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Xyantha Reborn

- Actually Very Tame!
Jul 23, 2014
by Xyantha Reborn

Flashes from the Past

It was so soft. But not soft like her teddy bears. It wasn’t…fluffy. Taking her finger, she poked lightly. A deep chuckle answered the curious touch. Viv giggled as dappled amusement danced about her, flittering teasingly against her skin.

“Don’t encourage her!” Mama scolded. She had just walked in from the kitchen, setting food on the table. She turned, walking towards them.

Hands lifted her under her arms, and Viv felt herself hanging for a moment before being deposited gently to the floor, hiking a shoulder at the intrusion of Mama’s displeasure. It felt rough and stinging, like when she washed her with soap too hard when she had a cut.

“Its fine, Flo. She’s just a kid, and she’s figuring stuff out,” Uncle Ray rumbled. Amusement still hovered around him, but the flitting had suddenly stilled.

Viv loved how his voice made his chest and tummy shake. She glanced to her mother, noting how a frown had spread over her face. Uh oh, Mama’s mad.

“It isn’t normal,” Mama said, crossing her arms over her chest the way she did just before she sent her to bed. “She’s always wanting to touch people’s belly, staring at fat folk.”

A wave of stinging disgust struck Viv, confusing her for a moment. That was bad? Big tummies were soft and nice...

“Don’t talk like that in front of her, Flo!” Uncle Ray snapped. “Children understand more than they let on.”

Mama stared down at him, making Viv shiver in anxiety. “Fat is disgusting, Ray. If we allow her to continue…she might get fat like you someday.”

“Is that so.” The amusement dissipated as a wave of…something rolled off her Uncle. Something jagged and sharp and hurting. The curling tendrils brushed at Viv’s arm, making her start to cry. Immediately, the tendrils snapped back, though they curled threateningly behind some sort of barrier. “Don’t cry, Viv!” Uncle Ray smiled. “It’s ok.” He patted her head softly. “You hungry?”

Nodding, Viv raised her arms. She was swooped up and deposited at the table.

“Don’t eat to much,” Mama said, leaning down and looking her in the eyes. “We wouldn’t want to get fat, would we?”

Viv didn’t understand…but it felt as if she was being squeezed in a vice. Turning her head, she nodded frantically, sighing in relief as the pressure released.

“Good girl. You too, Ray."

Uncle Ray frowned, sitting down. When Mama had finished putting food in his plate, Viv noticed it was more like a kids portion that an adult’s portion. She held her fork tightly, eyes darting as those tendrils snaked inward, stinging him.


“Viv was great at daycare today!” the ugly old woman said as she patted Viv’s head.

“I’m glad,” Mama said, and they kept talking.

Bored, Viv glanced over her shoulder and found Thomas looking at her. So she stuck her tongue out. He did it back and she grinned. Suddenly, she focused.

“I didn’t want to bring it up,” the old woman said in a whisper. “But I just wanted you to know that Viv has a ‘boyfriend’.”

“Oh?” Mama said, looking down at her.

“The only reason I mention it is that she just seems attached, and I like to let the parents know. Thomas is a real person, not an imaginary friend!” her babysitter laughed. “She is quite taken with him. Shares all her snacks and pokes his tummy! It’s pretty cute.

Vivian felt frost creep from her mother, and tried to tug her fingers from her grasp.

Holding her tighter, Mama did that not-smile she always did when she was mad, her grip tightening on her fingers until that stinging cold made her hand go numb.

Suddenly fearful, Viv tried to distract her by talking about all the fun stuff they had done today.

Mama waited until she was quiet, then said, “So I hear you like Thomas. Why do you like Thomas?”

“He’s nice?” Viv replied, half questioning. She looked down at her doll, but felt the frost go colder. Mama was getting more angry.

“That’s good,” she said. “But you shouldn’t share your snacks with him, and you shouldn’t like him too much.”


“Because he is fat. Fat is bad.”


“Wanna play?” Jess was standing in front of her, holding the prettiest pink ball Viv had ever seen.

She didn’t really like Jess, but she always had the nicest toys…She fidgeted, scuffing her worn shoe toe on the ground. “I guess,” she said at last.

A wave of gloating, suffocating satisfaction billowed out of her. “Ok!” Jess ran to the end of the driveway, bouncing the ball.

Trotting along behind, Vivia tried not to be too jealous that Jess had pretty pink and black shoes, and nice bright purple pants with pink flowers on them. Her shirt had Cinderella on it, too, Viv noticed with a sigh. And her pony tail was so pretty and nice…

If she looked down at herself, Viv would have seen a pair of dirty Velcro shoes, and old faded pants with a hole in the knee. Her shirt used to be white. Mama said they couldn’t afford silly things like hair ties and bows, so her straggly brown hair fell into her face and eyes.

“So, here is the game. I am a princess and you are going to be my servant. I’m going to tell you what to do, and when I get mad I’m going to throw this ball, and you have to go get it. Ok?” Jess said, sounding bossy as usual.

It always felt like she couldn’t breathe right – Jess seemed to push all the air away from her. Viv nodded, eyeing that pretty ball. “Yeah.”

It was a stupid game. Jess had no imagination, and kept throwing the ball into the street every time Viv did something the princess didn’t like. If Mama saw her going on the street she’d get a smack, but this was the only time she ever got to play with toys.

One particularly energetic throw put the soaring pink ball into a backyard.

“You’re gonna be in trouble,” Viv gasped, turning to face her.

Jess responded with a toss of her hair. “Nu uh! You are my servant, you have to go get it!”

“I don’t wanna,” Viv protested, shaking her head and darting for her door.

“If you don’t get my ball I will never, ever, ever let you play with my toys ever again Viv!”

Chancing a glance at her, Viv realized she was serious. It took a long moment to come to the inevitable conclusion. Darting a glance up and down the street, she ran to the gate of the big wooden fence and let herself in. The backyard was so nice – flowers and pretty things were everywhere. The grass even seemed greener, somehow.

Sneaking forward, Viv glanced left and right. The ball was bright enough that it didn’t take long to find. Snatching it, she turned and bolted for the gate, but let out a muffled shriek of surprise as her eyes met that of a boy, sitting on a big white chair and eating ice cream.

Big eyes met hers, and he swallowed his ice cream. Both hesitated for a long moment, and Viv was on the verge of dashing back out when the boy spoke up. “Hi…Want some ice cream?” he asked shyly. “You can have the rest, if you want.”

“Uh,” Viv responded intelligently, distracted. Big pulses of glowing contentment were coming off him in waves. That drew her forward, and she found herself at the edge of the table, looking at him.

“I’m Brad,” he said, waving.

“Viv. I mean Vivian,” she said. Brad had a big milk mustache, and big brown eyes. He was the nicest looking boy she had ever seen, she decided.

Brad grinned with mischief. “Want some? It’s chocolate chip!”

Although the site and smell made her drool, Viv shook her head. “Uh uhn, I ate.”

“Bradly!” A voice said sharply. “Did you eat all of that yourself?”

The pulses of contentment broke off, and a dark fogginess rose up. “Um, no, Mom!” Brad said quickly, casting her the secret look that adults didn’t know. The secret look that said ‘us against them, ya?’. “I was sharing with my new friend, Vivian!”

