A Little Girl Grows Up by Anonymous (~BBW, ~XWG)

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(~BBW, ~XWG – A childhood friend grows into SSBBWomanhood.)

A Little Girl Grows Up
by Anonymous

(Migrated from the Weight Room Story Archives
with a little editorial tweaking.)

Belinda and I were kids when she first started really gaining weight. I was three years older. She was the girl next door. Our parents were the best of friends, and she was like a little sister, and I was her big brother.

She was about to go through puberty, and her mother loved to share every detail with my mother. I guess they both figured I would be deaf when it came to woman talk. I guess they were never little boys, who picked up on everything related to girls growing into women.

I don't know if liking Belinda made me like large women, or liking large women made me like Belinda. But the year that made Belinda into a woman was the year that made me into an FA.

At that age, three years was too much of an age gap, so I never had a romantic interest in her. Belinda had always been chubby, but by year's end she would be a super-sized girl, by far the largest in the school. She wasn't the most unpopular girl, but she did get more than her share of teasing.

Her mother never criticized her for her size, perhaps because she never ate that much. But she did have her hands full trying to clothe her. Living in a small town didn't help. It was an hour drive to the big city. I remember when her mother asked my mother to drive with her to get Belinda's first bra. It was a 40. I remember using the Sears catalog as a reference to all of their bra talk. That was just before her big weight gain.

As she started to mature, she had outgrown her chubby girl's clothes. She was wearing misses' sizes. At first her training bra barely pushed out her sweaters. But it didn't take long until her breasts were getting round and full. But along with her breasts, her tummy was pushing its way out front. I loved to watch her clothes hang out to dry. In one section of the clothesline, there would always be three of her dresses or pants hanging.

One day her mother came over frantic. Belinda had just outgrown her size 20 clothes.

"I don't know what I'm going to do," she said. Back in those days, the large size stores only carried granny clothes above a size 20. My mother took her shopping elsewhere: they came back with maternity clothes.

Belinda was really upset. I calmed her down. But I thought she really looked cute. She had just gotten a 44C bra. She looked cute as her breasts pushed out the top of her maternity top, as it draped over her tummy, which was pushing out the maternity panel of her pants. She wore the maternity clothes for a few months until she let a tag hang out, and the other kids made fun of her. The sleeves were getting too tight, anyway.

The next clothes were black grandma styles that she wore to school and big housecoats she wore around the house. Her mother said she really hated wearing them. I liked watching them on the clothesline, too, but where three had fit, now only two would fit. And she was even outgrowing them. From listening to the mothers talk, Belinda had gained 100 pounds in one year, going from a chubby 150 to 250 pounds. She was now wearing a 26 dress. But what excited me the most was her bra size of 46DD. Here she was a young lady in a crowd of girls still in training bras, wearing a super support bra.

We continued to be friends until she graduated high school. She had gained an average of only 10 pounds a year after her 100-pound year. She was a very pretty and poised young lady of 300 when she graduated high school.

Her parents had moved away, and she moved with them. My folks kept in touch by writing. I had thought of her once in a while, wondering how she was really doing. Her parents said she was doing fine, but didn't go into any details.

Then I got a call from my parents. They told me that Belinda was moving back into town, because she had gotten a promotion at work. She was now 22, and I was 25. They asked if I would help her move. I was anxious to help her, since for the first time our ages were no longer too far apart.

By this time, I had dated a number of large ladies and was comfortable with my preference. She had called me and told me that she got an apartment, and her father would be driving a rental truck with her furniture.

She was to get in a day before the furniture. I asked her to dinner, and agreed to meet at my apartment. My mind went crazy with all of the scenarios with her weight. Did she continue to gain 10 pounds a year, and was she now 340? Maybe she had another 100-pound year? Or maybe she was still 300 pounds? It didn't matter, since I liked her and also wondered what she was like as an adult.

