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Old 08-07-2011, 01:13 PM   #1
Uncle Jack
Join Date: May 2006
Posts: 52
Uncle Jack has said some nice things
Default The Trainer - by Uncle Jack (~BBW, ~~WG)

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

The Trainer
by Uncle Jack

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Last edited by Lou Grant; 08-08-2011 at 03:15 AM.
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Old 08-07-2011, 03:43 PM   #2
Uncle Jack
Join Date: May 2006
Posts: 52
Uncle Jack has said some nice things

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

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

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

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

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

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

I almost fell out of my chair.

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

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

“I’ll be right there,” said Jocelyn.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, what seems to be the problem?”

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

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

“Thanks Jocelyn.”

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

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

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

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

“Look at that cow.”

“She really should lose some ass flab.”

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

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

Last edited by Lou Grant; 08-08-2011 at 03:16 AM.
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Old 08-08-2011, 09:33 AM   #3
Join Date: Nov 2005
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acadm has said some nice things

that was...that was a very good introduction...imagery and the details are delicious...please continue
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Old 08-08-2011, 05:11 PM   #4
Uncle Jack
Join Date: May 2006
Posts: 52
Uncle Jack has said some nice things

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

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

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

“Whatcha getting?”

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

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

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

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

“I don’t have enough change.”

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

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

“Really? You don’t want anything.”

“No, I’m fine, I – “

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

“Thanks! You’re great!”



I’m Great!

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

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

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

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

“So it’s not that bad here then?”

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

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

“No worries.”

“We should probably get back.”

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


“Don’t worry, I got it.”

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

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

“Um, sure.”

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

“Thanks! Okeydoke, let’s go.”

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

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

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

Last edited by Lou Grant; 08-09-2011 at 03:11 AM.
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Old 08-08-2011, 09:35 PM   #5
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This is an incredibly well written and spectacular beginning to your story. You do an amazing job establishing a distinctive and infectious voice in your narrator David, which makes all the descriptions of Jocelyn so wonderful to read. One of the best stories or beginning of one that I've read in a while. I look forward to see where you go with the rest of the story.
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Old 08-08-2011, 09:48 PM   #6
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You know, for a new face around here you have some awesome writing skills.
I am the user formerly known as DownSouthBellyLover on here and known web-wide as Angel Stryker. Yay.
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Old 08-09-2011, 02:07 PM   #7
Uncle Jack
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I'm not as new as you'd think. I actually have an old story archived here from a year ago called Pizza With Katie, if you're interested.
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Old 08-10-2011, 03:41 PM   #8
Uncle Jack
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After everyone returned from break, Jocelyn didn’t have too much to do. We all had to fill out tax forms, insurance forms, contracts, endless forms that have to be signed multiple times so that you can start maybe making some money. Jocelyn passed the bundles of paper down each row, and sat back down in her chair. She was one of those people who, when they sit, sort of bend at the waist and just let gravity take them down into their seat, instead of doing a controlled descent. This resulted in her ass slamming into the desk chair, making it squeak in agony. While everyone in the training class went through the tedium of scanning fine print and perusing company policy, Jocelyn helped herself to her feast.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh? Oh, sorry… Ummm…”

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

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

The class nodded collectively, wondering where this was going.

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

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

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

And she was gone.

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

I was going to make that girl mine.

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

And I heard:

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

And I heard:

“Oh baby, I missed you so much!”


“Did you bring any pizza?”


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


“Fuck me! Right now!”



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

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

Last edited by Lou Grant; 08-12-2011 at 03:16 AM.
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Old 08-11-2011, 12:18 PM   #9
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acadm has said some nice things

brilliant; i just love how "raw" you portray Jocelyn, her belching and her seeming disregard, against the confused trainees; really captivated by this, looking forward to the next part
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Old 08-11-2011, 11:54 PM   #10
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Good work!
One of the absolutely best stories ever!
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Old 08-12-2011, 11:35 AM   #11
Uncle Jack
Join Date: May 2006
Posts: 52
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But while I was locked away inside my thoughts, other people were already up and heading out of the drab windowless training room. I wasn’t the first one out. I needed to follow Jocelyn, to find out where she was heading, to see if I could have lunch for her! That was something I could not miss.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey Jocelyn.”

She spun around and stopped in her tracks, gasping.

“Oh, you startled me!”

“Jeez, sorry, didn’t mean to.”

“I didn’t hear you approach.”

“I’m a ninja.”



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

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

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

“Yeah. Tastes like Subway.”

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

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

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

“Good is great!”

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

“No worries. Why no breakfast?”

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

“You have a car?”

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

“Gentlemen first.”

“Thank you.”

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

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

“Come on, slowpoke! I’m starving!”

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

“Ladies first.”

“Why thank you kind sir!”

