BBW, WG, FA
Well, you have all been SO KIND to me and so encouraging. Here's a start to my new story. What to do next? I would appreciate some ideas, feedback, inspiration....
THANKS!
Teachers get fat. Thats a fact. What we dont get in bonuses we get in treats, believe it or not. One of the best things for me as a male faculty member is to watch a new, young, female teacher start skinnyor even better, less than skinnyand slowly get fatter and fatter. Its so good. The most rewarding thing is to actually contribute to the process. Id like to think I am a significant contributor to a lot of pounds at my school.
A prime example is this new girl who started one September. Her name is Margaret. She was my favorite kind: already a slight bit plumpa slight bit. I figured she was about 5 2 and 140 pounds. Not married. She looks at me as we are introduced by my department head and there is a moment, a flash, of mutual attraction that buzz in the stomach, that slight catch of breath. Shes got rounded breasts, a curvy bottom and a rounded belly. But I know those are just starter pounds. I see her potential.
Its my first day at Carlson High, and Im being introduced to all my colleagues in the English Department. Im a bit self-conscious because my new teaching clothes dont fit like they did before the summer. I am infinitely conscious of the tightness of my skirt and the slight strain on my blouse buttons, but thats what you get when you spend two months at your friends beach house eating fried beach food and drinking on the weekends.
While frozen waffles and eggs benedict are tasty breakfasts and fried clams make a nice lunch and the fantastic local surf and turf tastes good going down, they inevitably add pounds to a young chick like me. But you know, a summer in sweats and shorts and bathing suits no constricting waistbands I got a bit fat.
I figure Ill join a gym beginning the year. Lose these extra pounds, no problem.
So I meet this guy Scott in my travels, and there is this moment of mutual attraction, a flash of warmth in my belly. What could he see in a plumper like me? I dont know. But hes cute, and he seems really nice. Maybe hell show me the ropes. A little harmless flirting never hurt anyone, right?
Early on in the year teachers bring in a lot of fattening treats for each other, solace for frayed nerves: donuts, pies, sweet breads, cookies. Theres an inundation of treats, and some of these freaks just eat celery and salads, but some of the ladies go for broke. I hoped Margaret would be of the latter faction.
My word! There is so much food in our house office. The table is piled high with bagels and donuts and coffee cakes. This is bad. I cant say no when nice people offer me treats. A nibble here, a slice there, a donut at 9:30, a slice of pie at 10. Yikes, I am so stuffed. But Scott and I keep making eye contact. Let the flirting begin. Hes cute, were both young. Why not? He cuts me a slice of blueberry pie that is twice the size I asked for. Oh well. Dont want to be rude! Eat up, girl!
Weve all been grazing all day. Its how we deal with the stress of the beginning of the year. Margaret, especially, has been snacking like a pro. Its nerve-racking as hell for new teachers in September. She doesnt seem to mind too much the HUGE piece of pie I cut her. Wow, that turns me on. Did I mention shes pretty, too? There is definitely some chemical thing happening between us. Its mutual. Fine with me .
Margaret looks more beautiful every day. I am definitely liking this girl, and I think the feeling is mutual. She laughs at all my jokes and makes it a point to find me at lunch and other down times. We spend quite a bit of time together, and the other teachers give us a hard time, call us the lovebirds and stuff like that. Margaret doesnt seem to be bothered by the attention, and she surely doesnt deny the accusations.
Ah! School lunch. Im too frazzled and busy to actually prepare myself a decent lunch every morning with planning and correcting taking over my life. The grilled cheese sandwiches (Yay, comfort food!) with sinful French fries are a standard part of my lunch repertoire. Thursdays we have the traditional turkey dinner lunch. Oh! And Salvatores delivers pizza on Fridays.
I havent been on a scale in a while. Why confirm what I already know? I am going to get fatter, bigger, here. Its a hazard of the profession. Oh, well. Let my waistbands get tighter. I think Im falling for Scott. We spend so much time together. On half days he makes it a point to take me out for lunch. Hes so sweet, and we get along so well. My growing attraction to him helps me forget that I am gaining weight. Funny, it almost seems that he likes my extra pounds, my growing figure. Whenever I am doing some professional snacking, it always seems to be around him, as though my eating is flirtation.
I am getting closer and closer to Margaret. There is definitely something developing here. Financially, its breaking me to bring in so much stuff for breakfast, but to see her getting fatter by the week is so worth it. And shes such a flirt! She sits down across from me, butters a piece of coffee cake and chants, Donuts and cakes and pies, oh my! Donuts and cakes and pies, oh my! and laughs maniacally. Its as if she sense I like her growing tummy!.
