~BBW, ~~WG, An outgrown pair of pants sparks a conversation between a chubby co-ed and her boyfriend
Melissa's Pink Pants
by
Cylon_Bob
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
by
Cylon_Bob
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
In my Freshman year of college, the first semester, I managed to snag a girlfriend, just my type, fifteen pounds plumper than she should have been at the start of the semester, a chubby-bottomed beauty named Melissa, five foot nothing cutie with a big enough booty to shame a Kardashian, enough fluff at her tummy to set her apart from the classically hot, and breasts to almost fill her A cup. To my pleasant surprise, she had an appetite, a sweet tooth, and an aversion to exercise. Three of my favorite things in a girl, four if you count that round, voluptuous ass, and she had them all in abundance.
Our first date was in November, and she told me, 'warned me,' as she put it, that the holiday pounds were already piling on. She wasn't lying. It was a beautiful time, Thanksgiving always is on a college campus, I've learned, as young girls learn for the first time that their metabolisms can't handle everything they're throwing at them, but Melissa was special, and not only because she was already fairly fluffy. She would indulge whenever possible, she really didn't think about calories, nutrition facts, none of it. She was, in her own words, a foodie, but it seemed that to her, that meant she ate all the food, not that she sought out the best, unless by 'best,' you mean sweetest, or richest, or heaviest, in which case, absolutely, she was a foodie. And it showed on her figure.
Second semester I managed the impossible, got off-campus housing as a first-year student, and what's more, I got co-ed. I know people, the right people, it seems, and Melissa thought, at first, that it was moving too quickly, but she hated her roommate, and she agreed. Our relationship grew, and so did she; I kept more than enough food around for her, and she ate every bit of it. She puffed up all over, you couldn't deny she was getting big. Her chest graduated from nubs to breasts, her waistline sunk into the flab, and most obviously, her ass grew massive.
Living in the same house, I quickly got used to hearing her struggles with clothes. One memorable evening, Melissa's groans were especially hard to ignore, and I knew, because I wasn't in the bedroom with her, that it wasn't for the usual reasons. These weren't sexy moans, either, not in the traditional sense. She sounded like a hippopotamus trying on a supermodel's jeans, which is an accurate, if wildly exaggerated analogy to how she looked as well, come to think of it.
Coming into the room, I saw my girlfriend of six months fighting desperately to fit into a pair of pink jeans, a pair I'm fair sure wouldn't have fit when we first met, before she moved from curvy/thick into fatty territory. She was fallen with her arched back bare against the mattress, her flabby gut proudly presented to the world, jelly rolls wobbling as she tried with all her might to compress months of regular binge eating into a space meant to fit tightly on a girl whose main dietary sin was the donuts people brought to work. Even her small breasts were jiggling, she was putting so much work into this, kicking and screaming, using every weak, unused muscle in her chubby body to move the pants no further up her thick, fleshy thighs. She wasn't even to her buns yet, and that would have been the real fight. She was fighting a hopeless battle.
She fought it hard though, right until she realized I was admiring my view of her plush body. She fell back to the mattress and glared, raising a plush arm and a pointing finger, spluttering, "You!" She spat, "This... Look what you're doing to me!" She tried again, tugging hard, but those pants weren't moving another inch over her thunder thighs, "Nnngghh, goddangit... These frickin'... pants!"
She gave up suddenly, ripping them off her body and flinging them forcibly across the room, "Screw it!" She cursed. She moved to sit, cross-legged until she remembered the size her thighs had grown to, letting loose a soft, wordless shout as she scooted further onto the bed, fat legs sticking out in a V. She snorted and looked around, grimacing, grumbling, "It's just... it's ridiculous..." She went quiet, frowned, looked dejected and played with the pudge around her tummy, that little slab meat otherwise sagging down between her spread legs. She was clearly waiting for me to do my job as boyfriend, to reassure her she wasn't as fat as she thought.
I'm not a liar; I couldn't do what she wanted. In the time we'd been dating, Melissa had porked out gloriously, more than I could have hoped for, and all of it, entirely without my encouragement. I provide what she wants, I don't suggest. I sat down next to her, gave her a soft smile. I tried to reach my arm around her cushioned waist, but she pulled away. My brow furrowed, I realized she'd just accused me, "What do you mean my fault? What did I do?"
Melissa's pretty lips curled into a pout, "You didn't warn me, you didn't stop me. Last night, you bought me effing cheesecake, Simon, come on, just look at me!" She pinched the roll of meat at her middle, slapped the soft, squishy flesh of her thighs, "Do I look like the kinda girl who needs to be eating more cheesecake?"
I shrugged, "I mean, if you want it, why not have it? You're the one who begged me to get dessert, remember?"
"Yeah, and you should've said no!" Melissa insisted, "I'm getting huge!" She again shook her belly, made it very clear that that bulging spare tire was pure wobbly woman-flab, "Look at this! This... I didn't used to look like this!"