Vivia turned her eyes to the adult, making eye contact. They liked that. “Hi, thank you very for letting me have ice cream,” she said.

Her act seemed to please the woman, for she patted Brad’s head and smiled. “Just remember,” she said, pinching his cheek lightly. “You don’t want to eat too much or you will get fat.” She walked back inside.

A familiar and scary tentacle rose out of that fog. Vivia shuddered away from it.

Brad’s round and frowning face turned towards her. “What’s fat mean?” he demanded in a half whisper.

Viv shrugged helplessly. “All I know is the parents say its really bad. It’s like when you get a big belly.”

Her new friend protruded his lower lip and stared down at his pudgy stomach. “Do you think I am fat?” he asked anxiously.

His tummy wasn’t nearly as big as Uncle Ray’s. “No, I don’t think so.”

He grinned, and the tentacle slid back into nothingness. “That’s good, because I really like icecream.”

Viv felt herself grinning back. “You could eat it all and say I did it,” she suddenly giggled. The expression on his face made her giggle harder.

“You’re the best ever!” he said, scooping up a big mouthful so that his cheeks bulged.

“I havta go,” she said, hefting the pink ball in explanation. “Bye!”
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Xyantha Reborn

- Actually Very Tame!
Jul 23, 2014

Jory. Enjoys sports, working out. Six foot two, 185lbs.

Next. A message to her inbox popped up. ‘Hey gorgous, wanna get together for some hot sex?’ Not if you can’t spell gorgeous…She clicked the X.

Cody. Digs surfing, hitting bars, and chilling. Five foot eight, 165 lbs. Next.

Tanner. Tanner, really? Ok. And what does Tanner enjoy? Golfing, Katy Perry, and movies. 142lbs. Boring.

Scrolling through the rest of the profiles, Viv worried at her lower lip. Their matching algorithms sucked. But she couldn’t blame any one site in particular – they all sucked. And it wasn’t the site’s fault that all the bottom feeders of man kind seemed to flock to dating websites.

Hanging her head in her hands, she sipped at her water, blowing on the surface to create ripples. Part of her didn’t even understand why she was trying again. No relationship had ever worked out for her; it was time to give up and become asexual. A ding made her raise her head.

Hi. You probably get pinged all the time, so I get it if you don’t respond. I’m not creeping on you or anything, but the site seemed to think you’d be a good match so I thought I’d say hi and see if you were interested in talking.

The first part of the message made her wrinkle her nose. Don’t be desperate. The second part made her cock her head, considering. Alright; impress me. ;p

The response took a moment in coming. Ha, I don’t know if I can do that. Name is Trevor, I work at RBC as a business analyst.

Hey – you have a job, it’s more than a lot of guys here have!

That…just makes me feel sad,
Trevor responded.

No sad face emoji followed, and a smile tugged her lips. Agreed! What do you do for fun?

Ha – does eating qualify?

Immediately, Viv felt a jolt, hands hovering over her keyboard. Profile pic, profile pic!

Just kidding…I love hiking, as an outdoor thing. Preferably with camping, if I can manage it…Umm…inside I love reading. You?

The profile picture was blank. Viv cursed. Where’s your pic? She asked innocently. I actually love hiking myself, and reading too.

Is it because of the eating comment?

Self conscious…he probably was at least mildly chunky. I actually enjoy eating myself…although I suck at cooking so I tend to eat out often.

For a long, tense moment, Viv stared at the screen…no more typing came. Just as she was about to close the screen with a sigh, a message popped up.

…It’s up…

Flicking it open, Viv rocked back with a blush. It wasn’t a posed picture, and wasn’t designed to flatter. A mop of almost platinum blonde hair topped a round face, which was turned to the right and was giving the camera holder the long suffering look that all those who hate pictures adopt. Brilliant blue eyes met hers, surrounded by the lightest fringe of blonde.

Viv would have liked to have said that she was not shallow…but unfortunately she was just as shallow as all her other friends, just in a different physical demographic. Eyeing that rounded face, she pronounced the first, superficial judgement.

Wow! Super cute!


So…tell me more!

Really? Most shut down the conversation by now…

Come on, don’t be like that.

Fine. But I really don’t know what to say…

Grinning, Viv hooked her chair closer to her desk. You said you liked hiking…where have you been?

Their conversation flowed back and forth lightly. Finally, after a long moment of mutual silence, a message popped up.

Look. I don’t want to lead you on and I’ve had some **** dates in the past. Aren’t you going to ask me my weight?

Now was the time. Either walk away or pursue. He was actually…interesting. He actually came across like a real person. She could have been coquettish and asked why he asked that, but games like that had long since lost their flavour. He was fat, and he thought his weight was going to turn her off.

How about I guess it when we go for Ramen next Saturday?

Really? Wow, ok. Ramen, I mean. But…I’m three hundred and ten pounds
, the message dinged.

There should have been nothing sexy about numbers…and yet, Viv felt her panties dampen. It wasn’t the number themselves, or even the weight they represented. It was just the idea that he was that much larger than life. That he took up so much more physical space than she did. Awwww, you’re no fun! I was supposed to guess! Ok, so you know the Shangri-La hotel? There is a noodle bar right beside it. Momofuko…let’s meet there at 7pm. Reservation under ‘Hiking fanatics’.


I gotta run…send me an email or something, or else I’ll see you Sunday!


Viv twisted her head around, feeling her bob sway slightly. Her nervousness about meeting Trevor had manifested in a mani-pedi, a new haircut, and a full wax. Just in case. It was good to be prepared. The long table she was seated at faced the door, and she fiddled with the napkin as a gorgeous heavyset blonde meandered in, round cheeks slightly red.

“Trevor?” She asked, trying to raise her voice slightly.

He probably hadn’t heard her over the din, but saw her stand and look at him. One hand smoothed the front of his shirt nervously, unconsciously tugging at it to make sure he was covered. Slowly, he took a step, then seemed to give a shrug and walked forward normally.

“Vivian?” He asked, round cheeks flushed.

She stared at him, floored. “You have an Australian accent!” She blurted. The hottest accent in the entire world!

Those sexy cheeks rounded as he smiled. “It’s the one redeeming quality I have,” he gave a self depreciating chuckle that caused his wide middle to bounce lightly.

No darkness teased at her, no stinging tentacles of self hatred lashed at her, or at him. Shivering in delight, she patted the bench beside her as she resumed her seat. “I would have guessed two ninety.”

For a moment, he frowned as a look of confusion crossed his handsome face. Realizing what she meant, he gave a small grin as he settled himself beside her. The bench shifted under his weight. “Aren’t dates usually face to face across the table?”

Raising her gaze to meet his, she smiled slowly. “How would we exchange flirtatious touches and feed each other bits of food like that?”

When he grinned, his cheeks bunched up and his eyes crinkled. “Well then, let’s order, shall we?” He turned his attention to the menu in front of him.

It was not his expression, or his body language that alerted her, but rather a sting that made her roll her shoulder. Wincing, she rubbed at it lightly. She shifted closer so that her black legging encased thigh pressed against the heavy material of his denim. A light inhale answered her as her upper body swayed closer to read from the same menu, rather than the one sitting before her. “See anything you like?”

