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BHM The Apprentice (young BHM, crafty older FFA, WG)

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Fiji

Well-Known Member
Joined
May 3, 2014
Messages
213
Location
,
Jobless

There I was, two months removed from college, unemployed and with few prospects. As my dad reminded me constantly, I guess that's what I should have expected, having spent five years at an expensive liberal arts college in the Northeast gaining a degree in English lit. And with at best a middling GPA grad school really wasn't in the works either.

I was living at home in Mount Vernon, Virginia (yes, that Mount Vernon, in a subdivision only a couple of miles away from G Dub's colonial mansion), spending most of my time playing video games, surfing big girl porn on the Internet, and eating myself fatter. Not a bad life actually! Except for my parents nagging at me to get off my *** and find a job.

My dad worked in downtown D.C. and he was always telling me that I needed "to pound the turf," that's how he found his first job when he was my age. I finally got tired of his nagging, so today I awoke early and planned to ride downtown with him, armed with a briefcase (one of my dad's old ones) full of resumes.

I put on my best suit, which while a bit snug still fit OK. It was a very nice navy blue Hartmarx model that my dad had bought for me on sale at Nordstrom while I was home last Christmas. I matched it with an 18 and a half white dress shirt that still had plenty of neck room and a snappy repp tie in my school colors, burgundy and navy. My old college girlfriend, now back home in Chicago working for an accounting firm, had loved me in that outfit and I looked pretty good, if I do say so myself.

Dad and I talked on the way up the George Washington Parkway toward the 14th Street Bridge to cross the Potomac into the District, and he seemed pretty pleased that I was finally taking some personal initiative. He even offered to buy me another interview suit, noting that the one from last Christmas probably needed letting out. I thanked him and said that would be great.

As we got to his office at 15th and K, he let me out before pulling into the parking deck underneath. I started walking around a bit trying to figure out where to go, then I eyed a Wall Street Deli and decided to go in for a cup of coffee and maybe even a second breakfast. That was around 8:30 and before I knew it 10 o'clock rolled around and I decided I needed to stop procrastinating (but only after consuming three cups of coffee, a breakfast biscuit, a piece of coffeecake, a scone, and a chocolate croissant).

I headed across K Street and south down 15th toward the Treasury, then for some unknown reason took a left onto Eye Street heading toward 14th. As I was walking aimlessly I spied the window of a custom men's tailor shop with a couple of the most handsome suits I'd ever seen.

I was mesmerized by the fabric and lingered a while in front of the window taking it all in. You see, despite being a fat tub of lard, I am also kind of a clothes horse, constantly spending what little money I have on new slacks and shoes and the occasional jaunty sportcoat.

I guess I lingered too long for then a beautiful woman, I guessed her to be in her late 30s or maybe as old as 40, and tiny in statute, maybe 5'2" or 5'3", and 110 pounds soaking wet, stepped out the door and inquired whether I wanted to come in and check out her merchandise.

I thanked her but said I was right out of college and probably couldn't afford custom clothes. "Nonsense," she said and grabbed my hand and led me inside.

Though she was probably at least fifteen years older than me, I couldn't take my eyes off her rockin' bod. I'd always dreamed in high school and college about getting it on with a hot MILF like her and here she was standing in front of me!

She broke the ice, "I'm Lulu and I own this place, and you are?" "Ben," I said. "Well, Ben, right out of college, I'll tell you what, let's take you into the back and take some measurements, that way we'll have them on file when you're finally ready to order some custom clothes." "Are you sure?," I asked, "I don't want to put you out because that will probably be a long time, given that I don't even have a job yet."

She smiled a huge smile and said, "Ben, honey, I have great faith in you ... now come on back and slip your jacket and slacks off for me."

As I slipped out of my suit, Lulu asked, "so Ben, where did you go to college?" "Middlebury, up in Vermont," I answered. "And your major?" "English literature." At that, Lulu smiled again and said "no wonder you don't have a job, but I do know a few people around town and may be able to help you find something." "That would be great," I said excitedly. "No need to thank me," she replied, "I look at it as a way to ensure that you have enough money to buy clothes from me!"

I chuckled and said "consider the first suit bought and paid for if you help me find a job."

"Now young Ben, let's get down to business. I think we should measure your waist first, so lift up your arms." As I did so, she started to wrap the tape measure around me and I got some stirring down below. She was measuring on the outside of my shirt, then decided "I'll tell you what Ben, to get the most accurate measure, I need you to slip that shirt off."

Lulu could tell I was a little apprehensive and said "don't worry, yours won't be the first male belly I've seen in my line of work." Thus reassured, I unbuttoned my shirt, but still sucked in my considerable gut as much as I could.

Lulu wrapped the tape around again and giggled a bit as she did, asking me "hmmm, looks like Ben had some fun in college, didn't he?" "Well, maybe a little," said. "I can see," Lulu said, maybe late night trips to the all-night donut shop, and the Wendy's drive-thru, and the all-night diner?" "How did you know?," I asked with a chuckle of my own.

She pinched a roll of belly fat and said, "I can tell my boy, I can tell!" Then she continued her measurement and frowned at me and said "stop sucking in that gut, I need an accurate measurement!" As I let it all hang out, she smiled and said "that's more like it."

As she kept taking more measurements and writing them down on a file card, she asked, "so Ben, how much fun did you have in college ... or rather how much weight did you pack on?" "That's awfully personal," I protested and she responded wittily that anything I told her was protected by tailor - customer privilege. "OK then, if it's privileged, I put on 70 pounds" (I lied, it was actually more like 90 over the five years).

"That's a very impressive appetite, young Ben," she said as squeezing one of my love handles. "And what did your girlfriend think of that?" "Well, she was a big girl too, actually bigger than me, about 350 pounds now." "Oh my Ben, you were a big couple!" "That we were Lulu!"

"And where is your girlfriend now?," she inquired. "She went back to Chicago where she got a job working for a friend of her dad's." "Well that is a big shame, Ben, being separated like that." "Yeah, it kind of sucks ..."

Before too long, Lulu had finished her measurements, or so I thought. "One more measurement, Ben" and she pointed me toward the corner of the workroom where I saw a rather sturdy scale. "Is this a standard measurement?," I asked, giving her a look that I didn't exactly trust her motives.

"It is for my clients, Ben, for you see I cater to many of the ... shall we say ... huskier men in Washington, men who can no longer find a fashionable suit or sportcoat or pair of slacks off the rack." "Hmmm," I said, then she continued, "so it's important to know what my clients weigh ... and what they are likely to weigh in the future, in order to better anticipate and serve their needs. You see Ben, it's all about customer service."

I shook my head and said, "OK I guess ... besides I haven't weighed myself in a while." Lulu looked ecstatic and said, 'well then Ben, climb on and let's see what you weigh."

I had a little bit of trouble seeing over the dome of my belly so Lulu announced it to me, in what seemed like a very giddy tone of voice ... "272.8 pounds -- very impressive young man!"

"272.8," I thought, "holy shit, that means I've gained 102 pounds since I left for college." I was officially fat ...

Lulu could tell I was embarrassed and sought to console me, telling me "don't worry, you're far from my biggest client, I have several attorneys and acountants and businessmen who are over 400 pounds and even three or four who top 500 pounds." Then she patted me on my still bare belly and said "it will probably take you at least two or three years to catch up ..."
 

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