"It's not that"
She cut me off, "Oh no, don't you even. Don't even tell me it's not that bad, this is like... This is more than thirty pounds." She glared, then glanced back down at the soft mass that had become her body, muttering softly, "Thirty pounds of belly and butt... fricking... gah, it's ridiculous..."
"Come on, really, it's freshman year! This happens it's got a name and everything, it's the"
"Freshman fifteen, no crap, that's what I told myself for the first twenty pounds, but then it kept on coming!" She scoffed, "My sisters didn't gain a thing when they went off to school." She shook her head, bitter, "Guess I'm making up for them at this point."
"Babe, really, don't worry"
She pursed her lips, "I have four sisters, that's what, sixty pounds? Plus my own fifteen? Short girls don't get to gain that kind of weight without it being really frickin' obvious, okay? She shook her head, My height, God, can you imagine? I'm gonna look like an effing planet at that point, waddling from class to class, getting people caught up in the gravitational pull of my jumbo donk." She made eye contact, but I couldn't read the emotions. They weren't positive, that much was sure. Her tone was ironic, You'd better get ready, one month left in freshman year, forty-five pounds to go, it's about to get crazy up in here...
Uh... Okay... I shifted my weight, tried to steer the conversation away from her describing my darkest fantasy, "What, uh... What size were those, anyway? Are you sure they didn't just get like, shrunk in the wash, or something?"
Melissa snorted, "They were 14's, and come on. Look at me. Do you, or do you not see the pig in front of you. I mean, yeah, okay, I was always pretty obviously overweight. Anybody with eyes could've told you the chick with the chronic panty-lines and the muffin top was a little fat, but now..." She shook her head, "Nothing 'little' about a dang thing. You could flip me upside down and run me in the Macy's Day parade, ain't no one gonna say a word about the weird ass-shaped blimp some weirdo put up." She twisted, pointed at her hip, "See those stretch marks? Those didn't just magically appear for no reason. Those are there because your girlfriend doesn't know when to stop stuffing her face."
I bit my lip, I didn't want to suggest, "Look, Mel, if it's that upsetting, why don't you just"
Melissa interrupted, "Just what? she lifted an unconvinced eyebrow, Stop eating so much? Start working out? Uh, no thanks, and ew, god no. I'm not that desperate."
"Then... wha"
"I just... I need to complain, okay?" Melissa grumped. She fell into my shoulder and started talking, ranting to my armpit, explaining what she was feeling, "I'm fat all of a sudden, and my pants don't fricking fit, and I'm hungry, and I fricking should not be, considering I already ate way too much at lunch, and it's all going straight to my ass, and then... she paused, and something flicked inside her mind. She finished, trailing off at the end, And then you showed up, and I put it all on you when I know it's my own fault, and... and..."
Our first date was in November, and she told me, 'warned me,' as she put it, that the holiday pounds were already piling on. She wasn't lying. It was a beautiful time, Thanksgiving always is on a college campus, I've learned, as young girls learn for the first time that their metabolisms can't handle everything they're throwing at them, but Melissa was special, and not only because she was already fairly fluffy. She would indulge whenever possible, she really didn't think about calories, nutrition facts, none of it. She was, in her own words, a foodie, but it seemed that to her, that meant she ate all the food, not that she sought out the best, unless by 'best,' you mean sweetest, or richest, or heaviest, in which case, absolutely, she was a foodie. And it showed on her figure.
Second semester I managed the impossible, got off-campus housing as a first-year student, and what's more, I got co-ed. I know people, the right people, it seems, and Melissa thought, at first, that it was moving too quickly, but she hated her roommate, and she agreed. Our relationship grew, and so did she; I kept more than enough food around for her, and she ate every bit of it. She puffed up all over, you couldn't deny she was getting big. Her chest graduated from nubs to breasts, her waistline sunk into the flab, and most obviously, her ass grew massive.
Living in the same house, I quickly got used to hearing her struggles with clothes. One memorable evening, Melissa's groans were especially hard to ignore, and I knew, because I wasn't in the bedroom with her, that it wasn't for the usual reasons. These weren't sexy moans, either, not in the traditional sense. She sounded like a hippopotamus trying on a supermodel's jeans, which is an accurate, if wildly exaggerated analogy to how she looked as well, come to think of it.
Coming into the room, I saw my girlfriend of six months fighting desperately to fit into a pair of pink jeans, a pair I'm fair sure wouldn't have fit when we first met, before she moved from curvy/thick into fatty territory. She was fallen with her arched back bare against the mattress, her flabby gut proudly presented to the world, jelly rolls wobbling as she tried with all her might to compress months of regular binge eating into a space meant to fit tightly on a girl whose main dietary sin was the donuts people brought to work. Even her small breasts were jiggling, she was putting so much work into this, kicking and screaming, using every weak, unused muscle in her chubby body to move the pants no further up her thick, fleshy thighs. She wasn't even to her buns yet, and that would have been the real fight. She was fighting a hopeless battle.