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

Last edited by Lou Grant; 08-22-2011 at 03:22 AM.
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Old 08-19-2011, 06:04 AM   #12
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Ireally like this story! Very nice and detailed description of the lovely trainer.
Eagerly waiting for next sequel.
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Old 08-19-2011, 08:02 AM   #13
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I've been very busy, I'm hoping to write some more this weekend. I don't know why the last installment didn't format into larger font, I'll try to do my own formatting the next time I post.
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Old 08-19-2011, 03:56 PM   #14
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Liking what I see. Keep it up.
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Old 08-19-2011, 09:15 PM   #15
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We picked a booth near the entrance because Jocelyn, quote, “wanted to get eating.” She squeezed herself into the booth. She wasn’t so big that she couldn’t fit, but she did have to position herself just right to get in comfortably, mostly because her big ass skewed her body so that she took up more room than another similarly-fattened girl would who was less rumpy. She really did concentrate her weight down below. She had big hips, a big butt, big thighs. She oofed each time she jerked her massive butt over in the booth until she was positioned in front of her placemat, engines ready. That butt must have weighed a ton; she seemed to have trouble moving it along.

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

“Hey, how you guys doing today?”

Jocelyn wasted no time.

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

“Ummmmm… kay?”

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

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

“And for you?”

“Uh, just a water for now.”

“Okay, be right back!”

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

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

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

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

“I’m more of a water guy.”

“Not me. I’m a milkshake girl.”

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

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

“They’ll be out in a flash.”

“I sure hope so!”

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


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

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

“Was it good?”

“Great as always!” said Jocelyn.

“Um… yeah,” I said.

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

“With fries?”

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

“Pepsi fine?”

“Pepsi’s cool.”

“And for you?”

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



“Anything to drink?”

“Water’s fine.”

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

“Gnhd. Hfzm.”


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

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

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

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

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

I had never been so turned on in my life.

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

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

“You bet. They sure were good.”

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

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


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

“I hope you’re hungry,” she said.

Last edited by Lou Grant; 08-22-2011 at 03:23 AM.
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Old 08-20-2011, 10:47 AM   #16
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very well done! i am going to read this again and again!
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Old 08-20-2011, 12:32 PM   #17
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extraordinary; please continue, i find myself salivating at the next part, I don't care how that sounds, the story is that damn sexy and brilliant and every other positive word; and your other story is fantastic as well, pizza with katie
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Old 08-26-2011, 10:54 AM   #18
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The waitress placed the Bacon Buster platter down, with the tall glass of Coke next to it, and my decidedly meagre sandwich/salad platter. She bustled away without saying a word, seemingly eager to be done with us for the time being. She did seem to eye the mess on Jocelyn’s face for a split second, but it may have been my imagination.

Jocelyn sighed and grunted.

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

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

Jocelyn smacked her lips.

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

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

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

“What’s that?”

She chewed, chewed, chewed, swallowed.

“This is sooooo good!”

“Can I try a bite?”

Her face darkened.

“No way. Get your own!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you gonna eat that?”

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

“No, go ahead and-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excuse me,” she said.

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

Her eyes went wide and she smiled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you enjoy your food?” she asked.

“Oh yeah, it was delicious. BURRRRP.”

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

“Will that be one bill, or two?”

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

Last edited by Perry White; 08-26-2011 at 12:56 PM.
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Old 08-26-2011, 12:50 PM   #19
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Best thing I've read on here - or anywhere for that matter - in quite awhile.

Bravo. Looking forward to more.
"i'm dying for some real food.. im gonna get sick on candy.. i need some real food, so my stomach can take more candy" Summer G

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Old 08-26-2011, 02:13 PM   #20
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is this something, or is this something...i love these kinds of stories, right to the point, you know what your customers want and you give it to them, without any extraneous garbage; please keep going, i want to see what dessert she gets, and how the guy with the glasses and the rest of the trainees will react to jocelyn when she gets back to the classroom/meeting hall place...
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Old 08-26-2011, 11:44 PM   #21
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you can't say no to dessert!

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Old 08-31-2011, 12:53 AM   #22
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Default You can really write!

There's so much to admire - your handling of dialogue is fabulous - the physical descriptions are remarkable- and I think the description of the training center, the shopping center, the looks and comments of those at the training center sound completely drawn from life. What a pleasure!
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Old 09-06-2011, 01:18 PM   #23
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is this the end of the story? re-reading it again, this one is on par with "coming home" in the general archives, and other greats; had to bump this up so it stays in the rotation, up top where it belongs
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Old 09-07-2011, 06:09 AM   #24
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Not the end of the story at all. Just been very busy, and haven't had time to write more. Don't worry.
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Old 09-09-2011, 07:44 PM   #25
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The fork hit the clean plate with a clang. Jocelyn had polished off a wedge of New York style cheesecake, drenched in chocolate sauce, and then licked her plate clean.

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

“Something wrong?” I asked.

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


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

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

She hiccupped and sighed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You got it.”

“1… 2… 3!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nah, you looked fine.”

“Kinda embarrassing.”

“Trust me, you looked fine.”

“If you say so.”

She cradled her stomach in her dainty hands.

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

“Yeah, I got it covered.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Awesome! Alright, we better get back.”

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

“You coming, or what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I was cool!
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