I was in the supply closet the other day getting some stuff for my room when it happened: the button on the top of my skirt popped off. Who could blame it? My belly has been growing, keeping up with my burgeoning back side. I noticed that I am not yet used to my bigger me. When I turned in the supply closet my belly knocked some stuff off the shelf and as I spun around my butt brushed against the shelving behind me. Its like I am not used to my new size.
I kind of use my hands to press my soft belly in, press my breasts inward as they overflow my bra cups. I wonder, if I stayed in this supply closet for a couple of weeks and kept eating the way I have been, would I be stuck in here like Winnie the Pooh in that book from my childhood where he ate and ate and ate honey until he was stuck in Rabbits hole? And why in the world does that thought turn me on?
Margaret calls me into the supply closet. Ooh, Scott! I cant reach the file folders on the top shelf!
Now, you must understand that when I am near her now, there is a buzz in my heart and in my head, and she often narrows her eyes and smiles so cunningly, so winningly, that something in my stomach stirs.
Scott, to the rescue! A lame attempt at humor in the face of overwhelming attraction.
God, her plump calves and thick, luscious thighs look good in that skirt!
Up there! She says and points. Shes so sexy in those glasses. When she points/reaches poised on one foot, her swelling belly pushes up her sweater and hangs down over the top of her skirt. Is her button gone? Oh my.
Okay, okay. Let me by here. I try to walk by, slide by. She sucks in for a minute, presses her belly in.
She laughs: Sorry. Fat girl under construction! Watch out for falling will power and expandeing body!
Sokay, I say. Relax. She does. Her belly inflates outward with her exhale. I swoon. As I go by, my right hand brushes the distinct, plump, soft side of her belly, slides over the rounding front. Her expanding curves feel so sweet under cashmere .
As he slides by my bigger self, his hand brushes my bigger belly. I catch my breath.
She catches her breath while I lose mine. My belly touches hers. Oh heaven!
His belly brushes my pot belly! O heaven!
Here you go, little lady. To fill the silence. I hand her the box. My heart is racing.
My heart is racing. I want to kiss him so badly.
I wonder what shed do if I kissed her? She smells of the sweetest, most drowsing perfume. Oh, how I want to hold her!
I wish hed hold me and kiss me and tell me I am beautiful
One afternoon I am driving down main street and I see Margarets little Toyota in front of the local diner. I stop, of course. Inside, she is intently focused on the frappe in front of her, her lips puckered in a sucking motion, eyes down. She doesnt see me yet. The waiter drops of a large plate of chili cheese fries at her table. She glances over with pleasant surprise in her face but continues to suck at the frappe. I stealthily slide in across from her, smiling devilishly.
Caught me! she says.
Caught you what?
Stress eating. Those kids are driving me NUTS, so on bad days I stop here and stress eat. Its that convenient fattening meal between post-lunch snacking and pre-dinner appetizers! She smiles in a self-deprecating way. I only come here after school when I am stressed which has been a lot lately, if you havent guessed!
Hadnt noticed!
Oh, come on. I know youre nice, not oblivious. Ive never been this big in my life. School is where I belong, but this adjustment period is rough, and I am a stress eater. Always have been. Nasty cycle, it is. So I am getting fatter by the hour. But you know what? I dont mind that much.
No?
No. You see, the way I figure it, there is this guy at work who is really digging me. It almost seems like, the more I eat, the fatter I get, the more attracted to me he is. Crazy, huh? And I kinda liked him right off the bat anyhow.
No kidding?
No kidding. Oooh. Frappe is gone. And I still have all these fries to eat!
I wave my arm, Waiter! Two more frappes: one for me, and one for the little lady. Thanks.
My test is complete. Now I am sure of two things: (1)Scott does really like me back--and all my pounds--and (2)he likes big girls and I am becoming (have become?) one and he is going to love me and spoil me and I am scared and thrilled about gaining more and more weight. I feel like I will be wrapped in his love like a cocoon and I will emerge a loved, fat, full, fleshy, happy, butterball.
But lets not rush into things. First things first: I slurp on my new frappe, gazing into his eyes, one hand on the glass, one perched on the top of my full, full belly. I am so stuffed, but I let him slowly, sensually, feed me, one-by-one, the huge order of chili cheese fries. I am in heaven. He is in heaven. How could things get any better?