She fought it hard though, right until she realized I was admiring my view of her plush body. She fell back to the mattress and glared, raising a plush arm and a pointing finger, spluttering, "You!" She spat, "This... Look what you're doing to me!" She tried again, tugging hard, but those pants weren't moving another inch over her thunder thighs, "Nnngghh, goddangit... These frickin'... pants!"
She gave up suddenly, ripping them off her body and flinging them forcibly across the room, "Screw it!" She cursed. She moved to sit, cross-legged until she remembered the size her thighs had grown to, letting loose a soft, wordless shout as she scooted further onto the bed, fat legs sticking out in a V. She snorted and looked around, grimacing, grumbling, "It's just... it's ridiculous..." She went quiet, frowned, looked dejected and played with the pudge around her tummy, that little slab meat otherwise sagging down between her spread legs. She was clearly waiting for me to do my job as boyfriend, to reassure her she wasn't as fat as she thought.
I'm not a liar; I couldn't do what she wanted. In the time we'd been dating, Melissa had porked out gloriously, more than I could have hoped for, and all of it, entirely without my encouragement. I provide what she wants, I don't suggest. I sat down next to her, gave her a soft smile. I tried to reach my arm around her cushioned waist, but she pulled away. My brow furrowed, I realized she'd just accused me, "What do you mean my fault? What did I do?"
Melissa's pretty lips curled into a pout, "You didn't warn me, you didn't stop me. Last night, you bought me effing cheesecake, Simon, come on, just look at me!" She pinched the roll of meat at her middle, slapped the soft, squishy flesh of her thighs, "Do I look like the kinda girl who needs to be eating more cheesecake?"
I shrugged, "I mean, if you want it, why not have it? You're the one who begged me to get dessert, remember?"
"Yeah, and you should've said no!" Melissa insisted, "I'm getting huge!" She again shook her belly, made it very clear that that bulging spare tire was pure wobbly woman-flab, "Look at this! This... I didn't used to look like this!"
"It's not that"
She cut me off, "Oh no, don't you even. Don't even tell me it's not that bad, this is like... This is more than thirty pounds." She glared, then glanced back down at the soft mass that had become her body, muttering softly, "Thirty pounds of belly and butt... fricking... gah, it's ridiculous..."
"Come on, really, it's freshman year! This happens it's got a name and everything, it's the"
"Freshman fifteen, no crap, that's what I told myself for the first twenty pounds, but then it kept on coming!" She scoffed, "My sisters didn't gain a thing when they went off to school." She shook her head, bitter, "Guess I'm making up for them at this point."
"Babe, really, don't worry"
She pursed her lips, "I have four sisters, that's what, sixty pounds? Plus my own fifteen? Short girls don't get to gain that kind of weight without it being really frickin' obvious, okay? She shook her head, My height, God, can you imagine? I'm gonna look like an effing planet at that point, waddling from class to class, getting people caught up in the gravitational pull of my jumbo donk." She made eye contact, but I couldn't read the emotions. They weren't positive, that much was sure. Her tone was ironic, You'd better get ready, one month left in freshman year, forty-five pounds to go, it's about to get crazy up in here...
Uh... Okay... I shifted my weight, tried to steer the conversation away from her describing my darkest fantasy, "What, uh... What size were those, anyway? Are you sure they didn't just get like, shrunk in the wash, or something?"
Melissa snorted, "They were 14's, and come on. Look at me. Do you, or do you not see the pig in front of you. I mean, yeah, okay, I was always pretty obviously overweight. Anybody with eyes could've told you the chick with the chronic panty-lines and the muffin top was a little fat, but now..." She shook her head, "Nothing 'little' about a dang thing. You could flip me upside down and run me in the Macy's Day parade, ain't no one gonna say a word about the weird ass-shaped blimp some weirdo put up." She twisted, pointed at her hip, "See those stretch marks? Those didn't just magically appear for no reason. Those are there because your girlfriend doesn't know when to stop stuffing her face."
I bit my lip, I didn't want to suggest, "Look, Mel, if it's that upsetting, why don't you just"
Melissa interrupted, "Just what? she lifted an unconvinced eyebrow, Stop eating so much? Start working out? Uh, no thanks, and ew, god no. I'm not that desperate."
"Then... wha"
"I just... I need to complain, okay?" Melissa grumped. She fell into my shoulder and started talking, ranting to my armpit, explaining what she was feeling, "I'm fat all of a sudden, and my pants don't fricking fit, and I'm hungry, and I fricking should not be, considering I already ate way too much at lunch, and it's all going straight to my ass, and then... she paused, and something flicked inside her mind. She finished, trailing off at the end, And then you showed up, and I put it all on you when I know it's my own fault, and... and..."