His belly wobbled lightly as he shifted, raising his electric blue gaze to hers. “Yeah.”

Purposefully misinterpreting him, she lightly tapped his thick middle with the back of her hand. “Naughty. That’s for dessert, and you cannot have dessert without dinner.”

A half grin met hers even as his wide cheeks flushed. “Look, Vivian…”

That prickle was back. “If you say you are on a diet I’m going home,” she sighed, dropping her chin into her hand as she gazed at him solemnly. “You don’t get a body like yours without loving food. You send me your pic and even told me your weight before you got here – if I didn’t think you were hot as **** I wouldn’t be here. Don’t make this weird.”

His plump lips quivered as they silently repeated the phrases ‘hot as ****’ and ‘don’t make this weird’. Trevor’s expression slowly stilled and he leaned forward. “I think you are crazy.” The light quivers of painful stings were becoming even more muted. Good.

Lifting her chin, Viv sniffed. “I think you quite like crazy.” She followed this pronouncement with a light finger circling his deep navel. “That wont help,” she added as his stomach shifted a quarter of an inch as he tried to suck in. “Just be you, Trevor. Please. Talk to me in that sexy accent, lets talk hiking, and let’s eat.”

“And if being me is ordering half the appetizers on the menu before I even get to the main course?” His expression might be unreadable, but his body pulsed with excitement that heated her from the inside.

“Then I guess I’d have to show my appreciation for a real man with a real appetite,” she purred, smiling as the sting completely faded.
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Xyantha Reborn

- Actually Very Tame!
Jul 23, 2014
Regrets and Despair

**** men. All of them! Especially the fat ones. That shame could never be expunged, and she was goddamn tired of being an emotional sponge for their bullshit.

And **** Brad especially. The man had been glaring up a storm, shooting little bolts of lightening into her spine from across the gym floor for nearly two weeks. After Trevor broke up with her over the winter, she had quit her job and become a gym and yoga instructor. Nothing like a little self flagellation to instill discipline. And after ‘aiding and abetting’ (his words) his growth to nearly four hundred pounds over the last three years, the man had dumped her and moved out as part of his so called lifestyle changes. Working in the gym was like getting sand in your contacts at the beach – nothing like being near something amazing and then having sand thrown in your face. Beach of course being an allegory for fat, and sand being for weight loss. Whatever. It wasn’t important, and it sucked.

And so did Brad. The muscled jock shot another glare at her as she assisted her client in the last set of his reps. Zing! She had barely talked to him, but something about her had clearly crawled up his butt. Her client, Greg, smiled between red cheeks which reddened to ruby as she absently made a tugging motion towards his white t-shirt, which had ridden up during his sit ups. Zing! Despite eating the daily shitsandwhich of watching hot men literally waste away in front of her on a daily basis, it felt like a deserved penance. And though it might suck, it was nice to feel the thorny tendrils of self-hate fade away as the pounds did.

Obligatory words of encouragement and smiles ensued. Apparently she did it rather well, as her clientele base had been steadily growing through both referrals and repeat customers. Her eyes snagged on his still thick form as he plodded towards the shower, soaked shirt clinging to every curve and valley. Zing! Turning her gaze unerringly to the source of her annoyance, she huffed a breath to see the muscled man striding towards her. “Brad.”



A tick behind his right eye started as two hazel piss-hole-in-the-snow eyes latched onto her. “Nope.”

Dark dog rolled out of him, drowning out her light as surely as someone hovering when she tried to read. Thorny tentacles flashed within like lightening. Riiight.

Leaning into her space, he lowered his voice. “I know what you are.”

Widening her eyes in mock terror, she raised her hands. “Oh, gawd, please don’t report me to the passport office!”


The low, intimate growl was almost a caress, or a greeting. Her stomach quivered, as did her lady bits. Three plus decades on this planet had taught her words, tone, even body language was only part of the picture. It was the colours, feelings, temperatures that people gave off that showed their true emotions, motivations, history – all of it. That dark cloud roiled hungrily, but as usual, did not envelop her. It was like it was being held at bay. All of the anger, loathing – it was directed inwards.

Leaning towards him so that their noses almost touched, she inhaled deeply, eyes fluttering. Allowing a smile to creep across her face, she opened her eyes and made dead eye contact. “Former fatty,” she breathed in acknowledgement

His eyes widened in shock, that dark cloud disappearing in a puff.

Direct hit – nothing would have given it away on the outside. Thickly muscled arms balanced an equally muscled and broad chest which tapered to a waist to tiny and taut that his abs were visible when he moved. Beneath that muscle bound exterior was a former fatty. And it knew her – knew her kind. Within a heartbeat, jagged stings lashed at her as the self flagellation turned on her.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you do to men.”

Rolling her eyes at his angry grammar (do not think that I am unaware of what you to do other men), she tossed her currently purple hair over her shoulder. “That’s me – the friendly neighbourhood fat admirer, helping people gain weight - one lost pound at a time! Give it up, Brad. Stop glaring at me like I’m a member of the four horsemen set loose upon this establishment.”

“You wish I’d let it go.”

“You wish I’d make you let go.”

The double entendre for his appetite seemed to make him tongue tied for a moment, his eyes bulging in a way that would have been hilarious – if not coming from a man that was close to two hundred and fifty pounds of raw muscle who was clearly incensed.

Ignoring his spluttering, she patted his cheek. “Nice talk, Brad. Go…eat air or whatever it is that you meatheads do to pretend that you are real boys.”

Three months later, even the insensitive jocks had noticed his antagonistic attitude.

“What did you do to Brad now, Viv?” Joey was spotting her as she pumped, focusing on her breathing in her skimpy Mary Antoinette costume. The Halloween party of course involved working out.

“I told him to go eat cake.”

Joey snickered, his freckles momentarily highlighted as he scrunched his nose in the cute grin he had. “’Cuz he never eats cake, right?”

Dear god. “Right, Joey.”

He glanced over at the other man. “I don’t think Brad has ever tasted a sweet thing in his life. I think he keeps alive through like, mitosis. You know, what plants do,” he added when she shot him a look of ‘what the ****?.’

“That’s photosynthesis.” The fuckface addendum to that sentence hung in the air unspoken, making Miss Antoinette hide a grin in her shoulder as she holstered the weights. Hazel eyes locked on hers, several small styrofoam plates clenched delicately in his big paws. “Tom brought in cake for Nancy’s goodbye party. Because apparently Halloween chips, pop, and chocolate bars aren’t sufficient,” he added, tone lowering to grumbling disapproval.

“Oh god, shut up for once,” Viv snapped, gesturing at his hands. “Just shut up and be a normal person and eat food.”

Brad shot the other man a glare as he snickered at his expense. “What, you aren’t going to shove it down my throat?”

Caught in the act of standing, she unfolded herself slowly. Capturing a plate, she carefully balanced it in one hand. “ The only thing I’d like to shove down your throat is your ego, Brad.” Shoving a hearty spoonful of the disgustingly sweet, chemical slurry into her mouth, she walked away from them both.
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Xyantha Reborn

- Actually Very Tame!
Jul 23, 2014
No Pain, No Gain

Life as a fat man sucked. The constant judgements about your personality, intelligence, and physical capabilities were as insidious as they were non stop. It was not just women, although that in itself was an awful trial. It was friends, family, and even employers. Somehow it was inexcusable to discriminate based on age, race, or religion, but a few dozen extra pounds was like wearing an anti-promotion device strapped to you all day long.

