quality Control, he got in late because his kid is sick or some stupid thing. He was mad because he missed the breakfast, and he thought that they were going to save some for him. I guess he called in that he would be late or something. But I didn’t know that! And if you’re gonna be late, then maybe you just don’t get any! I’m not gonna apologize for loving maple syrup.”

We chitted the chat as I ate my meagre packed lunch. I was eating a simple PB&J with an apple and a Skor bar.

“Oooh, Skor!”

Jocelyn snatched up my Skor bar as soon as I pulled it out of my bag, unwrapped it, and pulled her usual disappearing act.

“Thanks for bringing me a Skor. Haven’t had one in a long time.”

She then proceeded to eat the half of my sandwich that I had temporarily put down, in three monster bites.

“Oo wirn gunah ee dat, rye?”

“No, I was done with that, yeah.”

Mental note: never put down food you actually want to eat.

We returned to class, talking about work bullshit instead of anything fun, to keep up appearances. We tried to go through the door at the same time and, needless to say, we bounced against each other.

“Gentlemen first,” she said.

I passed through the door and felt her pinch my ass. I looked back to see her mouth the words “couldn’t resist”.

And so Tuesday bled into Wednesday. Whereas on Monday it seemed like Jocelyn had been trying anew to teach the class right, each passing day seemed to find her lazier and lazier. She was steadily working her way through a box of donuts she had bought herself on the drive to work. We spent the morning playing pointless games of hangman and trivia until Jocelyn called for a break that lasted forty-five minutes. I ran into her on the phone out in front of the building. I waved, and she signalled that she would be done in a second.

“Yeah, okay Hollydolly, talk to you then. Peace out, pretty lady!” She hung up. “Hey David, how are you doing?”

“Good good.”

I stepped closer and spoke lower.

“I want to see you. Away from work. What are you doing tonight?”

“Well, I was just talking to my friend Holly, and we’re going to trivia night at the Crow’s Nest. But you’ll have to pretend we’re just friends, kay? Holly doesn’t work here, but she used to, and there might be work people there. Can’t be too careful.”

So it was agreed, and I spent the rest of the day staring at Jocelyn, and waiting for the moments when she would stare back. She was wearing a simple outfit, tight pink Arcade Fire t-shirt and tight tight tight blue jeans. She had managed to get them buttoned over the lower part of her belly, but the top part spilled over in an obscene muffin top. The highlight of the day was when Jocelyn came back from lunch with a footlong from Subway.

“Didn’t you have time to eat on your lunch break?” asked a scrawny scarecrow Goth girl, the disgust in her voice thick enough to paint with.

“Yeah, but I was still hungry,” said Jocelyn, “and I don’t like to deny myself.” She looked at me when she said that and subtly winked.

She pounded back her chicken teriyaki sandwich and talked about various Internet bandwidth packages, from light user up to extreme user. Her mouth was full and all her words were garbled, with crumbs flying out, right up until she finished her sub. Later that afternoon, during our regular fifteen minute long break, I heard a couple girls talking about how “The Pig” had eaten like, well, a pig.

It was nearly eight p.m. that night when I showed up at the Crow’s Nest, ready to astound the world (specifically, Jocelyn) with my vast knowledge of things and junk. I had eaten before I left home, having learned from experience, and I was ready to step it up a notch in terms of wearing down Jocelyn’s inhibitions and insecurities. If I could really prove I was the real deal, maybe she would shed some of the things holding her back. She was amazingly shocking in public as it was, but it wasn’t exactly exhibitionist. More like oblivious. Jocelyn wasn’t a dumb girl; she was clever, funny, intelligent. But when it came to matters regarding food and the size of her body, she lacked all outward signs of self-awareness, to the point where it was hard to tell when she was truly ignorant of her public appearance as a “fattie”, and when she simply chose to look that way. By “fattie”, I don’t just mean an overweight person; I mean someone who overate, made rude noises, took without asking, and burst out of once-fitting clothes.

