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Old 05-29-2012, 01:57 PM   #1
Cheshire Grin
 
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Default Coming Out in the City - by Cheshire Grin (~BBW, ~FFA, Lesbian Romance, ~~WG)

~BBW, ~FFA, Mild ~Sex, Lesbian Romance, ~~WG, Stuffing, Feeding – A young woman finds freedom far from home

([Author’s Note] This story may seem a bit slow in parts and, well, it is, because it’s not so much a weight gain fantasy as the story of a cast of characters that indulge in that fantasy but have lives, loves, hopes and dreams outside it, too. Isla would never forgive me if I cut away at the story of her first love to make it into porn, and I take the desires of my fictional characters very seriously. So with that out the way, here’s a story about love and food, two things which go great together.)

Coming Out in the City
by Cheshire Grin

Isla dragged the second of her suitcases into her room, panting. Two large, heavy cases in addition to a pretty overpacked backpack had been a mistake. She had wanted to take all her stuff with her, though, and had adamantly refused her parents’ idea of driving down to the city. Mostly because six hours trapped in a vehicle with her mother wailing about how she was going to miss her little girl and her father sanctimoniously warning her of the dangers of the big city would have been as close to Hell on Earth as she could imagine.

So it had been four hours on a train from Carlisle to London, thankfully only with the company of her laptop, and then dragging almost her own weight in luggage from King’s Cross to the residence. Which was only a few blocks away, admittedly, but Isla wasn’t exactly in tip-top athletic shape, a fact she ruminated on while she sat on her new bed, catching her breath.

She poked at the roll of fat spilling over the waistband of her jeans and sighed dejectedly as her finger sank into the soft flesh. Her mother had spent the summer doting on her eldest daughter all she could before Isla left for college, something that mainly involved food. Not that she’d complained at the time, being able to spend her holidays snacking on home baking while playing video games had been a dream come true. Her mother had even managed to stop her dad lecturing her about her weight and eating habits for the three months, somehow. Yet it had undeniably had an effect on her figure, which had already been hovering around “chubby” even before the holidays.

She pouted as she released her long blonde hair from a ponytail, and chided herself for worrying about such a stupid thing. This is a new beginning, she thought as she looked out the window at the unfamiliar city, I get to choose what my priorities are now, and being skinny isn’t one of them.

Almost on cue, her stomach growled, reminding her she hadn’t had anything to eat since she left home except for a small packet of crisps on the train. She nearly laughed at the timing, and considered her options. Her mother had stuffed a box of cookies into her backpack, but her stomach turned at the prospect of having more sweets for dinner, she’d almost made herself sick on cookies last night due to nerves. She decided to go out for some real food, which would also conveniently allow her to get used to her new surroundings.

She tentatively knocked on the other door in her suite on her way out, wondering if her roommate would want to grab something to eat with her, but the door simply swung open revealing an empty room. Whoever Isla was going to be living with hadn’t arrived yet. She shrugged and set out, being hungry enough that she didn’t really mind eating on her own.
The streets of the city were busy on a Saturday evening, despite the pleasant heat of summer having already given way to overcast skies and the chill of autumn. The places she passed selling food were also packed, she peeked hungrily into a Burger King she passed but decided against it after seeing the queue stretching all the way to the door. Pret A Manger turned out to only sell sandwiches, and she certainly wasn’t going to have just a sandwich for dinner. She was getting kind of impatient by the time she stumbled upon a Pizza Express. She vaguely recognised the name, but couldn’t remember ever eating in one. Nevertheless, they sold pizza, and that would do nicely.

“Good evening,” a waiter with a significant Eastern European accent greeted her as she entered the door.

“Um... table for one, please?” she said shyly. She wasn’t sure he even heard her over the ambient noise of the restaurant, but he guided her to a small table and handed her a menu nevertheless.

She read the food on offer with a growing frown. She didn’t know what half the things were. She could work out that “grana padano” was some kind of cheese, but she could not imagine what “soft n’duja sausage” would be like. How did one get a soft sausage, anyway? Had she wandered into some sort of posh Italian place? It didn’t look posh. She sighed, and when the waiter came to take her order she asked for the two things that sounded most familiar from the menu: dough balls and an American pizza.

