~BHM, ~FFA, Romance - An FFA reuintes with the hottest guy from high school, but hes changed
It was suggested that I post my stories from the old library, so Im humbly obliging. These are a few years old, written to fill the void of the kind of romance fodder I craved but could never find. I was thrilled when others started posting their own material in the same genre, but still never quit the writing bug (I just take longer hiatuses now). Ill try to post the few I have in backlog over the coming weeks.
Preface
Steve and Ashley was my first BHM-FFA story. I started writing this back in high school and now it seems a little silly to me in parts, but what can you expect from a teenager? And, I'm a little ashamed of myself that I had a penchant for erotica that young. I should not have been writing that sex scene at my tender age. I also find it amusing because my sexual experience with fat guys was pretty limited. Nice imagination, I guess.
How it came about... My older cousin, whom I totally idolized, was in town for her 10 year reunion and while she was home, she visited with my family and spent some time with me. Back in high school she was kind of a geek, but a smart and cute geek. She did very well for herself after college and had a sweet gig at a major software company in the Bay area.
Anyhow, she told me about how some of the guys who were dorks had become really hot, and that the jocks had gotten fat. And to me, that was the greatest news in the world. These "cool" guys in my class are going to get fat too? WOW! So my wheels turned and I began to write it, channeling her life but orienting it around my own desires. I didn't really finish it and send it to Dimensions until I was in college, but most of it was down before I was old enough to vote.
Part One - The Reintroduction
Steve Lapointe was one of those lucky guys born with it all. He was good at everything and looked good doing it; all-state wide receiver, record-breaking home-run hitter and lettered in all sports in between. He was tall, with ice blue eyes and jet-black hair; a high school superman and he seemed to always look like he knew it. There wasn't a girl in school who wouldn't melt if he said "hello" to her with his beautiful smile. Of course, I was one of those girls, but I figured he probably had no idea who Ashley Hazelton was.
Well, Ashley Hazelton is I: one of the many. In high school I was book smart but completely clueless about the fact that I was becoming an adult and the social life my peers engaged in. I always felt behind everyone else; I guess they call that a "late bloomer." My looks weren't horrible; well at the time I thought they were. I wasn't skinny or graceful like I felt was expected of my gender. In fact I thought I was fat, though I never wore more than a junior size. I just basically had the body of an awkward thirteen-year old until I was nineteen. To this day I'm often guessed to be more than five years younger than I am.
When I started college, I left my old self behind. I felt I was escaping a small town attitude for the big city in the form of a prominent university in downtown Chicago. It's amazing what exercise, blonde highlights, subtle makeup and a chic, form-fitting wardrobe will do for a girl. Eventually my social skills caught up with my academic skills and suddenly I felt men beginning to take notice of me.
After my graduate work I moved into a demanding job in high tech public relations in San Francisco. Men moved selectively in and out of my life and I had no cares. I was living an easy lifestyle, haunting ultra-hip clubs and mixing in the "then prosperous" tech scene. But my outlook changed when a close relative became ill. I realized I was becoming homesick so I switched jobs to be within driving distance of my family. Thankfully I avoided becoming a casualty of the "dot-bomb" collective I had been working for.
Shortly after I arrived back home I called Nicole, one of the few high school friends I stayed in touch with. She caught me completely by surprise when she asked me if I had received an invitation to the ten-year reunion coming up in a few weeks. I had lost track of time and could not believe it had been ten years since I raced out of town as fast as I could. She insisted I attend with her since we were both single; I reluctantly agreed.
- - - - - - - - - -
Wanting to stun those who did not treat me as an equal in high school was a motivating factor, I must admit. I might have gone a little overboard in preparation. I spent those few weeks immersed in workouts, sunning and shopping for the most flattering dress I could find. I found a tasteful black sheath. It was a simple yet sexy number I matched with spicy strappy heels. When the day of the reunion finally came, I was not ashamed to admit that I looked good.