Frankly, my motives weren’t entirely altruistic. Rather than simply trying to strengthen the self-esteem of the girl I was crushing, I was also trying to transform her into something of an exhibitionist. If I massaged the part of her psyche that resulted in her telling the old lady off in the diner and reciting the soliloquy she delivered during her weekend handy, and demolished the part that gave rise to crying in the bathroom, then Jocelyn might really be a “fattie” to see, even by her generous standards.

These were the thoughts that ran in my mind, parallel to recovering basic tidbits of predictable trivia categories, as I entered the dimly-lit din of the bar. Jocelyn was not hard to find. She had chosen the table closest to the entrance, and waved me over as I came in the door, a Smirnoff ice in her other hand. With her was a small olive-skinned girl drinking a beer.

“Davey davey bo-bavey! This is Holly holly bo-bolly! Holly, scooch over, let him sit down.”

“Hey David, great to meet you. Jocelyn has been talking about you all night. I actually have to go to the bathroom.”

She got up from the table, and standing next to me I could see that she was very short, likely five foot nothing. She also had a spare tire that was quite noticeable in her shirt. She wasn’t fat, not even quite chubby. It was more like extra pounds that had recently found their way onto her short stature. On her height, five pounds could look like fifteen.

Holly gone, I went to sit down next to Jocelyn, even bending down to kiss her cheek, all gallant and shit, risking being seen by call centre peeps. But Jocelyn shook her head and motioned to the other side of the table.

“I don’t want anyone to see us dating.”

“They’re gonna see a man and a woman hanging out either way, no one is going to necessarily think we’re dating. If anything, it’ll look like Holly and I are dating.”

“A guy and a girl sitting in one seat, facing an empty seat? Sorry, no way. Besides, her side of the booth is more spacious.”

I grudgingly sat down across from her.

“I like limited space. More cozy that way.”

“We can get plenty cozy later,” she stage-whispered, her attempt to be sexy-coy made absurd by the noise of the packed bar.

“So I guess you two have already eaten?”

The table had some empty baskets with dipping sauces.

“We had wings already, but we were just about to order nachos and get new drinks. I’m doing the Smirnoff tonight. Forgot how great they are.”

Having pledged her devotion, she chugged the remaining third of her Ice. She wiped her mouth with her thick forearm and burped.

“How much have you had to drink?” I asked.

“Just enough that I got my beer goggles on. Come here often, mysterious stranger?”

She ran her foot up my leg.

“Only when there’s a certain curvy goddess getting drunk here.”

“Now where oh where is this goddess your talking about?” She swivelled her head around in an exaggerated fashion. “No goddesses here. BUUURP.”

Our waitress came by, a tall chubby girl with monumental tits.

“More drinks?”

“I’ll have another Ice, and we’re going to get a jumbo nachos, extra salsa, two extra sour creams, chicken on top.”

“And for you?”

I ordered a beer and watched her walk away, her thick butt shaking.

“Hey, eyes over here buddy.”

“Huh? Oh, sorry. Didn’t realize what I was doing.”

“You dooooooo like big girls, don’t you? Who’s cuter, her or me?”

“You, definitely.”

“Good answer.”

Holly returned, and I slid over so she could sit next to me.

“Jocelyn and I were just talking about work,” I said.

“You don’t have to worry. Jocelyn told me you two hooked up.”

I eyeballed Jocelyn, with my eyebrow raised.

“I couldn’t help it! It slipped out!”

“It’s okay,” said Holly, “if you two need to play Jim and Pam, I understand. It is technically against the rules.”

We got to talking (no, I didn’t want to work at the call centre for long, but I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do; Holly was the floor manager of an independent high-end grocery store named Samuel’s; Jocelyn had a really great Italian sausage earlier from a street vendor, so great that she immediately had a second) and drinking. Holly had beer, I had a second beer, Jocelyn got yet another Smirnoff. Our nachos arrived. They were the size of a German Panzer tank.

“Oh no!” cried Holly.

“C’mon Dolly, dig in, you’re getting verrry verrry hungry,” said Jocelyn, in a hypnotist intonation.