She didn’t know quite what to expect even with the dough balls, but they turned out to be little round balls of warm baked pizza dough served with garlic butter. They were surprisingly tasty, and quite filling, which she was grateful for. She grazed through them while wondering what her roommate was going to be like, and was somewhat put out when she found herself grasping at an empty bowl all too soon. She hoped her pizza was a decent size or she was going to leave hungry, which with the prices they were charging for the food would be rather frustrating.

Her main course turned out to be smaller than she expected considering the price, but when she finished it she was full enough that she was satisfied. Slightly too full, in fact, as she noticed her belly was being somewhat uncomfortably constrained by her pants. She felt a twinge of guilt looking at the empty plate in front of her, but pushed it away, remembering her commitment not to fret about her weight. If I’m too fat for these pants, I’ll just buy new ones, she thought, and in an act of defiance against her own worries ordered a slice of cheesecake for dessert.
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Old 06-18-2012, 11:29 AM   #2
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Isla walked back to the residence with a contented smile on her face. No longer tired and hungry, she had a happily full stomach, something which always put her in a good mood. She gazed in mild wonderment at the city as she walked through it. She’d never seen anything like it.

She visited Dumfries regularly, but that wasn’t even a proper city, with less than 50,000 inhabitants. She’d read that more than 10 million lived in London, and could barely imagine it, although the bustling pavements and scores of vehicles noisily going up and down the street certainly helped her visualise it now.

She’d been apprehensive the weeks before moving to the capital, afraid she’d be lost and alone in a place her family and friends seemed intent on painting as a lawless den of villainy run by armed gangs, but now that she was there she felt more excited and optimistic. Armed criminals seemed conspicuously absent, and instead she was surrounded by monumental buildings and people speaking languages from the four corners of the world. It was exhilarating, full of potential. She was studying at King’s College, after all, it was one of the best universities in the whole world. She could do anything.

Why, she might even find a girlfriend.

That thought snapped her out of her reverie just as she was entering the residence building, and tied a knot in her stomach instead. All through high school she’d kept her distance from any insinuations of romance, which wasn’t too hard when you were the shy, slightly overweight geek of the class, really. Everyone assumed she was just too bashful or prudish, or that nobody wanted to be with her in the first place (which wasn’t true, she had been forced to turn down three different men in her last year alone).

Nobody suspected, or at least she hoped nobody suspected, that she actually nurtured a huge crush on her best friend Sophie, and that she didn’t talk about the boys she liked because it wasn’t the boys she liked. The routine of small lies she’d found herself in ate at her almost constantly, and she’d resolved not to start it again in her new life in London, but now that she was there the thought of being honest filled her with dread.

Her thoughts consumed by apprehension, she didn’t even notice the door to her suite was ajar until she tried to push the keycard in the lock and it swung open. Surprised, she looked around her and noticed a small pile of strangely-shaped bags lying against the wall of the corridor. She just had enough time to realise one of them had to be a guitar when a girl came out the door and nearly bumped into her.

As she awkwardly stepped out of her way, Isla took a good look at her. She was tall and thin, but in a broad-shouldered, athletic way. Black hair shaved down to a mohawk and with the ends dyed bright pink lay lazily across her head, and sundry facial and ear piercings gave her a somewhat aggressive appearance. To Isla, she looked glamorous, like a rock star, despite her only wearing a slightly oversized black leather jacket over a plain white T-shirt and torn jeans.

“Hey,” the girl said, “help me with this, will ya?”

She picked up the guitar case and a small amplifier, leaving Isla to carry an awkwardly long rectangular bag. Only when her bags were set carefully on her bed did Isla’s new roommate turn to her to introduce herself.

“Thanks.” She extended her hand. “I’m Alice, by the way.”

Isla shook her hand weakly, and mumbled, “Isla.”

“What?”

“My name is Isla,” she repeated, slightly louder.

“Cool.”

Alice cleared a small space for herself on the bed amongst her bags and sat down.

“So,” she said, “what are you here for?”

“What?” Isla felt slow. She was having trouble parsing the other girl’s southern English accent, and her conversational prowess wasn’t being helped by the fact she found Alice strangely attractive. She felt herself blush.

“What do you think I mean, who’d you kill? What are you going to study?”