Well, you have all been SO KIND to me and so encouraging. Here's a start to my new story. What to do next? I would appreciate some ideas, feedback, inspiration....
THANKS!
"Learning Curves"
by Admirer
by Admirer
Teachers get fat. Thats a fact. What we dont get in bonuses we get in treats, believe it or not. One of the best things for me as a male faculty member is to watch a new, young, female teacher start skinnyor even better, less than skinnyand slowly get fatter and fatter. Its so good. The most rewarding thing is to actually contribute to the process. Id like to think I am a significant contributor to a lot of pounds at my school.
A prime example is this new girl who started one September. Her name is Margaret. She was my favorite kind: already a slight bit plumpa slight bit. I figured she was about 5 2 and 140 pounds. Not married. She looks at me as we are introduced by my department head and there is a moment, a flash, of mutual attraction that buzz in the stomach, that slight catch of breath. Shes got rounded breasts, a curvy bottom and a rounded belly. But I know those are just starter pounds. I see her potential.
Its my first day at Carlson High, and Im being introduced to all my colleagues in the English Department. Im a bit self-conscious because my new teaching clothes dont fit like they did before the summer. I am infinitely conscious of the tightness of my skirt and the slight strain on my blouse buttons, but thats what you get when you spend two months at your friends beach house eating fried beach food and drinking on the weekends.
While frozen waffles and eggs benedict are tasty breakfasts and fried clams make a nice lunch and the fantastic local surf and turf tastes good going down, they inevitably add pounds to a young chick like me. But you know, a summer in sweats and shorts and bathing suits no constricting waistbands I got a bit fat.
I figure Ill join a gym beginning the year. Lose these extra pounds, no problem.
So I meet this guy Scott in my travels, and there is this moment of mutual attraction, a flash of warmth in my belly. What could he see in a plumper like me? I dont know. But hes cute, and he seems really nice. Maybe hell show me the ropes. A little harmless flirting never hurt anyone, right?
Early on in the year teachers bring in a lot of fattening treats for each other, solace for frayed nerves: donuts, pies, sweet breads, cookies. Theres an inundation of treats, and some of these freaks just eat celery and salads, but some of the ladies go for broke. I hoped Margaret would be of the latter faction.
My word! There is so much food in our house office. The table is piled high with bagels and donuts and coffee cakes. This is bad. I cant say no when nice people offer me treats. A nibble here, a slice there, a donut at 9:30, a slice of pie at 10. Yikes, I am so stuffed. But Scott and I keep making eye contact. Let the flirting begin. Hes cute, were both young. Why not? He cuts me a slice of blueberry pie that is twice the size I asked for. Oh well. Dont want to be rude! Eat up, girl!
Weve all been grazing all day. Its how we deal with the stress of the beginning of the year. Margaret, especially, has been snacking like a pro. Its nerve-racking as hell for new teachers in September. She doesnt seem to mind too much the HUGE piece of pie I cut her. Wow, that turns me on. Did I mention shes pretty, too? There is definitely some chemical thing happening between us. Its mutual. Fine with me .
Margaret looks more beautiful every day. I am definitely liking this girl, and I think the feeling is mutual. She laughs at all my jokes and makes it a point to find me at lunch and other down times. We spend quite a bit of time together, and the other teachers give us a hard time, call us the lovebirds and stuff like that. Margaret doesnt seem to be bothered by the attention, and she surely doesnt deny the accusations.
Ah! School lunch. Im too frazzled and busy to actually prepare myself a decent lunch every morning with planning and correcting taking over my life. The grilled cheese sandwiches (Yay, comfort food!) with sinful French fries are a standard part of my lunch repertoire. Thursdays we have the traditional turkey dinner lunch. Oh! And Salvatores delivers pizza on Fridays.
I havent been on a scale in a while. Why confirm what I already know? I am going to get fatter, bigger, here. Its a hazard of the profession. Oh, well. Let my waistbands get tighter. I think Im falling for Scott. We spend so much time together. On half days he makes it a point to take me out for lunch. Hes so sweet, and we get along so well. My growing attraction to him helps me forget that I am gaining weight. Funny, it almost seems that he likes my extra pounds, my growing figure. Whenever I am doing some professional snacking, it always seems to be around him, as though my eating is flirtation.
I am getting closer and closer to Margaret. There is definitely something developing here. Financially, its breaking me to bring in so much stuff for breakfast, but to see her getting fatter by the week is so worth it. And shes such a flirt! She sits down across from me, butters a piece of coffee cake and chants, Donuts and cakes and pies, oh my! Donuts and cakes and pies, oh my! and laughs maniacally. Its as if she sense I like her growing tummy!.
