Big Fat Liar

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Well-Known Member
Sep 30, 2005
Big Fat Liar
By AtlasD
~BBW, ~~WG, ~Magic​

“You are really going inside?” Carla looked incredulous.

“Why not?” I said. “She’s a harmless old faker- nothing more.”

“I don’t know Mandi- I’ve heard stories, curses, that kind of thing. I’ve seen her and she is beyond hideous.” Carla looked uncomfortable.

Carla and I were taking a three day weekend in Atlantic City for kicks. We were standing outside a run down three story apartment building in Atlantic City- and definitely not in the better section of town. The bottom floor was a storefront with faded and peeling letters painted on the windows “Madame Medusa-Knows All-Sees All”. And below that in slightly smaller print “Cash Only.”

“Are you coming in?” I asked Carla.

“No way- too creepy.”

I grinned at Carla, opened the door and strode in. A bell linked to the door tinkled to announce my presence.

The place needed a good cleaning, that’s for sure. The dingy storefront windows were the only light, and there was an antique table in the middle of the room covered with an elaborately embroidered tablecloth. Two mismatched chairs sat on opposite sides of the table.

The proprietor arrived seemingly from nowhere. Medusa was certainly appropriate - she was hideously ugly, gnarled wrinkled face, hook nose, missing teeth. A dirty kerchief covered stringy hair that could have used shampooing. “Good morning” she croaked, with a thick eastern European accent. “Would you like your fortune told?”

“How much”? The crone looked me over intently, then said “Fifty dollars.”

I was going to try to have some fun with this. “Too much” I said, shaking my head. “Twenty five.”

“Forty” she responded firmly.

“Twenty now,” I said “And If I think you really know all and see all, then I’ll pay you the rest.”

She motioned to a chair. I sat down. She sat at the other side of the table and waited expectantly. I took a twenty from my purse and gave it to her. “Give me your hands”. I extend my hands to her palms down. She took them in hers- gnarled callused and rough, but unlike anything else in the premises-or her for that matter- at least they were clean. She turned my hands over and examined the palms.

“You are from a big city”, she said, then paused. “Philadelphia”. That old faker. She was right, but she also could easily have seen that on my driver’s license when I pulled that twenty from my purse. “You are still looking for that special someone” she said next. That wasn’t hard to figure out, no engagement ring or wedding band on my left hand. The examining my right palm intently, she frowned and shook her head. “You are not a truthful person” she said.

“What?” I was indignant. “I am not a liar”. She shook her head firmly. “That is not what I see. Your palm says you are not a truthful person.”

I got up. “That’s enough” I said. I’ll be going now.”

“You still owe me twenty dollars.”

“Forget it you old faker. If anyone’s a liar, it’s you.”

Her eyes flared open wide, angry, and I felt uneasy. Carla was right, she was way too creepy. The old woman muttered an incantation in some foreign tongue, and waved her arms and hands wildly, finally pointing both hands at me. “We shall see who is liar”, she croaked. “From now on, whenever you tell lie, you will gain one pound.”

This was just too preposterous. I actually laughed, and skipped out the door. “See you later granny” I called over my shoulder.

Even Carla found it funny despite her earlier concerns. “Sounds like she’s bats- maybe that’s why everyone whispers about her.”

We were still talking about it as we began the drive back to Philly. As we left the Atlantic City limits traffic was light, so I pushed on the gas a full 10 miles an hour above the speed limit. Two minutes later a cruiser came behind me from nowhere and hit his blues. Crap. Carla looked alarmed. “Don’t worry”, I said as I pulled over. “I’ll talk my way out of this one.”

The officer came to the window. “License and registration” he said tonelessly. No “please”. This might be tougher than I thought. “Do you know why I stopped you?” I had a pretty good idea it had something to do with going 65 in a 55 zone, but I wasn’t going to admit it just yet.

“No officer, I really don’t.”

An odd flush and tingling sensation coursed through my body and was gone. Nerves?

“Do you know what the speed limit is in this area?”

