~BBW, Extreme Eating, ~XWG - A Girl Next Door goes from thin to flabulous!
by AnonymousA TOM BOY GROWS UP
It was a snowy night, and I really felt cooped up. The roads weren't real bad, yet there wasn't much activity. I thought I'd go to the neighborhood bar--which was also a good pick-up spot.
There really wasn't much activity. There were several couples in the booths, and several neighborhood men on their night out with the boys; the only other person was a young lady at the bar. I wasn't interested in her, but I thought I'd stay for a drink or two.
After getting my drink, I noticed that she kept looking over towards me. She wasn't my type at all. She was extremely attractive, but she had on a lot of make-up, even though it was done well. She also had on high heels, and very tight pants and top to show off her very thin waist. Despite her thinness, she was busty and hippy. I kept ignoring her, hoping she would quit looking.
However, she finally came over to me. She started with the small talk, but I was getting annoyed. While I'm sure 99% of any American man would have killed for a chance to talk to her, I was the 1% who enjoyed the "girl next door," and I knew it.
After squirming, and trying to end the conversation, I finally blurted out, "You're very pretty, but you're just not my type."
She came back with "Oh no? Well, what is your type?"
I apologized, but told her that I liked the "girl next door," perhaps not as pretty as she was, maybe chubby, someone who liked to camp out, or just do something informal.
Actually chubby was quite an understatement for my preference in women, but I wasn't about to go into it with a stranger.
Her expression changed, and she looked a little sad. She had lost her sarcastic tone of voice. “Well, I was the ‘girl next door’ when I was growing up. I hung out with the neighborhood kids. We would go to the schoolyard and play kickball, or maybe just talk. And yes, I was chubby. That was the problem. I was chubby all of my life, but after a point as I matured, I started to gain a little. My parents were alarmed, and they sent me off to diet camp. Then they sent me to finishing class, and modeling school, and advanced classes. I had lost the weight. It was easy to keep the weight off, because everyone I hung around with half anorexic.”
As she slowly sipped her drink, she kept going deeper in thought, and kept pausing as she talked. “I hung around with another crowd. I didn't have much time to be with the neighborhood gang. They probably thought I abandoned them to hang out with the ‘popular’ girls, but my happiest times as a teen was with the gang. I dated the football star, and the wrestling captain, and all the other jocks. But I hated it. The jocks were either into their bodies or winning. I had better times dating nerds when I was younger. The girls weren't any better. They were all into dieting and modeling.
“So,” she said, “How could you tell I wasn't the girl next door?”
I told her about the make-up, the tight clothes, and the high heels. We had talked about other things, our childhood, etc. I had really enjoyed the conversation, and I could tell she did too, even though it made her sad at times. She invited me to her house the next night for dinner to thank me for listening and I agreed. Perhaps her looks weren't my "type," but I found her thinking definitely was.
When I came over, she looked different. She had on sneakers, and her hair was braided. She didn't have any make-up on. However, she still had on slinky pants and a top.
"Well, I hope I look like 'the girl next door' a little bit," she said. “I would have bought something less formal to wear, but I didn't have any food, and I didn't have time to shop for both. I never keep any real food in the house, just diet dinners. It's never been a problem, because all of my friends are on diets.”
I told her that she looked great, and much less formal than the previous evening.
She was anxious to keep the conversation going from the night before. She relived more of her early teens. She told me that she was glad to have someone around that wasn't into sports and fitness.
She said jokingly, "I hope that you really don't mind chubby women, because this is the first time I've had regular food in years." I resisted the temptation to tell her about my real weight preference, since I knew she would never be that big.
I could tell that she was really enjoying my company, but I was afraid to get emotionally involved, since I sensed that her feelings were more for her missed pass with the "gang," rather than me. However, I wasn't seeing anyone else, and enjoyed female companionship in general. I found her denouncing the "beautiful people" quite interesting, even though I thought she may have been a little obsessed with it. But we agreed to meet at the mall for dinner two days later.
