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BBW Compound Growth II (~BBW, ~XWG, Stuffing)

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Benny Mon

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{ Author's Note: This is the beginning of a sequel to Compound Growth, an earlier story of mine. You don’t have to read CG to understand this one--CG2’ll stand on its own and give you all the info you need--but you might enjoy it more if you do.]

Compound Growth II
by Benny Mon



It was late. The committee members sat around the large meeting table, staring into their computer screens, encircling oily paper plates and cartons and half-empty coffee cups, all bathed in harsh fluorescent light. Everyone was silent, reading the latest application.

Mattheson grumbled, brushing her hair behind her ear. “How many more of these do we have to do tonight?”

“Four more after this,” intoned Stein. “So keep quiet so we can get through these.”

Mattheson grumbled, slouching in her chair and watching her belly ripple under her dress as she shifted. She leaned over to Dukakis and whispered, “Are we already out of food?”

Dukakis glared back, a dark eyebrow raised. “Yeah, cuz you ate it all. Don’t complain if you’re going to hog all the orange chicken.”

Mattheson sunk even lower into her seat.

“Ok,” said Stein, straightening his huge, muscular body. “That should be enough time. What do we think of this one?”

“Uh,” sighed Diaz, “well….” He straightened up a little as well. “Actually, she looks pretty good. We’ve still got one more slot open for a scholarship recipient, and I think she’s a great fit. Very fat already, well over 300 pounds--”

“333 exactly!” Mattheson interjected.

“Yes,” Diaz nodded patiently, “333 exactly. At less than 20 years old. If that’s not demonstrated potential to gain, I don’t know what is.”

“What are you talking about?” Dukakis said, her huge breasts shaking in indignation. “We’ve got 18-year-olds here with 100 pounds on her.”

“That’s true,” Stein said, “but they come from some seriously rich families and have way better access to food. This applicant essentially comes from poverty. She’s done a hell of a lot with very little.”

Ellison was about to pipe up when two sharp knocks announced Marvin’s entrance into the room.

“How’s it going in here, folks?” His tone was genuinely warm, but weary.

“It’d be better,” Mattheson whined, “if we could work in our old offices instead of being shoved into this depressing room.”

“Mattheson--!” Stein began, but Marvin held up a hand.

“It’s ok,” he said, “I know it’s not ideal. This conference room is a temporary thing, you know that. We had to turn your old offices into new accommodations, you know that. And you want that. Business is booming. We have more long-term residents than ever. That means more revenue, which soon enough will mean renovations. Within a year you’ll have new office space that’ll make the old space look like shit.”

“We better,” mumbled Mattheson, louder than she thought.

Marvin’s eyes narrowed, and he ran a hand over his smooth, shaved head. “Learn to whisper, Mattheson. And make sure you all send me the top 20 applicants by the end of the night. I’ll look at them first thing in the morning, but for now I need to get home to my wife before it gets any later.”

“Yes, sir,” said Stein. “You’ll have them by midnight, maybe 1.”

Marvin nodded and stepped out, and Mattheson groaned.

“I still don’t know about this one,” Dukakis said.

“Ok,” said Stein, “we clearly don’t have consensus, so we vote. All in favor?”

Four hands shot up.

“All opposed?”

Dukakis’s one, lonely hand shot up faster, her upper arm jiggling.

“Sorry Dukakis,” said Stein, “you’re outmatched. By a vote of 4-to-1, we are recommending that Marvin accept Yvonne Brookes as our final scholarship admit of the cycle. Now, on to the next one…”
 
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