Having always been a heavy kid, Brad had been used to it. The little laughs when he ordered enough to actually fill himself. The eyerolls from girlfriends and family. The quick eye flicks to his waistline during job interviews. So when he found a woman who not only accepted his size, but thought it sexy, he was over the moon.

It was hardly a trial to eat things he already would have eaten. Or to take a few more bites with a wink to make her giggle, squirm – and then have sex. It was a bit of a trial as the years passed and his weight continued to tick upwards. The former laughs turned into pointed comments. The eyerolls became frowns. And the eye flicks became a steady stream of platitudes that ‘another, more qualified candidate was found for the position.

Any attempt to diet was sabotaged. Any attempt to exercise was met with tears. And any weight loss was met with coldness in the bedroom. It had taken him months to see what was happening, and many more to break up with her, knowing he may very well be fat and alone forever. She who was not to be named.

His therapist had said that you did not break habits, you replaced them. And so, he replaced the cause of his weight gain with the solution. Every time he was hungry, he worked out. It worked like a charm. He was in the best shape of his life at the ripe old age of thirty eight, and could pick up women regularly.

Any woman he wanted.


The sound of his name being spoken sharply drew his attention to his client. “Sorry. Was thinking about the next set of reps we are going to have you do.”

The object that had previously been in his line of sight rolled her eyes and shook her blue hair even as his client let out a groan of despair. If food was a drug, an FFA was a drug dealer. And working with her day in, day out, was pure torture. But he had been here first and was damned if he was going to move on just because she made him a little uncomfortable.

No one else knew. She didn’t tout body positivity, she didn’t google fat porn at work. She didn’t push a single bite of food on anyone, or even comment on food or exercise outside of her clients. It was the lingering touches, the warm smiles, and comfort that had first tipped him off. Working with fat clients could be pretty demotivating – most dropped out, and the amount they could do was so limited. Yet she met every heavy-set client with a warm smile, nods of approval, and was comfortable touching them to move them into position.

The next trigger was watching how her eyes followed her clients as they moved back to the showers – as if she was memorizing them at their heaviest. As if she was noting, in a non clinical manner, the way their love handles jiggled and thighs rubbed together. And she hadn’t denied it when he confronted her. Instead of widening her eyes and claiming ignorance, the damn woman had smelled him the way a fat kid smelled cake, sultry eyed opening as she immediately identified him as the former fatty he was.

If one could become a former fatty – could one become a former FFA?

Creepy as it sounded, he had stalked her a bit. Nothing bad, just enough to see that her dates were normal sized guys who never ordered a ton of food. Ok, fine, maybe that was bad. But the thought of working with a chick who was secretly fattening people up by night then helping them lose weight by day made him rather queasy.

So far, she had not slipped up. And his workouts had nearly tripled. Nothing to do with her, just doubling down.

“Going to do Mr. Universe or something?” the dip **** kid Joey bayed at his own humour.

He might not give into cravings, but he did give into hanger. “Or something,” he muttered, trying to soften the snap with a tightening of his lips.

“You should ask her out?”

He was busy placing the weights back on the rack. “Who?”


He was so surprised, the fifty-pound weight slid through his hands. He did not so much as hear it fall with his ears, as feel the shock reverberate up his leg. A scream was ripped from his throat even before the pain registered – but by the time he hit the floor it had caught up with him, sending blinding waves of agony ricocheting around his body, keening breaths he was physically unable to stop escaping him.

Cool hands cupped his cheek, turning his face into something soft as someone else cut the laces on his shoes. “It’s ok, Brad. I’ve got you, I’ve got you. The ambulance is on its way. You are going to be ok. I’m going to stay here, don’t worry.” Client and co-worker faces blurred against involuntary tears, and he turned his face back, swallowing and compressing the agony into wheezing, jagged inhales and exhales.


His foot was broken. He did not need the doctor to tell him that much, but as the doctor put up the xray and began talking, he found it impossible to focus on the diagnosis and prognosis.

Viv was still there, on the same chair she had been in for the last few hours. As he rolled in and out of consciousness, her hand had always been clasping his. Her eyes met him, and sympathy flashed through them.

“Why are you still here?” he demanded, knowing he was being surly and unreasonable just as surely as he was unable to stop it.

Instead of getting offended, she sassed him back so normally he almost grinned, as did her crazy pink hair that was mussed from running her hands through it. “Well it’s not like anyone else would sit here and take your ****. And you hate me enough that at least my presence will inspire you to get out of bed and stop moping soon.”

He was saved from answering as the nurse came through the door, nodding to the doctor and deposing his dinner in front of him.

“Want me to get you something else?” Viv asked, her voice soft.

He stared hard at the jello, rice, and disgusting steamed vegetables beside a portion of mystery meat. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you? Fatten me up while I can’t move?”

The scrape of her chair was loud in the quiet room. “Jesus ****, Brad! I don’t do that – I’ve never done that! I have never once put a spoon or fork in someone’s mouth to purposefully fatten them up!”

“No, you just probably cry and manipulate with sex.”

“I don’t know what ***** you have been with in the past, but holy hell! Do I love a man with an appetite? Oh, yes. Do I love the consequence of said big appetites? Of course! But you know why I swore off fatties? Drama. Drama, drama, drama. I’m tired of the self-hate, Brad. I’d rather a fit guy who doesn’t question his self worth than a big guy with body issues. Hands down. Any day of the week. That’s what lube is for. I wouldn’t even know what food you like, because I have only ever seen you eat protein bars and shakes. Which by the by, was what I was going to pick up for you!”

“I’m sorry.” Oddly enough, he was. Her anger was real, and he believed her.

Standing, she tossed her purse over her shoulder. “Get well soon, *******,” she snapped as she walked out.
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Staff member
Global Moderator
Dec 14, 2012
Oooooh, all aboard the new Xy story train! =D

I always love seeing new stories from you Xy, you seem to have an endless stream of scenarios and ideas in your head, I don't know how you do it! I'm so useless when it comes to writing anything realistic, hah. I have to say, I like the path this one is taking; extra spicy. ;) But also relatable, though of course I never became a fitness instructor myself, hahaha! I'm really looking forwards to seeing where this new one goes, though I think we all have some ideas where it might be heading! ;)

One minor issue though; your use of asexual in the second post isn't correct. Asexual is a sexual orientation, you can't decide to 'become' asexual anymore than you can decide to become gay or straight or whatever. Celibate would be a much better word choice here; that's the term for people who are still physically attracted to people but choose not to act on it, for whatever reason. We can't decide to turn off (or on) our actual attraction, though that would make things easier in some cases, I think, hah.

Xyantha Reborn

- Actually Very Tame!
Jul 23, 2014
One minor issue though; your use of asexual in the second post isn't correct.

Abolutely! The point is that people think things like that. I wish I was thin/pretty/rich/gay. Its the unverbalized desire/yearning for a PERCIEVED benefit, without facts and is presumptions.