I picked her up, and we walked the mall. She had on a slinky dress, but the rest of her was still braids and flats. As we approached Lane Bryant, she told me about shopping there as a young teen. However, she surprised me as she walked in; I told her that nothing there would fit her now. She didn't say a word, but went from rack to rack. I thought she was carrying her reminiscing too far, but I didn't say a word. She picked out a size 14 tent style dress, brought it to the front and paid for it. She started talking about something else, so it was hard to bring up the dress later. We had dinner, went to a movie, and called it an evening. She invited me over the next night for dinner again.
As I drove over, I thought about the dress, and wondered if she bought it for someone else. She did say her friends were all small. When she opened the door, she was wearing the dress. It looked a little funny on her. Her arms were about half the size of the sleeves. Her bustiness did give it a little sense of fullness, although most of the dress just hung on her. But my heart beat a little faster; without gaining a pound, her image changed from sleek to full-figured.
She stood, modeled it, and said, "Well?" I told her that it was big on her, but she didn't have to wear it for me.
"I'm glad to get rid of my model image," she said. "Besides, since I've begun to eat normal meals, I may just become a size 14. That's not too chubby for you, is it?"
I told her that I had dated women much larger than that, and she didn't have to worry about my preference. I told her that I liked that style dress. We had dinner, but this time it included more potatoes, and ice cream for desert.
A week later I was at her house again. She invited me in and said, “I want to model something for you.”
She went up, changed, and came down in the outfit she had met me in. However, this time her pants didn't meet at the button, and her zipper was only halfway up. Her top revealed that her midriff was starting to bulge, and the silhouette of her bra showed a hook starting to break.
"Are you sure you don't mind?" she asked.
Again, I assured her, telling her she looked great. She left the outfit on, until she ripped the back of her pants as she sat down to dinner. The tent dress was still big, but not as it had been.
Her favorite size 14 dress was supplemented by a few more. And while I was sure that she would hit her peak soon, I enjoyed watching her sleek body fill out to be soft. At times I would fantasize what she would look like at 250, but then realize she was only 160.
As the time went by, it seemed that some of her early teen talk had been replaced by food talk. Ice cream had replaced all of the diet dinners in the refrigerator. She had put candy dishes around the house, and I noticed her trash cans filled with candy bar wrappers. At the same time her breasts became fuller, and unable to stand erect. Her hips were filling the loose area of her dress.
We had continued to see each other as friends quite often. However, one night we were talking on the phone, and she told me that she needed to have a serious conversation with me. I didn't know what it was about. She said that she had two things she wanted to tell me.
She told me that ever since the night we met, she tried to respect my wishes that she wasn't my type, but she was falling for me.
I told her what I said that night didn't apply anymore, because she WAS the girl next door type. I didn't know she thought I still felt that she wasn't.
The other thing she wanted to talk about was her weight. She told me that she bought the size 14 dress to symbolize that she no longer wanted to flaunt her thinness.
"However," she said, I really am a size 14. I can try to watch my weight, but I gain weight fast, and it would be hard to go back to my old ways."
I held her hand, and told her she had nothing to worry about on either count, and that she could never get too big. I thought to myself that being a 14 to her must have felt really big, but to an FA, it's really small.
She kept enjoying her new found freedom from dieting by eating snacks and full meals. It wasn't long after our talk that the loose fitting size 14 became tight on her.
Her selections in size 16 clothing were much more varied, since she said she no longer had a thin body to camouflage.
While I still had my preference of larger women, she didn't look too bad in either dresses or pants, which showed a figure on the verge of blossoming into that of a large lovely lady.
Now that she was wearing tighter clothes, it was easy to see the new rolls that she had acquired. Although she was busty as a thin person, her growing breasts were too much for a 38DD bra. Flesh protruded above the cups and around the sides of her bra. She had started to develop a small midriff bulge. Over the weeks her breasts were getting so large, they were pointing lower and lower.
She was getting more comfortable with herself and felt more comfortable with me. She kept eating, and talked about her growing body. It took her only several months to grow from size 16 into the 20s.
She would always wait a little too long to buy the next size, but I enjoyed seeing her flesh through the ripped seams or between her buttons. I also realized that she would be more than just a little chubby; I figured she would peak sometime soon. While not as large as I fantasized, she was certainly appealing.
