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The Trainer - by Uncle Jack (~BBW, ~~WG)

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Doodleduh

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Just wondering if anyone has any comments regarding what they would like to see happen in the story. This isn't a guarantee that I will include things that are mentioned, but it's nice to know what people like, what they don't like, what they want to see and don't want to see. I see a good number of thread views, and I just want to know why so many people are interested (or alternatively, why people keep coming back over and over).
From reading "Company Retreat," I have to say that I really like your writing when the girl begins to admit she is fat and becomes proud of it. It would be nice if Jocelyn would start to try and get fatter for the Main Character.
 

Lardibutts

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I just love your writing - what was going through the guy's mind, while he sat in her flat waiting for her to come out of the bathroom, stayed with me a week or more
:bow: :bow:
What I'd like is for her to really enjoy losing her sexual inhibitions, them to move in together, and all the comedy to come from them having to disguise the relationship at work.
Oh - and maybe hopefully figure out a way they can afford to keep her in a manner in which she will clearly blossom.
L
 

B00TS

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Totally agree with Lardibutts' comments and ideas. It would be good to see Jocelyn slowly become more content with her size and enjoy teasing David with it. I suppose more internal confidence to go with the outward devil-may-care attitude.

Obviously, David's six weeks will be up at some point, meaning less time for the protagonists to be in contact. May be an opportunity for a bit of a twist up - Joss gets 'let go' from the training job maybe? They decide to strike out together in some other enterprise?

Other thoughts - A bit of mild stuckage always floats my boat... Growing/busting out of clothes is always a winner...

I'm sure based on the quality so far, whatever you decide will be awesome.

The characters are so rich and the angle so good, I'd happily see this run to a full-on novel!

Cheers, Boots.
 

bbwsrule

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Great story! I like stories that are "FATaFAT" i.e. Funny And Titillating about FAT" and this one sure is. I like an already fat girl getting fatter.

Lots of "LOL" lines!
 

acadm

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imo, readers shouldn't be telling jack what they want to read/see about Jocelyn or Dave or anybody else. let jack develop it how he wants to develop it. i realize now that if it takes time for him to do this, then take the time. this is easily one of great wg stories that I've read, up there with Coming Home and My Roommate the Fatty, Smokehouse Sundae and the Best Secretary in the World and Her Belly from the old stories board (granted I haven't read many), and I don't want to tell jack oh, put jocelyn in a scene where she's eating kumquats, or have davey gain weight to match joc. let the story develop on it's own, at jack's own pace and time. peace, looking forward to the next part, whenever it will come
 

jdpoodoo

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I agree with acadm. I'm sure we would all love to have our .2 cents added to Jacks story however we need to realize that we are not writing the story, Jack is. his characters should develop how he sees fit. (but wait they should move in together)(she should enjoy losing her sexual inhibitions) I personally think they should ride off into the sunset on the amazing horse but thats going to be in the story that "I"write, I'm just saying...
 

B00TS

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I agree with acadm. I'm sure we would all love to have our .2 cents added to Jacks story however we need to realize that we are not writing the story, Jack is. his characters should develop how he sees fit. (but wait they should move in together)(she should enjoy losing her sexual inhibitions) I personally think they should ride off into the sunset on the amazing horse but thats going to be in the story that "I"write, I'm just saying...
Er, the author did ask for comments on where the story might lead...
 

Uncle Jack

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As I said, I never intended to incorporate what people told me into the story wholesale. I already have ideas for where to take it. I just wanted to know what it was that people were connecting with in the story. The things people predict might happen and the things people wish would happen are equally valid indicators about what's working in a story and what isn't. So to acadm I say there is no need to worry. Everyone else, thank you for your suggestions and feedback.

As to the issue of Jocelyn losing her sexual inhibitions... the majority of WG stories feature women who are total feedee vixens, or are completely oblivious and/or apathetic about becoming huge and eating like pigs. A great many of these are stories I really really like, but something I'm trying to do is walk a middle path between these two extremes, something that is a little closer to reality while still hitting all the sexy notes that I fantasize about every day.
 

acadm

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dude where have you been? i'd like to see more occurring at the call center itself, especially a comparison contrast kind of thing, jocelyn's big belly after another feast versus a woman who is anorexic or something, nice comparison contrast of fat versus thin. i like others am anxiously awaiting the next part, bumping this up so it gets more views
 

Uncle Jack

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Ask and you shall receive.


All good weekends must come to an end. I found myself walking back into training class, full of losers and the uneducated, full of people I wished I didn’t have to count myself among. But Jocelyn was there, at the front of the class, eating a McDonald’s breakfast, and all was right with the world. We grinned at each other, said hello, and that was it. Playing it cool, so that no one would ever guess what we had been up to.

The morning passed, with Jocelyn going laboriously over the product line. She was wearing a hoodie, because it was a little chilly, but it fit her rounded form nicely. Her legs were covered in green khaki Capri pants, which were devastatingly tight. The button was miles away from being buttoned, and the zipper was half-zipped, so that the class could see the front of her Canada flag panties. The hoodie was actually big enough that it covered this underwear exhibition when it was pulled all the way down, but it only stayed that way if Jocelyn didn’t move at all, but unfortunately she was standing up to walk over to the projection and point to what she was talking about. Then she would walk over to the computer to scroll or click on to a new product, taking the opportunity to help herself to some mixed nuts that she had in a large plastic jar. This would bring the hoodie back up again. I had a feeling that Jocelyn didn’t realize how much she was showing off. Girls were whispering and guys were chuckling, but she soldiered on obliviously.

And so Monday bled into Tuesday. We had been purposefully avoiding each other at work, only making small talk, but with extra eye contact, as if we were having a telepathic conversation. On Tuesday, she was having lunch alone, reading a book, so I took the opportunity to sit with her. She had a fruit smoothie from Wrap It Up, a beef wrap from Tarboosh, and two double chocolate brownies from The Cocoa Bomb.

“Why hello,” I said, loudly, “would you mind if I sat here?”

