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Old 07-08-2008, 12:38 PM   #1
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RoundaboutFan has said some nice things
Default Sylvia - by Roundabout Fan (~BBW, ~XWG)

~BBW, ~XWG - After winning a lottery, Sylvia decides to take the easy road of life.


by Roundabout Fan

[Author's Note: I just recently dug this out of my old documents and sharpened up a few sections, so forgive a few inconsistencies if they're still there. There's more, but it's in no way presentable yet. Sylvia's a growing girl, and I love writing about her, but she's no role model so please don't take offense. I assure you her descent into decadence only gets worse from here, and I know there are plenty of you out there who won't mind. Please enjoy, and feedback is always appreciated!]

Part 1: A Growing Girl

Sylvia swallowed the last of her cupcake and gently leaned back into the comfortable sofa that stretched the length of her living room. There were dozens of the creamy treats left, all leftovers from her sister’s engagement party, gently spirited away by Sylvia before anyone could tell what had happened. She had done it mostly on impulse, scooping them back into their pink box and stuffing them into the back of her car. Now, almost too full to reach out for another one, she forced herself to lean forward, coming away with one in each hand as she collapsed back into her cushions. She felt a slight twinge of guilt, although it wasn’t a result of her pastry theft; Sylvia was growing, more and more lately, and she knew it.

The last six months had been a blur of donuts, pancakes, double and triple burgers, milkshakes, and pizza. The more fattening a food was, it seemed, the quicker it disappeared into her already vast stomach. She had not been tiny to begin with: in fact, she had spent the last several years trying desperately to stay under 250 pounds. The weight had been a long time coming. High school had seen her transform from a slightly chunky, but good natured, sweet, and immensely pretty social butterfly, into the butt of many of her classmate’s cruelest jokes.

The summer of her sophomore year, her family spent most of its time traveling across Europe, and as a result of the numerous confectionery delights the continent had to offer, she had packed on close to 25 pounds of cushy flab. Her waistline skyrocketed, and she made a habit of snapping out of bras as her breasts began developing into the pillow-sized mammoths they were today, at the tender age of 23.

It hadn’t taken too much additional teasing for her butt to grow right on pace with her hefty bosom, either; she remembered a particular experience at age 18, the first day of her senior year in high school, after an entire summer spent lazing around devouring whatever food was available. She hurried to a class, slightly late, and stopped briefly to say hello to a teacher. Sylvia actually felt her ass continue to jiggle throughout the conversation with her favorite teacher, as if no one had let it be known that Sylvia’s legs (already thicker than the waists of many of her peers) had stopped churning long ago. The memory was still quite vivid to her; any attempt at running was usually subdued as she remembered the uncomfortable tittering of the other girls in the hallway that day, staring at Sylvia’s perpetually swaying booty.

Her recent six-month-long binge had started as a single, celebratory feast; Sylvia on a whim had picked up a lottery ticket on the way out of the supermarket and days later had found herself 46 million dollars richer. No one knew about it aside from her sister and mother. Her roommate Jan suspected nothing, although that was no excuse for her continuously derogatory treatment of Sylvia.

“I seriously think you have spent the last week on the couch.” Jan would have been in position to know; she was in and out of the apartment constantly. The two had once been good friends, but lately they simply had nothing in common. Jan went out to clubs, and worked out. Sylvia had found herself addicted to video games and had developed an impressive season pass list on the apartment’s Tivo.

So far, the money was mostly untouched; that is not to say Sylvia didn’t think of it constantly. It had been a ticket to freedom, the enormous burdens of a life in the workforce lifted in an instant. It was now up to Sylvia to decide exactly what she wanted to do, at any time. And what she usually wanted to do was eat.

Lately, she thought, I have just been sitting here swelling. Squeezed into a dozen separate jelly rolls, her stomach had begun a slow horizontal march to the rest of the couch. Sarah made a mental note to not allow herself to slip any further. She must have passed 250 by now. It had been so long since she’d stepped on a scale. And she always knew that 250 was just too close to being unhealthy. Sloppy. Lazy. Perilously in proximity to 300. It wasn’t something she wanted. Sarah let out a long belch, a rough sound that contrasted sharply with her distinctly round, cherubic face and signaled the conversion of more cupcakes into soft, obstructive, perfect, fat. Perfect?

