Oratordaniel
New Member
Elaine
~BBW, ~~WG, Mild Stuffing, SexA romance starts when two old friends are reaquainted and one of them gains weight.
Chapter 1: Some background
Elaine and I had gone to high school together. Back then, I'd thought she was a little more than pretty. She was a little above average height, and had a pale hour glass figure that gave her a pleasing "girl next door" look: a little extra roundness on her butt, a slight poochiness to her stomach, and truly fantastic breasts.
Back in high school, we'd been good friends, involved in the same crowd, hanging out with the same people, etc. We'd even flirted on occasion, though nothing ever came of it because, hey, this was me in high school we're talking about here. Nothing ever came of anything.
We hadn't kept up for the last four years. Facebook told me she'd gotten skinny--she looked very Chic in her photos--dated a boy named Tim, broken up with him, graduated from college, etc. Somehow, though, we'd both ended up in the same podunk little town and she'd sent me a text saying she'd like to meet up, etc. We agreed on a dinner at her apartment on Friday night--I was bringing desert, which turned out to be pie and ice cream--and she would make the dinner. Apparently, she worked from home or something--she mentioned a radio show or maybe a podcast--and so this all just made sense. And it seemed fine to me.
Chapter 2: Meeting Up
There wasn't actually much going through my head as I drove to her place. I wasn't thinking about how she'd changed, I wasn't thinking about Friday night normally being a date night, I wasn't fantasizing about sex with her or any of that. I was probably just singing along to the Boss or something and worrying about work.
I got there, and there she was, just as she'd looked in the photos: skinny and Chic. "It's so good to see you," she exclaimed as she opened the door.
"It's great to see you too!" I responded. We hugged (we'd probably done that before, back in high school, but I wasn't sure), and exchanged more pleasantries. The podcast was a hit, but it was total luck that it was, so she was working local radio in the mornings for some steady(-er) income. Her face was narrower, I noted as she spoke, and her features more sharply defined. In fact, everything about her seemed narrower: her hips, thighs, and waist all looked quite thin, and her breasts were definitely smaller (though proportionally...).
I chatted a bit about my job and about college as she finished up the meal. Dinner was chicken with potatoes and asparagus and I'm going to be honest, it wasn't that good. But she seemed to enjoy it--she ate a ton--and I wasn't going to be rude. She like the pie too, which was good, and we spent most of the rest of the evening laughing and talking about old times together and more recent times spent apart.
Some time in the middle of this, she got up to go to the bathroom. I did the usual stuff: checked my phone, browsed twitter, etc. When she came out, she was holding her top up under her breasts. "Look at that," she laughed, poking her hard, slightly rounded belly. "Dinner was so good I'm pregnant." Given my tastes, it's surprising how little I thought of that, but the conversation continued and I forgot about it. There wasn't much there to think about, after all.
Eventually, we said our goodnights. It had really been a pleasant evening, and I promised I would come again: "You're the only person I really know around here," I admitted. "What with work and moving in, etc., I haven't had a chance to meet many new people. Plus," I whispered confidentially, "most of them kindof suck."
She grinned. "How about tomorrow night, then, Nat? I've got nothing better to do either."
"Sure," I replied, "but it will have to be my place, and I'll have to make dinner, to even things up." That was true, I thought to myself, but you also didn't like her cooking.
Nevertheless, the comment brought out full laughter, and she agreed, warning me that if my meals were anything like the pie, she'd probably eat me out of house and home. I left, thinking only of how good it was to have finally made a friend.
Chapter 3: Tim
She did come over the next night, and the Tuesday after that. We were soon seeing each other regularly--maybe three, maybe four time a week--sometimes I bring work friends or an old college buddy would be in town. But mostly it was just me an Elaine enjoying eachother's company.
Two, maybe three, months went by like this without any problems or upsets. We were just great friends and that was it. I remember what set things on a different course: it started innocuously enough with another dinner at my house. After we'd cleaned up, I plopped down on the couch and Elaine came in after me. Just as she had on the first night, she lifted up her shirt until it was underneath her breasts and poked her tummy. "God I'm stuffed," she half-moaned. "Man, Tim would have had a fit if he saw my stomach like this."
I was immediately torn in two directions, and it was almost as though she was sitting down in slow motion. On the one hand, I noticed, for the first time, that her tummy's swell was not just from being stuffed. There was definitely some fat there, just around and below the belly-button. Barely enough to pooch as she was sitting down. I'm not sure why--she was still too skinny for my tastes--but that pooch turned me on like little else has. Elaine nonchalantly dropping her shirt back over it was awful.
On the other hand, that was the first time she'd mentioned her ex in my presence. They'd dated for three years, from what I could tell, and only broken up relatively recently. I somehow pulled it through: "So he was a real asshole, huh?" I had no idea how right I was apparently. She shot me a glance.
"You don't really want to hear me whine about my ex-boyfriend, right?" I don't know what compelled me at that moment. Maybe it was residual horniness. Maybe I detected some invisible scar tissue or insecurity. Maybe I could tell that she was vulnerable and she really wanted to talk about it. But I paused.
"Well, yeah."
And then we got drunk.
Apparently, really telling me about Tim required quite a lot of beer and quite a lot of swearing. I won't bore you with the details--which she shared, extensively--but the guy was a prick, I can tell you that much. He was constantly telling her she needed to stay skinny to keep him, constantly getting angry when she talked to other guys, etc. etc. I was glad I never met him. At some point during this, Elaine's head ended up on my shoulder, and she lounged against me; later, when she'd fallen asleep, I picked her up and tucked her into my bed before crashing on the couch. Her face, I would have said, didn't seem quite as angular as before.