No matter my confidence in the mirror at home, because as we walked into the hotel ballroom the butterflies had me in a near state of nausea. I went from a confident well-earning career woman to a timid adolescent girl in three seconds flat. Thankfully some old friends rushed up immediately to tell me how fabulous I looked and how happy they were to see me. The shakes subsided just a bit.
I chatted with several people when I heard someone mention a name that I hadn't heard in years: Steve Lapointe. But instead of the enviousness that I associated with his name, the comments had an insulting tone. My ears focused in when I heard the words "fat" and "tubby." Those are words that always made me listen. Of all the men that came and went in my life, it was always the good-looking chubby guys that could get me feeling impulsive.
I dated one of those men for nearly a year. Not long after I moved to the Bay Area, I went to a gallery party given for yet another IPO that was going on across the street from my office. There was a wonderful spread of food and I zoned in on a sexy man grazing his way down the buffet table. I was drawn to his tall stocky frame and handsome face. Everyone who knew him agreed he looked like a thick Val Kilmer.
Upon overhearing his sexy British accent I detected a northern cadence and struck up conversation with him about my time studying in the Yorkshire region for a semester of college. Remarkably, he was originally from York proper and we had plenty to talk about. We started spending a lot of time together. We joined forces collaborating on a few professional projects. He was a brilliant guy and very good for my career.
And he was very good for my love life. Tim gained quite a bit of weight over that year. We spent some very indulgent weekends in the Monterey area, south of the Bay. About midway through the relationship he told me he put on about 30 pounds due to my "terrible influence." I did have a relentless fascination with his weight. Each new morsel of fat on his body made me eager for more. Several pounds and multiple reassurances after that, his self-consciousness wore away and I experienced with him an enthralling passion I hadn't felt before.
One night stood out among the many. To celebrate his job promotion I took him to an upscale restaurant where I treated him to a massively rich and fattening dinner. He devoured so much that he told me he could hear his buttons straining. Back at my place, after a few drinks I persuaded him to let me put him on the scale. I'll never forget my digital scale reading 288. That number seemed so big and breathtaking. He made love to me so intensely as not to be articulated with words.
Not long after the momentous night the scale read 302, he was offered a job in North Carolina and the distance was far too great for either of us to commit to something permanent. We both knew our relationship hinged on physical proximity and professional association. Nonetheless, my experience with Tim left me knowing what I wanted in a man.
We have kept in touch with occasional email correspondence and several months ago he broke it to me that he had gradually lost a full 4 stone since I was no longer "inspiring" his eating habits. I was saddened until a more recent email mentioned that his new girlfriend seems to be encouraging him to eat fattening meals at good restaurants. I let him know that I commended her taste and efforts, and I would be happy to share tips with her.
I was jolted back from my reminiscence of Tim upon hearing the statement, "Lapointe is huge. He's put on a lot of poundage." Just the idea of that Adonis with a considerable mid-section gave me a quiver. I quickly searched the room but did not see him. The conversation quickly changed from Steve to the catty ravaging of a former cheerleader. But I couldn't get Steve Lapointe out of my mind. I excused myself to get a drink hoping to calm my anxiety. When the bartender set my vodka tonic down on the bar, I felt a man of substantial size standing next to me. I looked up and it was Steve!
He was even better looking than I remembered with his stunning face and perfect skin. He looked down at me and his baby-blues brightened up. His face had become softer and fuller with a little double chin rounding him out, but he still had those same high-set cheekbones. "Hi Ashley! I heard you were living on the West Coast, but here you are!"
It was true. He had gained quite a bit of weight. His fuller abdomen pressed against his sport coat buttons almost demanding to be released. But I did not stare. I learned from previous faux pas on my part that large men often don't like their corpulence inspected despite the yearning sparkle in my eyes. Yet with his stature and increased dimensions, I could only imagine how large the number would be if he were standing on my scale right then and there.
"Wow, Steve you remember me?"
"Well, sure, I remember you. We were in Poli-Sci together. You really knew your stuff." I think that was the only class I ever spoke up in. Even then, despite my shyness I was definitely destined for work that required persuasive speech.