“Where did THAT thought come from?” she wondered aloud. But the Simpsons was on, and the thought quickly vanished back from wherever it had come from.

Last edited by Risible; 07-09-2008 at 02:14 PM.
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Old 07-09-2008, 03:00 PM   #2
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Great start, I'm looking foward to reading more.

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Old 07-10-2008, 10:47 AM   #3
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This is really, really good. I hate to be the impatient fanboy, but I honestly can't wait for more.
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Old 07-10-2008, 12:33 PM   #4
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don't worry, your not the only one!
SSBBW-CHWAAAAAAAAN!!!!!!!!!!) *eliminated*

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Old 07-11-2008, 02:58 PM   #5
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Part 2 - adjusting lifestyle

Without a job or a reason to make herself look presentable, Sylvia had spent the last two years wearing a delicate combination of sweatpants, sweatshirts, or nothing at all. Getting out the legitimate clothes was at first far too much of a hassle; you didn’t have to look presentable to roll through a few drive thrus in the morning, or for a late night supermarket run. And if the bar was set low for those activities, even less clothing was needed to drag her fat to the door to grab the pizza delivery. Or the Chinese delivery. Or both, on the all too familiar, yet still embarrassing occasion that the deliverymen arrived simultaneously.

Lately she simply had no real clothes that fit at all.

“When was the last time I wore a real dress?” she said once to her television.

The answer was, of course, her sister’s engagement party. That was two years ago; the actual wedding had never gotten around to occurring. Jan had long since moved out, and Sylvia hadn’t really bothered to make more friends. Her day usually consisted of waking up, , and sinking into her deep, cushiony couch located conveniently next to a fridge she had installed.

The best local places, an exquisitely greasy pizza joint and an overly generous Chinese
emporium, were called so often to her apartment that their employees often met up in the hall on their way to and from dropping off Sylvia’s banquets.

Although she was concerned that she was becoming a bit isolated, she did sometimes manage to convince herself that it was time to go out and buy clothes that fit her properly, or at all. But the mall was so far away, and every time she squeezed and struggled herself into her little Nissan, she inevitably found herself distracted by a diner she had never tried before, or a craving for the donut shop in the opposite direction.

By the time she was done with whatever confectionary sins she had committed, she was usually simply too exhausted to go all the way out to the mall and try oozing herself into some new top. It was probably time for one of her shows anyway. And so the cycle continued.

Really the only people she ever physically saw were deliverymen and clerks. Whether it was pizza, Chinese or bills, everyone in Sylvia’s life stopped just short of actually entering the apartment. It was a sad fact, but she had no real misgivings. Her social personality had seemingly been squeezed out of her, content with massive amounts of food as a substitute. The sheer deliciousness of everything she consumed was nearly lost on her by now; the feeling of being stuffed was far more important. She ate constantly, nearly insatiable.

Dwelling in the back of Sylvia’s mind was a constant awareness of just how huge she was getting. She was unable now to fully close her shower door without holding back a few jelly rolls. More and more often she slept on her couch: after all, it was comfortable. The effort of dragging herself into her bed was a huge hassle considering that the first thing she was going to do in the morning was head back onto the couch.

At all times, even when she was leaning deep into the couches cushions, her belly crept forward, past her thighs, over her knees, hanging off the edge and working its way towards the floor, as if searching for the stray bits of chocolate or fallen pepperonis that her chubby, unwieldy fingers inevitably dropped. Sylvia didn’t pay much attention to her breasts anymore: far too massive for any bra she owned, her watermelon sized mammaries had grown accustomed to sloping down her enormous belly and sometimes getting in the way of her arms as they brought the latest cheeseburger or chocolate bar to her mouth.