Plus I have to make every character a bit unique...and that includes flaws and foibles. Or else every story would be the same! Like in the reticules and retinues story, it disgusted me that the main protagonist would go to a brothel...and it annoys me how protective he is in cravats and coattails...but that's who those characters are!

Xyantha Reborn

- Actually Very Tame!
Jul 23, 2014
The Breaking Point

Never, in the entire course of his life, would he have thought that he would be turning to an FFA for help with food. But his fingers were drumming erratically over the Chinese food takeout menu, he was drowning in saliva, and his stomach literally felt like it was using torsion to break his will.

He was going to pick up the phone and make a call. It wasn’t an if, it was a when. There was not even a point of contention as to how much he would order – the answer all would be all of it. And when it arrived, he was going to gorge until he could not move.

That, in and of itself, was the main difficulty. He had never worked out for fun – his intensity had been replacing his eating habit with a workout habit. A coping mechanism, really. And when that coping mechanism was gone…

“Hello?” Her voice sounded adorably soft and fuzzy in sleep, very different than the snapping, outspoken woman he knew so well. It threw him so much that he nearly hung up before her voice sounded, louder. “Brad? Are you ok?”

Her urgency made him swallow, even as more saliva flooded his mouth at the memory of wontons and spring rolls and rice and…. “Yeah. I mean no. I mean, I’m about to cave and make some seriously bad food decisions. ****.”

A light snort sounded through the phone as the rustling of sheets sounded. He had never thought of Viv as anything other than a creepy FFA before. The whispering sound combined with the thought of her long legs and tight stomach in just a bra and panties had another hunger flaring. “Jesus, Brad. Phone sex, at this hour?”

A muffled chortle escaped him that ended in something close to an unhinged giggle. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to do. Or who to call. If I cave…”

Her voice was oddly gentle. “It’s ok, Brad. I understand. I’m going to come over, ok? Give me your address.”

Glancing around his bare apartment, he hesitated. It was a disaster. “You know what, it’s ok…”

“No it’s not, Brad. If it wasn’t bad you wouldn’t have called me. I mean, especially me. What do you normally do when you get a craving,” she asked after he had given her his address. “Ah,” she breathed, tone full of sympathy at his answer. “It’s ok, this is a short-term thing. Once the rehab starts, you will be good to go!”

Good to go? Back to work? The idea just seemed exhausting. “Thanks…see you soon.”

“Nonono!” She scolded. “None of that, you stay on the phone with me! I know what you are about to do more than anyone. And the second I get off this phone you are going to make an order.”

He smirked into the darkness of his living room, glancing down at the phone nestled to his cheek. “Oh? And how do you know I wont just go into the kitchen and get something?”

“Like I said – I know you and your…shall we say, type? I bet you don’t have a scrap of food in that house. For one because you are a workout fiend. And in the mood you are in now, you would have eaten it already.”

His traitorous dick began to unfurl. “****, this is like phone sex, isn’t it?” Her answering laugh made his grin widen, and he primarily listened as she chatted for the fifteen minutes until she got to the door. “The code is 32889.” The door clicked, and the light from the hallway briefly illuminated his apartment as the phone clicked off.

“Your saviour is here - I have sourced food,” she announced as she kicked off her shoes and cautiously poked her head into the living room. “Baby spinach and a bit of chicken breast and some almond slices.”

It was a fine meal. But not what he was craving. Sitting up on the couch, he watched her carefully place the portion controlled salad on his lap with a flourish fit for a fine establishment. “Thank you,” he mumbled, wincing at the ungrateful tone. “Sorry.”

“It’s ok. I know you would rather it be Chinese.”

“Or pizza.”

“Oh, yeah. Or KFC. Dirty bird.”

“Taco Bell,” he added with zest, even as he pushed a large mouthful between his lips. He grimaced and forced another two mouthfuls in before he made eye contact with Viv. She was perched lightly on the edge of his couch, looking at everything except him eating. “I don’t know if I can eat this,” he muttered as he stabbed vindictively at a few leaves. His throat and stomach were literally churning at the healthy food, even as he continued to swallow saliva at the thought of real food. “I’m so sorry – dragging you out of bed just because I can’t be an adult.”

She turned her eyes towards him, and he was suddenly struck with how pretty she was. And nice. And he had treated her like absolute crap for nearly a year. “It’s really ok, Brad. I get it. Better than anyone. I know you haven’t trusted me – but I’m not that person. Not anymore. I’m not vindictive enough to see you want to fail, and my…issues are my own.”

“You mean you wouldn’t want to see me break down and double fist two spring rolls?” he joked.

It wasn’t a joke. In the instant before she rolled her eyes and stood, a predatory gleam had shone from behind her suddenly hooded eyes. “*******,” she muttered with no real heat.

“I am being an *******. Hell, I’ve been an ******* since the day I met you.”

One slim shoulder hiked in a discomfited shrug. “Like I said, I get it.” Her eyes focused down on his foot as she casually slumped into the seat across from him. “How did you know?” she ventured after a long pause punctuated only by the sound of him desperately trying to masticate lawn clippings.

He swallowed and leaned forward to snag the bottle of water off of the coffee table. Settling back with a grimace at the sudden pain in his foot, he hesitated, staring down at the closed cap. “Normal people hesitate to touch the fattest parts. There is always a bit of judgement or pity or frozen smiles. Your face lit up. You never hesitated to touch them. You never once judged them even when they failed in their diets. I thought you were doing it to get some sort of gross kick out of it.” Quickly twisting the lid off, he chugged a few mouthfuls.

On the other side of the room, Viv followed the motion of his throat before sighing. Why must her twisted mind always try to jack off her sick fantasies? It was a man drinking water for heavens sake, not a fatty chugging melted icecream. “It’s not a kick, it’s my penance.” For years, she had struggled to supress the feelings and visual hallucinations she had experienced since childhood. Adults outwardly showed less emotions, but she generally got a gist of what they wanted or were thinking. Being around Brad had always felt like a shoe in a dryer – spinning, whirling emotions battering her.

Lowering the bottle, he turned his head slightly to the left to gaze with open astonishment. “Penance?”

She sighed again, rubbing one of her eyes. Since his injury, his energy had changed, and she did not know what to make of it. “I ruined a few guy’s lives enjoying myself. My fantasies becoming reality. It’s all I can do to help as many others fix it. Yes, I adore the look of a heavy guy. But watching them lose weight, participating, driving them to do it…it’s like being a boob guy and watching them shrink or something. It isn’t fun. It’s an obligation – I owe it to them.”

The handsome man across from her gave a huff before shoving another mouthful inside. When she gave a small chuckle, he glared at her with his cheeks bunching. “Wha?” he demanded around the food.

“You still eat like a fatty.” The instant the words passed her lips, her eyes flew open and she reared to her feet. “I mean, I’m sorry, I – ”

To her surprise, a deep laugh escaped him, the first she had ever heard. It was one of those belly laughs that she deep right in her own middle…and lower. His energy was battering her, but it felt like being on the shore of an ocean, now. “I suppose I do. Oh, relax, Viv. I used to be fat – you saw that right off. Out of all the people in the world, we probably understand each other the best in that way.” Sighing, he lowered the bowl to his lap. Staring deep into it, his high cheekbones became tinged with red. “Just like we both know I’m going to break.”

