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|12-15-2011, 02:36 AM||#51|
Join Date: Aug 2007
Location: Frosty Gloucestershire, England.
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...
|03-20-2012, 07:42 AM||#52|
Join Date: Nov 2005
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
|06-28-2012, 03:39 PM||#53|
Join Date: May 2006
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.”
“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!”
“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?”
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.
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.
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!”
Last edited by Britt Reid : 06-29-2012 at 01:10 PM.
|06-28-2012, 03:40 PM||#54|
Join Date: May 2006
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?”
“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:
“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.
“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?
“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.
“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:
: 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.”
“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.
|06-29-2012, 12:55 AM||#55|
Join Date: Oct 2007
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.
|06-30-2012, 11:58 AM||#57|
Join Date: May 2006
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.
“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.
“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!”
“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.
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.”
“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.
“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.
“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.
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?”
“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.
|06-30-2012, 01:13 PM||#59|
Join Date: May 2006
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.”
“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.”
“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.
“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.”
“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.”
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.
|07-02-2012, 05:51 PM||#60|
Join Date: May 2006
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).
|07-02-2012, 06:49 PM||#61|
Join Date: May 2010
|07-02-2012, 11:59 PM||#62|
Join Date: Feb 2007
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
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.
“When I grow up,” she said, “I want my boobs to be as big as yours, daddy.”
|07-03-2012, 02:56 PM||#63|
Join Date: Aug 2007
Location: Frosty Gloucestershire, England.
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!
|07-03-2012, 06:30 PM||#64|
Join Date: Jul 2007
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!
|07-04-2012, 05:25 AM||#65|
Join Date: Nov 2005
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
|07-05-2012, 07:50 AM||#66|
Join Date: Oct 2007
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...
|07-05-2012, 04:16 PM||#67|
Join Date: Aug 2007
Location: Frosty Gloucestershire, England.
|07-07-2012, 06:13 PM||#68|
Join Date: May 2006
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.
|10-11-2012, 02:38 PM||#69|
Join Date: Nov 2005
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
|10-12-2012, 02:34 PM||#70|
Join Date: May 2006
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?”
“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.
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?”
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.
“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?”
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.
“I’m sure it is okay, considering you’re interested in Jocelyn.”
“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…”
“Don’t wanna say…”
“Now you have to say. Been built up too much.”
“What? Couldn’t hear you.”
“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.”
“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.
"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.
"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:
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.
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.
|10-13-2012, 08:18 AM||#71|
Join Date: Jul 2007
|10-15-2012, 11:13 PM||#74|
Join Date: Oct 2005
Thanks alot for an excellent piece of art!
I really love this story, one of my favorite wg-stories ever.
|04-09-2013, 07:30 PM||#75|
Join Date: Nov 2005
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