Her mouth, now surrounded by additional chins and bulging cheeks, was still capable of lighting up a room; even with all the extra weight, Sylvia’s perfect features were better suited to a model than the isolated behemoth she had become. She couldn’t deny just how much wider she was now, and she knew, as she had known for years, that her almost entire lack of exercise and atrocious eating habits would only lead to more and more extra fat hanging off every part of her body, but she seemed almost detached from that fact.

She had no idea how much she weighed. From the constant creakings of the floor, she suspected it was quite a lot. The thought that she had been over 250 pounds already when she won the lotto, before her constantly bingeing lifestyle had begun in earnest, was one that did not sit well with her. That had been two years ago. How much weight could a person gain in two years with a complete lack of exercise and death-defyingly fatty meals at every opportunity?

Sylvia shuddered, and 430 pounds of flab shuddered with her. Just like in high school, her fat didn’t stop dancing until long after she had stopped paying attention to it; the last gallon of Rocky Road had given her a little trouble, and the next required her full attention.

(Continued in post 10 of this thread)

Last edited by Britt Reid; 07-09-2014 at 07:22 PM.
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Old 07-15-2008, 10:05 AM   #6
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This is an awesome story, keep it up!
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Old 07-15-2008, 01:05 PM   #7
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really nice and compelling description of Sylvia, man. well done!
SSBBW-CHWAAAAAAAAN!!!!!!!!!!) *eliminated*

Playing with everything (tee hee!) *eliminated*


what would judas do? *eliminated*

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Old 07-20-2008, 02:49 AM   #8
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Well written
"i'm dying for some real food.. im gonna get sick on candy.. i need some real food, so my stomach can take more candy" Summer G

"I'm a fatty so i love food" Fat and Proud

"Papa Johns should deliver ice cream as well as pizza. I would order pizza just for some Ben & Jerry's" Ashley
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Old 10-17-2011, 02:56 PM   #9
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great story
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Old 05-05-2013, 06:17 PM   #10
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AUTHOR'S NOTE: Decided to pick this up again, sorry if it's the wrong place - maybe Recent Additions? More descriptions and gaining to come. This story has always felt a little bit heavy on the despair but everyone's mileage varies.

Part 3: The next step

Tired after nearly any movement, a particular word ran through Sylvia’s mind constantly these days, a recurring beat that seemed to be the only full thought or notion that broke through the all-consuming fullness that had become her state. That word was ‘sloppy.’

She thought it to herself waking up in the morning, rolling across her queen size bed as she accidentally pushed a knee into her obtrusive, hanging belly. She thought it after an animalistic panic set in when the doorbell rang, spurred by the notion that she would have to get up immediately, that another real live human person was waiting for her shuffling, whale-like body to arrive at the door.

And most often, she thought it when catching glimpses of herself in the mirror. For years she had avoided mirrors, but a trip to the doctor’s office had brought two imminent milestones into the former lottery winner’s mental orbit, and one of them had inspired the online mirror purchase. The first milestone was simple, and yet thoroughly depressing: her 29th birthday had come and gone, without cards or calls for the third year in a row.

Her anti-social tendencies and lack of family had finally driven away contact with the outside world. She had been 23 when that fateful lottery ticket had been purchased, and around 250 pounds. She had been set free. The days, weeks, months, and eventually years of trapping herself in a luxurious, ground floor apartment had melted into a stream of grocery and restaurant deliveries, an obsession with television and internet culture, and hundreds of pounds of additional fat.

Sloppy fat. The doctor had almost whispered her present weight to her, 500 pounds even. Twice the girl she was. Staring into the mirror now, it was difficult to comprehend. There were times before she woke, or when she closed her eyes in the shower, that she still felt like the 250 pound chunky girl, well-liked and with a cherubic face, framed by long dark hair. Even as a rather sizable slice of society, she had lured in men with an easy laugh, a great sex drive, and acres of cleavage that even a frat boy could use to justify going home with a larger lady.

But the naked girl staring back in the full length-mirror was not 250 pounds. Her breasts weren’t the gorgeously round melons they once were, just the top layer of what looked like a melting wax figure, wider than the mirror or even the doorframe it was mounted on. Her belly stretched to her knees while standing (sloppy) and the fat of her thighs forced her feet apart in an effort to stand comfortably (sloppy).