"Well thank you for remembering," my face felt hot.
"You look fantastic," he gushed and I was in heaven. Steve Lapointe thought 'little old me' looked fantastic.
"So do you, but then you always did " I blurted.
"Naw After I tore my ACL playing for the Huskies I had to quit sports; and now its showing," he laughed and patted his middle. Very nicely showing, I thought. I had casually followed his college football career in the local papers my mom sent to me at school, but only now I realized how fitting it was that this big boy next to me played for a team nicknamed, "The Huskies."
"Like I said, you look terrific," I reasserted. He smiled that perfect smile of his. "So tell me what you're up to these days?"
"Well," he said, "I work at Libertyville High School. I got my Bachelors in both Kinesiology and Education, you know, basically to do personal training or teach Phy Ed. But when I did some student teaching with kids who were developmentally disabled and I really enjoyed it so I now I'm working on my Masters in Exceptional Ed."
"Wow, Steve that's fabulous. How wonderful!" I was so excited. Not only perfect to look at, but intelligent and compassionate as well. I surmised that he needed that big body for his big heart.
"Yeah, it's been a lot of work. I haven't had much social life over the past couple of years, but I really love it. So what about you?"
I told him about my career as a Silicon Valley "PR Wonk" and my triumphant return home for similar work with an entertainment management firm. I think I impressed him a little with some of the celebrities I've brushed with since taking the job. But I was curious about something "So, How did you know I had been living in the Bay Area?" I playfully prodded.
"Well, when I saw you, I remembered that well, you know Brent Stemke?"
"Yes, I ran into him when I was home for Christmas gosh, was that a year and a half ago already?"
"I ran into him too and he told me he saw you out and you told him you were living in California. He also mentioned that you looked good and I can see he wasn't lying." I'm fairly certain that at this point, I was literally beaming.
We made light conversation for a few minutes until one of his old jock buddies, Jeff Donovan, came up and acted rather obnoxiously. He was already drunk and started in on Steve's weight gain. "So Lapointe, when are ya due?" tapping on Steve's burgeoning frontage. Then, His Royal Scum-ness shifted to a boorish proposition of me. "Hey Hazleton maybe we could have a little post-party fun in my room later?"
I always despised Jeff, given that he had ridiculed me for my own junior high chunkiness. He had once again upset me as he had done years before. But I had become far too wise to endure his trash ever again. I excused myself for the ladies room to get away from the uncomfortable situation. As I walked away I could hear Steve saying, "You know Donovan, you always were an asshole."
When I came out of the ladies room I saw Steve standing at the door of the ballroom. As I walked back toward the party he walked out toward me and asked me if I'd like to get away from the idiots and have a drink in the hotel bar. I happily agreed. As we sat down at a quiet table in the corner, he unbuttoned his coat to reveal his expansive new size in better detail. His belt barely supported the spread of a tummy requiring more space, ever so slightly giving way to gravity.
We talked for nearly an hour about everything: careers, travel, school and family. I always thought I had him pigeonholed: good-looking, one-dimensional, popular jock. But it turned out that he was far deeper, funnier and sweeter than I had ever imagined him to be. He told me his fears of coming to the reunion tonight and being seen as a fat ex-jock past his prime. I told him my fears of being judged the same insecure wallflower I was in school.
And I could tell he was pleasantly surprised that I was into sports too. We're both avid inline skaters and recreational cyclists. We talked about football, a topic near and dear to his heart. I was raised in a sports-fan family so I believe I impressed him with my knowledge of the game. I admitted that I followed his career in the local papers and always was in awe of his ability. He blushed.
"Ashley, you were always a cute girl, maybe just too shy for your own good. I'm kicking myself for not knowing you better back then." My heart stopped for a moment. I could never have imagined he would say those words to me.
"Well I'm glad to have remade your acquaintance," I laughed and shook his hand, which dwarfed my own.
"So, Ashley," he soberly stopped laughing, "do you think you'd like to go out with me sometime?"