Chapter 4: Heating Up
The next morning, Elaine walked into my kitchen, where I was quasi-groggily making eggs, wearing only her bra and panties. Now, these weren't skimpy things that were mostly lace, but they were just a bra and panties, meaning that they had never covered much up, and were covering up less now. The bra looked tight--her breasts were starting to spill out of it--and the panties stretched across a butt that was definitely a bit too round for them. I don't want to exaggerate: Elaine was still very skinny. But she wasn't quite as skinny. I was hoping she couldn't see my boner.
She blushed when she saw me, but didn't leave, grabbing a glass of water and leaning against the sink as she drank it. "Those for me?" she asked, eyeing the eggs warily.
"Yep. Partly, at least. They'll help with the hangover." I nodded towards her body. "I've got some shirts you can borrow too. They won't help with the hangover, but you can borrow them anyway." She stuck her tongue out at me and came back out in a large white t-shirt that I'd gotten from work; the thing didn't come close to fitting me--for some reason they'd only gotten extra-larges--and looked just plain silly on her. We both laughed.
I didn't see her for a couple weeks, as I had a big presentation at work and she was off for some radio-thing on the weekend. It was two Fridays later when we finally got back together at her place. "I missed you," I found myself admitting, to which she just smiled.
Something about her looked different, but I couldn't place it at first. She was wearing a shirt I'd seen before, she hadn't cut her hair, nothing different about the makeup. And then I realized it: the shorts she was wearing--which I hadn't seen before--cut off underneath a rounder butt and what I would have said (I'm not good a judging these things) were quite a bit thicker of thighs.
As she cooked, I found myself questioning my judgment--maybe that pale, soft-looking skin had always been there--maybe those shorts were just doing a really good job at drawing attention to her rear. Dinner itself distracted me--I was too busy pretending not to be jealous as she talked about creepy old radio men hitting on her--but everything I had been thinking was confirmed afterwards.
We sat down on the couch, fairly close together. She looked over at me and put a finger to her lips before unbuttoning her shorts and then exhaling happily. In between the two folds of the shorts, underneath where her shirt covered, was a pale and podgy little tummy. She noticed my glance and pulled her shirt up a bit to show it off in its full glory, sighing. "I know, I know. I gained some weight at the convention." A pause; I didn't know what to say. "The food was just so good. It was like you were cooking for me every night!" At that I laughed, which seemed to defuse the tension a little. She bit her lower lip. "You don't..." A long pause. Her face was definitely fuller now, the angles softened. She looked a bit like I remembered from high school. "You don't mind, do you?"
I clearly must of looked stunned. "I'm not Tim," I started, before hurriedly trying to walk back. "I mean, we're not even dating or anything, so why should I mind that you gained a tiny bit of weight, which I wouldn't mind ever if we were. I mean, I think you look great. No really, great." Now it was her turn to laugh.
"You're sweet." That was it, apparently. She turned on a movie, and snuggled up to me, shorts still unbuttoned but shirt pulled over them. I put my arm around her waist. I'll be honest: I don't remember what the movie was. Instead of paying attention, I spent most of it thinking about how I had developed feelings for this young woman who I was pretending not to cuddle with, and how much her slight weight gain was turning me on.
"Nat?" It broke me out of my reverie.
"Sorry, what?"
The movie was over. She smiled at me from her position with her head on my chest. "Do you want to stay here tonight?"
Chapter 5: Hotter and Hotter
It was about a month later, a Saturday. I woke up before Elaine and watched her for awhile. We hadn't spoken about it since the night when we first slept together, but her weight had continue to go up, albeit slowly. The girl-next-door look that I remembered from high school had returned: that first night, I had played with breasts too large for my hands to cup and a bum with a decided jiggle. Now, though, she was beginning to pass even out of that. Elaine's breasts had become magnificent: extremely full, they quivered somewhat on her chest as she slept, pale and very round. Down below, her still-not-too-wide hips belied thick thighs that touched in the middle and a butt that stuck out quite a bit behind her. That girl could still have been Elaine from high school, just a few pounds added here and there. What had really changed was her belly.
Back in high school, Elaine's stomach had not exactly been something she'd shown off--it was soft, a little doughy; it formed rolls when she bent over--but it hadn't stuck out much, if at all. Now, though, that had changed. It was harder to see while she lay on her back, but that tiny little bit of pudge that had so captivated me months ago had crept up and out, covering her tummy in a fairly thick layer of chub. Her waist, however, remained relatively thin, meaning that Elaine often looked pregnant when she was standing up. There must have been something special about her skin too, because the belly, like her breasts, barely sagged. She would button her pants under its swell, and it would stay there, high and (all things considered) firm.
Maybe what intrigued me most about it, though, was how the weight gain had changed little things about our life. We ate almost all our meals together now, but that wasn't exciting or too different from many relationships. What was intriguing was that rarely did we even get to plate clearing before a button on her pants would be undone in order to let her belly breathe. Things that used to seem routine--reaching for a glass on a high shelf, bending over to pick something up off the floor--were now treasures: her stretched form would pull her shirt up over bulging midriff; bending for the item on the floor would highlight the roundness of her ass.
(I was planning on writing more--doing a panicked quasi-fight about the weight gain--but sort of ran out of steam with the story and feel that I don't know how to make that anything but typical WG fodder, so I'll leave it here for now.)
