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Old 02-08-2016, 03:04 PM   #1
Xyantha Reborn
- Actually Very Tame!
 
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Default Revolutions (BBW, ~WG)

This is a little something I have been working on while trying to muddle through some of my other works. First attempt at a first person!

A big beautiful woman is not a oxymorn, and sometimes our friends best intentions are not in our own best interests. Sometimes we need to listen to our instincts, even (or especially) if they are telling us to enjoy a good life with good food and good friends.



Chapter 1 – Dance

“You are SUCH a freak,” Ruth sighed, flicking her length of black tresses over her shoulder with a casual flick of the wrist. That wrist was as slender as the rest of her, and shockingly pale against the darkness of her hair. In fact, in the darkness of the club, her ethereal face, arms, and legs were all that was visible. “Smile, for pity’s sake!”

Jaqueline, or ‘Jacks’, as she preferred, grinned and shook her head. She was the dawn to Ruth’s dusk. Blonde hair curled in a gentle halo around her head, and cheery, wide blue eyes rolled expressively at the other woman. “Relax, Beth.”

As always, I did what the others wanted. I bucked up, plastered a closed lip smile on my face, and pulled my shoulders back. At least on the outside. Inside, I curled tighter around that ball of hurt.

I made no bones about it – I was the fat friend. And with that baptism came all the baggage and burdens and duties.

Tilted eyes turned my way. “I just wish you would stop saying you’re fat.”

“I am fat, Ruth.” I would not allow my voice to be anything other than factual. There was no way around it, and no use trying to beat around the bush. And I could not be insensible to the subtle insult – ‘don’t call yourself fat’, not ‘you are not fat’.

“You are not fat. You have fat. You also have fingernails, but you are not fingernails,” The Goth bombshell next to her sighed, raising her cup to her lips. “You seem to think that guys aren’t attracted to you because you are fat – but maybe it’s because you are so depressed all the time. Who wants to hang out with someone they are constantly having to be all like ‘hey, you don’t suck, be happy’?”

Jacks bow mouth parted open as she gasped. “Ruth!” she managed finally, her tone both indignant and scandalized.

Darting eyes turned my way, as if she expected me to punch the speaker in the nose. Nothing I hadn’t heard before, and I gave a closed lipped smile in response.

The thin woman merely cocked a brow at them, easing away from the bar. “Look, someone had to tell her. Sorry, but it’s true.” She crooked a finger at a guy on the dancefloor, and she was almost instantly swaying to the beat.

Twisting my lips into a real sort of smile, I raised a shoulder in a half shrug. “It’s ok. Ruth is just a mean drunk, right?”

“Right!” Jacks sighed, relaxing. She hated drama. “Oh!” She giggled as she turned away, attention captivated. “Hi there!” This overly flirtatious greeting was directed at a tall, handsome man who had swaggered up to her.

Typical, I couldn’t help snorting to myself as I eyed the newcomer. Men always seemed to overdevelop their arms, neglecting their chest and legs…because their guns were all they seemed to see. The disproportionate result always made me shake my head.

Of course, the fat friend was brought for this express purpose; to be the wing woman until the men approached. So when Jacks looked at me like a baby bunny, what else could I do except nod encouragingly…then sigh, turning back to the bar.

Beth, why do you do this to yourself? I moped as I tilted my head up, blinking rapidly to disperse the threatening tears. Every Saturday was devoted to this…idiocy. Hours spent primping and pruning to almost no effect, then bar hopping.

Who doesn’t love free drinks? Her friends would ask her, shocked and confused. Somehow, they always managed to drag her along.

Who doesn’t love free drinks? Probably someone who never gets any. I wasn’t blind to the reason that I always invited, but I never seemed to break from the cycle. Perhaps it was because I served a very valuable, if understated, role in our little circle.

I, dear reader, am the fat friend.

Beside my dumpy and frumpy form, my friends look even more bewitchingly thin and beautiful.

Next to my shy mumbles, they are dazzlingly bright and conversational.

And if their night didn’t pan out…Beth would always be there, waiting. Because nights like this never panned out for Beth.

Blinking back more tears, I admonished myself for being bitter. Really, I had no one to blame but myself. It wasn’t as if I every exerted my willpower, stood firm and told them no. Despite having the opportunity to do so nearly every week.

I tapped a finger against the sticky bar, catching the bartender’s attention. “Can I have another rum and coke?” I half shouted over the din of deep thumping and higher squeals. Yumyum, nothing like empty calories to bloat my disgusting body even more. Turning my head to the right, I could not help but notice a man looking at me. It wasn’t uncommon for my size to draw attention, so I tried to let my gaze slide past him. Water off of a duck’s back, I reminded myself as I looked out over the floor.

The night was in full swing; ladies were free before midnight, so the last of the cheap bar hoppers were just spilling into the room. They swirled around in drunk, giggling herds, skittering around on their heels and honking. Men followed in their wobbling footsteps like hungry jackals, waiting for a weak or drunken one to wander outside her group.

The deep bass wom-wom-wubwub-womwom from the dancefloor made my ears throb to the beat as the temperature slowly rose. Most of the people couldn’t dance – that was why their inebriated state was so key. My eyes settled on the dark form of Ruth, who was being a complete skank as she grinded to the beat, her mini up so far her that the bottom of her ass was exposed.

The weird thing was, I knew I could dance better than either of my friends. It was, unfortunately, accompanied by the disgusting spectacle of erratic wobbling and jiggling. Having been called cow enough times in my life, I had very little inclination to draw attention to myself.

One of the bar tenders caught my attention by pushing the plastic cup into my hand. That guy was still eyeing me, I noticed. Ignoring him, I counted out the money and tip before taking up the drink, which was barely palatable. Especially because I had to pay for it myself. It should rankle, because I think that women who used men to get free drinks were pathetic. But…it does.

The whole spectacle was pathetic, really. A bunch of people who were too uptight to relax got blasted so that they could meet other people. Not for any purpose except sex. All the pretense was taken away by the darkness and loud music; you could barely see people, let alone have a worthwhile conversation. So they drank, and flirted, and got lucky.

Raising the red and white cup to my lips, I faced away from the bar, trying to retain a little smile as I bobbed my head to the beat of the music.

I wasn’t the fat friend who no one wanted to dance with.

I was just a girl who had so much fun dancing that she was thirsty and was taking a break.

Yeah.

A gentle touch on my left elbow brought her attention back to my immediate surroundings. It was that guy. I stared up at him in confused consternation, drink hanging halfway to my lips. Realization struck. “Sorry!” I bellowed over the music, offering a closed lip smile as I tried to edge out of his way. There was a lot of me to get out of his path.

One corner of his mouth raised, and he leaned into the bar to order something.

He was cute. Not that I was looking. Well, I was, but only in the way that one would admire a painting. The man was of middling height, middling body type, and middling good looks…but he had a sort of mischievous look about his face that I instantly liked.

Jacks was working the floor with her newest conquest attached to her side. The man was glaring at the other men over her shoulder, as it to ward them off. Another light nudge at my shoulder made me turn a little. The part of me that was generally in people’s way wasn’t something I could suck in. Although I was plump overall, my hips are my most obvious and extreme feature. Another touch made me frown, whipping around. It wasn’t as if I could move any more in the tight club. Yeah, I was fat, I got it – but what did they expect me to do?

The man backed up a step at my ferocious expression, the drink held in his extended hand slowly lowering. He appeared startled, eyes sliding to the side before returning to mine.

I stared at him in consternation. For…me?

The man raised his other hand in a placating gesture, putting the cup on the edge of the bar. He flicked a finger from the cup to me and back, then gave a half smile as he backed away, hands raised like I had a gun.

I didn’t mean to stop him. Really, I didn’t. What sort of freak picked girls up at a club anyway? My hand raised on its own though, making that sort of depreciating gesture, an invitation to remain.
It was hard to see the details of his features and his expression in the dim light, but he seemed to be smiling in a friendly sort of way. The man took a step closer, moving a hand back and forth between us, then towards the dance floor.

I was so taken aback I didn’t know at first what I was doing – but I must have stepped towards him, because suddenly my hand was carefully clasped between his and I was ever so gently guided to the floor.

Self-consciousness rose as I felt one of his hands settle on one of my love handles, his forearm pressing lightly into my back. There was no way that he could fool himself about how round I was. My eyes rose and met his, ready to make my escape when he released me in disgust.

He didn’t seem too disgusted. Then again, he was probably so drunk that even a fatty like me looked attractive. Or maybe he just wanted to go whale riding.

Screw it. He wanted to dance? I was going to show him what it was like to dance with a real woman.

The next song began, and I began slowly shifting my hips, swaying lightly. The stranger began the typical shuffle alongside ne – the ‘man dance’ as our little group termed it. I upped the ante, rocking my substantial hips and shimmying.

His eyes widened, and his hands settled more firmly on my sides as he held on for dear life. There was a lot more moving than just my hips. As I let loose for the first time in a long time, I felt my upper arms jiggle, my belly bounce, thighs quake, and breasts shimmy. All in all, it made me way more out of breath than it used to, and instantly dampened my buzz. Why? Because I was even fatter than the last time I had danced, ok? Probably like twenty friends had joined the Beth cruise since then.

Space cleared around us as I made a spectacle, but the gent in front of me didn’t seem to notice. His eyes were as wide as saucers, and half way through he was sporting quite a boner. When the next song came on I shook my head, gasping for air and sweating like a pig.

Instead of abandoning me on the floor, he only relinquished his hold on my hips with one arm, leaning in to be heard over the thrumming of the next song. “What’s your name?” He asked.

He was so close that his lips and breath rustled my hair. I shivered, feeling nervous as his hand slid from my hip to a bulging love handle. A peek up into his eyes showed his big grin. “Beth…”

Last edited by Xyantha Reborn; 02-08-2016 at 03:44 PM. Reason: Removed some hers - stupid first perso
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Old 02-08-2016, 03:08 PM   #2
Xyantha Reborn
- Actually Very Tame!
 
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Chapter 2 – The Hangover

“I want to die, but that just takes too, too much effort…” Ruth moaned from my couch.

I wish you were dead too, I shot back, then immediately retracted the thought. I was just bitter, and I had to real reason to, today of all days. “Glad to see you are up, pumpkin.”

Ruth groaned, casting an arm over her face and curling into a ball. She really was as lithe as a cat, and she managed to fold in on herself even more tightly.

“I take it you had fun tonight? Maybe a little too much? Want a coffee and some pain killers?” I asked sweetly as I rolled my eyes.

“Why don’t you go smite some evil or something, goody two shoes?” my guest groused, throwing out a stick like arm to receive the promised pain killers. “You just love lording it over me that you never get hangovers, don’t you?”

Not drinking generally does that to people. “Why aren’t you at Tommy’s house?”

“Bobby.”

“Whatever.” I had learned long ago that there was no benefit to memorizing the long, and frequently changing list of her current men-folk.

Uncurling just enough to sip at the water and swallow the pills, she collapsed back onto couch for a few minutes before finding enough strength to reply. “He ditched me for some tramp.”