“You aren’t going to break,” she argued, even as her nether regions abruptly rearranged themselves in readiness.

“I already did.”

“No, you didn’t,” she insisted, even as an undercurrent tugged at her, telling her he spoke the truth. “I stayed on the phone with you the whole time.”

He inflated his cheeks and pinched his lips like an adorable school boy before blowing the air out. “I hate working out. I love eating. I’m not stupid, I know I just replaced my bad eating habit with a bad working out habit. I surrounded myself with people who wouldn’t support me breaking. But now…”

Scooting to the edge of her chair, she patted his hand awkwardly. There, there didn’t seem like the appropriate response, but she was damned if she knew what to say. “I’ll help. You called, I came.”

It was as if he couldn’t hear her. His stomach gave a churlish groan as the doorbell rang, and he turned his head, nostrils flaring. “It’s already started.”

Xyantha Reborn

- Actually Very Tame!
Jul 23, 2014

Redemption and Rediscovery​

“What did you do, Bradley Rissen?” his guest hissed, her grip tightening on his.

His shoulders hunched, and he let out a nervous cough as he avoided her aghast expression. It felt absurdly nice just to have her touch his hand. “Um. I…ordered on my phone while we chatted. Can you get that? My foot, and all…”

Standing, her glare tracked him until the moment she rounded the corner and disappeared. Her kitten like growl echoed down the hallway, trailed by the tantalizing riot of delicious and indescribably smells he associated with fast food Asian type cuisine. His heart pounded in his chest like he was running, and his hand settled on his muscular stomach, patting it as if saying goodbye.

A shaking inhale ended in a choked off laugh at her spitfire expression when she rounded the corner once more. Both elbows and hands were laden with heavy white bags. Dropping them on the coffee table, she took a knee next to him. “You broke your foot, Bradley. That’s it. It isn’t the end of the world. It will heal. And when it heals you will regret this. Hell, you are going to regret this in an hour when you are bent over the bowl puking from the grease!”

He shivered, shifting to hide his growing erection. Damn but if he didn’t like her scolding him. The disdainful ice queen had some heat to her after all. And damn him to hell if he didn’t get off on the idea of her watching his will break. “Remember what you called me when I called you an FFA the first time?”

She smacked his wrist as he reached for the first aluminum container. “Stop that! No, I don’t!”

He chuckled. “Liar. You called me a former fatty. I don’t know if I am, well former. Do you really believe you are a former FFA?

The tip of her pink tongue darted out to wet her lips, and he could see her nipples tighten through her sports bra and tank. “Yes,” she whispered in a tone that was anything but sure.

“Really?” His hazel eyes looked forest green in the dimly lit room, pupils as blown as a drug addicts. “Then why did you put the food in front of me, Vivian Kelbeck?” He held her eyes as he reached past her with a thick arm corded with muscle.

She spluttered for a moment before tucking her hair, purple today, behind her ear. Lips firming, she grabbed at the container, but it was like fighting with an oak tree. The container started to bend, the lid popping open. Her focus was on the container, but a deep groan shuddered through him. Like scientists who listen to the sounds of whales, her highly sensitive ears twitched at the distinctive sound of breathing around food. Jerking her head to the right, she saw him take the final bite of a filched spring roll, eyes rolling back in his head.

Giving up that particular battle as lost, she whirled and scooped up the other bags. Why did she put the food in front of him, indeed? He was right, damn him. Former FFA her ass! Suddenly, that same ass collided with something firm as she was yanked backwards.

Huge hands attached to thick forearms filled her field of vision, rifling through the bag she had grabbed by one handle in her hurry. When she turned to glare at him, those usually pistol hard eyes were dancing. “Hey now, no call to take a man’s food.” He sounded drugged on food already, genial and expansive instead of terse and growly.

“You are insufferable. Why did you call me up in the middle of the night to help if you knew you were going to do this?”

He finished swallowing the big bite of sweet and sour pork before licking his fingers assiduously. His other arm remained banded about her waist, holding her to him firmly. His growl of pleasure echoed through her, resonating around her breasts. That undertow had become a rip current, and she found herself relaxing into him. He felt it and grinned. “I’m hitting on you. Can’t you tell?”

A huff escaped her, and she crossed her arms under her breasts, bags banging her sides. “Stop that crazy grinning, it’s freaking me out.”

This change in brain chemistry was not new to Brad, and for the first time in years, his hangry temper had washed out, leaving a pleasant hum in its wake. Like the real him was surfacing for the first time in a very long time. “I have been a bit of an *******, haven’t I?” He agreed readily while he snooped into another bag through the tiny handle hole. “Do you know that I have not had fast food in over five years? Not a bite. This is better than sex,” he moaned as he shoved a dumpling in his mouth whole.

“Not sex with me,” the woman on his ass clapped back, then seemed to re-evaluate her position on his lap. “I mean…Brad! Can you stop that and focus? I’m being serious. I’m trying to help, here.”

The man raised the box of chicken balls, popped open the lid to the sauce, held it under his mouth, and began shovelling them in. “I am focused,” he grunted, a bit of sauce on the juncture between lip and cheek. “And I’m serious too. Can’t you see how focused and serious I am?”

“About what, stuffing yourself?”

“That, and hitting on you. Is it working?”

She lightly smacked the side of his head, “You are high on sugar, fat, and salt, sir!” After a moment, she sliced her eyes at him. “So - which is the real you? This one, or the one who I have known for the past year?”

“This one,” he responded, regretfully laying down the package on the coffee table. Now he remembered an advantage of being fat – you could actually eat more of the things you loved. Turning his attention back to her, he gently tucked a lock of rogue hair behind her ear. “I’m not a nice person when I am hungry, Viv.” He grinned once more at her muttered commentary. “I went through some **** with an FFA. I have my pride, and for a long time I suspected you of using the gym as your personal spank bank. I’m sorry.”

The look she bestowed on him could have caused a glacier right in his living room.

“I said I’m sorry.”

Her blazing eyes had a sheen of tears on them, now. “No. You shouldn’t be sorry. Just because I don’t do anything now doesn’t mean I was a shitty human before. It doesn’t mean that I don’t have those shitty tendencies that I fight every day. And every pound I help someone lose is me trying to redeem a bit of my soul,” she rasped out.

“Which is why you came tonight.” It should have made him happy, to realize how wrong he had been about her. It should have relieved him, to know she was not that person anymore. That she was genuine, and selfless, and caring. Unfortunately, the only emotions he seemed to feel right now was a sort of hurt jealousy. Apparently, some small, pathetic part of him had hoped his little display would have endeared himself to her. Maybe…start something more between them.

Swallowing, she stood and dusted off her thighs. “Which is why I am not going to let you do this to yourself. You’ll just hate both of us in the morning.” Gathering the packages and thrusting them back in the plastic bags, she pulled them up onto her forearms again before planting her hands on her hips. “You are in pain, you are high on pain meds, and you are probably feeling shitty about your job and not being able to work out. You made a good call, calling me. I’m so happy you trust me, to help you.”