Steve & Ashley
By Ashblonde
By Ashblonde
It was suggested that I post my stories from the old library, so Im humbly obliging. These are a few years old, written to fill the void of the kind of romance fodder I craved but could never find. I was thrilled when others started posting their own material in the same genre, but still never quit the writing bug (I just take longer hiatuses now). Ill try to post the few I have in backlog over the coming weeks.
Preface
Steve and Ashley was my first BHM-FFA story. I started writing this back in high school and now it seems a little silly to me in parts, but what can you expect from a teenager? And, I'm a little ashamed of myself that I had a penchant for erotica that young. I should not have been writing that sex scene at my tender age. I also find it amusing because my sexual experience with fat guys was pretty limited. Nice imagination, I guess.
How it came about... My older cousin, whom I totally idolized, was in town for her 10 year reunion and while she was home, she visited with my family and spent some time with me. Back in high school she was kind of a geek, but a smart and cute geek. She did very well for herself after college and had a sweet gig at a major software company in the Bay area.
Anyhow, she told me about how some of the guys who were dorks had become really hot, and that the jocks had gotten fat. And to me, that was the greatest news in the world. These "cool" guys in my class are going to get fat too? WOW! So my wheels turned and I began to write it, channeling her life but orienting it around my own desires. I didn't really finish it and send it to Dimensions until I was in college, but most of it was down before I was old enough to vote.
Part One - The Reintroduction
Steve Lapointe was one of those lucky guys born with it all. He was good at everything and looked good doing it; all-state wide receiver, record-breaking home-run hitter and lettered in all sports in between. He was tall, with ice blue eyes and jet-black hair; a high school superman and he seemed to always look like he knew it. There wasn't a girl in school who wouldn't melt if he said "hello" to her with his beautiful smile. Of course, I was one of those girls, but I figured he probably had no idea who Ashley Hazelton was.
Well, Ashley Hazelton is I: one of the many. In high school I was book smart but completely clueless about the fact that I was becoming an adult and the social life my peers engaged in. I always felt behind everyone else; I guess they call that a "late bloomer." My looks weren't horrible; well at the time I thought they were. I wasn't skinny or graceful like I felt was expected of my gender. In fact I thought I was fat, though I never wore more than a junior size. I just basically had the body of an awkward thirteen-year old until I was nineteen. To this day I'm often guessed to be more than five years younger than I am.
When I started college, I left my old self behind. I felt I was escaping a small town attitude for the big city in the form of a prominent university in downtown Chicago. It's amazing what exercise, blonde highlights, subtle makeup and a chic, form-fitting wardrobe will do for a girl. Eventually my social skills caught up with my academic skills and suddenly I felt men beginning to take notice of me.
After my graduate work I moved into a demanding job in high tech public relations in San Francisco. Men moved selectively in and out of my life and I had no cares. I was living an easy lifestyle, haunting ultra-hip clubs and mixing in the "then prosperous" tech scene. But my outlook changed when a close relative became ill. I realized I was becoming homesick so I switched jobs to be within driving distance of my family. Thankfully I avoided becoming a casualty of the "dot-bomb" collective I had been working for.
Shortly after I arrived back home I called Nicole, one of the few high school friends I stayed in touch with. She caught me completely by surprise when she asked me if I had received an invitation to the ten-year reunion coming up in a few weeks. I had lost track of time and could not believe it had been ten years since I raced out of town as fast as I could. She insisted I attend with her since we were both single; I reluctantly agreed.
- - - - - - - - - -
Wanting to stun those who did not treat me as an equal in high school was a motivating factor, I must admit. I might have gone a little overboard in preparation. I spent those few weeks immersed in workouts, sunning and shopping for the most flattering dress I could find. I found a tasteful black sheath. It was a simple yet sexy number I matched with spicy strappy heels. When the day of the reunion finally came, I was not ashamed to admit that I looked good.