Aww, boohoo. “Stuff happens,” I said instead.

She nodded miserably, and after about ten minutes finally cracked her eyes. “Hey – I think a nice hot shower would be super awesome. Would you mind washing my stuff for me while I am in there?”

Of course you can use my shower, I’ll wash your laundry, no problem. “Sure.” Again, I told myself off for being a bitch. Your friend is just taking a shower, and her clothes are narsty. Why are you so uppity about it? That’s what friends do!

I had never crashed on her couch or asked her to do anything for me, but I somehow managed to temporarily push that thought aside. I knew that I was more of a friend than they were to me, but what was I going to do by dwelling on it? They were all I had.

Her clothes were like children’s clothing in my hands. Ruth’s mini would barely get over my calf, I thought with a judicious eye. Of course, this observation only made me feel crappier about myself than Ruth’s raised eyebrows at my pancake breakfast had. And as if to exasperate myself even more, I threw a furtive look over my shoulder before trying out that theory. It did in fact make it past my calf, but not much farther than above the knee. Ye Gods, I was fat!

My ass probably ate five dozen of her thongs for breakfast (Gaston reference, anyone?). Even if I was able to get the thing over my thunder thighs, I seriously doubted that the little triangle would cover anything. Even my pussy was fatter than hers. Lovely. Just the ego boost I needed this early on a weekend.

Lately, for some reason, I had become hyper aware and sensitive to how fat it was. In jeans, I couldn’t help but thinking that it’s bulge might be mistaken for a package. Ruth and Jacks had such feminine curves – when they put jeans on, they didn’t get camel toe, or have their pussy bulge and their thighs bulge so that it looked like their crotch was just a big triangle…!

Throwing the rest of the clothes into the washer, I tromped down the hallway, appetite rather suppressed, and feeling more than a little surly.

Another unpleasant reminder of the discrepancies in our size was when Ruth stepped out of the shower with a towel around her head, and another casually wrapped around her body. That green fabric was held in place by a little fold over itself, and it casually cupped her perky boobs, outlining her thin back, and draping over her little ass.

My chest heaved in a sigh, and I felt ashamed. That same towel wouldn’t even cover me. I could just barely get the ends to meet at the top, and then it gaped open from the chest down.

“Thanks a million, babe!” Ruth air kissed as she sat down, crossed legged on a kitchen chair. “Did you have fun last night?”

Actually? “Yes, I think so. I met a guy, if he texts me today we may end up going for coffee.”

“Cool! What’s he like?” Dark eyes examined me over the rim of her mug, her mascara blurred around her eyes from the shower. “Is he cute?”

“Yeah, I guess. He’s like, I dunno, maybe five-five? Brown hair, brown eyes.”

Those dark eyes cast themselves upwards. “Jeez, Beth. That’s the description of half the male population. Is he thin, fat, muscled? Smart, stupid? Does he have a nice job?”

How I was supposed to have determined this over the WUBWUBWUBWUB of the music was beyond me, but I just shrugged. “Not really thin, not really fat, not really muscled. He seemed nice.”

Another eye roll. “Wow. Sounds like you will have an absolutely rocking date. Don’t forget to be safe and bring a condom.”

Oh, good point. Not that we were there yet, but it had been so long that I had stopped taking birth control. If things looked promising, I would probably have to start again…

I paused, blinking rapidly. Going a little fast, aren’t you? I demanded. But he was awfully cute, especially when he grinned. And he had seemed genuinely interested in me. We would see where this led.


*~*~*


To answer Ruth’s previous questions, his name was Ed, he was a vet, and he seemed both nice and smart. And also funny. So many people can only make jokes about other people, and as funny as it is at the time, there is this sort of unpalatable taste it leaves in your mouth as you realize that you becoming the butt of a future joke is an inevitability. His sense of humour was a little corny, but cute.

Currently, he was sitting across from me in the booth, chin on his palm, elbow on the table. “And what about you?”

“Ehh. Not much to tell. I graduated hotel management, and realized I hated people and the hotel business.”

He seemed amused – or at least his smile curled up fractionally more at the corner as he asked in a rather bland voice, “Hotel management?”

I’d be more offended, but it really was pretty silly. One of those ‘Ah, I actually got accepted and have no idea what I want to be for the rest of my life, but I like travelling’ moments. “Yeah, don’t get me started! Anyway, I got a job in interior decorating through a friend, and I’ve been doing it ever since. I do people’s houses, but also do a lot of staging. You know when you go into a house to buy it, and it looks all fancy? That. I do that.”

“Oh, that’s cool!” He smiled, and bit into his burger.

I bit into my burger too. He had cast such a dramatically horrified look at me when I tried to order a salad that I had been forced to laugh and go with his suggestion. And the burgers here were actually really, really good. I vocalized that thought.

He nodded avidly. “I love food. I probably know all the best places around! I can take you out to a few. If you, you know, want to do this again?”

A little silly grin spread over my face. “I’d like that.” He really was cute and sweet, even if he did already have the start of a bald spot.

“Great! You seem like a really cool girl.” And he winked.

For some absurd reason, it made me blush. “You’re not too bad yourself,” I mumbled back.

“The trick,” he confessed, eyes dancing, “is to not let people know how really weird you are until it’s too late for them to back out.”

A loud giggle burst its way out of me. “Isn’t that a quote from Facebook?”

“Yep! I am practically a Facebook quote lexicon.”

He was so absurd all I could do was laugh. For a few moments, we ate. Or he did, and I poked around at my food.

“Do you always vent your rage by systematically dismembering your innocent foodstuffs?”

Caught, I gazed at him guiltily.

He was shaking his head, but he looked more amused than upset. “You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to, but put it out of it’s misery either way! Don’t maul it to death!”

“I do want to eat it,” Ugh. No!

He heard me cut off the other part of what I was going to say. “But?” he prompted.

“Nothing,” I said, mortified at the thought of talking about how fat I was, and dieting.

“Something,” he retorted with good natured ease. Getting up, he slid into my side of the booth.

He did it so quickly that I barely had time to squeak, let alone suck back to give him room. His thigh was pressed against my thigh, and he could see all my bulges without the table between us.

Taking one of my hands in his, he blushed despite his eye contact remaining steady. “I really like you, Beth. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Even eating tasty, dead cow flesh.”

My heart stuttered in my chest, and I went all tingly from his proximity. “Cow flesh is right,” I admitted dryly. “Mine is still practically mooing.” And I pointed to the centre of my burger, which was still red.

“Do you want to send it back?”

I shook my head. “Nah, it’s ok. I don’t really need it anyway.”

“No one NEEDS deep fried potatoes and tasty cow flesh wrapped in yeasty goodness. But people WANT it. Do you want it?”

My face, I have been told, is quite expressive.

He seemed to think so, reading my thoughts plainly. “Then let’s send it back!”

“I don’t like…causing trouble...”

Ed seemed amused and frustrated at this. “Fine. Mine is more well done. Want to trade?” And he slid his plate closer.

I had eaten half my burger – he had eaten only a few bites of his. My stomach chose that moment to rumble, and I coughed to cover the noise. When I looked up, Ed’s face was close to mine.

“You’re really, really pretty when you blush,” he whispered – and kissed me on the cheek.

It was the sweetest, softest, most innocent kiss I had ever received. I must have looked prettier by the second, judging by how heat rushed into my face. “What was that for?”

The man gave a half shrug. “Felt right.”

It wasn’t often that I took my own fate in my hands, but I had to agree with his assessment. It had felt right. Wonderful and comfortable and hot all rolled into one. Leaning towards him, I gently pressed my lips against his. A pleasurable jolt travelled down my arms, my tummy flip flopping.

“And what was that for?” he asked, even as his eyes danced merrily.

Mustering all the casualness I had, I copied his half shrug. “Felt right.”

He laughed, then tweaked the tip of my nose. “Eat your burger,” was his sage advice.

“Why?” I retorted, even as I tugged the plate a few inches closer.

“Because good girls who finish dinner get desert?”

“Do I look like I need desert?”

“Not like you need it…but like you’d want it.” And he winked at me.
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Old 02-08-2016, 04:29 PM   #3
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Yay, new Xy story
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Old 02-09-2016, 02:11 AM   #4
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Moar please! =D
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Old 02-09-2016, 03:17 PM   #5
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Super cute.
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Old 02-09-2016, 04:12 PM   #6
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great start! really promising, keep it up!
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Old 02-09-2016, 10:54 PM   #7
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Love this! Can't wait to read more.
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Old 02-12-2016, 09:10 AM   #8
Xyantha Reborn
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Chapter 3 – Slippery Slope


That mantra seemed to infiltrate my state of being, and I suddenly found myself in a different frame of mind. Before Ed, my life had been a series of harsh mental remonstrances about me not NEEDING it. Whatever ‘it’ happened to be at the time. Now, I found myself far more willing to barter with myself.

You don’t need that icecream, I would tell myself as I looked at gelato. No, but I would like it. Well, twist my rubber arm, then!

You don’t need that fried chicken – but I do want it. And so on.

Ed never seemed to bat an eye at my appetite, or my choices. After the first few weeks of dating it is pretty hard to hide your true eating habits, and soon I was happily back to wolfing down a plateful of pancakes on Saturday mornings.

In fact, Ed bought a wafflemaker after he realized my love of that thick, golden batter. The result was pretty disastrous to my waistline, but heavenly to my palate.

Pure heaven emerged from between those two metal plates. Thick, fluffy, airy Belgian waffles, smothered in butter and coated in syrup. The first time he made them, I restrained myself and only took one. The second time, he surprised me with breakfast in bed.

It was so sweet to watch him carefully place the tray over my lap, teasingly kissing me as tucking in a white cloth around my neck, and carefully pouring a large glass of orange juice. “Bon appetit,” he murmured as he settled on the bed beside me with his crossword.


Some people can barely eat when they wake up. I have always woken up ravenous, and seeing the golden circles on the plate, and smelling the maple and fresh bready smell, I gleefully tore into the first one. It was just as good as I remembered it, and I allowed myself to give a ‘mmm’ of pleasure. “Thank you baby, this is just what the doctor ordered! I don’t think I can eat all of these, though,” I laughed as I gestured to the stack with my fork.

“Just eat what you want. I can’t make only one, so I figured I might as well let you have however many you wanted.”

I glanced at him as I cut into my second waffle. “Where’s yours?”

He laughed, that mischievous look on his face. “You think I could withstand fresh waffles without having a few myself?” And in proof, he lifted up the edge of his shirt to show the bugle of his food baby. “Just eat whatever you want to.”

I grinned – because I planned to. We had nowhere to be today, and I had been so good this week food wise that I knew I deserved a treat. They said willpower was like a muscle, and you had to give it a break every once in a while.

The gnawing pangs I felt on awakening were quickly appeased. As I continued munching away, I felt contented, warm and happy. Beside me, Ed occasionally patted my thigh as he did his puzzle. Just as I was about to lay down my fork and declare defeat, I felt my boyfriend’s cool hand sneak under the covers and start to caress my thigh.