Sylvia stretched her arms apart horizontally in the mirror and watched as the doughy upper portion shifted on her body to remain pressed against her sides. Her arms fully outstretched still could not remove the hanging fat from pressing against her side.

Shifting focus, Sylvia stared at her face. Her hair was still long, and dark, and her double chin was so pronounced that it almost seemed as if it were a separate collar of fat wrapped around her neck. The thought made it slightly easier to ignore. Forcing a smile she couldn’t help but admire her cute nose, her bright eyes. She was in there. Inside this sloppiness still. It was a comforting thought, for a brief moment until she noticed a bead of sweat on her brow.

She nearly broke out crying at the moisture forming on her forehead. Just the act of standing this long, supporting this gigantic, sloppy body (‘don’t forget holding your arms out,’ an excuse she caught herself thinking) had resulted in sweat. It was to be expected; Sylvia’s range of motion these days was limited. It was 10am on a Tuesday and the day’s first delivery was minutes away. She had set them up like clockwork, and a greasy offering of sausage, bacon and butter covered waffles was the start of a long, unproductive day.

It had been going on so long; waking, eating, surfing the web and TV, and gorging herself more. She had always been aware of her growth but the last few years had seen her weight plateau. Or at least, noticeably – after her initial splurging and massive binging skyrocketed her weight, she had seen changes seemingly ever day: a shirt outgrown, belly fat melting over her hips and onto the neighboring couch cushions, and ever tightening bras. But her muumuu bound fashion sense and regimented (if monstrously excessive) eating habits had made the changes rare lately.

Except that these last hundred pounds had still happened. Not for the first time since the doctor, she found herself wondering what kind of person could gain 100 pounds and not notice the difference in her physical appearance. Hence the mirror, hence her contemplation.

But she must have noticed. Sylvia had devised a life of increasingly lazy efficiencies: food was brought only by delivery. Everything was kept closer to hand. Clap on lights (which she had found she could activate with her thighs accidentally) and voice-controlled utilities. All of it to serve her increasing inability to move. It was enough to make her think about - -

The doorbell. Breakfast. The first of seven deliveries of the day. And Sylvia’s mouth watered and all other thoughts were gone. She caught a brief glimpse of a moving van across the street as she wordlessly accepted the delicious breakfast food. Once the delivery boy had left, she peeked through a window at it for just a moment, before leaning into the door and sliding her way onto her apartment’s carpet.

She broke into the Styrofoam containers immediately, stuffing her face with just her hands. She would eat her next meal from the couch, but this was her first of the day, after all. She was starving.

Last edited by Britt Reid; 05-07-2013 at 07:35 PM.
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Old 05-08-2013, 05:45 PM   #11
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Chapter 4 - Life as viewed from a couch

A few minutes had passed and Sylvia had made her way to the couch. She was no invalid; if need be she could have fully stood up walked the distance. She’d chosen to crawl, or more appropriately drag herself across the floor, out of sheer laziness, compelled to use the least amount of effort possible for all activities.

On her hands and knees, her belly and breasts nuzzled against the carpet, squishing beneath her and spreading even wider than usual. Finally, she trudged onto the couch. Sinking into its deep, customized cushions, she reached into a conveniently placed mini-fridge and began working on a roll of cookie dough and a pre-prepared shake: dessert for her slovenly breakfast. She took a deep breath before her first bite, still feeling the effort of climbing into the couch.

Every aspiration and ambition of Sylvia’s was crushed by the reality of her physical situation. Buying real new clothes would require a fitting, constantly measuring and undressing—too taxing. The movies or a real shopping trip were out of the question due to the amount of walking required, sure to turn her into a bucket of sweat, how humiliating. A change in hairstyle could be done in the house, but even that would require sitting still for an hour or two at a time, not eating or watching TV. And the idea of chatting with someone new wasn’t particularly appealing to her; her first real contact in years shouldn’t be a hairdresser.