Try playing dumb. “Seventy?” I said. Tingling sensation again. Weird.

“It’s 55 miss- didn’t you see the sign a mile back?” The officer was toning down a little bit. Maybe there was hope.

“No, I didn’t”. Tingling sensation again.

“Have you traveled this area before?” The cop was still fishing for a way to get me to admit I knew what the speed limit was. “No I haven’t, this is my first time here.” Tingling again.

The officer looked at my license. “Did you know your license expired two weeks ago?” I knew full well it had, but standing in line at DMV for a photo was not high on my list of priorities. I feigned surprise. “It has? I had no idea.” Tingling again, and a sensation of – snugness? Probably just tension.
The officer handed me my license and registration. “Slow it down miss- and take care of that license.”

He returned to his cruiser, executed a sharp U turn and was gone. I pulled out and held it to a respectable 55 mph until we got to the freeway. Carla was impressed. “You sure charmed your way through that one.”

“I told you”.

I dropped Carla off at her apartment, and then went home. The long weekend had been fun, but that encounter with the cop had been stressful. My clothes felt snug; I just wanted to get them off, take a bath with a glass of wine and relax before thinking about Monday and returning to work at the advertising agency. As I stripped down I realize the snug feeling was not stress. Things were a little tight on me. I stepped on the scale. 152. It had been 147 the last time a weighed myself, which was when- two weeks ago? I thought of the fortune teller and the curse- “you will gain a pound every time you lie”. Nah. No way. Impossible. I hadn’t exactly been watching what I ate lately, and three days of greasy boardwalk food plus ice cream explained it. Note to self: hit gym again. A light meal, a good soak, and I went to bed Sunday night ready to face Monday’s work craziness.

Monday morning. My office attire was a bit snug. I just have to quit eating at those greasy seaside joints. The commute was insane as usual. I had no sooner sat at my workstation when Carla ran in wide eyed and breathless. “I need your help. Ordway thinks I was lying about calling in sick Friday.”

“You called in sick?”

“I was out of vacation time. Look, cover for me-I need you to back me up. OK?” My phone rang. Ordway. “Amanda, I need to talk to you.” Click. No please- well that was Ordway. Carla was silently mouthing “Please.”

“OK, OK, don’t worry Carla. I’ll handle Ordway the same way I handled that cop.”

I walked down the hall, made the left turn to Ordway’s office, walked in sat down. Ordway got up from behind his desk, shut the door. “Straight goods, Amanda. I know you and Carla hang out together. Was she really sick Friday?”

“Yes she was.” That tingling sensation again. What the-

Ordway wasn’t done. “She wasn’t in Atlantic City with you?”

“No.” Tingling sensation again… and something else.

Ordway: “You went to Atlantic City by yourself?”

“Yes.” More tingling, and there was no question. The waist band of my slacks was cutting into me, the seams starting to strain as my bottom expanded. The fortune tellers curse! I was getting bigger. Yesterday with the cop- that explained the five pounds, now I had lied to Ordway three times, that made eight….

Ordway had asked another question and I had missed it. “Sorry?” I said.

“Someone said you and Carla were going to Atlantic City together.”

“That was the plan. But Carla called me Friday morning saying she was sick and couldn’t make it.” Tingling. Another pound.

Ordway wasn’t buying it. “So you went by yourself.”

“Like I said before, yes. I went by myself.” Tingling. My slacks were so tight I could barely breathe.

“Why didn’t you just cancel the trip?”

“I- we- had made reservations. I couldn’t help Carla, but I didn’t want to lose my money.” Tingling- I felt a thread let go in the seam over my right hip and an ominous bulge pushing below the waistband. How was the button on my slacks still holding on? Would it pop? Would Ordway notice I was getting fatter before his eyes?

Ordway looked straight at me. “Look- I know you and Carla are friends. You aren’t trying to cover for her are you?”

“No sir.” Another thread silently parted. How many lies now? Seven? That would make 12 pounds total after the lies from yesterday?