Ed gave a little growl of happiness as he kneaded it. “Now that you are awake…” I barely had time to feel self-conscious about how pliable the fat was because as soon as his hand was warmed, he skimmed it between my thighs.

Shifting them to give him better access, I shivered. He trailed the backs of his fingers along my opening, palming it, petting it until I was quivering with excitement. No one had ever touched me like he did, and instead of finding sex a burden to be borne, I looked forward to it. When he slipped his index and middle finger inside I was already ready for him, and within minutes I was moaning, reclining back on the pillows as his dexterous fingers wrung an exquisite orgasm from me.

It wasn’t until he kissed me and took away the tray that I really felt how heavy my stomach was. In his usual silly style, he had brought in six waffles stacked on top of each other. The tray he took away was conspicuously clean except for traces of butter and syrup. And my stomach was blatantly bloated outwards in a semi-solid mass that seemed to weigh a ton. How could those light, fluffy morsels translate to a stomach that was so heavy it rested on my thighs. I tried to summon self-hatred, but my lady parts were still tingling pleasurably, and my stomach was so full that I could only lay back and let digestion take its course. Laying hands on it, I groaned in complaint. The skin was taut and hot under my hands.

Ed padded back in and, grinning, crawled across the bed.

“Oh baby, I can’t!” I whined, feeling the pressure increase as the results of my gluttony shifted.

He looked a little disappointed, then brightened. “Can I just cuddle with you?” he asked instead.

“Sure,” I replied, trying to supress a burp. I was dozing off when I felt his hand caress my stomach. “Oh, don’t, it’s gross, I ate too much!” He removed his hand, but looked so much like a kicked puppy that I rolled my eyes. “Fine, whatever.”

He still looked a little pouty, but placed his hand back on my stomach. At first, even that light pressure made me cringe, but after a few minutes the feeling of him ever so lightly massaging the surface put me into a pleasurable half doze.

“Sorry.”

“For what?” he said, voice abstracted.

“Being such a pig.” I felt his lips touch the swell of fat around my belly button. My eyes flew open in consternation.

He winked at me. “It’s my fault for being such an irresistibly good cook. Don’t be sorry. It makes me happy to see you happy. Besides, this is just an adorable food baby that is going to disappear in a few hours. You deserved a treat after working out all this week.”

That’s exactly what I had thought!! “Next time, just bring less, ok?”

“Ok. Only one next time.”

“Nonono – I mean, less than six, but more than one.” One was just not quite enough!

*~*~*

Did I also mention I’d always get desert at a restaurant?

And I NEVER left the table hungry. In fact, I think that I lost the understanding of what that gnawing feeling was. Ed so provided for my appetite that I rarely found myself hungry.

The result was a sort of contented oblivion. Ed loved to eat too, although he was far more of a grazer. There was always food at his place – and soon there was always food at mine. I soon learned that without a broad selection of choices, Ed would invariably drift around the kitchen, opening and closing pantry and fridge doors. Eventually becoming frustrated, he would always order delivery. And that was far worse for my waistline and health! Takeout was my kryptonite.

Ed’s schedule as a vet was pretty wonky, and his hours were never fixed. Sometimes emergencies, or even last minute walk-ins caused him to be late. Arriving tired, he would often throw himself down on the couch until coaxed off of it with dinner. Or rather, he would slowly crane his neck around and wander over as I made ‘mmm’ sounds over my own meal. He was such a child, sometimes!

Most fat people will tell you that there is a range, usually about ten pounds, that can sneak up on you without you really noticing. Especially if you don’t particularly want to notice. That blind eye can accomplish a hell of a lot! I was having such a fun time with Ed that I didn’t really notice the first ten, I merely hopped up a size. Like most chronic dieters, I had a range of clothes in my closet that allowed for my temporary success and inevitable failures.

Don’t get me wrong; I noticed a little more jiggle, a bit more of a squeeze around the hips, but nothing to cause me much alarm. Besides. For the first time, I had a guy who seemed to really love me, and even tolerate my body.

*~*~*

“Working out?” Ed asked as he hung up his backpack.

That description might be a little strong, considering what I was actually accomplishing. I had one of my home workout tapes on, and was floundering along wildly, lagging more and more. Turning, gasping for breath, I tried to encompass that feeling in the look I send him. “I’m so, so fat, Ed!”

The oddest thing happened. He got an instaboner.

It was one of those circumstances that a girl can write off. Despite looking like the Pillsbury Doughboy, I was half naked in my spandex. And my shelf of an ass was jutting pretty far. Not to mention my cleavage was practically endless in this top.

He vaulted the couch and wrapped his arms around me, kissing my sweaty neck. “This workout looks pretty boring. Want to go try a different kind?” He grinned. “I hear you can burn a couple hundred calories during sex,” he added by way of persuasion.

Being considered hot IS pretty hot. Feeling the bulge in his pants press into my own crotch, I shivered, only half-heartedly swatting his hands away. “Ed…”

“Mmm?”

It was damn well impossible to think when his hands were everywhere. He had this way of touching me, like he was glorying in every moment. Half the time he almost looked awed, which sometimes made me want to giggle.

“You’re so beautiful.”

Weirdo, I thought affectionately as he pulled off my top.

*~*~*

One of the weirdest things about being in a relationship was being touched. I had gone from years of not really being cuddled, to perpetually being hugged, stroked, cuddled, petted…! There were times I felt tempted to pull out a broom to hold him at bay. The one time I had jokingly done so, he had taken it up and began to dance around the apartment humming the tune The Sorcerer’s Apprentice from Fantasia.

His silly, disarming sense of humour made him a favourite at parties, and I found myself slowly tagging along more to his social engagements, rather than being Ruth and Jacks’ wing woman. At least here, I could sit quietly and enjoy being with him. If I went with them, it was just a long, boring evening. It made me feel robbed; there was so much more I could be doing with my life than just sitting there hoping my friends got laid.

And since I had been with Ed – nearly four months – I found their lives rather, um, pathetic. Just a string of hookups and girl drama.

The guys across from us had stopped by to talk, and Ed was chatting with his normal confidence. I was surprised he was paying attention to the conversation, because even when he was not looking at me, I was sure his attention was invariably fixed on me.

I had worn a dress that I had not put on in a while, and I was regretting it. It fit me like it was Spanx, without doing me the service of decreasing my rolling acres. I felt sloppy, and slovenly, and fatty-fatfat gross.

My boobs were never massive – at least not compared to my ass – but even so, they were almost popping out of the plunging neckline. My ass lifted up the back of the dress, forcing me to try and convex my spine so that my ass didn’t thrust out so much. If I forgot, you could see the hem in the back rise several inches. I don’t even want to talk about my stomach, but I suppose I will need to for you to really get the picture.

It was massive.

Last night we had gone for all you can eat sushi, and for some reason I had taken that as a personal challenge. When we arrived today and I realized the whole bum thing, I decided that sitting would be best. Eating and drinking are social lubricant, and when you are as constitutionally shy as I can be in large groups, it’s a constant go-to. And with a boyfriend who doted on me, my plate was never empty despite never once having filled it myself.

I looked like I was pregnant. My belly jutted out in one big sphere, the flesh pulled taut from my excessive snacking. There was simply too much of me for the dress to handle, and it meant that the fabric of the dress rolled under my boobs – and under my belly. I plucked and tugged in vain, but there was simply not enough fabric to be loosened. Looking down, I could just see the fabric pulled taut over my belly button. In desperation, I had snagged a pillow and placed it in my lap to represent at least some sort of visual barrier! Because I felt like every eye invariably found my bloated form, judging me.

Ed had firmly planted himself by my side. One hand – the hand hidden from casual inspection – gently plucked and stroked the little roll created by my undies. It made me feel gross, and I wanted to tell him to stop, but there was no opportunity without interrupting conversation. I could tell from the look in his eyes, and the way he was sitting, that he was enjoying it a little too much.

I elbowed him.

In return for my trouble, he cast me a glance full of innocence before grinning. “Love you.”

“…I love you too,” I responded grudgingly, taking the shrimp he offered me with no good grace.

“So how did you two meet?”

“In a club,” was the immediate response, accompanied by him pressing his palm against my padded hip.

The other guy, an old Uni buddy, opened his eyes in surprise. “Really!’

I could feel his eyes probe my form, eyeing the chronic lack of muscle, and bulging rolls, and bloated middle. My neck heated, and I swallowed, looking away. Yeah. Fat chick in the club, shocking!

“But you hate clubbing,” the other finished, swigging his beer.

Oh. My cheeks warmed in embarrassment. His surprise was evidently not aimed at my weight. See? Not everything is about you!

My boyfriend shrugged. “Ben recommended it to me, so I went to check it out. And I saw this smoking hot girl there, and I bought her a drink, and she danced like nothing I had ever seen…and the rest is history!”

Now those wide eyes were turned to me. “You dance?”

My response was overridden by my boyfriend’s empathetic, “Really, really well!”

“That’s awesome. When we kick on the music later, want to show me what you got? Unless, of course, Ed’s just full of shit.”

I felt Ed’s arm snug me a little tighter into his side. “I…”

“Pssh, you just want to get your hands on her,” Ed proclaimed loudly.

Joe raised his beer in a silent cheer. “Yeah man, she’s dayum hawt.”

Yeah, ok, they were both clearly getting drunk. “I don’t think you could handle a real woman like me,” I said. It would have come out perfectly saucy, just like Jacks would say it, except I blushed to the roots of my hair as I said it, and the end came out in rather a mumble.

Joe slapped his palm on his knee, laughing. “I like her!” he exclaimed. “Bring her by any time.”

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Old 02-13-2016, 10:08 AM   #9
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I love that you've been exploring all these different perspectives in your stories lately. I'm excited to see where this one goes!

Also, I am so jealous of your writing speed!
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Old 02-16-2016, 05:06 PM   #10
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Thanks!!

(A lot of this was sketched in advance/between stories!)
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Old 02-16-2016, 05:06 PM   #11
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Chapter 4 – Bottom of the Hill

“I have an aching, empty part of my soul that can only be filled by tokoyaki,” Ed announced from the living room.

“Oh?” I asked, frowning as I flipped through a magazine. There were so many ads in these damn things now. Even if I wanted to buy one of the advertised items, I wouldn’t fit into most of them.

“How about you? Could you eat?”

Ed was the only one who ever asked me that. Everyone else just seemed to assume that because I was fat I was perpetually starving, and gorged at every opportunity. “Actually, I am a bit hungry, but only a little bit. We had brunch,” I reminded him as I continued to stare down at the glossy pages in front of me.

Ed padded to the sink and poured himself a glass of water before wandering up behind me and planting a kiss on my head. He rested his chin on the top, casually pulling me against him.

I squished. Ugh.

“Well if I can convince you to go, it will be my treat. What are you looking at?”

“This dress. What do you think of it? Is it pretty?” Twisting my head around to gaze up at him, I caught him giving a sort of grimacing sneer.

“I dunno – I can’t really tell what it looks like because it’s just sort of hanging off a skeleton. I’d have to see it on a real woman.”