The big day came, and there was a knock on the door. I opened the door, and was shocked to find that she was now a 120-pound knockout. She was really pretty, and she was still quite busty. We never did discuss weight, so neither one of us brought up her new figure. We had dinner, and came back to my apartment and talked for quite a while. She had reservations at the local hotel, since her furniture wasn't due until the next day.

I met her and her father at her new apartment. She was wearing a tight shocking pink sweater and pants. It was quite a change from the black dresses she wore through most of her high school days.

All of the furniture was in, and her father left. Belinda asked me to stay and help her with the boxes. It seemed that both of us wanted to discuss her change, but didn't feel comfortable bringing it up. We also hit it off very well, considering that our childhood relationship was totally platonic. I think we were both attracted to each other, but knew we were the wrong age for each other then.

I finally picked up a box labeled old clothes, and asked where she wanted them. It seemed to both of us that it was the time to discuss her weight.

"Well, you may have noticed I lost some weight, actually quite a bit -- 280 pounds," she explained, "They told me a year ago that I may be transferred back to this area. That's when I went on my diet. I wanted to look good for the old crowd."

She then opened the box, and spread a dress in front of her.

"This is my biggest. I weighed 400 pounds. Wait a minute," she said. She went into her bedroom, and put her dress over her clothes, and came back out. "Well, what do you think?

Without thinking, I blurted out, "It looks nice."

"What do you mean by that?" she said.

"Well, err, it's a nice dress."

Then she said, "You're not one of those guys who likes big women, are you?"

Then I said, "Well, maybe a little plump."

She said, "This is a size 60 dress. It's not worn by plump women. It's worn by super-sized, obese women."

"Well. . ." I said.

"I lost 280 pounds so that I could look attractive to you, and you don't like the way I look," she accused.

I told her that she was still attractive.

She said, "Well, wait until my doctor sees me. He's been trying to get me to go on a diet for 18 years. I have a check-up scheduled tomorrow. I can't wait to show him I finally lost weight." The subject changed, and we worked into the night.

I saw her the next day after work. She seemed unhappy.

"Was your check-up okay?" I asked.

"There's nothing wrong with me. But I could kill the doctor. He bugs me to lose weight for 18 years. I finally do it, and now he tells me that dieting is bad and that I'll probably gain it back and more. I can never imagine being 400 again."

We had continued to see each other frequently. At first, it was all tied to her moving and getting settled. However, once she was settled, we saw each other very frequently. Sometimes we had very formal dates, other times we just hung out at once of our places.

We had shown each other our photo albums. With the combination of me being with fat women, and her being 400 pounds, we were talking more about size.

"Where were you when I was 400 pounds?" she asked.

I told her that there are plenty of men who would have dated her. She told me that she had plenty of friends in school, but, when she went to a strange town in the business world, she had no social life.

"That was the first time I really overate. I gained about 25 pounds each year. I was wearing big dresses a lot. But then I had some pants made. The seamstress measured me and informed me that I had a 60-inch waist. That really upset me, but it wasn't until several months later when I sat down and ripped a three-inch hole in the seam. That was when I went on my diet."

She invited me into her bedroom, and opened the walk-in closet door. She had all of her clothes arranged by size, starting from the front and going around to the back and returning to the front. Besides the change in size, there was an obvious change in color. Her small things were really bright. As the size got larger, the colors got darker until all of her large items were black.

"I probably should donate all of these things," she said, "but some people put pictures on their refrigerators. This is my reminder. I never want to wear another tent dress again."

She took the size 60 pants off of the hanger and showed me the split in the seam. I secretly cursed my luck for not being with her when she was that big.

Each time we saw each other, we were now talking about weight freely. She had asked me a lot about a fat organization that I belonged to. She apologized for not being large and told me that she hoped that I would still keep seeing her and that her slimness didn't turn me off. She then tried to use the past to keep my interest. At first, she talked a lot about being large. Then she would use visual aids. She had shown me her 60F bra. There was probably more material in that than there were in her pants.