“I can’t, I’m getting a fat belly.”

She grabbed her belly and gave it a little shake. Now this was intriguing.

“Just indulge. We’re out, having drinks, laughs, fun on a bun! We’re gonna win at Trivia and eat nachos! Live life, Wednesday style!”

Holly sighed and reached in for some nachos. Jocelyn normally wanted every scrap of food for herself. Why was she so eager for Holly to share in the bounty.

I didn’t have a bite, as I was still full from my healthy salad-granola-pita&hummus-apple combo earlier. I basked in the distinct pleasure of watching two cuties chow down on greasy nachos. Jocelyn ate harder better faster stronger, and more in general, as she normally did. Holly, on the other hand, ate with reluctance, every few bites sighing or pressing a hand to her stomach with a pause, before diving back into the corn chip platter. She seemed to have reservations about eating this food, like she could do without it. So why was she eating it at all?

“Oh god (snort chomp), the nachos are friggin’ (urp) awesome here,” said Jocelyn.

“They’re gonna make me fat,” said Holly. She was taking a break, to rub her swollen tummy and groan.

“Nonsense, you’re a teensy little wood elf! I’m the fat one, a few nachos won’t kill you.”

Holly’s lower lip protruded, and a gust of air blew the bangs on her forehead around. She dug back in, slowly.

There was nothing slow about Jocelyn. She was so busy slathering extra sour cream on her chips that it was running down her fingers, onto the table and onto her clothes. She was wearing a button-up grey cardigan, another survivor from a few pounds ago, as it was bulging against her rotund body, gaps between buttons and threads being strained. She had a chic purple woollen hat on her head, a small thing that rested back from the front of her hair. Very stylish, my sexy glutton.

I watched as Jocelyn and Holly disappeared the huge thing of nachos (I’d say the ratio was something like 70:30, and 30 percent was pretty damn impressive for Holly considering how much smaller she was then her big fat friend). This was a party plate fit for four, not two girls, no matter how many regular-sized girls Jocelyn might count as. Jocelyn had ordered yet another Smirnoff in the middle of feasting and was nursing that while she plucked up the last few traces.

“Holls, we made short work of that. Urp-burp-BUUUURP. Dave, you didn’t have any. Why no?”

“I ate before I came.”

“Dave is a (BURP) healthy guy, not like us girls, right Holly?”

Holly simply groaned in pain.

Jocelyn excused herself to go to the bathroom. Her belly was pressed right into the table, and sliding across made her hiccup and burp like a piggy, but she finally extricated herself and waddled away to the restroom, drunkenly swaying and waddling.

“Are you gonna be okay?”

Holly opened her mouth to answer, but what came out wasn’t words.

“BUUUUURRRRP. Oh man, excuse me!” As is always the case, it was very shocking to see such a large belch come out of such a small woman.

“It’s okay.”

“I’m sure it is okay, considering you’re interested in Jocelyn.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You two are kind of dating, right? I just assumed. She kept bringing you up before you got here, so.”

“Yeah, we are dating. I just – what did you mean, ‘considering you’re interested…’?”

“I’m no dummy. I know it takes all types. Jocelyn has been single forever. Literally forever. While, not that she’s thousands of years old, I just mean she’s never had a real guy. She never even has anyone interested in her, because of the way she is. So if you’re interested in her, I know it’s not out of the goodness of your special heart. It’s because you like girls that are… sloppy.”

“That’s not the word I would have used, but yeah, that’s essentially the case.”

“What word would you use?”

“Oh, I don’t know…”

“Come on.”

“Don’t wanna say…”

“Now you have to say. Been built up too much.”

“…pig…”

“What? Couldn’t hear you.”

“Piggy.”

“Like Miss Piggy?”

“Yeah, like Miss Piggy, okay, can we stop talking about this now?”

No more shame? Easier said than done.