“She’s beautiful,” I retorted, eyeing the silky fall of long hair on the model, and the wide, bedroom eyes. The dress clung provocatively to her chest, stomach and hips. Her legs were kind of crossed as if caught in the middle of walking down a runway.

My boyfriend shrugged as he chugged his drink. “If you say so,” he responded easily, Shrugging into his sweater, he snatched up his keys.

I followed suit, easing out from the chair. My hips were liable to knock things over if I wasn’t careful. Something was bothering me, but I didn’t open my mouth as we locked up and got into the car.

My silence filled the car as they pulled onto the main road. “Everything ok?” Ed asked finally, transferring his gaze from the windshield.

“Yeah. No. I guess. I mean…” I paused, groping for the right words. “I just feel like you are always trying too hard to make me feel good about myself.”

An easy grin flitted over his tanned face. “I like making you feel good about yourself, goose!”

I half glared at him, trying to tug the seatbelt out from where it nestled deeply into my flab. “Look, you don’t have to pretend not to be attracted to other women. Especially gorgeous models on tv or magazines. Just because we are dating doesn’t mean you are dead. And I won’t be upset if you admit they are hot.”

My boyfriend cocked a brow before returning his gaze to the road. He seemed to be searching for the right thing to say, his index fingers tapping the wheel slowly. After a long, slow exhale that puffed his cheeks out, he gave a little shrug. “I really don’t know what to tell you. I don’t find those women attractive.”

That pause convinced me straightaway that he was lying. “Really. You don’t think Ruth and Jacks are hot?”

“That’s the androgynous scarecrow and the ditzy jailbait, right?”

No one had ever described my two friends that way. I admit, the vindictive part of me crowed and grinned viciously. My better sense soon stepped in and squashed that emotion. “Yeah. They sometimes hang out with a fatty-four-by-four.”

A frown settled on his features. “Stop that.”

“What, calling myself fat?”

“Hating on yourself,” was the retort as he pulled into the strip mall and parked the car.

Now I felt on firmer ground. “It’s my body,” I retorted. “I can feel any way I want about it!”

Ed leaned back in his seat and let his head fall back onto the headrest. “Are you like this every time you read one of those slutty magazines?” He asked instead of stepping into that trap.

“Slutty?” I spluttered, indignant.

Snatching up the magazine, he flipped through the glossy pages until he began to read an article in an excited, fake voice. “Has your love life fizzled out? Find out the top ten ways to keep your man excited in the bedroom!” Skimming a bit farther, he snorted. “Find out your sexual style by filling out this questionnaire. How often do you have sex? What is your favourite sexual position? What would you rate your most daring act on a scale of one to – “

Tearing the magazine out of his hands, I tossed my head. “Men don’t understand what women have to go through.” I returned loftily.

“Men? Good to know that I represent the entire male population of a species,” was the growled response. He unbuckled himself, turning in his seat to more fully face me. “Are you going to come and get some food, or not?”

Now I was cross. I knew I was the one who was causing this argument, but I’d be damned if I was the one to back down first. “No!”

“Fine!” Flinging himself out of the car, Ed slammed the door and stalked into the restaurant.

From inside the car, I saw the counter help smile in an overly friendly way, flicking her bangs out of her face as she flirted. Sound wasn’t needed to help determine that she was in fact flirting.

Ed placed the order and sat down in one of the chairs to wait. The woman made a show of cleaning the counter, allowing her large breasts to jiggle above her narrow waistline. For his part, my boyfriend didn’t seem to notice, instead staring fixedly at his phone.

I was getting a little chilled now that the heat had leaked out of the car, and wished he had left the keys in the ignition. I was too proud to go in now, though. My eyes caught movement as a quite plump, pretty MILF type made her way to the front of the store, arms fill of bags.

Ed’s eyes seemed to rise by instinct, tracking her final approach. After he realized the woman struggling, he immediately jumped up and opened the door for her with some comment that made her laugh.

The woman’s laugh died down as the heavy glass door swung shut. Recapturing his seat, he again turned his attention to his phone, glancing up occasionally as the woman’s order was taken.

I sneered as the heavy thighs spilled over the small stool the MILF had taken up. Skinny girls might think that fat girls stuck together – but in my opinion there was no comrades in arms situation. Fat was gross, and all I wanted was not to be the fattest of the group. Because if the woman was fatter than she was, it made that woman more pathetic than I was.

By this time, the heat of my breath was fogging up the windows significantly, and I crossed my arms over my chest. Full fledged sulk moment! My brain having informed my stomach that there would be no tokoyaki at all (this was now a matter of pride) that organ was sending up insistent and desperate signals back that it was imperative that the situation be rectified.

I’d rather die! My pride told my stomach.

We WILL die, without food! Her stomach wailed back.

Can it, beast!

Ed slid into the driver’s seat. “Still pissy?” he grumped. He dumped the heavy bags on my lap, reaching around for his seat belt.

Pissy?!??!

Them be fighting words! I wasn’t before, but I AM NOW!


*~*~*


Having successfully combatted the impulses of my appetite all night, I was feeling quite confident in my ability to only have one small serving of the mass of takeout that had been brought back. After Ed had headed to bed of course. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me cave! Opening the fridge door, I removed the crinkling packages and peered inside.

Excitement rose as I tried to determine what I wanted. The place Ed had chosen was an Asian-fusion place. In the various boxes I found pad thai, udon, stir fry, tokoyaki, pad-see-ew, and various other fatty, salty dishes. Oooh, chicken balls!

Taking a bit of everything and putting it on a plate, I set it to warm up in the microwave as I popped the top of a can of coke. The clack and hiss echoed off the walls of my little kitchen as the microwave made a dull whirring in the background. Rich scents were already wafting through the kitchen, and I barely allowed the microwave a chance to beep before the door was flung open and my prize retrieved.

Settling back against the edge of the counter and watching the tv absently from the doorway, I raised the first forkful to my lips with a sigh of delight. Part of me still loved watching reruns of CSI, even though the actors were not the best, the plot was contrived, and they always seemed to be shocked at behaviour that they should have been desensitized to. Oh, and the bad guys always seemed to confess at the end.

Scraping my fork across the plate, I frowned in a bit of confusion. I must not have taken as much as I thought, I decided. A little more wouldn’t hurt.

The next plateful went a little slower, and I sighed in contentment as the edge of my hunger was taken off – but only the edge. The large container of chicken balls remained, which I ate cold.

A little burp escaped my lips and I blushed, beginning to close up the packages. Somehow, the containers looked so silly, each having only a bit of food in it. Shrugging, I began dumping all the food into one container. It fit, barely. Shoving it into the fridge, I returned to my program.

Several hours later, I once again found herself in the kitchen, opening that container. It was only one container, I told herself. My efforts the past few weeks couldn’t be undone by one extra meal. And it wasn’t even an extra meal; I hadn’t eaten breakfast, so this really was ‘dinner’.

I sat back on the couch, resting the container on the top of my belly as I used the chopsticks to bring morsels to my mouth. The noodles were slippery, and I raised the plastic container closer to my mouth, peering steadily over the rim at the moving pictures on the screen.

I felt the waist of my sweats dig into my hips as I tilted that black container up, using the chopsticks more as a shovel than a utensil. I was so full it actually kind of hurt, but there was this sort of guilty pleasure I had with being full. It had always relaxed me.

I always slept naked, and there was no point in dressing simply for a lone midnight binge. Sliding my palms along my bare stomach, I gave a little sigh of regret. This was what I got for trying to starve myself so suddenly, I reminded myself with a rueful shake of the head. It wasn’t the first time I had swung from one extreme to the other. It was a little shocking to feel how far I had to stretch my arms to reach the front of my stomach, and I slipped my hands under the heavy weight hesitantly.

My ass and thighs had been huge as soon as puberty hit, and my thighs had thickened in due time. My upper half, however, had always been spared the brunt of the caloric attacks. Now, I realized my much larger breasts were being forced out by the bulging sphere that actually sat on my lap. Heavily. My hands were going numb.

Pulling them out, I tentatively swept my hands along my stomach again. Diet. Diet. Diet. As my hands fell to my sides, my left one encountered the crinkle of a fortune cookie wrapper. Somewhere between popping open the third one and carrying it to my lips, I must have fallen asleep.

I woke up to hands caressing me.

“Sorry we got into a fight,” he breathed, kissing my neck softly. “I hope you got a chance to eat some dinner.”

If his heavy breathing and mouth weren’t indications of his arousal, his naked form sported a telltale flag. At least I didn’t look as bloated as I felt, I decided. If I did, he certainly wouldn’t be this excited. A little white lie was in order. “Yeah, I got some but the packages fell when I took them out, so I had to throw a lot of it out…”

Ed grinned, white teeth flashing in the room. “That’s all right,” he said, his excitement pressing into me as he braced himself above me. His face and voice grew earnest for a moment. “I love you, beautiful. I really hate when we fight.”

I should have felt revolted, angry, and upset at my loss of self control. Instead, all I felt at that moment was lazy contentment, and all I saw was the affection and arousal in Ed’s face and body. “I hate when we fight too…”
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Old 02-18-2016, 03:23 PM   #12
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I'm all but cracking up of the description of Ed waiting for the food. I'm sure if one watched me in that position, it would be very similar. I can't wait for her to develop her FA-dar
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Old 02-18-2016, 10:04 PM   #13
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I don't read many BBW stories, but your writing, plot, and characters make this female-focused story incredibly hot! I can't wait to read the next addition.
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Old 03-02-2016, 11:33 AM   #14
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Chapter 5 – Impact

“Look!” I gasped, finger extending out at the end of my arm.

“Oh! A finger!” Ed responded, staring at the plump digit in apparent amazement.

A smile quirked my lips in spite of myself, and I playfully slapped at his arm. “Stop that!”

He chuckled and kissed me. “What is it?” Brown eyes tracked the angle and widened in excitement. “Oooo! Good catch, sweetie. A new steakhouse sounds like a perfect end to our evening!”

My smile faded. It would be…

…but I shouldn’t.

Ed’s grin faded as well. “What’s wrong?” He asked, voice low and gentle.

The hand that he was using to rub my back in comfort only served to remind me about how fat I was, because I could feel it skimming over the rolls above and below my bra, my love handles…. “I just…I’ve put on some weight and I don’t feel very good about myself. I do want steak…but I know that it will just make it worse.”

Part of me expected him to protest and tell me I wasn’t fat, but he simply wrapped his arms around me and kissed me as he smiled down into my face. “Ok. I understand. Let’s just head home, and have something light there. Maybe a chicken salad. Then you can have the TV tonight to work out. Sound good?”

I must be getting fat, for my boyfriend to not even try to deny it. To be honest, the suggestion sounded as awful as it was logical. I nodded anyway. “Thank you…”

Ed kissed my forehead. “No problem, baby. I want you to feel good about yourself. How about this -whenever you are feeling better about yourself, and want to eat steak, we can go there. I love you and want you to be happy.”

*~*~*

It had, in all fairness, been a while since I had seen Ruth and Jacks.

I had, truth be told, been enjoying good food and good times with my boyfriend a bit too much.