“Not at all,” said Jocelyn, also loudly, “have a seat David, it’s always good to have a chat with the new people, to gauge their feelings and attitudes toward the workplace.”

We both silently chuckled.

“Small lunch. Not hungry today?”

She had a mouthful of beef that she tried to talk through.

“What was that?”

She swallowed.

“There was a complimentary breakfast upstairs for all the training staff and supervisors. Pancakes, waffles and French toast! And tons of fruit, melon and pineapple. I could not stop eating. It was soooo good. It was like one of those moments where your belly is like no more please, but your mouth is just like more more MORE! You know what I mean?”

I didn’t, but I nodded yes.

“So I ate until there was nothing left. And then Gerald, who works in Quality Control, he got in late because his kid is sick or some stupid thing. He was mad because he missed the breakfast, and he thought that they were going to save some for him. I guess he called in that he would be late or something. But I didn’t know that! And if you’re gonna be late, then maybe you just don’t get any! I’m not gonna apologize for loving maple syrup.”

We chitted the chat as I ate my meagre packed lunch. I was eating a simple PB&J with an apple and a Skor bar.

“Oooh, Skor!”

Jocelyn snatched up my Skor bar as soon as I pulled it out of my bag, unwrapped it, and pulled her usual disappearing act.

“Thanks for bringing me a Skor. Haven’t had one in a long time.”

She then proceeded to eat the half of my sandwich that I had temporarily put down, in three monster bites.

“Oo wirn gunah ee dat, rye?”

“No, I was done with that, yeah.”

Mental note: never put down food you actually want to eat.

We returned to class, talking about work bullshit instead of anything fun, to keep up appearances. We tried to go through the door at the same time and, needless to say, we bounced against each other.

“Gentlemen first,” she said.

I passed through the door and felt her pinch my ass. I looked back to see her mouth the words “couldn’t resist”.

And so Tuesday bled into Wednesday. Whereas on Monday it seemed like Jocelyn had been trying anew to teach the class right, each passing day seemed to find her lazier and lazier. She was steadily working her way through a box of donuts she had bought herself on the drive to work. We spent the morning playing pointless games of hangman and trivia until Jocelyn called for a break that lasted forty-five minutes. I ran into her on the phone out in front of the building. I waved, and she signalled that she would be done in a second.

“Yeah, okay Hollydolly, talk to you then. Peace out, pretty lady!” She hung up. “Hey David, how are you doing?”

“Good good.”

I stepped closer and spoke lower.

“I want to see you. Away from work. What are you doing tonight?”

“Well, I was just talking to my friend Holly, and we’re going to trivia night at the Crow’s Nest. But you’ll have to pretend we’re just friends, kay? Holly doesn’t work here, but she used to, and there might be work people there. Can’t be too careful.”

So it was agreed, and I spent the rest of the day staring at Jocelyn, and waiting for the moments when she would stare back. She was wearing a simple outfit, tight pink Arcade Fire t-shirt and tight tight tight blue jeans. She had managed to get them buttoned over the lower part of her belly, but the top part spilled over in an obscene muffin top. The highlight of the day was when Jocelyn came back from lunch with a footlong from Subway.

“Didn’t you have time to eat on your lunch break?” asked a scrawny scarecrow Goth girl, the disgust in her voice thick enough to paint with.

“Yeah, but I was still hungry,” said Jocelyn, “and I don’t like to deny myself.” She looked at me when she said that and subtly winked.

She pounded back her chicken teriyaki sandwich and talked about various Internet bandwidth packages, from light user up to extreme user. Her mouth was full and all her words were garbled, with crumbs flying out, right up until she finished her sub. Later that afternoon, during our regular fifteen minute long break, I heard a couple girls talking about how “The Pig” had eaten like, well, a pig.

It was nearly eight p.m. that night when I showed up at the Crow’s Nest, ready to astound the world (specifically, Jocelyn) with my vast knowledge of things and junk. I had eaten before I left home, having learned from experience, and I was ready to step it up a notch in terms of wearing down Jocelyn’s inhibitions and insecurities. If I could really prove I was the real deal, maybe she would shed some of the things holding her back. She was amazingly shocking in public as it was, but it wasn’t exactly exhibitionist. More like oblivious. Jocelyn wasn’t a dumb girl; she was clever, funny, intelligent. But when it came to matters regarding food and the size of her body, she lacked all outward signs of self-awareness, to the point where it was hard to tell when she was truly ignorant of her public appearance as a “fattie”, and when she simply chose to look that way. By “fattie”, I don’t just mean an overweight person; I mean someone who overate, made rude noises, took without asking, and burst out of once-fitting clothes.

Frankly, my motives weren’t entirely altruistic. Rather than simply trying to strengthen the self-esteem of the girl I was crushing, I was also trying to transform her into something of an exhibitionist. If I massaged the part of her psyche that resulted in her telling the old lady off in the diner and reciting the soliloquy she delivered during her weekend handy, and demolished the part that gave rise to crying in the bathroom, then Jocelyn might really be a “fattie” to see, even by her generous standards.

These were the thoughts that ran in my mind, parallel to recovering basic tidbits of predictable trivia categories, as I entered the dimly-lit din of the bar. Jocelyn was not hard to find. She had chosen the table closest to the entrance, and waved me over as I came in the door, a Smirnoff ice in her other hand. With her was a small olive-skinned girl drinking a beer.

“Davey davey bo-bavey! This is Holly holly bo-bolly! Holly, scooch over, let him sit down.”

“Hey David, great to meet you. Jocelyn has been talking about you all night. I actually have to go to the bathroom.”

She got up from the table, and standing next to me I could see that she was very short, likely five foot nothing. She also had a spare tire that was quite noticeable in her shirt. She wasn’t fat, not even quite chubby. It was more like extra pounds that had recently found their way onto her short stature. On her height, five pounds could look like fifteen.

Holly gone, I went to sit down next to Jocelyn, even bending down to kiss her cheek, all gallant and shit, risking being seen by call centre peeps. But Jocelyn shook her head and motioned to the other side of the table.