“Well,” muttered Sylvia. “Who should it be then?”

A brief flicker of the moving van across the street entered her mind. Glancing down, she realized her shake was gone already: she must have been truly inhaling it. New neighbors might be interesting. Maybe it was a family, and she could make nice with the mother. Or a handsome man…

Sylvia reflected, as she inserted another chunk of cookie dough into her eager mouth, that she hadn’t really felt that kind of desire for friends or romance in quite some time. She giggled to herself, a high and cute sound: “There’s just so much of me, there wouldn’t be room for anyone else.”

This was nearly true, in relation to the couch. Her ass entirely covered two of the wide-berth cushions, and her squished belly and love handles spilled out to her sides, each filling another potential seat. She wasn’t wider than she was tall, but it was close – sitting as she was, her fat extended further than her arms could reach. “Sloppy, slug.”

In any case, a new presence in the neighborhood was interesting to her. She had the money to impressive everyone. ‘One of two things I have in abundance. Money and flab.’

Her eyes rolled to the ceiling as she thought, delicately lifting another chunk of dough to her lips. Sylvia briefly considered setting up some kind of party, and inviting the entire neighborhood. The final bit of cookie dough dropped into her mouth. She curved her arms under as much belly as she could manage and gave the trembling mass a good shake. The cookie dough, sausages, over a pound of bacon, with waffles beside, had been a delightful way to wake up. She shook her belly again. It covered her legs completely, threatening to sag to the floor, heavy and unwilling to negotiate with gravity. Covered her like a blanket.

Sylvia remembered a time when she could run and play and eat whatever she wanted…well that was still true. In fact, now she ate more than she could ever want, and it would never stop. She knew that now. But still, those were nice times, fond memories. Spreading a blanket on the front lawn and picnicking with her family. A picnic! The perfect way to meet new friends.

As she began to plan, Sylvia counted down in her head…5,4,3,2,1…and the doorbell rang. She smiled, so deeply that she sank further into her chins. She had gotten pretty good at timing when these food deliveries would show up.

(Continued in post 15 of this thread)

Last edited by Britt Reid; 07-09-2014 at 07:25 PM.
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Old 05-14-2013, 11:09 PM   #12
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This is very good, interesting, different. I'd love to see you write more!
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Old 05-16-2013, 08:02 AM   #13
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It's taken me a while to get to this one, but I'd like to say that I really enjoy the way you've written this tale. It's kind of dark, but not in a dreary fashion. Thank you for sharing and please continue!
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Old 05-20-2013, 12:58 PM   #14
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I hadn't discovered this one in the past, but am very happy to read it now. I am thrilled that you are continuing it - I love the setup that you've done with the character, and it is not at all predictable. It's exciting not knowing what will happen next. Big things, I hope!

Thanks for writing it! Looking forward to more!
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Old 07-09-2014, 06:54 PM   #15
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Default Sylvia Part 5

Chapter Five -Approaching immobility

Sylvia woke up hungry, her fleshy body sprawled across the entire couch, despite being contorted into an upright sitting position. A year or two ago, there might have been a little room on one side of the couch or another – enough to let her collapse into that section of it as she slept. But her latest expansion, perhaps prompted by the sheer amount of time she spent in that exact position, had been more horizontal than anything else.

When she did move around the house, lately she’d had to wedge herself back into her favorite seat upon returning, gathering up her fat to prevent it from getting caught or tightly squeezed. Sloppy as usual, she thought.

"Is it morning?" she wondered

It must be. The brunette’s unkempt hair spilled across the front of her shirt, long and unwieldy. Thick strands of her hair extended far past the limits of the pale yellow bib her shirt had become. Neither her hair nor shirt even remotely began to cover her belly, and in fact barely made it over her sloping, mountainous breasts. Numerous rolls, folds, and hanging stretches of fat rested heavily atop her every moment of the day, a crushing weight that brought on exhaustion and, as a direct result, more hunger.