And, in my own defense, I was still bloated from the steak dinner. I had eventually felt good enough about myself to eat it, of course.

But it wasn’t until Jack’s jaw almost hit the table, and Ruth ejaculated, “Holy shit!” that I realized how bad it might be.

Suddenly nervous, I tugged at my shirt, wishing in vain that it was less tight. Ed hated what he termed my ‘mumu shirts’, and over time he had convinced me to wear tighter items. Or I had grown into them. This one in particular I had almost not worn – until Ed walked in and I saw the look in his eyes.

My girlfriends were not seeing my now actually significant sized boobs peering over the neckline. Their eyes were flicking from my chin, to my arms, to my thighs and stomach. I straightened my back and put those stomach muscles to use in sucking in. Not that it accomplished much.

“Umm…heeeyyy…” Ruth stuttered after receiving a hard jab in the ribs from her friend. “Wow…it’s…uh…been a while…”

Jacks nodded, eyes darting over me. “Yeah…been a while…”

I could feel their eyes land on me as invasively as if it had been their hands groping and weighing. I saw that in an instant, they saw how round my upper arms were, how much softer my chin was, how little bits of fat rolled out from over, between, and under my bra. Endeavouring to not instantaneously burst into tears, I busied myself hanging up my coat. “Yeah, I am really sorry, life just got so busy with work, and I’ve really, really been enjoying myself with Ed.”

“I can see that.”

I winced. Subtly had never been Ruth’s strong suit.

“But she looks happy,” Jacks added, if rather weakly.

“I am happy! Very happy,” I hastened to affirm. “Ed is an amazing guy. Smart and funny and sweet, and he really cares about me.”

Ruth’s astonished expression was slowly settling into one of blatant disapproval. “If he cared so much about her, how did she get even fatter with him?”

Now this stung – on many fronts. There was the old kick in the pants about my past weight, a fresh stab about my current weight, and a new welt about my boyfriend! “It isn’t his fault.”

“When two things happen together, it isn’t coincidence.”

Things happened every day that were completely unrelated. But there was just enough truth that my mouth stayed shut. I probably wouldn’t have gained weight, except for the fact that Ed loved to eat out so much. And it wasn’t like he harped on me about my weight to help me keep it under control. He seemed to like it, even. That last thought expressed itself into sound. “Ed likes my body.”

Ruth’s sexy bob swayed as she cast Jacks a look that spoke volumes.

The silent judgement was condemning. “What?”

“I bet he tells you how sexy you are, and I bet he always takes you out to eat or cooks for you. Doesn’t he.”

I fiddled with the menu. “Of course he does – he is my boyfriend!”

Long fingers steepled, and serious eyes regarding me over the top. “And I bet there is always food in the house - and he likes seeing you eat.”

“What are you getting at, Ruth?” I demanded, irritated.

“Oh baby. He’s a feeder.” Her response was full of pity, except the last word, which was filled with disgusted contempt.

“Eh…What’s that?” I asked – even though the meaning was pretty damn clear.

Jacks nodded rapidly. “I’ve seen it on tv. It’s where guys get off on you getting fatter and fatter until you can’t move. You’re just a walking fetish to them. Well, until you can’t get up off the couch. Then you wont be able to walk at all.”

Horrified, I gazed between them. “He is not! He cares about me!”

Jack’s golden ringlets cascaded down her shoulders as she shook her head “Really? You’ve gained so much weight since you met him. And he’s never once talked to you about how much weight you’ve gained? Never once asked you what is wrong in your life that you put on this much weight? How can he care about you if all he is doing is shovelling food down your face and watching you bloat? Like, what about diabetes and stuff?”

As they spoke, I felt a sort of thrill spike through me. Swallowing hard, I stared down at my clasped hands and bulging belly. I hadn’t felt this way in quite some time, and I had not missed the alternating hot and cold thrills, the sick pit in my stomach, or suddenly feeling like a bloated whale carcass, washed up on shore that everyone gawked at.,

The waitress appeared at our table. “What can I get you?”

“She will just take a lemon water.” Ruth patted my hand across the table. “Because we love you, and we,” emphasising the word, “Have your best interests at heart. Now, tell us what has been going on with you!”


*~*~*


In this day and age of Google, a few internet searches had brought up the ugly truth about what a feeder was. I was utterly humiliated to realize I had not fallen for it – so much as leapt into it full steam. This morning, for the first time in almost of year, I had fished deep into my closet, and found the clothes that I had used to wear. I had wanted to cry even looking at the fabric in my hands, reminded of that day I had held Ruth’s stuff in front of my eyes. These were similarly too small, even while being held at arms length. Except – these had were my own clothes, which a year ago had fit me just fine. The bra looked ridiculously small, and as I did the clasp up, felt how uncomfortably tight it was. When I drew up the cups to stuff my boobs in, there was simply not enough fabric to cover them. Bulges of fat spewed out over the top, and lolled out the side.

Swallowing my dread, I marshalled and put on one of my old shirts – not too bad. A little spark of hope lit…until I tried to pull on an old pair of jeans. Jeans, due to their nature, are particularly unforgiving. There was that uncomfortable tightness around my calf as I pulled them on, and then that feeling where one has to stuff each individual sausage leg into the jean casing manually. I could feel my belly move and touch my thighs as I bent over – and that same sphere sat low on my hips, making the jeans impossible to fasten.

Picking up the tattered pieces of my dignity, I pulled out a cheap, full length mirror I had bought at Walmart some time ago, but never put on the back of my door.

It was worse than I thought. Bulges and rolls spilled everywhere, the greedy fat lapping at my bra band and threatening to consume it. Below it, my ass and hips formed a wide shelf – which, I was actually more used to. It was the accompanying love handles, spilling heavily, and the liberty bell belly which hung ponderously between me and the mirror that hurt the most. The shirt fit – but unbeknownst to me at the time, my lower belly was completely free, jiggling between the frames of shirt hem, jean flaps, and overworked panties.

I drew out the dreaded scale next. It is never enough to vaguely hate one’s body; to understand one is at a distance from their goal. No; distinct numbers are required so that you can hate all x pounds of flesh. To understand precisely how far one has fallen. To be able to stare at the composite pieces of your body and determine how many pounds of flesh in each made up that whole. The whole failure.

When I tried on one of my old dresses and it ripped across my belly, I burst into tears, turning away from the ghastly sight of my pale flesh bursting through the tear, jiggling with each motion.

I hated everyone. My friends, Ed. Me most of all, I think. How could I have been so blind, so stupid, so trusting?

Running over all the circumstances in my mind, I felt sick. All the things that I had mistakenly thought cute, or sweet, or harmless, were now thrown into a vastly different light.

His randomly finding me in that club. Picking me - overweight, ugly me - out of all those women? Suddenly seemed less like fate. It was more like scraping the bottom of the barrel at a club. Preying on the women who seemed isolated and weak.

Ed’s constantly encouraging me to eat. Always seeming to have nibbles on hand, buying massive amounts of takeout. Always telling me to have it if I wanted it – what fat girl didn’t want to have her cake and eat it to? Stupid, idiot!

That night, long after the sporadic snores had begun, I was still staring up at the dim ceiling. Finally, unable to endure being awake alone, I prodded him with my index finger. “Are you awake?”

“Mmph.”

I had been laying there with indigestion for the last hour and a half, feeling like a beached whale to boot. My mind had been replaying his words and actions in the context of what my friend’s had said. It would not stop until satisfied. Mmph would do as a conversational opening. “Ed, how did you pick me in that bar?”

“’lready told you. Super sexy. Super hot.”

“Come on, be serious.”

With the deep groan of someone resigning themselves to the pain of consciousness, he propped himself up into a sitting position. I heard him rub his hands over his face rapidly. “What’s wrong?”

“Why’d you pick me?” I demanded again

“As opposed to?”

“….any other girl!”

“Because I didn’t want any other girl. I wanted you.”

His tone was so matter of fact I wanted to scream. “But why?”

He looked mystified and befuddled as he flicked on the bedside lamp. “Beth, honey, I’m way too drunk and too tired to do this right now. What’s wrong?” He had gone out with some buddies to celebrate their bachelor, in all fairness.

I couldn’t tell him that my entire world was collapsing because my fat pants hadn’t fit tonight. That every little absent stroke of his fingertips on my side tonight had made me feel like an absolute cow. And that all his and his friend’s compliments were just cruel, cruel jokes. “…Nothing.”

“Oh dear god!”

“What!?”

Picking up his phone, he peered at it. “It’s 3:00am. I have to be up for surgery at 10:00am. Something is obviously bothering you. Out with it!”

I sucked in as he playfully straddled me, pinning my arms above my head and laughingly demanding, “What, what, what, what is it?!” His smile faded. “Aww, baby…”

I wiped the incriminating tears on my shoulder, giving a mighty sniffle. “I feel fat.”

“Oh.” His body stilled. “Well, that’s not good.” Laying back on the bed, he urged me to straddle him instead. His seriously gaze passed over my body – I wanted to die with shame as the unforgiving light exposed me. “You are so gorgeous!” His hands began rubbing my thighs as he shot an approving glance up at me. Something, at least, was more awake than he cared to admit, and it prodded me lightly.

My ‘gorgeous’ size 18 body rolled out everywhere. “I used to almost be a size 14, and now I’m almost a size 20!” I wailed, half covering myself with my arms.

“Beth – it’s just the tag on a pair of pants. We talked about this, right? I think you are beautiful as hell. It’s probably my fault – I love eating out, and we have been having a good time, right?”

I nodded morosely. It was true, we had been having a blast restaurant hopping.

“I’m sorry.”

Somewhat mollified, I sniffed, wiping my eyes on my arm like a child. I had wanted to blame him and scream, but it was hard to when he was so gentle and caring “Me too. I’m a grown woman, I should have enough self-control not pig out all the time.”

His face screwed up, but he just sighed. “I’m also really sorry you feel fat. You are beautiful to me, ok?” and he shifted his hips so that the evidence would be more apparent. “See?”

His normally impish grin and flashing eyes were more serious, and he gently petted my upper arms, trailing his hands down to my fingers before kissing them. I tried to remain still as he began touching me, but I was feeling incredibly antsy. Every touch caused something to wobble, and it was hard to feel beautiful as his palms found roll after roll, even grabbing onto handfuls of love handle to get a better grip as he began rocking.

I pushed aside all my misgivings, determined to talk to him about them later.

“I love you,” Ed murmured into my neck as we spooned afterwards, a sheet between us preventing our sweaty bodies from sticking.

Do you? I had to wonder.
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Old 03-02-2016, 12:35 PM   #15
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I have to wonder how many couples go through this situation, in this googlified age?

I'm eager to see where you go with this!
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Old 03-28-2016, 06:40 PM   #16
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Chapter 6 – The Final Straw


He gets off to you being fat. He wont even tell you how fat you are. He’ll feed you until you can barely move, my friends had said.

I couldn’t help recalling those words and the true concern in their eyes every time he offered me an icecream cone, or even when we just sat down to dinner together. Suddenly, I felt like he was watching every bite go into my mouth, and his gentle caresses were now the inspection of what new fat was adorning my body.