I was in the supply closet the other day getting some stuff for my room when it happened: the button on the top of my skirt popped off. Who could blame it? My belly has been growing, keeping up with my burgeoning back side. I noticed that I am not yet used to my bigger me. When I turned in the supply closet my belly knocked some stuff off the shelf and as I spun around my butt brushed against the shelving behind me. Its like I am not used to my new size.
I kind of use my hands to press my soft belly in, press my breasts inward as they overflow my bra cups. I wonder, if I stayed in this supply closet for a couple of weeks and kept eating the way I have been, would I be stuck in here like Winnie the Pooh in that book from my childhood where he ate and ate and ate honey until he was stuck in Rabbits hole? And why in the world does that thought turn me on?
Margaret calls me into the supply closet. Ooh, Scott! I cant reach the file folders on the top shelf!
Now, you must understand that when I am near her now, there is a buzz in my heart and in my head, and she often narrows her eyes and smiles so cunningly, so winningly, that something in my stomach stirs.
Scott, to the rescue! A lame attempt at humor in the face of overwhelming attraction.
God, her plump calves and thick, luscious thighs look good in that skirt!
Up there! She says and points. Shes so sexy in those glasses. When she points/reaches poised on one foot, her swelling belly pushes up her sweater and hangs down over the top of her skirt. Is her button gone? Oh my.
Okay, okay. Let me by here. I try to walk by, slide by. She sucks in for a minute, presses her belly in.
She laughs: Sorry. Fat girl under construction! Watch out for falling will power and expandeing body!
Sokay, I say. Relax. She does. Her belly inflates outward with her exhale. I swoon. As I go by, my right hand brushes the distinct, plump, soft side of her belly, slides over the rounding front. Her expanding curves feel so sweet under cashmere .
As he slides by my bigger self, his hand brushes my bigger belly. I catch my breath.
She catches her breath while I lose mine. My belly touches hers. Oh heaven!
His belly brushes my pot belly! O heaven!
Here you go, little lady. To fill the silence. I hand her the box. My heart is racing.
My heart is racing. I want to kiss him so badly.
I wonder what shed do if I kissed her? She smells of the sweetest, most drowsing perfume. Oh, how I want to hold her!
I wish hed hold me and kiss me and tell me I am beautiful
One afternoon I am driving down main street and I see Margarets little Toyota in front of the local diner. I stop, of course. Inside, she is intently focused on the frappe in front of her, her lips puckered in a sucking motion, eyes down. She doesnt see me yet. The waiter drops of a large plate of chili cheese fries at her table. She glances over with pleasant surprise in her face but continues to suck at the frappe. I stealthily slide in across from her, smiling devilishly.
Caught me! she says.
Caught you what?
Stress eating. Those kids are driving me NUTS, so on bad days I stop here and stress eat. Its that convenient fattening meal between post-lunch snacking and pre-dinner appetizers! She smiles in a self-deprecating way. I only come here after school when I am stressed which has been a lot lately, if you havent guessed!
Hadnt noticed!
Oh, come on. I know youre nice, not oblivious. Ive never been this big in my life. School is where I belong, but this adjustment period is rough, and I am a stress eater. Always have been. Nasty cycle, it is. So I am getting fatter by the hour. But you know what? I dont mind that much.
No?
No. You see, the way I figure it, there is this guy at work who is really digging me. It almost seems like, the more I eat, the fatter I get, the more attracted to me he is. Crazy, huh? And I kinda liked him right off the bat anyhow.
No kidding?
No kidding. Oooh. Frappe is gone. And I still have all these fries to eat!
I wave my arm, Waiter! Two more frappes: one for me, and one for the little lady. Thanks.
My test is complete. Now I am sure of two things: (1)Scott does really like me back--and all my pounds--and (2)he likes big girls and I am becoming (have become?) one and he is going to love me and spoil me and I am scared and thrilled about gaining more and more weight. I feel like I will be wrapped in his love like a cocoon and I will emerge a loved, fat, full, fleshy, happy, butterball.
But lets not rush into things. First things first: I slurp on my new frappe, gazing into his eyes, one hand on the glass, one perched on the top of my full, full belly. I am so stuffed, but I let him slowly, sensually, feed me, one-by-one, the huge order of chili cheese fries. I am in heaven. He is in heaven. How could things get any better?