“Oh.” Now she felt even more embarrassed that it was something so obvious. “Mathematics and Physics at King’s College.”

“Woah, really?” Alice laughed, which made Isla nervous. What was funny about that? “You must be a bloody genius. My roommate, the genius. You’re going to make me look bad.”

“I- I wouldn’t say that. What about you?”

Alice was subtly bouncing on her bed, as if testing its hardness.

“Music,” she said, “at King’s, too.”

“You play music?” Isla asked, just moments before realising how stupid the question was, considering she was standing less than three feet from a guitar.

“Yeah. Piano, guitar... flute too, more or less. It’s the only thing I’m any good at, really.” There was a momentary pause, before Alice jumped gingerly up off the bed. “Hey, want to grab something to eat? I’m kind of famished here.”

Isla could’ve said she had already eaten, but she found herself wanting to spend more time with this woman, especially compared to spending the evening alone in her room, so she didn’t. Instead she found herself following Alice to a pub down the road.

More words were exchanged on the way: Isla was from a farm in Galloway, in the south of Scotland, Alice from Brighton, a city on the coast just south of London. Isla had indeed been an excellent student at school and was at King’s on a scholarship, something which she admitted rather bashfully. Alice’s favourite beer was London Pride, Isla didn’t really drink alcohol since she had only just turned 18, which Alice found rather funny, since she had apparently been drinking for years despite being around the same age.

At the pub, Alice told Isla to go get a table, and soon rejoined her carrying two drinks: a pint of ale for herself, and a pint of something pink and fizzy, apparently for Isla.

Alice caught Isla eyeing her drink warily.

“It’s strawberry and lime cider, you’ll like it.” She smiled. “Come on, you said you didn’t know alcohol, I’m going to start your introduction. Just try it, I won’t be offended if you don’t like it.”

Isla sipped it. It was deliciously sweet, like a strawberry milkshake, and she gave it a bigger gulp. The taste of alcohol made it somewhat difficult to swallow, but it wasn’t at all unpleasant.

“It’s really nice,” she said shyly. “Thank you.”

“Hah! Told you so!” Alice lifted her glass and clinked it with Isla’s. “To liking new things.”

Isla blushed as she looked into the other girl’s hazel eyes for a moment.

Liking new things indeed, she thought.

The menu was considered, and it was decided they would share a plate of nachos and then Alice would have a hamburger and Isla a plate of fish and chips. She was aware of her already full belly pressing against her shirt and jeans as she ordered, but she couldn’t really see a graceful way out of it by then, and there was something strangely appealing about sitting down and ordering a second dinner, something enticingly rebellious she could not quite explain.

Still, she resolved to let Alice eat most of the nachos, since she was the one who was supposedly hungry, after all. However, there was a pretty fatal flaw in that plan: Alice talked a lot and ate little, leaving Isla to talk less and thus, almost inevitably, eat more. No matter how slowly she tried to pick at the plate, her new friend found another anecdote to share, leaving her with an impossibly tempting plate of cheesy chips in front of her as she listened.

By the time the main course came, Isla had finished her pint and easily three quarters of their supposedly shared starter, and could probably name every one of Alice’s high school friends. She shifted around, feeling uncomfortable, and rested a hand on her straining stomach as she stared somewhat apprehensively at her larger-than-expected plate, lavishly laden with thick-battered, deep-fried cod fillets and wide, greasy chips. In any other circumstance she would have relished the sight, but now, well, she couldn’t help but feel embarrassed about pigging out this way in front of her beautiful new friend.

“So, what about you?” Alice’s question took Isla’s attention away from the food. “You’ve been awfully quiet, girl, what’s your story? Got a boy back home?”

Isla blushed nervously as her heart leapt up into her throat. “Not... really.”

Alice either didn’t notice her discomfort or took it for simple bashfulness.

“Oh, come on, a pretty girl like you? I can hardly believe it,” she said, smiling as she gestured with a chip.

Isla was almost too absorbed in her own worries to notice the compliment. This was, after all, the perfect time to say it. A new life, a new friend, an opportunity to say what she’d wanted to say for years. If she hid it now, she’d just be dragged into keeping it hidden for longer and longer, every moment she didn’t express herself making it harder and harder to do.