“You ok?”

I was staring down at the cheesecake menu.

“Remember, don’t have anything you don’t want to have,” he reminded me, placing a warm hand over mine.

I pulled it away, feeling disgusted with myself. How could I sit here, staring down at pure fat in my lap, and be contemplating additions to it? Especially when…

His voice had an anxious tone. As if he knew something was wrong, and hoped talking would delay it. “Seriously, Beth, you are freaking me out. You’ve been off for days now. You wouldn’t even cuddle with me yesterday. What did I do to be put in the dog house?”

I had never broken up with someone before. I had always been the pathetic one left crying on the floor.

I had so many questions. When should I do it? How should I do it? What should I do when he reacted?

The fact that I should break up with him was abundantly clear. Ruth and Jacks were right. What kind of sick, creepy weirdo liked fat women? And got turned on by their pain and getting fatter? He obviously had massive issues.

I had noticed, in a peripheral sort of way, that he enjoyed me eating and my body. But I had been fed into a torpor. The shock my friends had given me had opened my eyes, and what was once cute and just an Ed specific peculiarity, was now…

“Babe.” He slid around to my side of the booth, cupping my face in his warm hand. “No matter what happens, I’ll always be here for you, ok?”

Oh GOD. That just made everything worse! I shook my head, refusing to look into his eyes. I couldn’t see his loving expression, and hear his loving tones, and do this!

“Beth – I love you. So much. I don’t know what I did, but I am sorry.” Drawing me into him, he held me close, stroking my hair.

I couldn’t do it. Not in cold blood. Not like this. “I love you too…”

*~*~*

For some reason, the fire of my appetite had roared even higher after learning about his predilections. Refusing to eat in front of him, I had ended up gorging into the night when he was working evenings, basically methodically working to clear the cupboards. It had really frightened me how much I secretly enjoyed it. Sitting down, without anybody home, and settling down with the sole intended purpose of stuffing myself.

Can you spot the juxtaposition of my current mood and will, compared with that last thought?

I hadn’t felt that dazed and relaxed since the night of the Thai food. But the first night it happened, I was in such a froth of anger and bitterness that I heated up an entire thin crust pizza and ate it myself. It was enough to blunt hunger, but did not fill the void that I wanted it to. Unwrapping a small lasagna, I put it into the oven. Taking a variety of goodies to the couch with me to watch tv, I was hyper conscious of the feeling of fullness in my stomach, and the tightness of my shirt and pants.

Now to try and explain my actions…Oh yes – that was it.

In for a penny, in for a pound.

When you fall off the wagon, you might as well wallow in the mud, because you are already dirty. It wasn’t the first time I had binged after dieting. Having already committed the sin of gluttony; what was a few more bitefulls? And so I chowed down entire bag of Oreos and milk. My sweet tooth now abundantly satisfied, I turned to the bag next to me. It crinkled softly in my hands. When I took the top between my two hands and pulled apart, starchy, oily, salty heaven reached my nose. And as the ads say; betcha you can’t eat just one. Or was that for Klondike bars?

When the oven timer went off I was so surprised that the almost empty chip bag fell from between my greasy fingers. I had totally forgotten about that! Leveraging myself to my feet with the aid of the arm rest, I shuffled into the kitchen and took it out of the oven. There was no way I could eat that, now.

Except, surprise surprise, I found myself in the kitchen an hour later. Resting my forearms on the edge of the counter and using it to support my upper body, I dipped my fork between the rich layers again and again, tomato, cheese and pasta exploding over my tongue. I could feel gravity tugging inexorably on my stomach as it became as heavy as a bowling ball. The skin felt taut and tingly, and between my legs I felt another tingle. When I shifted, my bare stomach pressed against the bottom cupboards, making me squeak with surprise. Unbalanced, I pushed myself into a standing position, feeling the lasagna shift everything lower. Suddenly awake, and nervous, I ran a hand over my stomach. A fluttering thrill went through me as I felt the counter sink deep into my belly.

There was still about two square inches of lasagna. Resting the bottom of my stomach on the cool linoleum counter, I choked back the remaining pieces. No longer as an enjoyment, but as a punishment to myself. The same way my father had made me smoke an entire pack of cigarettes in front of him, when he learned I smoked in high school, in some sort of ritualistic punishment to make me feel sick.

Spent, I threw down the pan, careless of the splatter, and clutched the massive, round globe in front of me. It was hot to the touch, soft and firm at the same time. I was aching to take my frustration out in another way, and waddled with difficulty to the bedroom.


*~*~*


“Beth, what the hell!?” Ed bellowed, stomping around the living room to glare at me in the bedroom. “Seriously - what the hell?”

This eloquent inquiry was brought about because I had thrown almost all the food out in the whole house. I had done that gorging about four times in the past two weeks, and the addictive feeling of being stuffed frightened me enough to throw out everything we had. I had heard his inhale of shock as he opened the cupboards to find them bare except canned veggies and spices. His growl of frustration as the unoffending fridge door was wrenched open, only to see a handful of fruits and veggies in the crisper. His bellow as the freezer was shown to be similarly bare.

“I wanted all the junk gone. I am starting a diet.”

My boyfriend looked speechless, face red with anger. “You didn’t have to throw out all the food in order to diet!”

“Yes, yes I did!” I snapped, throwing down yet another article of clothing onto the bed. “If you haven’t noticed yet, I’m as big as a cow and I can’t stop shoving food in my stupid face! It needs to be gone or else I will just eat it!” I had, for the first time in months, done an accounting of the clothing in my closet. Some of it I had not fit into for a long time, even before meeting Ed, but that was no consolation as I stared at the mount of clothes earmarked for ‘will never be that skinny again, you fatso’.

“I know you have been feeling a little down lately – but you are not as big as a cow!”

I saw the flaw in his statement immediately, narrowing in on it like a shark scenting blood. “But I am fatter!” I exclaimed, almost triumphant at forcing him to finally say it.

He ran a hand through his chestnut hair, heaving his shoulders up in a shrug. “Yeah, a few pounds, but so am I – isn’t that part of being happy in a relationship?”

Let me just interject here and clarify that his few pounds were basically a tiny pot around his belly that disappeared when he remembered to suck in, and barely pooched out over his jeans when he sat. I looked like I had eaten a whole other person. “I’m not happy! I can’t even fit into any of my clothes!”

“Then we can buy you new clothes!” was the retort as he waded through the clothes strewn about the room to hug me.

I stood stiff within the embrace, lip quivering. “You are just saying that because you LIKE me fatter!”

His whole body stiffened, and he seemed to stop breathing for a moment. When I pulled back to look at him, his mouth was moving like a fish out of water.

Jerking my chin up, I stared at him.

His complexion went red, then white, his mouth twitching all the while. “Beth…I…”

“You what?” I tried to snap, but there was more than a bit of quaver to it.

He looked even more frightened than I felt. “I’m sorry.”

“For what? For getting off on my getting fatter? For making me into a whale?”

“I didn’t…” Ed mumbled, swallowing so hard his Adams apple bobbed. “I…”

I started at him, but all he seemed capable of was stuttering. Turning, I walked out of the bedroom and curled up on the couch, pulling the throw off the back to cover myself. The cushion shifted as he sat next to me. When I glanced at my boyfriend, he was staring at the floor, hands in his lap, head bowed.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner,” he whispered hoarsely. “I just, kind of hoped you knew, or didn’t mind, or something.”

That warranted nothing short of a scathing glance. “You have got to be kidding me. Being ok with you fattening me up so no one finds me attractive again? Being ok with killing myself and ruining my health?”

Ed’s normally impish face looked miserable, his mouth turning down at the corners, his eyes locked on the floor. It took him a long time to speak again. “I really am sorry. Are you going to be able to forgive me?” Hesitant, his hand reached out to cover mine.

I honestly did not know. I felt violated on so many levels. Now that he had admitted it, I felt betrayed, hurt, used, and pathetic. But I also felt resentful – my own friends had seen it before I had. How stupid was I? And how horrid was he, that I had been forced to go through that humiliation? “I…I don’t know. How can I trust you again? You used me, manipulated me – you’ve ruined my body, my health, my life. Now you want me to forgive you? How can I trust you when I know you like me fatter, want me fatter?” Because he had not denied it.

His head bowed again, and I saw his jaw clench as he swallowed a few more times. “I love you, not your bod - ”

“Oh, cut the crap!” I sighed, pulling my hand free. “That’s EXACTLY what I am talking about! I didn’t meet you yesterday, Ed. I’ve seen the way you like to watch me eat, the way you buy me food, the way you watch and grin and get horny whenever I look particularly fat. I’m not stupid.”

“I love you,” he continued doggedly. “I do love your body, but I love your sense of humour, how sweet you are…everything. You are the whole package for me, Beth.”

I shook my head. I had been having this exact argument with myself for days; these excuses, platitudes and apologizes were nothing that I had not prepared myself for, within the safety of my own brain. “You say you love me, but you don’t trust me.”

“That’s not true!”

I nodded, still not looking at him. “Yup. It is. How is not telling me about this gross fetish an example of trust?”

His stood up, knocking the coffee table aside. “Because this, Beth! Because this! Because I just wanted to be a guy who enjoyed you, and your body – not some gross, perverted guy with a disgusting fetish. Because this whole…” Throwing his arms out, he ground his teeth, clearly fighting foul language, “…god damn scene was what I wanted to avoid!”

“Because you didn’t trust me to react maturely?” I shouted, standing as well.

“And apparently I was right!” was the roared answer. “I was hoping to have a relationship with a mature woman who liked food, not some child who whines about being fat while eating. Because I didn’t once put food in your mouth Beth, not once! That is on YOU!”

On me, huh? No fault of his. No coincidence that he found me; didn’t take advantage of my weaknesses at all. All on me. Several moments passed, both of us breathing heavily, gazes narrowed. “Well. I guess that says it all.”

My boyfriend’s expression had turned to deep regret the minute he finished speaking, and he looked at me, eyes shuttered. “Beth…fuck…I’m sorry…”

I waved a hand to cut off his too little too late attempt to undo the damage he had just caused. “No – you are right. This is all on me. All my fault.” Maybe there was even a bit of truth to that, I admitted, as scenes of the last two weeks flashed through my mind. “And maybe you are right. Maybe I am some sort of selfish child who has food issues. But I do know this for sure.” I paused for emphasis, looking him dead in the eye. “I’m not going to get over them with you.”
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Old 03-30-2016, 02:09 PM   #17
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^^^ Every FA's nightmare?

(but very nicely written)
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Old 03-31-2016, 08:35 AM   #18
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Chapter 7 – The Rebound


It would be impossible to describe my emotions after our fight. A mixed bag, my granddaddy would have called them. I was devastated, but I also felt vindicated and empowered. And those feelings were only reinforced as Ed simply got his things, and left.

It wasn’t until a few weeks had passed that I began to truly have any regret. When a movie came out I wanted to see, suddenly I was once again seeing it solo. All of my social circle for the past year had been his friends, who had become mine. Being with them after having broken up with him was just too weird, the possibility of meeting too high.