On another meeting, she was talking about the old gang and I asked her if she had seen any of them. She told me that it had been quite a while. Most of the members had moved away from their parents, but most returned every summer for a block party.
I told her that I would like to meet some of them. She said that most of them thought she was conceited, and would probably ignore her. I told her that I could tell she liked them, and she should see them again. She said maybe, and crunched down on a candy bar she had been opening while we were talking.
We were becoming very fond of each other, and spent a lot of time together. She had lost her last bit of inhibition eating in front of me. Sometimes she would rub a growing part of her body against me while eating a snack and ask me if she was my kind yet.
On one of our frequent trips to the mall, she had stopped at Lane Bryant. She had tried on a few things, but left empty-handed.
“Didn't like anything?” I asked.
“Well,” she said. “Do you remember what you said the FIRST time we walked in here?”
I thought for a moment, and then said, “That nothing in there will fit you.”
“Bingo,” she said. “I'd better order some things from the catalog tonight.”
I noticed that her clothing style was changing. She was wearing more tent style dresses. Her pants were stretch pants, and her tops were the long type that went below the waist. Her weight had shot up to well over 300, and she was wearing a size 52.
We had discussed her friends, and she finally agreed to go to the block party next summer, which was 10 months away. I was looking forward to it since it seemed that I knew each person without ever meeting them.
She was gaining weight a little more slowly, which was probably just as well. She was a supersized woman now, and had to learn to be graceful. Her hips, which were always proportionally large, were causing her dress to ride up. She had also learned to walk gracefully, despite the size of her thighs and arms.
We had gone through the fall and most of the winter talking about marriage. She was happier now then she had ever been when she was thin. She had hit 400 pounds around Christmastime.
She was ordering all of her clothes from Lane Bryant, but the fashionable clothes ended at size 56.
She was sitting at the couch filling out a Lane Bryant order blank. She had ordered the only item that came in a size 60. She said she hoped it looked better than the picture. She also wrote away for a catalog from a firm that specialized in sizes over 60.
She was anxious to get both, and I could understand why. She was bursting out of her size 56. She had cut the sleeves to accommodate her fleshy arms, but her hips and breasts filled her dress like a water balloon ready to burst.
She had gotten her package from Lane Bryant, but was disappointed. “I can't wear this to work,” she said. “It's a housedress.”
Her attention then turned to the catalog that also came the same day, from which she ordered some nice things. She phoned in the order to rush it, but was disappointed to learn that the company made each item as it was ordered; even with a rush, it would be one week. I was delighted to hear the conversation on her end, "Bust 70, waist 55, hips 85. Yes, 7X will be fine. Thank you."
I didn't say too much, since she seemed to be unhappy about the situation, but she came to me and told me how comfortable her new dress was. She got playful again, rubbing her 85" hips against my body.
The next morning, she was getting ready for work, when I heard a loud rip. Even with a 2" wide rip in her size 56 dress, it was still tight. She put on her size 60 dress, and said she couldn't go to work. She called and got a week's vacation.
Her appetite had slowed down for quite a while, since she was no longer trying to gain weight, but she didn't deny herself, either. However, the boredom of her being by herself was too much. She had gone back to her old eating habits and then some.
That last splurge pushed her over the 500-pound point. By the time the 7x clothes came, they were a little tight. She said she didn't plan to eat like that again, but she ordered 8x clothes just in case, since she couldn't take any more time off.
As summer drew closer, her weight leveled off to 515, and the 8x clothes fit fine. She had retained the same beautiful face she had when we met, although it was obviously fuller. I often thought back to the night at the bar, and how thin she was.
Well, the great block party came, and we went together. She got a lot of stares, but nobody talked to her. Finally, most of her friends had gathered to talk, and she went up to them.
One of the ladies said, "Why talk to us now? I see you got fat, then you decided to come back to us."
"No", she said. “It's the other way around."
After the long stories about the diet camps, and how her gaining weight was a symbolic return to the gang and a rebellion to her thin days, she was welcomed with open arms.
Most of them saw us walking down the aisle when we got married that fall.