And yet, and yet...

“I’m... not really interested in boys.” She didn’t know where she got the courage from, but she said it almost nonchalantly, with a smile.

And Alice broke out laughing.

“You’re a dyke?” It seemed to be a source of endless mirth to her.

Isla bit her lip. That wasn’t the reaction she had hoped for. She didn’t know what to do, but she knew she wanted out of there. She got up, rather abruptly and clumsily, and turned to leave, her stomach in knots, tears of anger and embarrassment threateningly close to her eyes.

“Woah, woah, no, don’t leave,” Alice called out to her. She stopped and looked back at her, just long enough for Alice to grab a hold of her wrist. “I’m sorry, sweetie, I wasn’t laughing at you. Sit down.”

Isla was confused, but allowed herself to be dragged back to the table.

“I wasn’t laughing at you, I was laughing at, well, the coincidence.”

Alice smiled, and realization started to dawn on Isla. “Coincidence? You mean...”

“I’m “not really into boys” either,” Alice said, grinning as she mimed the air quotes. “So don’t you worry, sister, I’m more than cool with it.”

(continued in post 6 of this thread)

Last edited by Britt Reid; 06-23-2012 at 06:14 PM.
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Old 06-18-2012, 04:43 PM   #3
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Ooo yay...a BBW/FFA story! Very intriguing so far...I can't wait for more!
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Old 06-20-2012, 05:42 AM   #4
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Intriguing start, hope to see this continue.
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Old 06-20-2012, 09:59 AM   #5
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good start, keep it comin
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Old 06-20-2012, 04:46 PM   #6
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”Oh, I’m so full,” Isla said as she leaned back and pulled her waistband down under her swollen belly, allowing it at least a small degree of freedom, and her a modicum of comfort. She didn’t even care what Alice might think of her at this point, which was probably in part due to how, two pints of cider down, she was pretty tipsy.

Alice’s reaction was to lean forward, grinning mischievously. “No room for dessert, then?”

“Are you crazy?” Isla laughed, patting her bulging midsection. “I’d pop!”

“Come on,” Alice pleaded, “we can split. I really want something, but I won’t be able to finish it on my own.”

Why is she insisting so much? Isla thought, but didn’t really dwell on it. “Oh, okay,” she said, “but if you have to roll me back to the res you brought it upon yourself.”

Alice didn’t laugh, but rather gave her an odd look. Her cheeks were flushed, but Isla assumed it was from the alcohol. The moment was interrupted when the waitress came around and Alice turned around to ask for the dessert menu.

“We should totally go out tonight,” she said, turning back to Isla. “A party in celebration of new roommates!”

“Oh no.”

Certainly not after two big dinners, Isla thought. She felt like she could barely get up, much less dance. “I’m... uh, pretty tired. Long train journey and all that. Maybe some other day?”

Alice mocked a pout. “Aw, I wanted to show you around the dyke bars.”

Isla giggled. “Some other day, okay?” She paused in thought for a moment. “You know what? Let’s compromise. How about we pick up some drinks on the way home and have our own little flatwarming party?”

Alice beamed. “Awesome, deal!”

Then the dessert menu came and as Alice read through it Isla looked down at her belly and sighed quietly. She just knew Alice wasn’t going to settle on a fruit salad.

“Chocolate cake?” Alice grinned. Isla could’ve sworn she was doing it on purpose.

“Chocolate cake,” she answered resignedly.

And yet she had to admit it didn’t entirely displease her. There was a reason she’d caved to the idea so readily, just waiting to be given the barest of excuses. There was something deliciously forbidden in being as full as she was, as fat as she was, and yet keep eating. Something about it made her feel an all too familiar kind of tingly. She felt her jeans cutting into her supple flesh, her belly flowing over them as she lent forward to grab a spoonful of cake, and she sensed her body getting warmer. She placed the large spoonful of rich, decadent dessert in her mouth and closed her eyes as she savoured it.

I’m being such a pig, she thought, and the thought sent a pleasurable shiver down her spine.

(continued in post 8 of this thread)

Last edited by Britt Reid; 06-26-2012 at 05:41 PM.
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Old 06-23-2012, 11:08 PM   #7
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I love this story, more please!
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Old 06-25-2012, 06:23 PM   #8
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The two girls were sitting at a table on which stood a bottle of vodka, already only half full, a bottle of lemonade, and the box of cookies Isla had brought from home. She was nibbling one as they chatted.