No matter my confidence in the mirror at home, because as we walked into the hotel ballroom the butterflies had me in a near state of nausea. I went from a confident well-earning career woman to a timid adolescent girl in three seconds flat. Thankfully some old friends rushed up immediately to tell me how fabulous I looked and how happy they were to see me. The shakes subsided just a bit.
I chatted with several people when I heard someone mention a name that I hadn't heard in years: Steve Lapointe. But instead of the enviousness that I associated with his name, the comments had an insulting tone. My ears focused in when I heard the words "fat" and "tubby." Those are words that always made me listen. Of all the men that came and went in my life, it was always the good-looking chubby guys that could get me feeling impulsive.
I dated one of those men for nearly a year. Not long after I moved to the Bay Area, I went to a gallery party given for yet another IPO that was going on across the street from my office. There was a wonderful spread of food and I zoned in on a sexy man grazing his way down the buffet table. I was drawn to his tall stocky frame and handsome face. Everyone who knew him agreed he looked like a thick Val Kilmer.
Upon overhearing his sexy British accent I detected a northern cadence and struck up conversation with him about my time studying in the Yorkshire region for a semester of college. Remarkably, he was originally from York proper and we had plenty to talk about. We started spending a lot of time together. We joined forces collaborating on a few professional projects. He was a brilliant guy and very good for my career.
And he was very good for my love life. Tim gained quite a bit of weight over that year. We spent some very indulgent weekends in the Monterey area, south of the Bay. About midway through the relationship he told me he put on about 30 pounds due to my "terrible influence." I did have a relentless fascination with his weight. Each new morsel of fat on his body made me eager for more. Several pounds and multiple reassurances after that, his self-consciousness wore away and I experienced with him an enthralling passion I hadn't felt before.
One night stood out among the many. To celebrate his job promotion I took him to an upscale restaurant where I treated him to a massively rich and fattening dinner. He devoured so much that he told me he could hear his buttons straining. Back at my place, after a few drinks I persuaded him to let me put him on the scale. I'll never forget my digital scale reading 288. That number seemed so big and breathtaking. He made love to me so intensely as not to be articulated with words.
Not long after the momentous night the scale read 302, he was offered a job in North Carolina and the distance was far too great for either of us to commit to something permanent. We both knew our relationship hinged on physical proximity and professional association. Nonetheless, my experience with Tim left me knowing what I wanted in a man.
We have kept in touch with occasional email correspondence and several months ago he broke it to me that he had gradually lost a full 4 stone since I was no longer "inspiring" his eating habits. I was saddened until a more recent email mentioned that his new girlfriend seems to be encouraging him to eat fattening meals at good restaurants. I let him know that I commended her taste and efforts, and I would be happy to share tips with her.
I was jolted back from my reminiscence of Tim upon hearing the statement, "Lapointe is huge. He's put on a lot of poundage." Just the idea of that Adonis with a considerable mid-section gave me a quiver. I quickly searched the room but did not see him. The conversation quickly changed from Steve to the catty ravaging of a former cheerleader. But I couldn't get Steve Lapointe out of my mind. I excused myself to get a drink hoping to calm my anxiety. When the bartender set my vodka tonic down on the bar, I felt a man of substantial size standing next to me. I looked up and it was Steve!
He was even better looking than I remembered with his stunning face and perfect skin. He looked down at me and his baby-blues brightened up. His face had become softer and fuller with a little double chin rounding him out, but he still had those same high-set cheekbones. "Hi Ashley! I heard you were living on the West Coast, but here you are!"
It was true. He had gained quite a bit of weight. His fuller abdomen pressed against his sport coat buttons almost demanding to be released. But I did not stare. I learned from previous faux pas on my part that large men often don't like their corpulence inspected despite the yearning sparkle in my eyes. Yet with his stature and increased dimensions, I could only imagine how large the number would be if he were standing on my scale right then and there.
"Wow, Steve you remember me?"
"Well, sure, I remember you. We were in Poli-Sci together. You really knew your stuff." I think that was the only class I ever spoke up in. Even then, despite my shyness I was definitely destined for work that required persuasive speech.