Ordway gave me a long dubious look. Oh, god, please- no more questions! “Alright Amanda” he said finally. “Get back to work.”

I got up slowly and carefully, feeling like I was packed in a sausage casing, and slowly made my way back to my desk. But my ordeal wasn’t over yet. As I gingerly passed by Ted’s workstation, I heard “You girls have a good time in Atlantic City?” After the discussion with Ordway, I knew the story had to be consistent throughout the office. “Mindy didn’t make it. She was sick.” Another pound, and I could barely walk. Seams straining I somehow made it back to my desk and carefully- very carefully- sat down. Then a phone call from a vendor about a bill. I had not approved it yet, but it slipped out before I knew it. “Accounting has it now.” Another pound, and the button on my slacks popped off. I felt soft pudge push out as the zipper came undone from the pressure.

I kept a small sewing kit with safety pins in my desk, and two safety pins later managed to tuck my tummy back into my slacks, but not before small gaps opened in the seams over my hips.

Carla came by my desk just before quitting time to thank me. “You really saved me. Thank you so much. I thought Ordway would…” her voice trailed off. “Say girlfriend, those slacks are looking crowded- maybe you should…” Pause. Carla saw the stricken look in my face, the wider hips, thickened midriff, the ominous bulge below the waist band that the safety pins were barely holding together. “Oh my god!” said Carla. “The curse! It’s real!”

“It sure looks that way. Every time I tell I lie I get fatter.”

“And I asked you to cover for me with Ordway…”

“Yes, and I did, but don’t ask me again. Carla, this is horrible. I think I gained 14 pounds in the last 48 hours! Remember the cop? What am I going to do?”

Carla spoke rapidly. “I told you not to go in there, not to mess with that gypsy woman. I told you she had a reputation. You’re going to have to go back to her and apologize and hope she will break the curse.”


Well-Known Member
Sep 30, 2005
But there was no way I could get back to Atlantic City before the weekend. When I got home I immediately released the two safety pins holding my slacks together. The zipper went of its own accord. I felt new pudge jiggle as I shimmied the slacks off my hips. By slipping a nail under the waist of my panties, I was able to fold it over then peel them off inside out. Ahhh… the pressure was finally off. But what was I going to wear tomorrow? I rummaged through the back of my closet for the biggest and loosest stuff I had. It was still snug. Tuesday after work I upsized my wardrobe, but despite my best efforts lies would still slip out. “Yes, the McKenzie project is on track…. The storyboard for the hand cream ad is practically done… We’ve got our best people working on it….” And the pounds crept on. By Saturday I was 26 pounds heavier than I was a week ago, and even my new clothes were straining to contain my increasing fatness. I drove to Atlantic City, and was very careful to stay within the speed limit. But despite repeated knocking on the glass of the fortune teller’s storefront- no answer, no sign of life within. I went back Sunday morning- same result. Sunday afternoon I was trying again, when a passerby said “She’s gone lady.”

“Gone- where? How long? I really need to talk to her.”

He was heavy set, late middle aged and looked to be of Mediterranean descent. “She’s gone. Back to the old country to see family. Somebody there dying she said. I’m the landlord.”

I was desperate. “Do you know where she is? Do you know how to reach her?”

He just shrugged. “She’s gone back to Romania, Bulgaria, wherever the hell she came from. I don’t know how to find her. She paid me three months rent in advance and left.”

Three months. How could I keep from lying for three months? “Look” I said, “Here’s my card.” I scrawled my cell number of the back. “If you hear from her, please tell her I need to talk to her. If she comes back, will you let me know?” I pressed my card into his hand with a crisp twenty.

“Sure, sure”, he said. “You’ll be the first to know.”