I had no intention of dumping Belinda. She was fun to be with and very beautiful. At least she understood fat people. Seeing her large clothes and pictures of her 400-pound body also interested me. She ate very little to keep her figure, but she didn't bore me with diet talk.

It wasn't until were dating for several months that she cheated on her diet. However, once she started cheating, it was easier for her to cheat the next time. She had seemed serious in keeping the weight off, so I didn't think she would let herself get too big. Although I would have to admit that I was hoping to see the old Belinda.

She gained 10 pounds and lost it several times. However, as we were getting along even better, she finally decided that worrying about that same 10 pounds was a waste of effort. After eating more normally, she shot up 25 pounds. It was the first time that she had to go to a new section of her closet. She had developed a cute tummy, and her butt was a little bigger, but she really wasn't fat.

While she gave into the 10 pounds, she wasn't willing to keep the 25 pounds, so it was back to the diet. I didn't mind encouraging her, since I could show her that I liked her no matter what.

She lost the 25 pounds and was back into the clothes that I met her in. However, that diet was the straw that broke the camel's back. While continuing on a maintenance plan, she was no longer able to stabilize her weight.

It took only a month to gain back the 25 pounds. She was upset, especially since she couldn't eat much less than she was already eating. But it didn't stop there; she just kept on gaining.

"Where will I stop?" she cried.

I tried to calm her. She finally decided that we had each other, and I didn't mind how big she got. She also had a closet full of clothes, so she didn't have to spend the time or money buying new clothes.

I thought that she would be upset talking about her gain and wearing larger clothes and having me seeing her gain. However, it turned out to be quite the opposite. I think it was because it reassured her that I thought she was still attractive.

She'd give me a private fashion show each time she went up to the next size. This was each month or two. She would model all of her clothes in the size. It was great, since it was just like when she was younger, but this time I didn't have to watch from a distance as a child.

It seems that she no longer saw a need to diet or watch what she ate. This caused her to gain even faster. As time went on, she became almost boastful about her gain. When she hit 300, she treated me to dinner to celebrate. She had the largest sundae, something she had never ordered before, though she did tell me that she probably wouldn't order it again.

"I still don't want to ever hit 400 again," she said with her mouth full of sundae. "I'm sure my gaining is near an end. "

I also thought she had peaked out. I had known a lot of women who'd stopped gaining at 300. It seemed to be her natural point, since she had plateau-ed at that point when she was in high school.

However, about six weeks later, she told me it was time for another fashion show. I told her that I thought she had stopped gaining.

"I wish," she said. "Can you help me?" she added. I said yes. "When I get this big, it's not as easy to get dressed," she told me. I figured that she had managed before, so she just wanted to get me involved.

"Can you get me my size 50 clothes from the closet? They're in the middle on the left side." I laid them out on the bed. She then asked, "In the fourth drawer, can you get my 48DD bra?"

She asked me to take off her old clothes. I hadn't noticed how tight they were, but her dress was almost like a girdle, holding in her flesh. I then unhooked her bra, which was digging into her flesh. I helped her with her new bra, which was big enough not to dig. I then zipped up her dress. I enjoyed following the rolls up her back with the zipper.

The private fashion shows continued. She was getting concerned as she was well into her 300's. But she still enjoyed flaunting what she had.

"What if I get bigger than I was? I can't imagine being over 400," she worried.
I told her that she probably couldn't imagine being over 300 before she was, but somehow she managed.

"But what if I get too big for you?" she asked. I told her not to worry.

Without telling her, I had ordered some catalogs for super-super sized women. The clothes went up to 9X, and they would custom make even larger sizes.

When she hit 375, she grew really concerned again. She had me get her clothes -- this time they were at the end of the closet -- her largest size. Her bra was a 56F.

"I guess I'll have to sew up those pants I showed you, where I ripped the seam. What am I going to do if I outgrow these?"

I then showed her the catalog. "Why don't we order some clothes tonight?" I said.

She ordered several outfits in 7X.