"Well thank you for remembering," my face felt hot.
"You look fantastic," he gushed and I was in heaven. Steve Lapointe thought 'little old me' looked fantastic.
"So do you, but then you always did " I blurted.
"Naw After I tore my ACL playing for the Huskies I had to quit sports; and now its showing," he laughed and patted his middle. Very nicely showing, I thought. I had casually followed his college football career in the local papers my mom sent to me at school, but only now I realized how fitting it was that this big boy next to me played for a team nicknamed, "The Huskies."
"Like I said, you look terrific," I reasserted. He smiled that perfect smile of his. "So tell me what you're up to these days?"
"Well," he said, "I work at Libertyville High School. I got my Bachelors in both Kinesiology and Education, you know, basically to do personal training or teach Phy Ed. But when I did some student teaching with kids who were developmentally disabled and I really enjoyed it so I now I'm working on my Masters in Exceptional Ed."
"Wow, Steve that's fabulous. How wonderful!" I was so excited. Not only perfect to look at, but intelligent and compassionate as well. I surmised that he needed that big body for his big heart.
"Yeah, it's been a lot of work. I haven't had much social life over the past couple of years, but I really love it. So what about you?"
I told him about my career as a Silicon Valley "PR Wonk" and my triumphant return home for similar work with an entertainment management firm. I think I impressed him a little with some of the celebrities I've brushed with since taking the job. But I was curious about something "So, How did you know I had been living in the Bay Area?" I playfully prodded.
"Well, when I saw you, I remembered that well, you know Brent Stemke?"
"Yes, I ran into him when I was home for Christmas gosh, was that a year and a half ago already?"
"I ran into him too and he told me he saw you out and you told him you were living in California. He also mentioned that you looked good and I can see he wasn't lying." I'm fairly certain that at this point, I was literally beaming.
We made light conversation for a few minutes until one of his old jock buddies, Jeff Donovan, came up and acted rather obnoxiously. He was already drunk and started in on Steve's weight gain. "So Lapointe, when are ya due?" tapping on Steve's burgeoning frontage. Then, His Royal Scum-ness shifted to a boorish proposition of me. "Hey Hazleton maybe we could have a little post-party fun in my room later?"
I always despised Jeff, given that he had ridiculed me for my own junior high chunkiness. He had once again upset me as he had done years before. But I had become far too wise to endure his trash ever again. I excused myself for the ladies room to get away from the uncomfortable situation. As I walked away I could hear Steve saying, "You know Donovan, you always were an asshole."
When I came out of the ladies room I saw Steve standing at the door of the ballroom. As I walked back toward the party he walked out toward me and asked me if I'd like to get away from the idiots and have a drink in the hotel bar. I happily agreed. As we sat down at a quiet table in the corner, he unbuttoned his coat to reveal his expansive new size in better detail. His belt barely supported the spread of a tummy requiring more space, ever so slightly giving way to gravity.
We talked for nearly an hour about everything: careers, travel, school and family. I always thought I had him pigeonholed: good-looking, one-dimensional, popular jock. But it turned out that he was far deeper, funnier and sweeter than I had ever imagined him to be. He told me his fears of coming to the reunion tonight and being seen as a fat ex-jock past his prime. I told him my fears of being judged the same insecure wallflower I was in school.
And I could tell he was pleasantly surprised that I was into sports too. We're both avid inline skaters and recreational cyclists. We talked about football, a topic near and dear to his heart. I was raised in a sports-fan family so I believe I impressed him with my knowledge of the game. I admitted that I followed his career in the local papers and always was in awe of his ability. He blushed.
"Ashley, you were always a cute girl, maybe just too shy for your own good. I'm kicking myself for not knowing you better back then." My heart stopped for a moment. I could never have imagined he would say those words to me.
"Well I'm glad to have remade your acquaintance," I laughed and shook his hand, which dwarfed my own.
"So, Ashley," he soberly stopped laughing, "do you think you'd like to go out with me sometime?"