But as I feared, I heard nothing. Some days I actually got through without telling a lie, but these were rare. Other days, especially when doing a sales pitch for a client, I picked up five, six, even seven pounds. My weight crept steadily upward . There were odd looks at work, although- thankfully- no one asked me why I was putting on so much weight. I gave up running, there was just too much jiggling, and I looked and felt ridiculous. I stopped going to the gym. It wasn’t doing any good anyway. At the end of each day I weighed myself, and inspected “developments” in the mirror with dismay as my tummy bulge became a full fledged roll of fat, my hips and bottom spread out. I struggled to shrug my flab into clothes I kept outgrowing. The scale crept upward. One hundred eighty two. One hundred ninety one. On hundred ninety eight.

And there was Ordway being Ordway. My extension rang. Ordway. “Office-now.” Click. Great.

I waddled my way to Ordway’s office, sat down. Ordway looked me over disdainfully, then finally said “What happened on the Enricoh account?” I was half expecting this. A number of people had overlooked some small things that eventually coalesced and snowballed. Now the client was unhappy and had complained to Ordway. I could have legitimately blamed others, but I also needed to work with these people and throwing them under the bus was not going to help me in the long term. I knew the consequences, but I had to make excuses for them. Ordway started….

Twenty minutes later and 15 pounds heavier, I slumped my flabby bulk into my chair, felt my widened bottom press against the armrest supports, conscious of the extra space I now occupied. My belly again bulged over the waistband which strained to contain the soft fat beneath. I had just bought these clothes, and now they were squeezing like a vise. Where was I now? 217, 218? And where was this going to end? Ordway’s last words rang in my ears. “You’re getting fat.” At least I responded with the truth. “Yes- I know.”

Finally after 10 weeks- a phone call. “It’s not going to be what you want to hear”, the landlord said. “She’s having some sort of trouble getting back into the country. Document problems or something.”

“Do you know where she is? Is there anything I can do to help?” It occurred to me I didn’t even know her name. Klara Inoszcu said the landlord. That was about all he knew, he did not know where she was, just that she was in a holding facility somewhere. He rattled off a toll free number. I called it. The voice on the other end was toneless, bureaucratic, and clearly couldn’t care less. Could I speak with her? No. Could she tell me what was the issue was? No. Could she tell me what was going to happen next? Yes. Deportment proceedings. Was there any other number I could call, anything I could do to vouch for her? No. Finally- “You could try INS.” Then a dial tone. INS. Immigration and Naturalization. This was bad. I was up to 264 pounds. If Klara Inoszcu, Madame Medusa or whoever she was got deported there would be no way of ending this curse. I would get fatter and fatter until I was immobile, one of those tabloid stories where they have to knock down a wall to get the person out of their apartment. Then a thought occurred to me-and hope. I pulled up a number on my computer, dialed it. “Senator Anthony Bartucci’s office”.

“Hi, yes this is Amanda Courtland. Is Theo Kerapolis in?”

“One moment”

Then a familiar baritone voice. “Mandi! Long time no talk. How’s the girl?”

I felt like saying “fat”, but got straight to the point. “ I need a favor Theo”.

“How big? Tony’s in Europe right now.”

“I think your staff can handle it. At most it would take a quick phone call from Tony.”

“Well after the ad campaign you pulled together for us last cycle, I think Tony might be inclined to help if need be. What’s the problem?”

“Friend of mine in trouble with INS.”

“OK, and you need a few phone calls to the right people. Sounds easy enough unless your friend’s on the terror list.” Maybe she should be after what she did to me I thought to myself.

I explained the situation and what I knew. “Not much to work with” said Theo “but the name is unique. It might be enough. Is the spelling correct?” I sure hoped so. If she paid her landlord by check, then he would know how she spelled her name. “Let’s see what we can run down and we’ll get back to you.”

‘Thanks Theo. I owe you.”

“Just put together an ad campaign like you did last election. The Senator really liked the way you defined his image. Be back at ya.” Theo hung up. Now all I could do is wait, and try to avoid lying. But late that afternoon Ordway was glaring at me. “Office” he said. Shit. Now what?

I plopped my 264 pound bulk in the “visitor” chair while Ordway glowered at me silently. Finally he spoke.