“I don’t want anyone to see us dating.”

“They’re gonna see a man and a woman hanging out either way, no one is going to necessarily think we’re dating. If anything, it’ll look like Holly and I are dating.”

“A guy and a girl sitting in one seat, facing an empty seat? Sorry, no way. Besides, her side of the booth is more spacious.”

I grudgingly sat down across from her.

“I like limited space. More cozy that way.”

“We can get plenty cozy later,” she stage-whispered, her attempt to be sexy-coy made absurd by the noise of the packed bar.

“So I guess you two have already eaten?”

The table had some empty baskets with dipping sauces.

“We had wings already, but we were just about to order nachos and get new drinks. I’m doing the Smirnoff tonight. Forgot how great they are.”

Having pledged her devotion, she chugged the remaining third of her Ice. She wiped her mouth with her thick forearm and burped.

“How much have you had to drink?” I asked.

“Just enough that I got my beer goggles on. Come here often, mysterious stranger?”

She ran her foot up my leg.

“Only when there’s a certain curvy goddess getting drunk here.”

“Now where oh where is this goddess your talking about?” She swivelled her head around in an exaggerated fashion. “No goddesses here. BUUURP.”

Our waitress came by, a tall chubby girl with monumental tits.

“More drinks?”

“I’ll have another Ice, and we’re going to get a jumbo nachos, extra salsa, two extra sour creams, chicken on top.”

“And for you?”

I ordered a beer and watched her walk away, her thick butt shaking.

“Hey, eyes over here buddy.”

“Huh? Oh, sorry. Didn’t realize what I was doing.”

“You dooooooo like big girls, don’t you? Who’s cuter, her or me?”

“You, definitely.”

“Good answer.”

Holly returned, and I slid over so she could sit next to me.

“Jocelyn and I were just talking about work,” I said.

“You don’t have to worry. Jocelyn told me you two hooked up.”

I eyeballed Jocelyn, with my eyebrow raised.

“I couldn’t help it! It slipped out!”

“It’s okay,” said Holly, “if you two need to play Jim and Pam, I understand. It is technically against the rules.”

We got to talking (no, I didn’t want to work at the call centre for long, but I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do; Holly was the floor manager of an independent high-end grocery store named Samuel’s; Jocelyn had a really great Italian sausage earlier from a street vendor, so great that she immediately had a second) and drinking. Holly had beer, I had a second beer, Jocelyn got yet another Smirnoff. Our nachos arrived. They were the size of a German Panzer tank.

“Oh no!” cried Holly.

“C’mon Dolly, dig in, you’re getting verrry verrry hungry,” said Jocelyn, in a hypnotist intonation.

“I can’t, I’m getting a fat belly.”

She grabbed her belly and gave it a little shake. Now this was intriguing.

“Just indulge. We’re out, having drinks, laughs, fun on a bun! We’re gonna win at Trivia and eat nachos! Live life, Wednesday style!”

Holly sighed and reached in for some nachos. Jocelyn normally wanted every scrap of food for herself. Why was she so eager for Holly to share in the bounty.

I didn’t have a bite, as I was still full from my healthy salad-granola-pita&hummus-apple combo earlier. I basked in the distinct pleasure of watching two cuties chow down on greasy nachos. Jocelyn ate harder better faster stronger, and more in general, as she normally did. Holly, on the other hand, ate with reluctance, every few bites sighing or pressing a hand to her stomach with a pause, before diving back into the corn chip platter. She seemed to have reservations about eating this food, like she could do without it. So why was she eating it at all?

“Oh god (snort chomp), the nachos are friggin’ (urp) awesome here,” said Jocelyn.

“They’re gonna make me fat,” said Holly. She was taking a break, to rub her swollen tummy and groan.

“Nonsense, you’re a teensy little wood elf! I’m the fat one, a few nachos won’t kill you.”

Holly’s lower lip protruded, and a gust of air blew the bangs on her forehead around. She dug back in, slowly.

There was nothing slow about Jocelyn. She was so busy slathering extra sour cream on her chips that it was running down her fingers, onto the table and onto her clothes. She was wearing a button-up grey cardigan, another survivor from a few pounds ago, as it was bulging against her rotund body, gaps between buttons and threads being strained. She had a chic purple woollen hat on her head, a small thing that rested back from the front of her hair. Very stylish, my sexy glutton.

I watched as Jocelyn and Holly disappeared the huge thing of nachos (I’d say the ratio was something like 70:30, and 30 percent was pretty damn impressive for Holly considering how much smaller she was then her big fat friend). This was a party plate fit for four, not two girls, no matter how many regular-sized girls Jocelyn might count as. Jocelyn had ordered yet another Smirnoff in the middle of feasting and was nursing that while she plucked up the last few traces.

“Holls, we made short work of that. Urp-burp-BUUUURP. Dave, you didn’t have any. Why no?”

“I ate before I came.”

“Dave is a (BURP) healthy guy, not like us girls, right Holly?”

Holly simply groaned in pain.

Jocelyn excused herself to go to the bathroom. Her belly was pressed right into the table, and sliding across made her hiccup and burp like a piggy, but she finally extricated herself and waddled away to the restroom, drunkenly swaying and waddling.

“Are you gonna be okay?”

Holly opened her mouth to answer, but what came out wasn’t words.

“BUUUUURRRRP. Oh man, excuse me!” As is always the case, it was very shocking to see such a large belch come out of such a small woman.

“It’s okay.”

“I’m sure it is okay, considering you’re interested in Jocelyn.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You two are kind of dating, right? I just assumed. She kept bringing you up before you got here, so.”

“Yeah, we are dating. I just – what did you mean, ‘considering you’re interested…’?”

“I’m no dummy. I know it takes all types. Jocelyn has been single forever. Literally forever. While, not that she’s thousands of years old, I just mean she’s never had a real guy. She never even has anyone interested in her, because of the way she is. So if you’re interested in her, I know it’s not out of the goodness of your special heart. It’s because you like girls that are… sloppy.”