“If you aren’t going to stay, give me back my damn food,” he demanded, crossing his powerful arms over his chest. The pain in his foot was starting to escalate quickly, his mood deteriorating at the same pace.

Her ponytail did that adorable thing, staying 90 degrees to the ground even as her head tilted. “That’s more the Brad I am used to. Look - I’m going to leave now. With the food. I still think you are as high as a kite right now. I’m going to pretend none of this…” she gestured back and forth between them, the forgotten plastic bag rocking and drawing his attention. “…happened. I think tomorrow you are going to thank me for it.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Don’t what?”

“Thank you for it.”

For a moment, her mouth opened and closed, and her direct gaze dropped to the side. “I dunno. Just text me tomorrow to let me know you are ok, ok?”

“Ok. And Viv? Thanks.”


She was not ashamed that she bawled the entire ride home. A tangled mess kept roiling over her. Shame, lust, disbelief, hope, pain.

She had done the right thing. She had. She had kept true to her values, and her promises to herself.

She fucking sucked. Her love life had been as dry as her…well. That was what lube was for, right? And yet, she had stood before I guy who not only clearly adored food, had been fat, even knew what an FFA was…was hungry and had clearly invited her over to watch him eat – and she had turned him down.

And he was Brad – he hated her!

She was a fucking idiot.

There was no recollection of parking her car, getting up to her condo, locking it, getting undressed and huddling under the blankets as if the BHM monsters were under her bed.

There was even no immediate recollection of the night before when she opened her eyes to the sound of her phone buzzing. Groping a hand across her sheets, she opened one eye and brought it closer. It was from Brad.

Bolting upright, she unlocked her phone and read it, awareness flooding back in.

Morning. I’m sorry for making you haul your ass out in the middle of the night. Feel kind of silly.

It’s ok
, she responded. Her fingers hovered over the screen, unsure what else to say, but knowing the response was too terse. It would make it seem like she was the opposite of ok. Just as she began to type, How are you this morning? Another message popped up on her screen.

I’d invite you out to breakfast as an apology, but I don’t think I can get up off the couch. Foot is killing me.

She frowned, biting her lip. What she should say was “I hope you feel better soon” or “here is the number for some assisted care while you heal”. Instead, her fingers decided to type: Why don’t you stay over here for a while? At my place?

Why. Why was there no ‘Unsend’ button? Or perhaps a ‘Are you sure? Are you sure that I’m sure that you’re sure’ button on texts? Falling face first into her bed with a groan, she waited in silence. There was no elegant way to take that offer back. And Brad last night was fun, silly, flirty. HOT. But the normal Brad was mean and taciturn. Living with normal Brad would be hell…though new Brad would be a whole new level of torture. Finally, her phone buzzed. She turned her pathetic face just enough to squint at it, cyclopes style.

Hmm - Do you have food at your place?

Viv couldn’t help it – she grinned. Yes, jerk. I have food and will even cook it for you, rather than just throwing the raw ingredients at your big head.

LOL! I should say no, and I feel really pathetic right now – but I think I really need the help. Thank you. I’ll pay you for it.

“Brad?” she said after the second ring. “Shut up before I change my mind.”

A surprised silence met her sudden call, then; “Shutting up.” A chuckle, then a sigh followed. “Thanks. I really mean it. Is this part of your penance, too?”

It was apparently part of her self-inflicted torture, yes. “You can thank me by focusing on healing, ok?”


“Alright then.”

“Hey Viv?”

She sighed, even as her lips twitched. Being called ‘Viv’ by him was oddly endearing, as was this rather cute, teddy bear side of him. “Yes, Brad?”

“Can you bring McDonalds?”

“Shut up, Brad!!!”

“Shutting up!”

Xyantha Reborn

- Actually Very Tame!
Jul 23, 2014


Penance – a voluntary self-punishment inflicted as an outward expression of repentance for having done wrong.

This certainly felt like a sort of penance. If penance could also be erotic.

“What about Mexican?”

“What about a salad?” she countered.

“I’m a grown man,” he complained, rubbing a large palm across his flat stomach. “I need to eat – I need calories to heal! Besides, a taco is a kind of a salad, just in a shell.” His lips twitched at her glare. At this angle, the harsh planes of his face were softened, and the thick PJs he had on hid the ridges and valleys of his muscles. He had taken to caressing his flat stomach absently, almost like a pregnant woman.

And it was driving her crazy. So was this sweet side – ever since his injury, ever since the night he had called her, it felt like she was sinking into quicksand. Who had known that beneath the heavily muscled, angry, glaring man she had worked with for months and months was actually a teddy bear which an impish sense of humour who took delight in teasing her.

If she had told him once, she had told him a dozen times. “I’m not going to allow you to destroy your body! And stop teasing me!” He did take delight in teasing her, often wearing a **** eating grin while doing it.

He was currently laying on his back on her couch, feet in her lap, Grey’s Anatomy paused in the background. “Maybe I’m no McDreamy or McSteamy. Maybe I’m destined to be McChubby.”

Because that is what injured Brad did – cuddled on the couch and watched whatever series she wanted with genuine interest. She threw the spare pillow at his head, exasperated but also laughing. “You are definitely McOnMyLastNerveWithTheFoodDemands!” She carefully adjusted the pillow under his feet, fiddling with the edge that always folded over. “Brad. You know you don’t want this. If you wanted this, you wouldn’t be employed at a gym. With a hot, ripped body. And you wouldn’t have carried such resentment towards me. I know you are having fun teasing me, and I am sure I deserve it, but still…”

Tucking the weaponized pillow behind his head, and putting one arm behind it for good measure, her house guest eyed her. “But my body isn’t hot to you, is it?”

She rolled her eyes. “We both know I am a freak, so I am not exactly a good benchmark to measure against.” Vivian eyed him when he continued to observe her. “What, former McChubby?”

His snort made her smile, a reaction that seemed to come with alarming frequency the last few days, and his eyes half closed in pleasure as she gently massaged his calf through the thin cotton. “Just trying to figure out how much of the attractiveness comes from the chub, and how much of it is the person.”

She pinched the skin below her fingers just enough to make him wince. “How much do you value tits versus the girl herself? Oh wait, I don’t want to know that answer.”

He had just taken his pain medication, and was in an especially relaxed mood. His gaze sought hers, held it. “I’m serious. If I was fat, would you date me?”

Heat flowed through her, causing her skin to visibly pinken. “Your weight has nothing to do with me dating you.”

His eyes sharpened. “So you’d date me? Even without being chubby?”

“Sure!” she responded automatically.

“Oh yeah?” He removed his arm from behind his head. Come here.” He carefully and slowly sat up, adjusting his foot on the small mountain of pillows on the floor. Extending an arm, he beckoned her closer. Ignoring her rolled eyes, he tucked her into him, resting his head on the top of her head. He clicked the start button and sighed in contentment..

On the one hand, her entire body felt like it was buzzing like a bee hive, and her palms went damp. Even though Brad didn’t have a spare ounce of fat on him, he was still huge, with arms that rivalled her thighs, and was thick and tall. And that feeling of being tiny was hot, so hot.

On the other hand, it was like cuddling into a small boulder made of smaller boulders. Despite her best attempts, halfway through the episode she had run out of subtle readjusted positions, and her neck was aching. As subtly as she could, she snagged a pillow and put it between them.