“You know we have an image to project around here, and frankly you don’t fit that image.”

“I know I’ve gained a few pounds…”

Ordway cut me off. “Few pounds? You’re fat Amanda, and that does not make a good impression on our clients. It’s bad for business”

“What does that matter as long as we deliver? Has a single client dropped us because of my weight?”

“Not yet, but it’s a matter of time. I’ll get to the point. Either you start to lose weight, or we need to consider our options. You have two weeks, and then we talk again. Understood?”

I knew with Ordway “understood” meant “end of discussion. “Yes sir.”

“Two weeks Amanda. Now get back to work.”

Carla tried to reassure me. “You’re well established in the business. You can get another job.”

“Carla- fat people just do not do well in interviews, no matter their qualifications. Besides, every time I tell a lie I gain a pound. Have you ever told the straight truth at a job interview? My seams would be pulling apart in fifteen minutes. If Ordway fires me…”

“You could sue”

“I could – but lawyers cost money, then I would have to testify- under oath. I can see the tabloid headlines now. Woman gains 100 pounds on witness stand. No thanks.”

Lawyers cost money. And between buying new clothes every week and covering the old woman’s rent both my wardrobe and my bank account were being stretched to the limit. Of course I kept lying. It was impossible not to, especially at the sales presentations. Can you guarantee your ad campaign will boost our revenues? Of course. What priority do we have in your firm? Your account is the most important one we have. Who is working on our account? We have our best people working on it. On and on and I got bigger and heavier.

A week later later Theo called. “Good news and bad news Amanda. Good news- we found your friend. Bad news –she’s on the deportation list. We managed to get a temporary stay, but she’s lacking some paperwork. We’re chasing it down, but it’s going to take some time.”

“How long?” Ordway’s timetable was firm.

“Hard to say- could be weeks, could be months. We’ll update you when we know more.” Well, it is what it is, I thought. “OK, thanks Tony-appreciate it.” And that was that.

Then a phone call from her landlord of all people. Her rent was due, and who was going to pay? He had to have something or he would evict her in absentia. Even if the old woman did not get deported, if she was evicted who knows where she would go? I needed her where I could find her. I took the landlord’s name and address and sent him a check for what he said was two months rent- it seemed pretty high for that fleabag storefront, and I suspected he was gouging me. Still, what could I do?

Ordway glaring at me again. Two weeks were up. Of course I had not lost any weight, in fact I had picked up another 14 pounds. “Well Amanda, you don’t look any thinner.” I said nothing. “Have you lost any weight?”


Have you gained weight?


“Apparently you don’t take me seriously. Apparently you don’t take your job seriously either.” Here it comes, I thought. Unemployment. Great.

Head in the doorway. Voice of deliverance. “Ordway- Human Resources is looking for you- NOW.” Ordway got up. “Back here, four pm sharp.” Then he was gone.

I waddled back to my desk. 2:35 PM. Should I start cleaning out my stuff? I tried to work up a proposal, but focus was impossible. Fat, getting fatter, and soon to be without a job. Maybe I could be the fat lady in someone’s circus. All I had to do was tell a bunch of lies, and I would be up to a half ton in no time.

4:00. I waddled down the hall, took the left to Ordway’s office, walked in. No Ordway. Nothing on his desk. No diplomas or certificates hanging on the wall. What the-?

Ted stuck his head through the door. “He’s gone.”

“I see that”

“No, I mean he’s gone- terminated. He finally shot his mouth off at the wrong person.

Relief swept through me. Thank heaven!

Two weeks later Ordway’s replacement arrived. A woman. A big woman. Jocelyn was not as big as I was, but large enough so I knew my weight would not be an issue. At least the pressure was off on that front , but the weight kept creeping on. Two hundred eighty seven, two hundred ninety eight, and a milestone I was dreading. Three hundred. Desperate telephone calls to Theo. “We’re working on it. It will be OK. It just takes time.” But time was not on my side. Weeks passed. Three hundred eleven pounds. Three hundred twenty five. Three hundred thirty one.