“That’s not the word I would have used, but yeah, that’s essentially the case.”

“What word would you use?”

“Oh, I don’t know…”

“Come on.”

“Don’t wanna say…”

“Now you have to say. Been built up too much.”

“…pig…”

“What? Couldn’t hear you.”

“Piggy.”

“Like Miss Piggy?”

“Yeah, like Miss Piggy, okay, can we stop talking about this now?”

No more shame? Easier said than done.

“Yeah, I can see that,” said Holly, “Miss Piggy suits her, for sure. I try to stay trim, but whenever I’m around her, I just eat and eat. To keep up with her, I don’t know. We’re eating buddies, though lord knows I should put a stop to it if I don’t want to have to buy a new wardrobe.”

“See, I’ve noticed that with most people, Jocelyn doesn’t really encourage them to eat as much as she hopes they’ll leave leftovers for her to finish.”

“Really? I’ve never noticed that before. That’s definitely not what it’s like with the two of us. You know, now it looks like we’re dating, if you’re worried about that sort of thing. Go sit on the other side with Miss Piggy.”

Holly let me out and I sat down across from her as Jocelyn came back toward the table. She stumbled heavily into a table of frat boys, causing their pitcher of beer to tip and spill across the surface and onto the floor.

“Hey, watch it!” yelled one of the polo shirted crew.

“I’m watching it, maybe you should be watching it,” Jocelyn yelled back.

She stomped over, her thighs quivering delightfully in her black leggings. The frat guys were laughing at her. One held his arms out to his sides and puffed out his cheeks.

“You okay there?” I asked her. She was looking a little unsteady.

“Oh yeah, just great.”

She slammed into the booth next to me, pushing her full weight into me. I lost my breath and saw spots for a second.

“Joss, careful or you’ll break him!”

“Huh?” She looked next to me. “Did I hurt you?”

“No… I’m… peachy,” I gasped.

“When’s trivia gonna start?” whined Jocelyn, “I’m gonna need some brain food if we’re gonna win.”

Jocelyn flagged down the waitress and ordered a thing of zucchini sticks, a thing of sliders, and a large meat pizza, all for the “table”. She also got herself yet another Smirnoff Ice. Holly was looking a little green in the face at the thought of the food she would be helpless to stop eating, especially when Jocelyn got another beer for her. I had another beer for myself, and when the food arrived, bar trivia started, as if the two were entangled at the quantum level.

Jocelyn had entered our team name as The Squirtles, and I think I did a damn good job. I knew the right answers to questions about Larry Bird, The Sopranos, the Higgs-Boson particle, R.E.M., Wu-Tang Clan, the War of 1812, and Danika Patrick. Holly pitched in on questions about classical music and fine wine. Jocelyn, despite her focus on the food, piped in with answers to puzzlers about reality tv, chocolate bars, and Harry Potter. Between the three of us, we felt we had a decent shot at one of the prizes that the trivia host kept pimping.

“I’m proud of us, guys,” said Joss, “we’re a smart bunch of squirtles. Dave, I didn’t know you were such a brain. What are you doing working at the call centre? You could be doing something a lot better.”

“I know stuff about rap and basketball, doesn’t mean I’m actually smart.”

“Now you’re being me. Don’t be down on yourself. BA-UURRRP.”

Holly tittered.

“That one was juicy!”

She laughed again, but it jostled her stomach, because she winced and then burped herself. Jocelyn guffawed, big knee-slapping laughs.

"Good one Hollydoll! Dave is cool with girls burping, so feel free to let'er rip!"

Jocelyn put her hands on her belly with a THUNK and just started letting out a series of burps. I was completely immersed in the way her double chin rolled around, and the way her lips opened and closed so seductively. I put my arm around her, feeling the give of her soft flesh, and the indent created by her bra straps digging into her beefy shoulders under her shirt. I must have been too absorbed, because Holly said, "Seems to me that Dave is more than just cool with it."

I felt a little weird when she said that, but my new motto was No Shame, so I acknowledged Holly with a smirk and a nod. Jocelyn didn't seem to get it, that it was beyond toleration, that it was lustful admiration, so it was a little conspiratorial connection between me and Holly. Were Jocelyn and I really the oddest couple in the world? Of course not. As the night wore on, it was clear to me that Holly was just happy for her growing gorging gaining friend.

The wearing on of the night also involved Jocelyn ordering a pizza and a hamburger simultaneously, because she couldn't choose, and I told her to get both. She ate her food in her usual piggish manner, and I slowly moved my hand around her swollen stomach, until it was placed right on the front, where I began my circular rubbing motion. Jocelyn's hypnotic sway over Holly continued, as she foisted fries and a single slice on her smaller friend. It was clear to me that if Holly valued her (relatively) slim figure, she should friend-dump Miss Piggy. Jocelyn seemed hell-bent on turning Holly into a shorter version of herself.

"Just let it out Holly! BURRRRP! C'mon, you'll feel better."

"Heh, no way, I'd be embarrassed."

"Just do it," Jocelyn said, the sharp tone of the intimidator entering her voice.

Jocelyn passed her Ice along the table to Holly, motioning for her to chug with one hand while flagging down the muscular male model waiter passing by.

"I'll have (urp-hiccup-urp) two more Ices," said Jocelyn enthusiastically.

Before the waiter could get away from the table, Holly put down the bottle she had quickly emptied and let loose a whale call of a burp. She made awkward eye contact with the waiter and turned red as a tomato.

We stayed a while longer, and I watched Jocelyn get absolutely trashed, and bully her friend into joining her. Bottle after bottle ended up in the two girls, and Jocelyn ordered another couple appetizers, chicken wings and zucchini fingers. She only gave one of each to Holly, who clearly didn't want them, but had them practically forced down her throat by Jocelyn's jiggly arm thrusting them across the table straight at her mouth. When I tried to take a wing, Jocelyn barked at me.

"No way, jose. Get your own damn wings."