He noticed, a line appearing between his brows. “You see? You think I’m ok. But I’d be better if I was chubby. Admit it.”

“I refuse,” she responded loftily, turning her nose up and sniffing.

Instead of being angry and getting into her space, he got flirty and into her space, sifting her hair through his thick fingers as he massaged her scalp. “You are being unreasonable, Viv.”

Jesus ****, that felt amazing. “Maybe.” What was she being unreasonable about? Oh yeah, him ruining his body.

“Well you should enjoy this feeling while it lasts – I’m never going to be this ripped again,” he informed her matter of factly. He might as well have been announcing it was drizzling outside. “I’m already losing muscle tone. And I am going to get you to cave.”

She twisted her head to glare up at him. “I’m not caving on anything. You know what? It’s your body. Do what you want, but I don’t have to watch! And I certainly don’t have to participate.” Standing, she stalked into her room and shut the door with more force than was purely necessary.


Brad grinned at her tight ass as it flounced into her bedroom, disappearing behind a slammed door. Unlocking his phone, he opened uber eats and began to peruse. As the words scrolled, he kept turning his head to smile at the closed door.

She really was something. She was spunky and sassy, and even when she was being bad tempered, it was like watching a kitten hiss. It had been a week since he had arrived on her door step, and he didn’t know what to make of it.

Were they friends? It felt like more than friendship, and the last thing he wanted was to be friend-zoned! However, she had not made a move on him, nor had she taken and run with any of his initiations. Nor had she even hinted at him moving back into his place. Who moved in before they even decided to date?

He was aware that she thought he was purely teasing with the weight thing, but he had done a lot of soul searching in the past two weeks. Sometimes, when you were in the thick of life, it was like working out. Mindlessly completing the tasks, being in the moment. And sometimes, when you stopped, you realized you never liked doing that thing at all.

When the food arrived, he set it on the kitchen table, staring at it for long minutes.

Brad hadn’t realized how hollow his life was. Everything revolved around working out. His job, his hobby, his friends. Every single goddamn thing revolved around weights and treadmills. Every conversation, every meal, revolved around weight gain or weight loss. When that weight had dropped on his foot, it had been the heaviest penny dropping in the world.

His entire life had been built on a house of cards – suddenly, he had no friends, and nothing to talk about even if they called. Which they didn’t. He sat down, opened the burger and gently slid the fries from their prison. And as soon as he stopped working out, he had nothing to talk about himself. He picked up a warm golden length and inserted it into his mouth.

The heady taste of sugar, fat and salt washed over his tongue, and he chewed slowly, head tilting back to look at the ceiling in ecstacy. When he had been fat, he had of course had a job. But he had also had hobbies – he had loved watching movies, going on camping trips, and writing. He had had friends – all of who he had abandoned as bad influences.

He shoved two fries in his mouth, a frown creasing his forehead. He had really thought Vivian was like the other FFA – all about pushing more food into his mouth, more weight onto his frame. About his body, not about him. About control, not about the relationship. Instead, she got freaked out at the mention of food, often staring at her own food unblinkingly when he was eating. It was so damn cute.

Unwrapping the burger from its foil blanket, he bit into it slowly, eyes fluttering and breath slamming out of his nose as he exhaled hard. So. Damn. Good. Maybe he was pushing her too hard. But there was something so fucking sexy about watching her squirm when he talked about eating, or getting fat. Instead of feeling manipulated and controlled, he felt sexy and empowered.

And despite her retorts of ‘salad’, she was actually a really good cook. He had probably eaten better in the last week than in the last several years. He had already known that his body was always ready and willing to take in calories – but he had not realized that even a couple of extra spoonfuls of healthy food at every meal, combined with his sudden enforced sedentary lifestyle, would have cause five soft pounds to be added to his body so quickly. He could feel that slightest softening around his belly button, and if he lightly ghosted his fingers down his middle, they no longer fell quite so far into the creases of his abs.

“Hey Viv? Want to share a chimney cone?” He called out, staring at the box in his hands. Unlike the Chinese food fiasco, he had only ordered a meal and a desert. That was reasonable, right? What a normal person would get?

Her voice sounded muffled. “Go away, Brad! I’m not going to sit there and watch you eat.”

How disappointing. “Hmm alrighty. I’ll describe it to you. It’s this fluffy, cinnamon and oreo covered done. It’s got an oreo on the top – oh wait, not anymore,” he amended as he popped it into his mouth. “Holy – sweet,” he coughed, grinning at the distinct snicker he heard from her room. “It’s got this huge portion of soft serve icecream, covered with chocolate and oreo cookie crumble. It tastes good,” he added after a moment, allowing the flavours to crash aggressively over his palate. “It would taste better if I was eating it with you, though.”

“Stop it, and stop destroying your body!” Was the half shouted, half groaned response.

“Viv – if I’m going to be your boyfriend I’ll need you to be able to cuddle with me for more than five minutes without wincing.”

The door between them was wrenched open, and she stared at him with wide eyes. “What?”

He licked the icecream, staring directly back at her. “You said you’d date me, even if I wasn’t fat. Or would you prefer to wait until I’m chubby first? I’m a patient man.”

Her hands made flexing gestures, as if she was miming throttling him. “Brad, this isn’t funny.”

Hazel eyes suddenly glared at her in an aggressively, charmingly familiar way. “Do I look like I am joking?” It was a look that was undermined by the ridiculous bit of icecream stuck to his nose and chocolate marring the corners of his lips.

She giggled, then yelped as he suddenly crammed the remainder of the cone into his mouth, chewing furiously as he swept up his crutches. “You know that I can outrun you!”

He grinned, carefully hobbling closer. “Yeah, but I’m a slow zombie,” he chortled as he slowly made his way around the couch she had put between them. “Come here, Viv,” he called out, voice softening as he stopped.

The stubborn woman would not come closer – but she did stop moving away. As he stood before her, he carefully kept his hands on his crutches, leaning over until their breaths mingled. “I’m serious. Wanna go out with me?”

Teal hair was tossed back and hands were put on her sexy hips. “Would you be my boy friend? Or boyfriend boyfriend?” was the mocking demand.

“Oh, most definitely boyfriend boyfriend,” he responded without rancor, eyes falling to her damp lips. When she didn’t move away, he ghosted his lips over hers, then slowly slanted them until she responded.

Her tongue darted to the corner of his mouth, and lashes slowly raised. “You taste like chocolate,” she whispered after a long moment.

Slowly laying one crutch down to lean on the back of the couch, Brad then snaked arm around her tiny waist, drawing her closer until her hands rested on his chest. Releasing his hold for a moment, he readjusted her hands until they lightly touched his stomach.

“I won’t do…what I used to do,” she whispered, even as her expert fingers located those five extra pounds with the unerring accuracy of a shark smelling blood in the water.



The look on her face was so vulnerable that his arm tightened around her until she squeaked. “Ok. You don’t have to do anything. This isn’t about you, Viv. This is about me and my body. All you have to do is sit back and enjoy the ride. After all – you said it isn’t about my body. So you don’t have a dog in this fight, or a horse in this race, or whatever, right?”

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