Finally, Theo on the phone and good news. “All set. We found her documentation, INS is happy. She’s home now in Jersey. She was surprised we made an effort for her. Interesting character for sure. How do you know her?”

“Long story and you wouldn’t believe it if I told you. Thank you Theo. You don’t know how grateful I am.”

“No problem Mandi. Tony says hello. See you in the fall campaign.”

Still three days before the weekend, and despite doing my desperate best, I still gained another five pounds. Seams straining again, bra straps cutting into me. Friday evening, home, I stripped down in front of the mirror, exhaled a sign of relief as I unbuttoned my tightly packed slacks and let my fat belly flow out. Pulled off the blouse. Bra was tight again, double D cups brimming over. I undid that and watched in the mirror as my breasts flopped out undulating. My clothes had been so tight, there was no room for anything to jiggle, but now that everything was released I was all wobbles and wiggles. I took off panties, faced the mirror. Three hundred thirty six pounds. My belly wobbled and flowed over my pubic area. I cradled it in both arms, lifted, felt it overflow, released it, watched it ripple. I turned, huge lush expansive bottom filling the mirror. Finally, I thought. Maybe. Maybe it will be over. If she will lift the curse. I pulled out my old clothes, the ones I used to wear when I was 147. I held them up to my front, amazed I ever fit into anything so small. I wondered if I would ever wear them again. And a bikini. Would I ever wear a bikini again?

Saturday morning. I shrugged, tugged, and tucked my fat into my clothes and drove to Atlantic City. The storefront was still the same. Madame Medusa. Knows All-Sees All. Cash Only. I knocked on the door. Nothing. I peered through the dingy windows-same table, chairs, no one in sight. Tried the door. Unlocked. Opened it, waddled inside. The bell attached to the door announced me.

The old woman came from a back room, looked at me curiously, then said “Ah- I had been expecting you. You have changed.”

“Yes I have.”

“You have learned it is not easy not to lie. Last time you were here you insisted you were a truthful person. But apparently you are not. What are you really?”

“A big fat liar.”

“How much do you weigh?”

“Three hundred thirty six pounds.”

“ And now you want my help. Do you think I am ugly?”

Where did that question come from? I thought she was hideous, but I needed her help. “No, of course not.” Familiar tingling sensation. Another pound. Crap.

Sounds like clucking from an asthmatic chicken. She was laughing. She had me and she knew it.

“How much do you weigh?” she asked again, smirking.

I sighed. “Three hundred thirty seven pounds.”

“You see child? You have learned It is so hard to be truthful. No matter how we try it is impossible not to lie. And so you kept getting bigger. I might help you. You have done much for me, helping with the government people, and paying my rent. But there is a question of money.”

I had expected this, and never mind I had saved her from deportation plus had covered her rent. “Yes- I still owe you twenty dollars. Here it is.” I placed a crisp bill in her hand.

“Thank you. Be seated. I will be back.” I eyed the old rickety chairs dubiously, questioning whether they would accommodate my 337 pound bulk. I selected what looked like the strongest one, and carefully settled myself down. My wide hips overflowed the seat pan, and my bottom took up so much space I could not lean comfortably against the chair back. The chair creaked ominously, but it held.

The old crone retuned with a huge dusty book. She opened to a page deep in the volume, and said
“ I will now try to lift the curse.”

“Try?” I didn’t like this.

“It is not like television set you turn on and turn off. “ Then standing and holding her hands over my head she uttered her incantations in a strange language. I felt a flush and a tingling. Then she was done.

“Did you feel anything?” I told her I had.

“Good then. It is lifted.”

“But- just a minute- wait. I’m- I’m still fat.”

“You will not gain any more weight” she said. “But neither will you lose any. That is nature of the curse.”

“You mean I am going to be over 300 pounds the rest of my life?”

“As I told you – breaking curse is not like on-off switch. You are big. But at least you will not get bigger. If I had not broken curse, then what? Who knows how big you would get? 500 pounds? A thousand? Even more? So fat you could not move. You should be grateful!”