I felt confident that the wings, which looked really good, would be gobbled up by my fat girlfriend if I bothered to order them. I was riding high on the thought that this big sexy behemoth was really truly my girlfriend when the girls struggled out of their seats, hiccupping with the movement. I pushed Jocelyn a little bit to ease her way, and suddenly realized how crushed in I had been when I started breathing deeper than before.

I paid for Jocelyn's food, which thrilled her, earning me a kiss with a lot of tongue.

"Aren't you afraid of getting caught?" I asked.

"Not tonight," she slurred, "I'm having too much fun. And I'm so fucking full. And so wet. Whoops. God I'm so drunk."

What happened next? Holly walked home, hiccupping in the night air. I waited for the bus with Jocelyn, rubbing her gut for her as nightwalkers glared. I put my heavy girl on the bus, and walked home, looking forward to work.

Of course, our intimacy the night before was gone at work. Jocelyn, clearly hungover, wore a tank top and sky blue spandex, an outfit I couldn't believe she owned, couldn't believe she fit into, couldn't believe she wore in public, especially since her lower belly roll kept flopping out. She would perform the fat girl downward shirt tug, but her next movement in her comfy chair would bring that roll back out, for all the trainees to gape at. She was endlessly chugging Gatorade and Mountain Dew. Her eyes were as heavy as her ass, and she began to snore.

"Um, Jocelyn? Jocelyn? Jocelyn!"

This from a girl in the front row, who summoned Jocelyn back to the living Beetlejuice style, shouting the third iteration of her name. Jocelyn grunted, her eyes snapping open.

"Yeah?"

"Look, if you're just gonna… if you're not feeling good, or whatever, can I just go?"

"Sorry, I can't let you do that."

"But we're not even doing anything!"

"I was juuuuust about to start," said Jocelyn, slowly moving her feet on the floor to wheel her fat chair-bound body over to her computer.

The questioning girl audibly sighed and pulled out a Tupperware container with pesto pasta and a bag of Bits 'n' Bites. Jocelyn's eyes lit up.

"I haven't had Bits 'n' Bites in ages! I forgot all about them. And is that pasta? Could I try a bite?"

"No. I'm hungry. I need to eat this." The girl's voice was filled with bile, and the subtext was clear to everyone who wasn't my sweet unmindful Miss Piggy: get your own food, you greedy fatso.

"I'll cut you a deal. Give me some, and I'll… let you take a longer break."

The girl paused, her fork nearly to her homemade pasta.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, yeah, definitely, now give it here."

Jocelyn started to rise from her seat, grunting noisily with the effort, her pretty blue eyes focused on the food. Like a whale berthing, her standing up was a slow and awesome event, made the more so by her tank-top revealing her entire belly once she was on her feet.

"Hold on a second," said Pasta Girl, "are you saying you want the whole thing?"

"Well," said Jocelyn, "now that you mention it, yeah."

"New deal. If you want the whole thing, then I get the rest of the day off. No penalty, I don't have to make up any missed work or anything. I just get to go, enjoy my day, and come back tomorrow, no questions asked, my job still waiting for me. Deal?"

The class, myself included, was waiting with held breath while this girl made her case, wondering what Jocelyn would say. Even I was thinking, surely she won't do that? That's the first step on a slippery slope to termination. She hadn't been doing much of any sort of training this week, but at least we were all here. At least we were in the building. If she let a person leave, not only would they not be prepared for the job waiting for them live on the phones, but they would still be getting paid, to do whatever they wanted with their day. And all for a bit of pasta and a salty treat? Even Jocelyn would have more self-control than that.

You know where this is going. It turns out I thought about this a million times more than Jocelyn did, because as soon as Pasta Girl stopped talking, Jocelyn blurted out:

"Deal."

And she launched herself at the pasta, grabbing it in both meaty hands, her bloated gut knocking a computer monitor off the table and on to the floor. The very thing she had been afraid of on her first day, and she didn't even seem to notice. Was this because of me? Was this the effect I had on her? It was Thursday, not even a full two weeks in, not even a third of the way through the training period, and her willpower seemed demolished.

Pasta Girl packed up and left, leaving her food for the scavenger. Three other people followed her lead, handing their meagre lunches over in exchange for freedom. I approached her at actual lunchtime, her hand deep in a bag of someone else's chips.

"Hey Dave, isn't this great," she whispered, "Free food!"

I didn't know what to say, so I smiled and nodded, transfixed by her bare stomach, pouring onto her lap. I forced myself to say something about a tv show I knew she liked, as the class filed out of the classroom. When I was the only one left, I reached out and grabbed a handful of her belly.

"Oh Dave, what are you doing? Jeez, I didn't realize how much was hanging out."

"I couldn't help myself. You look amazing. You are amazing."

"What am I doing that's so amazing?"

"You're… you… you're eating."

She smiled coyly.

"I certainly am. And I don't plan on slowing down." She beckoned me to lean in. "I'm so happy you like me like this," she whispered, "Happier than I've been in so long. And if you like this too, than there is nothing I will deny myself. I drove myself crazy thinking about you last night. I want you to come over this weekend. I think I might be ready."

"Are you sure?"

She belched in my face.

"Positive."

That evening, after work, I jerked off until I was spent, and fell asleep, drained and exhausted. When I awoke, I chatted online with Jocelyn, who told me about what she was eating and how much she wanted me. I offered to come over that night, and she said she was too gassy from the bowls of chili she had eaten. I told her I didn't care, but she insisted that she wasn't ready, that she had settled on the weekend and she was forcing herself to wait. So, some willpower remained, for the time being.

The next day, she showed up in the same dress she had worn last Friday, looking a little bit tighter. Fully half the class had brought food in preparation for bribing. They vacated the room and Jocelyn feasted on her bounty.

And what follows is the story of how Jocelyn really started to get fat.

 

atcAlan

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I just love this story. It gets better with each installment. Keep it up!
 

Propp Matt

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Thanks alot for an excellent piece of art!
I really love this story, one of my favorite wg-stories ever.