I’m not going to pretend I had ever excelled at making friends. Between my inability to generally speak to strangers and my sarcastic nature when I finally did, I was an acquired taste. And being the fattest I had ever been in my life did not help. Again, it was not until Ed was gone that I began to see and feel the results of my excessive poundage. I felt fat more often, taking an additional half an hour to dress each morning as I desperately tried to find something to camouflage my entire body.

Other’s stares and comments once again intruded on my awareness. When I was standing, alone, in the concession line at the movies, I could feel their stares on my rolls. I could hear their murmurs and titters. Ed would have been talking to me, his arm around my hip, but now I could see and hear everything.

Saying this smarts, but it is true, so I will somehow manage. I tucked tail and crawled back to my old friends. They took me back, though. I had not hung out with Ruth and Jacks in a while. When I turned my attention to them, I realized that their social circle had moved on – they had found a new fat friend, and I barely knew anyone else when we did go out together.

“Congratulations, Beth! Cheers to being free of him!” Jacks said one night.

As I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, I tried to avoid thinking about how Ed would have curled into me, his fingers gently caressing…

No. With a shake of my head, I remembered that he had been caressing my fat, not me.

Cheers to me indeed…Rolling over, I buried my face in one pillow and hugged Ed old pillow to my body.

*~*~*

Lance was an art-eest. A starving artist, more like. Don’t get me wrong, his paintings were lovely, but no painting is worth a grand. At least in my mind. Coming from an industry where things needed to be priced appropriately to sell, and your fee needed to be commensurate with the clientele, I often shook my head over his stubbornness.

It was pretty much the only point of contention in our relationship. I’m not the fastest learner, but after the first half dozen arguments I kenned onto the fact that suggesting he sell more works at a lower price was usually pretty poorly received.

Other than that, it was…good.

I mean, we didn’t fight.

We didn’t really do much of anything, really.

There were still days I missed Ed so much my chest ached. As time went on, I only seemed to miss him more, not less. But then I looked at his behaviour compared to Lance, and realized how messed up Ed’s had been. Lance never pushed food on me, or took an excessive interest in my poundage. Groped my fat.

That didn’t stop me from Facebook stalking my ex, scrolling through photos of him in his scrubs, a cute kitten in hand. Or him at a party, drinking. Sometimes, I even fancied that his smile wasn’t quite as happy as it was before, and maybe he missed me. He seemed to be doing well, otherwise. The clinic where he worked was expanding, and he was heading out to the other end of the city to man their surgery division.

“Watcha lookin at?” Lance queried as he sat down beside me.

“Just a friend’s wall,” I responded, resolutely closing the window.

Leaning over, he kissed me.

It felt like nothing. He was an ok kisser – or maybe I was just being judgemental. I heard you were supposed to wait before getting into another relationship, and I had pretty much bounced right into Lance’s arms. I just found myself analyzing everything. Instead of just enjoying the kiss, I found myself aware that his lips were chapped. Hadn’t Ed’s ever been chapped? I hadn’t really noticed. Or I found that his lips were moist, making the kiss unpleasantly wet.

“What do you want for dinner?”

He shrugged. “Whatever you want to make.”

My eyes narrowed, and I had to stop myself from responding with something along the lines of, ‘you’ve been home all day, and you still want me to cook?’ Or say I wouldn’t cook anything. The problem with that was that unlike me, Lance could seemingly go without food quite easily. By-product of the profession, I suppose. “I’ll make KD.”

He glanced up at me, his eyes flicking over my body. “You sure? You did say you wanted to lose some weight the other day.”

The blood froze in my veins before my pounding heart overcame the thrill. Tears pricked my eyes, and my hands shook in utter humiliation. “What?” I managed. A stupid response, but it was all that I could come up with.

That statement on its own wouldn’t have been enough to discompose me so utterly, except the fact that it was coupled with a complete blank on the sex side. Maybe that was why I felt zero connection with him. It was like being trapped in a boyfriend/girlfriend relationship at age 11. We kissed, we cuddled. Sometimes we did stuff together. Sometimes we didn’t. We were like, going out, like, totally.

At first, I thought that he was shy. But as weeks rolled into months, I still got nadda on the sexual interest front. Not even an ass slap in passing. When we hugged or cuddled, he was oddly hands off, like he didn’t want to sink too much into me. I suddenly comprehended the term ‘dry spell’ – after regular sex with Ed, I felt the lack keenly.

Apparently, he also had a deep streak of stupidity, because he didn’t even register my growing stress. “Yeah – remember last week when you got Taco Bell? You said that you wanted to start watching your weight and going on a diet.”

“Because I’m such a fatty.”

Something in my tone finally clicked with him. “Well, you are pretty big, Beth.”

I’d throttle him. With my bare, goddamn, hands!

He cast an odd glance at me. “What? You are!”

“And is that why we haven’t had sex?”

He looked uncomfortable. “Look, Beth, you are a really nice girl and all...”

“But what?” I demanded. If this plane was going down I was going to point the nose right into the ground.

“I’m just not…interested in you physically, ok?”

Then why the hell are you in this relationship with me? I could have demanded. No, screw silence! “Then why the hell are you in this relationship with me?”

The emotional drama queen who rested just under the surface of his personality burst forward finally. “You know what? That’s a damn fine question. I am SO out of this. I don’t need this drama in my life! I need someone who will support me, not someone who will tear me down! No wonder my paintings haven’t been selling lately – I am not inspired!”

Now physically shaking with anger, I pointed at the front door of my condo. “Good! Get the hell out! And take your second rate scribbles with you!”

And that was pretty much how my first post-Ed relationship imploded. There was a bit more screaming and swearing and tears, but I will save you from that melodrama.

It wasn’t all bad though. It was a slap in the face, and a wakeup call. Lance was right. That same evening, I joined my local gym.

It had been a long, long time since I set foot in a gym. Probably high school was the last time I had passed that dreaded threshold. It didn’t feel much better now, years later, as I slunk through the doorway.

There are two categories of gym goers. The fit, and the fat. I did not fall into the former, and I was at the far right of that spectrum. There were other fatties here, but I was edging dangerously close to being one of the largest. And the gym seemed damn determined to drive that home with their lithe receptionists, and their floor to ceiling class mirrors in the waiting area.

I was a mess, and not a hot mess either. After several minutes of catching flinching glimpses out of the corner of my eye, I confronted my own reflection. I had never really been thin, but I couldn’t recall ever seeing myself this fat. My face was pale, my eyes swollen and red from recent tears. There was almost no discernable cheekbone on my face, just swollen cheeks that merged with a large bulge of fat under my jaw. My upper arms actually swelled outwards, away from my shoulders, and as I signed the membership papers I saw my upper arms jiggle with the motion. Below the counter, my stomach pressed into the faux wood so hard that I had difficulty breathing.

The worst part was still yet to come. The fitness test.

I don’t know why they bothered. Honestly. I think it should have just been maybe three boxes: tick fit, average, or fat. Instead, I was forced to put myself through a humiliating series of fitness tests, none of which I could perform well – or at all.

And my personal trainer was so hot that it made it all the worse. Muscles bulged everywhere under smooth, tanned skin. He smiled, flashing white teeth as he encouraged me to do a pushup. “You need to keep your elbows in, Beth.”

I can’t keep my goddamn elbows in, my side fat is in the way! Oh, and I can’t go low, because my belly is in the way! Touching my toes was also a complete failure. When he squeezes the caliper into my upper arm, I wanted to vomit into my own mouth in shame. “Look…”

Pausing in the worksheet, he looked up at me.

“I know I’m fat, ok? Just…put that I failed all the tests, and let’s just set me some goals to work towards. I don’t want to think about where I am, just where I am going.”

His even, white teeth flashed, and his eyes crinkled. “That is a great attitude! Don’t focus on where you are, but where you want to be.”

“Yeah. Right.” I want to be home, in bed. With McDonalds, I added mentally as my stomach squealed, unfed since lunch time. “Thanks – ” I glanced at his nametag. “Erich.”


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Old 03-31-2016, 08:53 AM   #19
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Chapter 8 – Control



Erich was the kind of guy I had always dreamed of having; the guy that all the other girls wanted.

Hell, even Ruth and Jacks had expressed envy and jealousy. And want to know the best part? He didn’t react to it - didn’t go for the bait at all.

Because he is into me! Me, the fat friend!

Well, not so fat as I used to be. Erich lives and breathes fitness and health. He’s really enabled me to meet my goals. And he is so sweet and conscious of my health. He really wants to take care of me. He has my best interests at heart.

If that last bit sounded a bit contrived, it is because I am reminding myself this as I hover, mid-step, outside of the Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory. It smelled like chocolate and fudge and marshmallows. Not the genuine, bitter chocolate that he allows me to have once a month, but that waxy, deep, fake aroma of chocolate filled with crap.

I swallowed as my eyes ran, helter-skelter, over the shelves. Candied apples of every description, fudge, truffles…oh. Do I want anything? My eyes met the cashier’s, and I took a step back like a thief caught in the act. “No, just window shopping,” I hurried to say before fleeing down the Path. I pulled my turtleneck up around my face, hoping to block out the smells coming from dozens of restaurants.

At least Erich has helped me understand my weight and eating problem so much better. When my self control fails, he is always there to help me make the right decisions. Digging into my purse, I pulled out a power bar. It was dry and tasted vaguely like bready fruit, but at least it was something.

*~*~*

“I’m, like, so happy you found Erich!” Jacks cried as I walked into the restaurant. “You look like a million bucks, girlie!”

“Wow. You look like half the girl you used to,” Ruth added approvingly as they sat at the table. “Really – you look so much better. So much healthier.”

I didn’t feel healthier. For the past six months I had this chronic headache that never fully went away, and I was exhausted – all the time. I heard our running partners talk about how they couldn’t run at night without becoming so jacked they couldn’t sleep. For myself, I found that a five kilometer run was enough to knock me out cold. “Thanks!” I said instead.

I had learned the hard way that complaining about being fit was almost as bad as being fat. I couldn’t whine about how hard a class was. I had to celebrate the pain. It was all very masochistic, in my opinion. The other thing that was a little messed up? Going out to eat with other people who were stringent with their diet. It was like window shopping for food. You got to pour over menus of items that you couldn’t have. Invariably settling on a salad with no dressing - which made the whole perusal just an exercise in self-inflicted pain. “How are you guys?”

“Good,” Ruth answered. “But not as good as Jacks!”

Jaqueline blushed, and extended her hand in response to my questioning look.

Well. Figured. It was a very, very nice ring, and looked massive on her delicate finger. “Congratulations!” I replied, trying to emulate the same squeal I heard in other women’s voices. And for my trouble, I was serenaded with all the minutia of her proposal. Which, truth be told, wasn’t really any more special than other proposals I had heard. Dinner, the restaurant, blah, blah, blah.

“What about Erich?” Jacks asked eventually. “Do you think he will propose?”

For some reason, the idea terrified me. “Oh, I don’t know. I don’t know that he is the marrying type.”

Ruth canted her head. She looked a lot less intimidating, now that she was a brunette. “You almost sound like you don’t want it.”