“Yeah, I can see that,” said Holly, “Miss Piggy suits her, for sure. I try to stay trim, but whenever I’m around her, I just eat and eat. To keep up with her, I don’t know. We’re eating buddies, though lord knows I should put a stop to it if I don’t want to have to buy a new wardrobe.”

“See, I’ve noticed that with most people, Jocelyn doesn’t really encourage them to eat as much as she hopes they’ll leave leftovers for her to finish.”

“Really? I’ve never noticed that before. That’s definitely not what it’s like with the two of us. You know, now it looks like we’re dating, if you’re worried about that sort of thing. Go sit on the other side with Miss Piggy.”

Holly let me out and I sat down across from her as Jocelyn came back toward the table. She stumbled heavily into a table of frat boys, causing their pitcher of beer to tip and spill across the surface and onto the floor.

“Hey, watch it!” yelled one of the polo shirted crew.

“I’m watching it, maybe you should be watching it,” Jocelyn yelled back.

She stomped over, her thighs quivering delightfully in her black leggings. The frat guys were laughing at her. One held his arms out to his sides and puffed out his cheeks.

“You okay there?” I asked her. She was looking a little unsteady.

“Oh yeah, just great.”

She slammed into the booth next to me, pushing her full weight into me. I lost my breath and saw spots for a second.

“Joss, careful or you’ll break him!”

“Huh?” She looked next to me. “Did I hurt you?”

“No… I’m… peachy,” I gasped.

“When’s trivia gonna start?” whined Jocelyn, “I’m gonna need some brain food if we’re gonna win.”

Jocelyn flagged down the waitress and ordered a thing of zucchini sticks, a thing of sliders, and a large meat pizza, all for the “table”. She also got herself yet another Smirnoff Ice. Holly was looking a little green in the face at the thought of the food she would be helpless to stop eating, especially when Jocelyn got another beer for her. I had another beer for myself, and when the food arrived, bar trivia started, as if the two were entangled at the quantum level.

Jocelyn had entered our team name as The Squirtles, and I think I did a damn good job. I knew the right answers to questions about Larry Bird, The Sopranos, the Higgs-Boson particle, R.E.M., Wu-Tang Clan, the War of 1812, and Danika Patrick. Holly pitched in on questions about classical music and fine wine. Jocelyn, despite her focus on the food, piped in with answers to puzzlers about reality tv, chocolate bars, and Harry Potter. Between the three of us, we felt we had a decent shot at one of the prizes that the trivia host kept pimping.

“I’m proud of us, guys,” said Joss, “we’re a smart bunch of squirtles. Dave, I didn’t know you were such a brain. What are you doing working at the call centre? You could be doing something a lot better.”

“I know stuff about rap and basketball, doesn’t mean I’m actually smart.”

“Now you’re being me. Don’t be down on yourself. BA-UURRRP.”

Holly tittered.

“That one was juicy!”

She laughed again, but it jostled her stomach, because she winced and then burped herself. Jocelyn guffawed, big knee-slapping laughs.

"Good one Hollydoll! Dave is cool with girls burping, so feel free to let'er rip!"

Jocelyn put her hands on her belly with a THUNK and just started letting out a series of burps. I was completely immersed in the way her double chin rolled around, and the way her lips opened and closed so seductively. I put my arm around her, feeling the give of her soft flesh, and the indent created by her bra straps digging into her beefy shoulders under her shirt. I must have been too absorbed, because Holly said, "Seems to me that Dave is more than just cool with it."

I felt a little weird when she said that, but my new motto was No Shame, so I acknowledged Holly with a smirk and a nod. Jocelyn didn't seem to get it, that it was beyond toleration, that it was lustful admiration, so it was a little conspiratorial connection between me and Holly. Were Jocelyn and I really the oddest couple in the world? Of course not. As the night wore on, it was clear to me that Holly was just happy for her growing gorging gaining friend.