Matt
 

acadm

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hello? is this story stuck in limbo? thank whomever that borderlands 2 and bioshock infinite and hobbs' ghostman (amongst other things like the upcoming second part of breaking bad season 5) are keeping the writer busy and occupied while waiting for the conclusion(?) or continuation of this tale
 

Uncle Jack

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The six weeks were up. I was officially qualified to work for slightly above minimum wage, plus sales bonuses.

But the training period had been more than worth it. Not just because I got to meet Jocelyn. But because I got to watch Jocelyn become Mega-Jocelyn.

I was sitting at the back of the training room at the beginning of the final Friday, reading comics, doing my best to tune out the noise and ruckus of my illustrious peers. Everyone was thrilled to be done with training. It had been easy, even easier than they had thought, because of who had been in charge of things. I think the majority of them, despite the slacker's paradise training had been, were less than enamored with dealing with their trainer everyday. I had not done much to make friends in this training class. I've always been shy, even a bit standoffish, when it comes to new people, and I wasn't really impressed by any of the people I found myself stuck with. In addition to that, there was my particular relationship with the trainer, about which more momentarily.

In a slightly different setting, I might have decided to drown them out with the help of my earbuds. But I liked to keep my ears peeled for the sweet sounds of Jocelyn's arrival.

You felt it before you heard it. You remember the ripples in the water in Jurassic Park? I could see it in my coffee cup. But you could hear it soon enough. A heavy steady thud, coming down the hall. The floor vibrating. Even now, even with everyone used to it, the sound caused the room to gradually hush, something to do with instinctual awe in the presence of the large. Perhaps the continued silencing over the past couple weeks had to do with the incremental increase in the force of the thuds. Something they couldn't be conscious of; the gradual accretion of mass, so that the sound now was thicker and heavier than the sound a month ago.

Jocelyn entered the room, her hips coming closer than ever to grazing the doorway. She kept "meaning" to get new clothes, but her good intentions were usually drowned out by her desires to stuff her face, lie around letting her ass grow, and fucking her sweet secret boyfriend (moi). So most of her clothes didn't fit at all anymore. And those that did, did so in only the most technical use of the term. She was currently jam-packed into a pair of pink sweatpants that showed every roll, with tears around her hips that she was aware of, and tears in the butt that she wasn't aware of. I knew for a fact that the inner thighs were completely worn away by her thick-legged waddle. The waist on the pants didn't come up to her belly button, which was a shame as far as propriety goes, because her Harry Potter t-shirt ended about an inch and a half above her belly button. Her vast orb of a middle section wobbled heavily as she plumped her way to her workstation. The shirt was absurdly tight as well. This morning, I cut little triangles into the sleeves to allow her fat flabby arms to fit, as well as a triangle on each side of the bottom, in hopes of giving it more stretch. It sort of worked, but the shirt still wasn't appropriate attire. But she loved her Harry Potter, and she refused to give it up until she tore right through it. Watching her inhale the pancakes, bacon, and donuts that made up her breakfast, I didn't doubt it would be long.

I had asked her that morning if her outfit wasn't a bit too... showy for work, before I left myself. Her reply: "Eh, no one will notice." Delivered through a sticky mouthful of maple syrup and pancake. And this was the real maple syrup. My big girl insisted on it.

We spent most mornings together nowadays, as well as most nights. Why had we arrived separately? Because we were still (nominally) keeping our relationship clandestine, but also because I had gotten back into exercising. Being with Jocelyn had really perked up my spirits, and along with perked up spirits (and perked-up libido), came the resolve to get my body in top gear. I had started biking to work, as well as jogging in the evening and hitting the gym a couple times a week to pump iron. The results were minor on that final Friday of training. I hadn't been doing it long enough for a radical change, but my body was leaner and more toned. And being with a girl who never let me finish a meal without swiping the food off my plate certainly helped keep the pounds off. That girl had changed more noticeably than I had in the same time period. Though maybe I'm wrong; maybe to most people fat people are always just fat, if you're not paying attention, so that an additional pile of pounds goes unnoticed.

How many pounds? I had discovered this just the night before that last training day...

Jocelyn rolls off me, her naked body covered in sweat. Since we have started having sex, she has discovered that she likes it cowgirl, which is fine by me, because I love the feeling of being crushed under her weight, watching everything slap, jiggle and bounce.

She grabs a beer from the bedside table and slams it down. She lets out one of her cannonfire belches that are her typical post-coital response. The heavy breathing and the fact that she tends to fuck on a full stomach are the likeliest culprits.

"Boy oh boy, if I knew sex was so good, I woulda been giving it away on the corner long ago!"

"You know, for some people it's not that good. We're lucky."

"Oh, I keed, I keed, I am ohnaly keeding. I only wanna screw you, sexy boy."

"You are definitely the best lay I've ever had."

"And here I thought virgins were supposed to be bad at it. Turns out I'm a sexual BAA-ORRP dynamo."

I grab a roll of belly flab and squeeze.

"All this certainly helps."

"Wow, you're grabbing a lot there. I should probably weight myself. I don't know what I'm at right now."

"When was the last time you did?"

"Um... not sure. I kinda do it sporadically, since I don't diet or anything. It's not like I ever expect it to go away, so I never got caught up on it. Oh! It was the weekend before I started the training class! I remember because I had just taken a big nap, and woke up friggin' starving. But I wanted to weigh myself on an empty stomach."

"I'm kind of curious what you weigh now."

"Really? Why do you care?"

Jocelyn had come a long way since we had gotten together, but she is still so naive in so many ways regarding my chub-lust.

"Just curious, that's all," I say.

"Well, I weighed 320 when we met, if you must know. I've probably put on five pounds since then, maybe a little more. Happy weight."

320. Even after being with her, feeding her, getting to know her body and her voracious appetite, there is something mysterious about an exact number that gets my heart beating rapidly and my poor penis throbbing, begging for relief.