"You really care about me, don't you?" she asked. "And you really like my body. You know, being this big isn't that bad, having you around."

She went into the refrigerator, and made a huge sundae, filled with syrup, whipped cream, and candy. She usually didn't eat that much, but it was a symbolic gesture, showing me that she was no longer afraid of exceeding 400. I looked at the sundae and teased her, saying we'd better put a rush on the order.

The clothes came a week later. They were too big on her, but that was to be expected, since they were meant to be bigger than her current clothes. She did wear them some of the time, since they were a lot more colorful than her basic blacks.

A month or so later, we were hanging out at Belinda's. She told me that she had grown into her 7x's.

"I'm now the biggest I've ever been," she said. "Can you really find a 400-pound woman attractive? What if I get bigger? What if I never stop gaining?"

I calmed her down. I told her that most of the woman I dated were around 300 --and that 350 was the largest. But when I learned that she was 400 before, I kind of felt cheated. I liked her very much and would have accepted her at any weight. But I would have always wondered what it would have been like to know her then. I've known a lot of large women and a lot of dieters. I told her that I had good news and bad news. She would probably keep gaining beyond her former weight. However, unless she dieted again, she would probably hit her set point at some time.

Several weeks later, we were again at her house. By this time, I had a key to her apartment. There was a Lane Bryant package on her steps. When Belinda came in, I handed her the package. She opened it, and pulled out a bra.

"I remember when my bras fit in a large envelope. Now it takes a whole box. This isn't like any bra I've worn before, but it's the only thing in my size. Do you mind helping me?"

She unbuttoned her blouse, and I unhooked her old bra. The sides had bunched up between her rolls, and there was excess flesh hanging out of the top of the cups. I took her new bra out of the package. Each side past the cups was several feet long. The anchoring band under the cups was three inches wide. The straps were also three inches wide. She lifted her large pendulous breasts off her midriff and put them in the cups. I then stretched the rest of the bra around her sides and back, noticing the 58DD size tag, and hooked the eight hooks required to close the bra.

"That feels so much better, but it's so ugly. Wouldn't you rather have a woman with a normal bra?"

I told her that she still didn't understand FAs. I liked very large women and that certain things, including tent dresses, special bras, etc. go with the package. If I liked spaghetti strap bras, I would date women with spaghetti strap figures.

Fall was coming, and the air became crisper. It was a Saturday, and I went out to get her mail. There was a catalog from her favorite clothing source. I asked her if she was going to order her fall wardrobe.

"I guess so," she replied. "I sure can't fit in last winter's clothes. As a matter of fact, I almost can't fit in these anymore."

She then patted her tummy, which was almost to her knees as she sat on the couch.

"But what am I going to do? There's only one size left. I don't want custom made clothes. It's so embarrassing. And they want my measurements. I don't know what they are. I don't even know how to measure. My stomach is in one place when I'm seated, and another when I stand. And what am I going to do for bras? Nobody makes them to measure."

I told her not to think that far ahead.

Of course, as luck would have it, when she needed the clothes fast, it took longer to come. While she could still wear her 7x clothes, her flesh pushed out the fabric. Her tent dresses couldn't conceal the numerous rolls of fat she had acquired.

When her clothes came, she held it up and stretched one of the dresses out.

"It's so big," she said.

I smiled and said, "I know."

I then stole a kiss while she had her tight clothes on, and I could feel her body pressing against me. She put on her new dress. While her body was more hidden, she appeared more massive. I looked and admired, as I thought to myself, that I definitely preferred a woman being her size.

This time, it took several months for her to fill out her clothes. She had gone for another check-up. The doctor had gotten a special scale. She was up to 478. But she was quite healthy. We looked though the catalog, and she ordered several 9X dresses. She also ordered the 60DD bra from Lane Bryant. She noticed that the catalog now went up to 10X. But she had finally hit her set point, and didn't need the 10X.

She did need a custom made wedding dress, however. And when our time came, she stood proud at the altar with a 74-inch waist, and 83 hips.
 

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