The wearing on of the night also involved Jocelyn ordering a pizza and a hamburger simultaneously, because she couldn't choose, and I told her to get both. She ate her food in her usual piggish manner, and I slowly moved my hand around her swollen stomach, until it was placed right on the front, where I began my circular rubbing motion. Jocelyn's hypnotic sway over Holly continued, as she foisted fries and a single slice on her smaller friend. It was clear to me that if Holly valued her (relatively) slim figure, she should friend-dump Miss Piggy. Jocelyn seemed hell-bent on turning Holly into a shorter version of herself.

"Just let it out Holly! BURRRRP! C'mon, you'll feel better."

"Heh, no way, I'd be embarrassed."

"Just do it," Jocelyn said, the sharp tone of the intimidator entering her voice.

Jocelyn passed her Ice along the table to Holly, motioning for her to chug with one hand while flagging down the muscular male model waiter passing by.

"I'll have (urp-hiccup-urp) two more Ices," said Jocelyn enthusiastically.

Before the waiter could get away from the table, Holly put down the bottle she had quickly emptied and let loose a whale call of a burp. She made awkward eye contact with the waiter and turned red as a tomato.

We stayed a while longer, and I watched Jocelyn get absolutely trashed, and bully her friend into joining her. Bottle after bottle ended up in the two girls, and Jocelyn ordered another couple appetizers, chicken wings and zucchini fingers. She only gave one of each to Holly, who clearly didn't want them, but had them practically forced down her throat by Jocelyn's jiggly arm thrusting them across the table straight at her mouth. When I tried to take a wing, Jocelyn barked at me.

"No way, jose. Get your own damn wings."

I felt confident that the wings, which looked really good, would be gobbled up by my fat girlfriend if I bothered to order them. I was riding high on the thought that this big sexy behemoth was really truly my girlfriend when the girls struggled out of their seats, hiccupping with the movement. I pushed Jocelyn a little bit to ease her way, and suddenly realized how crushed in I had been when I started breathing deeper than before.

I paid for Jocelyn's food, which thrilled her, earning me a kiss with a lot of tongue.

"Aren't you afraid of getting caught?" I asked.

"Not tonight," she slurred, "I'm having too much fun. And I'm so fucking full. And so wet. Whoops. God I'm so drunk."

What happened next? Holly walked home, hiccupping in the night air. I waited for the bus with Jocelyn, rubbing her gut for her as nightwalkers glared. I put my heavy girl on the bus, and walked home, looking forward to work.

Of course, our intimacy the night before was gone at work. Jocelyn, clearly hungover, wore a tank top and sky blue spandex, an outfit I couldn't believe she owned, couldn't believe she fit into, couldn't believe she wore in public, especially since her lower belly roll kept flopping out. She would perform the fat girl downward shirt tug, but her next movement in her comfy chair would bring that roll back out, for all the trainees to gape at. She was endlessly chugging Gatorade and Mountain Dew. Her eyes were as heavy as her ass, and she began to snore.

"Um, Jocelyn? Jocelyn? Jocelyn!"

This from a girl in the front row, who summoned Jocelyn back to the living Beetlejuice style, shouting the third iteration of her name. Jocelyn grunted, her eyes snapping open.

"Yeah?"

"Look, if you're just gonna… if you're not feeling good, or whatever, can I just go?"

"Sorry, I can't let you do that."

"But we're not even doing anything!"

"I was juuuuust about to start," said Jocelyn, slowly moving her feet on the floor to wheel her fat chair-bound body over to her computer.

The questioning girl audibly sighed and pulled out a Tupperware container with pesto pasta and a bag of Bits 'n' Bites. Jocelyn's eyes lit up.

"I haven't had Bits 'n' Bites in ages! I forgot all about them. And is that pasta? Could I try a bite?"

"No. I'm hungry. I need to eat this." The girl's voice was filled with bile, and the subtext was clear to everyone who wasn't my sweet unmindful Miss Piggy: get your own food, you greedy fatso.

"I'll cut you a deal. Give me some, and I'll… let you take a longer break."

The girl paused, her fork nearly to her homemade pasta.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, yeah, definitely, now give it here."