I am, I am”, I said hastily. “But how can I be sure the curse is broken?”

“Tell me a lie. How much do you weigh?”

I shaved off 50 pounds. “ Two hundred eighty seven. “ Nothing. No flush, no tingling, no sensation of tight clothes getting even tighter. I breathed a sigh of relief.

“You see?” said the old woman. “You said you were grateful. But you were lying then too. You will be grateful with time. But now- you should go- before I put another curse on you!”

“Thank you” I said with a bit more sincerity. I hefted my fat frame out of the chair and waddled out the door as quickly as I could.

That Monday I related it all to Carla., and lamented that I was never going to lose the additional weight. She echoed the gypsy women’s sentiments. “Be grateful Hon. At least you kept her from getting deported, and kept her from getting evicted so she would be around to break the curse. And she did stop it. What happen if she had not? We all lie- we can’t help it. And when you are in the business we are in, it’s even worse. Say she hadn’t broken the curse. You would keep getting fatter. Eventually you wouldn’t fit in your car. What then? Or when you got so big you were immobile? Don’t tell me you would just telecommute.”

I laughed at this small joke, then eyed Carla more seriously. Something was different. She seemed a bit-hefty? She caught my expression.

Yes, I’ve put on weight, Hon. Twenty eight pounds so far. Have you been that distracted not to see?”

I had been, no question about that. “Don’t tell me the gypsy woman has cursed you too!”

“Nothing like that, not at all. It’s a combination of things. Do you know how many times you covered for me with Ordway? I figured at least 25 pounds of what you gained was really mine, so it was only fair it should go on me too. Another thing, when boyfriend saw how big you were getting, he had a lot to say- none of it good. So I thought hmmm… how would he react if I gained a few pounds? I decided to find out. After 12 pounds he started complaining, at 18 he was insulting, at 22 he was verbally abusive. I told him to shove off, and I’m better for it.”

“OK, but you said you felt like you should gain 25 pounds, but you just told me you have gained 28?”

Carla shrugged. “I’m just going to see where this takes me. Jocelyn is a big woman, and if the boss is big, it can’t hurt for me to be a little big too.”

What followed was surprising and amazing. Jocelyn had replaced Ordway as head of our unit, and she was fairly hefty herself. So it shouldn’t have been a surprise when she announced we had landed the advertising account for a line of plus sized swimwear. What was surprising was the meeting with the B3 Swimwear promotion staff and what followed. They asked me if I would model some of their products! I was stunned- me in a two piece again? At 300 pounds plus? Both Jocelyn and Carla encouraged me to take it on. Well, why not? When I tried the skimpy swimwear on, I was skeptical, especially of my big belly and hips. But Luis from our photography department was incredible. When I saw the proofs from the test shoot, the images of me were sensuous, curvy, flattering, even sexy. I went into the second session with renewed confidence, and the results were dynamite. The client was thrilled, and it was apparent Luis had taken more than a professional interest in me. Soon we were dating, then cohabitating. He loved running his hands over my lush wide bottom, the way my soft belly would flow over him when I mounted him, the way my breasts rippled when he licked nipples. And I loved the way I felt, large, confident, curvy and sexy.

Carla was became envious of my modeling debut, and wanted to participate too. But she had stopped gaining when she got to 193 pounds. She felt comfortable there she said, but she was still too thin for the client’s swimwear line. I told her she could always go to Atlantic City and insult the fortune teller if she wanted to add a few pounds. She declined that option, but after six months of focused effort managed to get to 235, and was able to begin modeling their smaller sizes. I asked if she wanted to keep going. Carla said she would just see where things went. Together we graced the cover of the B3 Swimwear catalog: Big, Bold and Beautiful.

And that’s no lie.


May 28, 2018
I LOVE this. its perfect. I've read it twice and now have it in a word document to pull up at work. Wow... this pushed my buttons.
Thank you love

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