‘An endless cycle,’ she thought to herself, stretching her arms toward a row of chewy chips ahoy that remained on a nearby nightstand. As she did, cascades of flab poured down from both her lower and upper arms, nearly flowing over her pudgy little hand. The stretch triggered a quiver through her body that resulted in a slow, rippling wave. Almost violently she crammed the cookies into her mouth, punishing herself for having left them overnight to go a little stale.

She must have passed out mid-meal – not too uncommon on barbecue night. The grills had gotten a good workout, and while there were probably leftovers, a ponderous look around the room didn’t reveal anything within reach. She lazily scratched her side, feeling the indentation of a nearly faded stretch mark. The area obediently jiggled. From the jowls of her cheeks to her floor-brushing, distant belly button, Sylvia’s fat had a life of its own with every motion, although she had long since learned to ignore it while she was eating. She ignored most things while she was eating. But not all…

The front door of her house creaked open, and a holler rang out, “Breakfast is served.”

The voice was out of her range of vision, but there was no need for Sylvia to twist around or move to acknowledge its presence. Simultaneously, the TV came to life with a pop. Richard, full time chef and caretaker, knew what Sylvia’s priorities were first thing in the morning. There was no question that he earned his pay on both ends, handling all of Sylvia’s financial responsibilities, cleaning, and above all catering. He managed to spend most of his time in the kitchen supervising some form of luxurious meal or another, although he managed to handle a lot of delivery and take out offerings as well. Sylvia’s immensity wasn’t the result of one person alone, after all, and it never would be.

“Good morning handsome,” Sylvia finally mustered up, as Richard arranged plates of various breakfast fast food options around her. The two were close – Richard had moved in across the way nearly three years ago and immediately Sylvia, then carrying over 500 pounds on her medium height frame, had welcomed him to the neighborhood with a hopeful optimism that stemmed from years of isolation.

She was still in her twenties at the time and he was solidly in his fifties, a gray-peppered head of dark hair and strained eyes the result of years of corporate stress he’d finally managed to escape, purchasing his own home and retiring early. Neither of them had built much of a support network throughout their lives, and although Sylvia’s never-ending dedication to her own hedonism was off putting at first, the two had made for fast friends and ultimately something a little closer to a partnership.

Sylvia’s lottery winnings and Robert’s retirement nest egg supported them completely, and they often spent entire days making fun of various TV offerings and the world at large. Robert had even introduced Sylvia to the world of sports fanhood, one of his passions. She’d never be the enthusiast he was, but watching the long events together had introduced beer into her diet of thick, greasy intake and contributed greatly to her expansion, and a drunken Robert had often passed out while sinking into her folds.

The two were close, but had ultimately found that a traditional relationship was close to impossible between them. Neither of them denied how comfortable and happy they each made each other though. Sylvia had made the journey from 200 pound gorgeous chunky girl into a 500 pound lazy, sloppy sow (her own perspective), largely by herself. Delivery boys notwithstanding. The pounds she’d packed on in Robert’s presence, at least another 100 and likely far more (a doctor’s appointment to schedule a weigh in always seemed to slip off their agenda), had been much more enjoyable.

Sylvia’s fat covered the entire couch and, to keep everything within arm’s reach, Robert delicately balanced various take out boxes on her belly and sides. Sylvia smiled – this was not new, and they treated it as a game. She ignored most of the meal initially, leaving the food to precariously wobble as she focused on one bag in particular;

McDonalds hash browns were always going to be her top priority, and folding them in half she easily converted them into bite size morsels. The world was bite sized to Sylvia. Robert pulled up his own chair and their day began.

Last edited by Britt Reid; 07-09-2014 at 07:13 PM.
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Old 07-09-2014, 06:55 PM   #16
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Default Sylvia Part 6

Chapter Six - 650 and outgrowing the couch

“I don’t really think my brain is wired right, honestly.” Sylvia giggled as she said it but her eyes, always wide and inviting, gave away her seriousness. She raised a burger to her mouth and delicately nibbled at it. Sylvia and Robert were in their usual spots, the lady’s bulk overflowing her couch while Robert ate a burger of his own on a nearby recliner.