“I don’t know, I mean, I’m still pretty young, and that’s a lot of commitment…” I hedged, fiddling with the napkin in my lap.

“Babe, you hit thirty two this year. You’re really not ‘young’ per say anymore. I mean, if you want kids, you’re going to have to get a move on with it.”

*~*~*

“Were you good today?” My six foot two, tanned and muscled boyfriend asked as he weighed our dinner on the new scale. Not having a scale that measured down to the gram was out of the question.

“I was. I almost got some chocolate, but I ate a powerbar instead!”

“Good girl,” he commented approvingly, eyes still bent on his task. “But remember that the powerbar is still calories, and you will need to burn them off. You are going to work out tonight?”

It was barely a question, and I had to supress a hearty groan and grimace. I don’t think I fully succeeded, because his handsome face was frowning at me.

“Beth, baby, you know how this works. Weight gain is very simple. The only ones who try and make it out to be more complicated than it is are those losers who don’t have the self control and discipline to keep it off. The formula is simple. You are taking in more calories than you are burning. If you want to lose weight and keep it off, you need to burn more than you are taking in. And that means exercise.”

All my self-congratulatory glow had fully vanished by now, and a little part of me wished that I had caved and gotten that chocolate – at least I would have earned this lecture. I counted to three, staring at his model face and movie star body. This was not his fault, I reminded myself with some difficulty. My eating disorder was my own problem. Lashing out at the people who cared about me was not fair. “I know. I’ll run on the treadmill tonight. What’s for dinner?”

“Two ounces of boneless skinless chicken breast, half a cup of broccoli, and a quarter cup of rice.”

Oh, yummy!!! …I hope that my sarcasm came through sufficiently in that comment, dear reader.

“You look good,” Erich commented as I took my coat off.

I blushed, adoring his approval. Instantly, my irritation faded away as I preened a bit,

“It looks like you lost some more weight!”

Now, I don’t know why, but this caveat rather soured the compliment. Maybe it was just my hungry mood, but I rolled my eyes into the depths of the closet. “Thanks, Erich. It’s all been thanks to you.”

He placed the meager portion of food on the table. “What did you weigh in at this morning?”

Ugh. “Oh. Uh…” I hadn’t weighed myself that morning. I had barely had time to brush my teeth because my alarm had gone off late.

Taking both my shoulders in his hands, he gave a little shake. “Beth. You need to focus on this. You’ve come so far. Don’t let a bit of success undermine you in the future. You are worth this battle, ok? You deserve to be thin and happy.”

Thin and happy.

“I saw your potential, baby,” he added, more softly, more soothingly. “I saw how dedicated you were. Don’t let both of us down, ok?”

Shit. He was right…

*~*~*

Erich was away for the evening, doing a private session with a client in his own home.

And I had spent the week planning a clandestine love affair.

When I got home, I had a long soak in the tub, playing some light jazz in the background, a dozen candles the only light in the room. My grandpa used to call me a waterbaby as a child – if I could live in water without turning into a prune, I would! Seeing that my fingers were indeed beginning to wrinkle, I reluctantly stepped out of the bath. Wrapping one of my green towels around me, I smiled into the mirror.

How different was my life now?

I was down from an overstressed size 22, back to a size (almost) 10. Although I was still fatter than I wanted to be, I could flex my arms and see my muscle. And if I stood straight and sucked in, I practically looked skinny!

Piling my blonde hair on my head, I pursed my lips. I didn’t particularly think blonde was my colour, but Erich really liked it on me. Luckily, my date tonight did not have very high expectations. After blow drying it, I slipped into a pair of yoga pants and a tank top. No point applying lipstick when it would just get rubbed off.

Nearly jumping down the last two stairs, I padded into the kitchen. My eyes were already locked on the drawer where we kept out garbage bags and such. Well, hello there handsome. Despite knowing that Erich was out, I cast a furtive glance over both shoulders, listening to the silence. With a deep inhale and a lick of the lips, I pulled out my date.Unlike me, he had come dressed to the nines.

A small tirasmisu met my gaze. The creamy surface was generously dusted with cocoa, and chocolate shavings dotted the middle. Placing it reverently on the counter, I once again looked over my shoulder.

“Hey there, handsome,” I murmured out loud, leaning in to take a deep inhale of the rich chocolate and coffee smell. I never really understood why smells kicked my appetite up to the max, until Erich explained that the sense of smell was actually linked to the sense of taste. My appetite revved because the scent particles hit my tongue as a taste.

But that teasing inhale was nothing compared to the heaven that burst on my tongue as I slipped the first creamy bite between my lips. Screw plates, screw the rules – for one night. I gave myself over to enjoyment, leaning my forearms on the counter, mooning over my small slice of heaven. I’d have to work out a ton to get rid of this indulgence. Not to mention that I would probably have to go for a walk to dispose of the evidence. And air the house, so he didn’t smell the incriminating sweetness.

“I see you are enjoying a treat. What, may I ask, are we celebrating?”

I nearly jumped straight out of my own goddamn skin. Whipping around, I stared in consternation at the glowering, disapproving, face of my boyfriend. “Um. Oh, I – ” My mine scrambled, and in the pure exigency of fear, blurted the first lie that I thought might allay the coming storm. “I got a promotion at work!”

His stern face eased somewhat, but he still crossed his arms, looking disgusted at my gluttony. “Congratulations – I am happy for you. But that is a bit excessive, don’t you think?”

“I…”

“That is about four servings. You already had half of it. I think you should throw out the rest. Don’t you?” Erich always had this way of asking that made your compliance sound already assured.

Picking up that gorgeous slab of cake in trembling hands, I held it over the garbage that he opened with trembling fingers. The idea of simply dumping the contents filled me with such a deep depression that I simply couldn’t do it.

Erich took it from me and put it in the garbage, wrinkling his nose. “Lord, that smells disgusting. All that processed food.” Turning to me, he smiled. “So my client cancelled. I thought we could spent the evening working out together.”

Worst.

Date idea.

Ever.

“Sure,” I mumbled, adrenaline still pumping through me.

After an hour of gruelling running, I arrived back at my own front door, exhausted. Stumbling inside, I threw my stuff on the table, ignoring his ferocious looks. “I’m going to head up to bed.”

Following me up the stairs, Erich playfully slapped my ass. “Up for a little bit more of a workout?” He asked, grinning. “It’s like burning a few hundred calories for free.”

Another man had said that to be before, but not in that tone, or in that context. To be blunt I was so not in the mood. But that was what lube is for, right?

The memory of Ed stayed strongly in my mind as Erich began foreplay. Or at least, what he called foreplay. He groped my breasts and ass, and once I added lube, began. Luckily, his preferred position was on top, so I was free to let my mind wander. Erich’s hands never strayed away from breasts and ass. And any hint of softness caused his hands to immediately snap back to the traditional zones. Feet, calves, thighs, stomach, shoulders, back – they got none of his attention. Hell, he barely kissed me, now that I thought about it.

No one else had ever touched me with that slow tenderness, that loving caress. I had used to hate how Ed had fondled my fattest bits. Now I found myself longing for Erich to acknowledge something other than my tits and butt. Reaching around, I placed his palm on my side. It was almost instantly removed. I tried again.

“Beth, stop.”

“Why?” I demanded, pushing at him a bit to make him stop.

Leaning back a bit, he frowned. “Your stomach is all swollen and disgusting from eating that cake. It’s making me go soft. Understand?”

Oh, I understood. All at once, I understood. Erich was just as obsessed with my body as Ed had been, just in a different way. He controlled my food and eating even more than Ed had! My boyfriend wanted me to be a different person. He always had.

Me giving in once – once! – to my urge to eat cake disgusted him so much he physically was having trouble retaining an erection. If I had wanted me body to dictate how hard my guy got, I would have stayed with Ed!

Oh, I got it.

“Get out.”
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Old 04-01-2016, 02:41 AM   #20
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Your name choice for Beth's new boyfriend had me in stitches throughout the entire chapter - and added an absurd comedy element to it.

He was not by chance the mental patron in choosing him- paragon of all authoritarian state control freaks?

Erich Fritz Emil Mielke (28 December 1907 – 21 May 2000) was a German communist official who served as head of the East German Ministry of State Security, better known as the Stasi, from 1957 until shortly after the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989.
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Old 04-01-2016, 05:13 AM   #21
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No;

But when I described his character to my Hubby, and then said the name, he chortled too as he immediately got the same reference as you. Me wailing "but it's a valid name!" Only made him laugh harder.

Cooincidence/hilarity!
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Old 04-01-2016, 05:50 AM   #22
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I've noticed a few times before that your hubby and I could most likely have a few highly entertaining history conversations....

Apart from the Mielke namesake, what added to the mental split screen element for me is that Erich is such an old-fashioned name in German, typical for the 75+ generation. The youngest Erich I know just turned 64.
And you describe him as this young 21st century gym god....

Oh - and then the other historically note worthy Erich of course is Mielke's boss - Erich Honecker, leader of the communist GDR 1970-1989 ..... who was already so out of touch with the times that he was the root cause of the fall of the wall in 1989..... also a big fan of controlling his people and walling them in....
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Old 04-01-2016, 05:57 AM   #23
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I honestly got the name because at my last job we had a 20 something Erich (although not a buff bod) and he pronounced it "eric" so of course we relentlessly called him "er-itch" to annoy him.

(And considering when the hubby asks me what the difference is between north and south korea is and i say "one has kpop the other has a dictator" , or when he asks "do you know where Russia is and i say "europe" ... You would probably be a breath of fresh air to him!!! Most people get so bored at the minute level he discusses things. I don't even try, just let his eyebrow twitch before he schools me )
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Old 04-01-2016, 05:59 AM   #24
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Quote:
Originally Posted by agouderia View Post
Apart from the Mielke namesake, what added to the mental split screen element for me is that Erich is such an old-fashioned name in German, typical for the 75+ generation. The youngest Erich I know just turned 64.
And you describe him as this young 21st century gym god....
Do recall that emmigrant communities often diverge wildly from their ancestral homes when it comes to names. Naming a boy after his grandfather Erich, when the name is close enough to the English "Eric" would raise nary an eyebrow in the german-descent community in Kitchener, even if the english community would be unlikely to name their child after Horatio Herbert Kitchener, for whom the city was named. Horatio and Herbert are old-fashioned in the general milieu, while Erich is just a slightly exotic spelling.
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Old 04-01-2016, 06:29 AM   #25
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Do recall that emmigrant communities often diverge wildly from their ancestral homes when it comes to names.
Yeah - I know that.
Having outdated references to their home societies actually is a hallmark of many emigrant communities as they naturally loose touch with the evolution of their place of origin, preserve the status of the time of their departure.

Also - pop culture nowadays often 'exports' names where they become popular in the weirdest contexts. Like in East Germany you'll find lots of 20-year old Doreens and Eileens - which in the US is more typical among 65+ housewives ...

Nevertheless it adds a considerable comic element when reading it if you're familiar with the original language setting.

With those 2 communist control freak icons as namesakes - I couldn't resist....
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