If you had told Isla just a few hours ago that she’d be snacking on cookies before the night was over she would’ve laughed. She had been ponderously aware of the fullness of her stomach as they walked back from the pub. She’d felt comically heavy, walking awkwardly and not a little painfully.

Isla was surprised Alice didn’t notice her guilty distress, but perhaps she was too polite to mention it. They’d visited a deceptively large off-licence store and Alice had picked up the lemonade and vodka, plus a bag of ice and a pack of plastic cups. It had been an expensive-looking bottle, but it was Alice that had paid, nonchalantly swiping a debit card while waving away Isla’s protestations about splitting the bill, just as she had done in the pub.

They had sat at opposite sides of the table and Alice had poured the drinks. Isla was unused to the taste of alcohol and made faces as she sipped the beverage, which made Alice laugh and pour her more lemonade to disguise the flavour. They had chatted for hours, laughing ever more raucously at each other’s jokes, and Isla didn’t know if it was just the time that had passed, the alcohol in her system, or some combination of the two, but she’d started feeling peckish. Not hungry, exactly, but she had never been a girl that needed to be hungry to want to eat, so she’d fished out the box of cookies with the excuse of wanting to share them with Alice.

Her roommate had picked at one and praised it highly, but she’d barely finished half of it by the time Isla was picking out a third, feeling more aroused than guilty at how gluttonous she was being.

Isla had just finished giving a detailed, if pretty drunken, explanation of global warming when the conversation turned, as they are wont to do, to what women they found attractive.

“That singer from La Roux,” said Isla.

“Elly Jackson. Yeah, she’s hot.” Alice nodded. “Beth Ditto.”

“Who?”

Alice looked at her incredulously. “Singer from The Gossip? Prominent lesbian activist?”

“Sorry, don’t know her,” Isla said sheepishly.

“We must rectify this immediately.” Alice slipped a smartphone out of her jeans and busied herself with it for a moment before showing Isla the results of her search. It was a picture of the singer alright, although it left Isla to wonder why her roommate had chosen a picture of her naked, of all things.

“Wow, she’s... large,” Isla said.

Alice looked at her oddly, and Isla mentally chided herself for saying something so stupid. “Yeah, I like, well, larger girls, you could say. Is that weird?”

“No, no, anything which means more opportunities for girls like me is fine in my book.” Isla giggled, somewhat nervously.

Alice smiled. Her eyes laughed, but also held something deeper as they luxuriously traced the contours of Isla’s body for a long moment.

“You are... very beautiful,” she said, in a silky, quiet tone Isla hadn’t heard her use before.

It made her blush deep crimson and her heart race. Was she being flirted with? She’d never been flirted with before. With alcohol-induced bravery, she decided to take it in her stride and continue the line of conversation.

“Thanks,” she said with a smile. “You know who I’d bet you’d like? Courtney Trouble.”

“Who?”

Now it was Alice’s turn to be quizzical, and Isla grinned triumphantly. “Queer porn producer and actress. Let me show you.”

She took the phone and pulled up an image that topped the previous one in risqué-ness.

“Oh. Wow.” Alice turned from the image to Isla. “But how did you...?”

Isla leaned forward, smirking. “Come on, I have a libido and an Internet connection. I have a porn collection.”

She couldn’t quite believe what she was saying. She was drunk enough that the whole thing felt rather unreal, like she was just along for the ride in a particularly pleasant dream.

“So much for the innocent farm girl.”

“I said I was from a farm, I never said anything about being innocent,” Isla said, her voice dripping with honey.

Alice also leaned forward, so their noses were almost touching. She smelled vaguely of dark musk and roses, Isla noticed, some sort of perfume. It was perfect, somewhere between masculine and feminine, between tough and softly sensual. Just like her.

“You’ll have to show me this collection of yours sometime,” she said.

“Why not now?” Isla replied, and with quiet disbelief at her boldness, she took Alice by the hand and led her to Isla’s own room.

Last edited by Britt Reid; 06-26-2012 at 05:46 PM.
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