A few more burgers for Sylvia sat on her closest nightstand, tiding her over between major meals. Grazing, they called it privately, a wry nod to the high quality beef she consumed during these times. Traditional snacks didn’t matter much to a stomach as stretched and demanding as Sylvia’s, the two had found.

“Which part’s not wired right? The part that says ‘I’m full, I’m full?’” Robert teased.

“Quiet, you,” she responded with a wide smile and a casual swat from her thick arm, hitting nothing but air. A lower roll of her belly shifted, kneading itself into a new position as a result of the movement. The resulting quiver dislodged a few leftover crumbs, which tumbled to the ground.

“Ohhh look what we have here,” she continued, noticing the activity. “Someone not doing a great job keeping me clean I see.”

“Those are from this morning, tubby, we’ll get the rest in your afternoon bath.” Robert was happy to banter, but couldn’t quite keep the defensiveness out of his voice. “What do you mean about your brain anyhow?”

“Nothing really.” She sighed, taking a short break from the burger. “Just thinking about my little old body here.”

Sylvia mushed a chubby finger into her chest, sinking it deep into a fattened boob. She wasn’t wearing a bra, as usual, but earlier Robert had stretched a pink blanket-esque shirt over her massive form, which covered her more than usual, although her fleshy stomach and sides were still exposed.

“I used to be proud of my big girls here, the one advantage of being so much bigger than the other girls. But at some point, they turned into just more fat. More bigness. Part of how huge the rest of me is. Sometimes I don’t even think of…” she trailed off.

“Keep going.” Robert took a bite thoughtfully, his full attention on Sylvia.

“I’m just rambling, it’s nothing really. I look down at everything I have here, my body, and I can’t even see it all. I can feel myself getting out breath just saying all this. I watch TV and I know that I’m bigger than five or six of those people. And if I just keep doing what I’m doing, it’ll be six or seven. And I just want more. More and more.” She repeated herself, in a sing-song tone. “More and more.”

And followed it up with a huge bite of her burger, neatly polishing it off and reaching for another one. “So like I said, brain wired wrong. The TV folks are out running companies or having parties and I just think, why do they want to do all that? Why not just keep eating, getting even – “

“Sloppier?” Robert offered up one of Sylvia’s favorite ways of degrading herself. They’d had conversations along these lines before. His pulse quickened – they always ended the same way. Anytime Sylvia got reflective about how big she was, she worked herself up and found herself needing a major release.

“Sloppier, yes. I want a new couch, this one’s been pinching my sides, but I want to really…deserve it. I need it.” The second burger was gone after just seconds, Sylvia was running her hands all over herself now, her hands sinking into her body at every opportunity. Robert closed the distance between them, pushing his own hands deep into her gut. Their eyes met and she practically whispered, “Help me out?”

The glint in her eye was absolutely devious.

“Help you up, more like.”

“Don’t tease, I need it. I need you right now. Up!” Sylvia held her hands to the sky, her entire body quaking. She began rocking her hips, bracing for the full effort required to shift over 650 pounds into a standing position. Where they went from there promised to be a sweaty, difficult and rewarding endeavor.

Robert stood, clasped her hands, and slowly pulled as Sylvia pumped what few remaining leg muscles remained to her – the girl was enormous but not immobile, and a few strains later found herself leading Robert toward her bedroom, one ponderous foot in front of the other. Her thick legs met all the way to her ankles, sloshing against each other with each pace.

Her slovenly form bounced madly with every step, and her belly brushed against the hallway on both sides. Robert followed, hypnotized by the slow swaying, until she came to an abrupt stop. In a mock pout, she breathed deeply, already almost sweating, and pleaded “Go back. Bring the rest of the burgers. And some chocolate.”

Last edited by Britt Reid; 07-09-2014 at 07:19 PM.
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Old 07-10-2014, 06:10 PM   #17
Join Date: Jan 2006
Posts: 104
ffaboots can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokesffaboots can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokes

I love this story and am thrilled to see an update.
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Old 07-16-2014, 08:43 AM   #18
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xripper has said some nice things

Love the story, please continue
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