Next thing you know, she hauls her enormous ass out of bed and waddles into the bathroom. I watch her from the bed as she bends over with a grunt, her stomach rolls bunching up and her bubble butt sticking way out. She pulls a scale out from the sink and places it on the ground. She steps aboard.

"Can you check the scale for me? I'm having trouble seeing it."

Rushing over with the speed of Barry Allen, I craned beyond the dome of her fat gut to peer at the scale.

"What does it (urp-hic-urrrrp) say?"

I desperately fought around for saliva, to say the number.

"360."


Yes, that's right. An additional forty pounds. In just the month and a half since we had met. This surprised me, because that is a surprising amount of change for anyone in such a very short amount of time. On the other hand, it shouldn't have surprised me. Jocelyn ate literally CONSTANTLY. Compared to the first week I knew her, the Jocelyn now, the Mega-Jocelyn, was like a Dyson Vac. Efficiently sucking up all digestibles into her bottomless stomach.

Wonder of wonders, she wasn't currently eating as she reported to work for the day, but she was talking loudly on a cell phone.

"No Mom, I'm sure he'd love to come over! As long as you make more chicken this time, then we'll (BUUUURP) be there. Now I gotta go, I'm at work."

Joss's mom loved me. We had only met the one time, just a week ago, but she had been suitably impressed by how dutiful and sincere I was in regards to her daughter. For my part, I was impressed with how considerate she was towards Jocelyn's gluttonous lifestyle...
 

strataadvance

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The only thing that had been missing for me from this story were the weight details. It helps me get a better mental picture of the growing heroine. Thanks
 

Uncle Jack

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"Honey, it's so great to see you! You look... happy."

This is from Jocelyn's mother, who I'm about to meet for the first time. I'm understandably nervous, and Jocelyn isn't helping. She insisted on a stop at Dairy Queen on the way over, for a little treat, and where she was the one driving, how could I say no? That's how she ended up getting two chocolate dipped cones (one vanilla soft serve, one chocolate soft serve) and having me drive because she "needed both hands".

My nerves are amped up as I watch Jocelyn hug her mother while carefully holding the remains of her double-fisted cones in each chubby paw, so as not to drop them or get any on her mom's shirt. Her mouth is comically surrounded by an ice-cream ring, like a kid in the summertime.

Her mother is a thin woman, in good shape for her age, which is what I was afraid of. Her face registers a brief flicker of recognition at the way her arms squish into her daughter's back fat mid-hug, but it's only a flicker. As if to say,
Oh goodness, she's bigger again, but what was I expecting?

Their hug breaks apart and Jocelyn introduces me. The mother and I are locking eyes. This is the moment I've been dreading. Look how fat my pig of a daughter is! Did you have anything to do with this? Did you encourage her to be this way? Do you actually LIKE HER THIS WAY?!?!?!

Don't look at me! She was obese when I found her, I swear!

But things are going differently. She's smiling, and shaking my hand, and saying,

"I'm so happy to meet you. Jocelyn's been telling me about you non-stop the last month. You make her very happy."

"Mooooom, stopit, you're (urp) embarassing me."

"Finish up your ice cream, dinner's just about ready. Theo's just finishing up everything out on the deck."

"Oh boy oh girl oh god," says my tubby beauty as she jog-waddles through the living room. She's wearing tights today, red ones, and her gargantuan ass jiggles like a silent red alert. She hipchecks a side table, sending a vase of flowers crashing to the ground. Next passing through the dining room, connected to the preceding room by a wide open missing wall, she makes the china and keepsakes in a fancy pine hutch jangle and shake with her heavy footfalls. She's wearing a white tank top with a black bra, and the top is riding up over her mighty love handles as she continues upon her purposeful path. She opens up the sliding door and calls out, "Hellooooooo Theooooooo! Guess who!" And she shakes out on to the deck, turning a corner and disappearing out of sight.

Jocelyn's mom walks over to the knocked over vase, which has shattered.

"Oh jeez, I just bought this vase. Oh well. David, would you come to the kitchen with me and help me put these in some new water?" She gathers the loose flowers and arranges them into some sense of order.

I follow her, and observe the sheer difference between mother's physique and daughter's physique. Where daughter is bottom heavy, mother has what you might call "lean hindquarters". Where daughter is jiggly, mother is svelte. Where daughter is dressed revealingly, mother is dressed tastefully, in form-fitting khaki capris. She wears a nice navy blue blouse on top, and has her hair done in a nice inoffensive shoulder-length bob. I am expecting the third degree in the kitchen. This mother, having that daughter? How could Jocelyn not have emerged from some family of eternal gluttons? How could Jocelyn have a... normal mom?

The kitchen is littered with dirtied pots, pans, dishes, cooking utensils, boxs, bags, and food-related accoutrements. Each of the four stovetop burners has something on the go, and it looks as if the oven is cooking as well.

"How many are you expecting?" I ask.

"Oh, just the four of us. You, me, Joss, and Theo. That's Joss's stepdad."

Well, it's certainly a Jocelyn-sized meal, no question there...


I was snapped out of my reverie by Jocelyn's customary request at the beginning of each training day. Sorry, did I say request? I meant command. Most definitely command.

"Alright everybody, it's the last day of training, but that does not mean I'm not super hungry, so bring me my breakfast!"

Everyone (myself included - must keep up appearances) dug out various bags and containers of food. Not much was required of each person; as long as everyone chipped in, there would be enough food for Queen Fatass, as a number of the trainees had dubbed my sweet baby doll. She sat in her chair (the arms had exploded off the sides two weeks past) at the front of the room as everyone lined up to present her with their tributes. This was how an easy ride had been guaranteed the past five weeks. Pay the fare, and you could spend your day however you wished, as long as you stayed in the room during designated "class time". Meanwhile, Jocelyn, in all her corpulent splendour, softly belching from the large breakfast I had already made for her at home, quietly digesting the sugary Starbucks concoction she had no doubt picked up and slugged back on her carefully untaxing car ride to work, patiently awaited that which was rightfully hers. Her belly button wobbled with a particularly fierce hiccup as the first offering was placed on the table to her side: leftover veggie samosas. Not typical breakfast food, but the Queen was not picky when it came to the subjects of her call centre kingdom. As long as the belly remained full, all was right with the world. She worked hard, and got everything she wanted, everything she deserved, everything she could ever desire: food. Food to feed a village.



to be cont'd...
 