Jocelyn started to rise from her seat, grunting noisily with the effort, her pretty blue eyes focused on the food. Like a whale berthing, her standing up was a slow and awesome event, made the more so by her tank-top revealing her entire belly once she was on her feet.

"Hold on a second," said Pasta Girl, "are you saying you want the whole thing?"

"Well," said Jocelyn, "now that you mention it, yeah."

"New deal. If you want the whole thing, then I get the rest of the day off. No penalty, I don't have to make up any missed work or anything. I just get to go, enjoy my day, and come back tomorrow, no questions asked, my job still waiting for me. Deal?"

The class, myself included, was waiting with held breath while this girl made her case, wondering what Jocelyn would say. Even I was thinking, surely she won't do that? That's the first step on a slippery slope to termination. She hadn't been doing much of any sort of training this week, but at least we were all here. At least we were in the building. If she let a person leave, not only would they not be prepared for the job waiting for them live on the phones, but they would still be getting paid, to do whatever they wanted with their day. And all for a bit of pasta and a salty treat? Even Jocelyn would have more self-control than that.

You know where this is going. It turns out I thought about this a million times more than Jocelyn did, because as soon as Pasta Girl stopped talking, Jocelyn blurted out:

"Deal."

And she launched herself at the pasta, grabbing it in both meaty hands, her bloated gut knocking a computer monitor off the table and on to the floor. The very thing she had been afraid of on her first day, and she didn't even seem to notice. Was this because of me? Was this the effect I had on her? It was Thursday, not even a full two weeks in, not even a third of the way through the training period, and her willpower seemed demolished.

Pasta Girl packed up and left, leaving her food for the scavenger. Three other people followed her lead, handing their meagre lunches over in exchange for freedom. I approached her at actual lunchtime, her hand deep in a bag of someone else's chips.

"Hey Dave, isn't this great," she whispered, "Free food!"

I didn't know what to say, so I smiled and nodded, transfixed by her bare stomach, pouring onto her lap. I forced myself to say something about a tv show I knew she liked, as the class filed out of the classroom. When I was the only one left, I reached out and grabbed a handful of her belly.

"Oh Dave, what are you doing? Jeez, I didn't realize how much was hanging out."

"I couldn't help myself. You look amazing. You are amazing."

"What am I doing that's so amazing?"

"You're… you… you're eating."

She smiled coyly.

"I certainly am. And I don't plan on slowing down." She beckoned me to lean in. "I'm so happy you like me like this," she whispered, "Happier than I've been in so long. And if you like this too, than there is nothing I will deny myself. I drove myself crazy thinking about you last night. I want you to come over this weekend. I think I might be ready."

"Are you sure?"

She belched in my face.

"Positive."

That evening, after work, I jerked off until I was spent, and fell asleep, drained and exhausted. When I awoke, I chatted online with Jocelyn, who told me about what she was eating and how much she wanted me. I offered to come over that night, and she said she was too gassy from the bowls of chili she had eaten. I told her I didn't care, but she insisted that she wasn't ready, that she had settled on the weekend and she was forcing herself to wait. So, some willpower remained, for the time being.

The next day, she showed up in the same dress she had worn last Friday, looking a little bit tighter. Fully half the class had brought food in preparation for bribing. They vacated the room and Jocelyn feasted on her bounty.

And what follows is the story of how Jocelyn really started to get fat.

[symphonic45]

Walking home, after cleaning up and kissing her goodbye, I punched the air, fist-bumping God.


I laughed far too hard at this. I've really enjoyed the story so far, thank you so much for sharing!

[itsoktogain]

You can't leave us hanging like this! Need moarrrr

[atcAlan]

I just love this story. It gets better with each installment. Keep it up!

[Propp Matt]

Thanks alot for an excellent piece of art!
I really love this story, one of my favorite wg-stories ever.

Matt

[acadm]

hello? is this story stuck in limbo? thank whomever that borderlands 2 and bioshock infinite and hobbs' ghostman (amongst other things like the upcoming second part of breaking bad season 5) are keeping the writer busy and occupied while waiting for the conclusion(?) or continuation of this tale