Uncle Jack

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Jocelyn continued to eat in front of everyone. Noisily, grunting and chomping. A little bit messily, with a few bits peppering the front of her shirt. Quickly, and with determination.

I revert to my favorite at-work activity: staring at Joss, and daydreaming...

"I'm very happy you and Joss found each other. She's never had luck with the boys."

"I'm... very fond of her, Mrs. Conroy."

"I'm Mrs. Keener now. Conroy is Jocelyn's father. And please, call me Sue. Now don't sound so formal. Relax. I'm not gonna bite your head off. Though Joss might if we don't fix up supper in a hurry."

I chuckle, not sure how to respond to this.

"Y'know," continues Sue, "I can always tell when she's happy. She tends to - how can I say this? - get stockier. She must get it from her father's side of the family, lord knows it doesn't come from me."

She's put the flowers in a new vase, and carefully placed them on the counter, against the wall, far from the ledge where oblivious girls with dangerous hips can attack.

"Is she close with her father?"

"She sees him occasionally, but no, not close. Anyway, I'm sure you've noticed yourself that Jocelyn's put some flesh on. Don't try to deny it. I'm thrilled to see it."

"You are?"

"Yes. I wish she wasn't so prone to it. I tried everything with her growing up, tried to instill good eating habits and what not, but she was heavy as a kid, and she's heavier now. I'm not going to be the sort of mother whose daughter avoids her for fear of getting nagged. Can I get you something to drink?"

"A glass of water would be fine."

She opens the fridge door and pulls out a Brita filter. Inside, the fridge is stocked, bursting. A mother knows her daughter.

"I used to wish Jocelyn was different, but I don't anymore," she continues, "I just try to be the best I can be. And Theo helped me come to that realization. He's been great to me, and her."

She sighs. She has been facing away from me, looking out the window over the sink. I suspect she can see Jocelyn out there, but from where I'm standing, I can't. She turns to me, holding a glass and pouring the water into it, while looking at me. It's a little bit creepy, but it's serious enough that I hold eye contact. Her eyes are a bit misty. The only sound is the pouring water, and when that stops, she offers the glass to me, wordlessly. I take it, and drink half the glass, maintaining eye contact.

"Now that we're friends," she says, "I want to make one thing clear. You are not going to try to change her. You are not going to pressure her to do anything with her body, or anything else, that she doesn't want to do. If you're thinking that you have some plan to take her pretty face and put a skinny body to go with it, through mind control and pressuring and coercion, I won't have it. I know how men can be. I want this all up, out in the open, right now. Jocelyn does not have the experience with guys that she ought to, and I suspect she doesn't know how they can hurt."

I hesitate to speak. It's clear that Mrs. Keener was speaking of her own life. She knows her daughter but she doesn't know me. She doesn't know about men like me, because she only has experience with men who are attracted to women like her. She's operating from some buried hurt, and I want to put her mind at ease.

"Sue, believe me. I love Jocelyn just the way she is. I'm not like those other guys."

Pause. The sounds of Jocelyn and Theo out on the porch, laughing.

"So I suppose you like women with... a bigger... frame."

"I suppose I do."

"That's... good. Great, even." Her smile snaps back, like it had never left. "See? Told you I wouldn't bite your head off! I hope you're hungry, we've got lots of options tonight!"

I had never met a woman like Jocelyn Conroy. And I have never met a woman like Sue Keener.

The patio door slides open and Jocelyn wobbles in carrying the giant serving bowl of potato salad in one hand, and spooning it in into her maw with the other. The ice cream from around her mouth has been cleaned away.

"Whud err ooo due talkin bow en ear?" she asks, her mouth crazy full.

"Oh nothing dear," says Sue, "Can I get you a plate for that?"

Jocelyn swallows.

"No, I'm good. Theo needs help bringing in all the food." She sits her bubble butt on a chair, which creaks ominously beneath her. Sue and I exchange a look, and when it becomes clear that the chair is going to hold (for now), we both share a smile. We've reached an understanding. Sue and I are going to get along just fine.

"Mamabear, can you get me a can of coke? Davey, how come you didn't tell me I had ice cream all over my face? I had to wash it off with pool water."

"I don't know," I say, "I thought it suited you. Wait a minute. Pool water?"

"Did I forget to tell you Mamabear's got a pool? Maybe we can go for a swim after dinner. Theo can lend you some swimming trunks."

"And what will you wear?"

"Don't worry. I brought my swimsuit."

This is exciting news. She definitely hasn't bought a new suit since we started dating, and she's put on weight just since then. Who knows when the suit dates from? I move behind her and hug her around the shoulders. I go to grab the spoon, and she yanks it away.

"Hey, who said you could have my poh-tay-toes?"

"I was gonna help you, that's all."

We both know "help you" is code for "feed you myself while you sit back looking beautiful". I proceed to spoon creamy potato salad into my girl's mouth, watching her chubby cheeks bounce with pleasure. I turn and give Sue a wink. She gets it. She places a coke, radiating cold, in front of Jocelyn. In between bites, she pops the tab and chugs it back, a rivulet of soda dribbling down her double chin, draining over half the can in one go before releasing the can from her lips and letting loose with a prolonged -


"BUUUUUUUURRRRRRRPPPPP!"

I shit you not, the walls shook.

"Was that a low-flying plane?" jokes Sue.

"scuse me," mutters Jocelyn. I move to continue feeding her the potato salad, but she rips the spoon from my grasp. "Aren't you gonna help Theo with the food? He'll throw his back out."

"You're not gonna help too?" I ask, facetiously.

"Yeah right, I'm already sitting. And I'm tired from... something." Couldn't even think of a proper excuse. "Now chop chop!"

I do as I'm told.
 

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