The Writing Exercise - by Sweet Tea (BBW, WG)

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SweetTea

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~BBW, ~SWG - Brandon sorts out unexpected feelings from his inner self


The Writing Exercise
by Sweet Tea

“Brandon, if you look at that clock one more time, I’m going to take it off the wall and hand it to you!” Mrs. Ellison scowled at him from the top of her wire-rimmed spectacles while a couple students chuckled.

Brandon felt Johanna shove his chair from behind, and he turned around to see her grinning at him.

No matter how hard he tried, Brandon could never get started on the stupid “10-minute Free-Writing” assignments that his creative writing teacher made them do at the end of every class. The ideas just wouldn’t come. He stared down at the empty white page and wished as hard as he could for some idea to pop into his head. Mrs. Ellison always told them to just start writing whatever they were thinking about, and that the ideas would flow from there.

Brandon fought the urge to look at the clock again (it had only been 3 minutes?!?) and wrote the first thing that came to mind: “I am in creative writing class.”

That was stupid, and he knew Johanna was going to make fun of him forever when they had to read their writing to the class. He would have to do better than that.

“Johanna is sitting behind me. She is my girlfriend. We have been dating for 8 months and she likes to laugh at me a lot. She has curly brown hair and really hot legs.” He looked this over- no, too much like a diary entry. Ugh. Brandon turned the page and started over. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine something-anything. He had been thinking about Johanna, so the first thing he imagined was a girl with brown hair.

“There once was a girl who went…who went to....uh, to...” Brandon’s pencil stopped scratching. Why was this so hard? He rubbed his eyes with his hand as he listened to all of the other students furiously writing down free associations. He knew their time must be almost up. Another useless writing session with nothing to show for it.

He put his pencil back down and started writing automatically. He wasn’t even paying attention to what was coming out on the page, he was just frustrated that he was having to take this stupid summer school class instead of going on vacation with his parents on a cruise to the Caribbean. If only he hadn’t failed last year’s English composition class, he wouldn’t be stuck inside this classroom with all the other losers and jokers who were having to take make-up sessions.

Brandon was so absorbed in his frustration that he was actually surprised when Mrs. Ellison shouted for them to stop writing and move their desks into a circle to share what they had free-associated.

Brandon sat between a still-giggling Johanna and a football guy named Tim. Across the room was Brandon’s best friend, Jackson, who made a face at him. Jackson was a horrible writer, but a great suck-up, and usually got away with whatever he wanted. Mrs. Ellison was proving a tough case to crack, despite Jackson’s best efforts.

Jackson started the circle off with a poem about how his life had been forever changed by the caring ministrations of their most kind and erudite instructor. The class chuckled as Mrs. Ellison rolled her eyes. Brandon listened to some of the jocks write sports stories, the girls write dopey romance, and the one geeky computer kid write some weirdo epic about a clan of warrior elves who were crossing some mountain range on their way to battle something-or-other.

Johanna’s writing was a thinly fictionalized account of their last make-out session in the back of his truck. Now it was his turn to roll his eyes as the class laughed.

He knew she was just doing it to tease him, but Brandon wished she wouldn’t treat everything they did as community property. He winced as she read a line about the hero’s plaid boxers and saw Jackson mime a high five from across the room.

Brandon was so relieved when she stopped reading that he forgot to be nervous that his turn was coming up. Suddenly, he found all eyes on him as he read the words he had written on the page in front of him.

“In another world, there’s a school like this one where everyone is different. They don’t have the stress outlets we have here, like sports. They get frustrated with things like society and parents and pressure to always be good at everything, but they push it down inside of them. Every day, they stuff their problems way, way down deep inside and then bury them.”

The room was silent as Brandon finished reading. Mrs. Ellison actually looked interested. Johanna looked surprised, along with the rest of the class.

“Wow, Brandon, where did that come from, huh?” Jackson joked as the students moved the desks back and collected their books to go home. “You’re secretly some amazing creative genius and you’ve been hiding it from us!”

Brandon smiled and gave him a shove, but in the back of his mind, he too was surprised at the words that had come from him seemingly out of nowhere. Especially the last line, which he had not read out loud: “In this world, everyone is fat.”

2

Brandon and Johanna pulled into the McDonald’s on their way home from class. It had become part of their summer school routine. Johanna was still teasing him about blushing during her reading.

“You’re such a prude!” she said as she hopped out of the car and skipped toward the entrance of the fast food restaurant. “It was supposed to turn you on!”

Brandon hated when she said stuff like this. It made him feel like if he got embarrassed when she shared details of their “personal lives” then there must be something wrong with him. Johanna made it seem like any other guy would be totally cool with her spreading whatever stories she wanted to whoever she felt like, and that he was just supposed to act like that was normal.

He was still in a bad mood when they ordered and when they sat down to eat.

“What’s with that thing you read in class today?” Johanna asked as she bit into her cheeseburger. “You got really deep all of a sudden, took us by surprise.”

Brandon’s normal writings were random sentences about what was going on in his life that day, or about how he didn’t know what he wanted to do when he graduated.

“Yeah, I don’t know,” he mumbled. He hated when Johanna put him on the spot. He knew she wasn’t doing it to be mean, she was just really inconsiderate sometimes and didn’t think about how her actions would make other people feel. They had grown up in the same neighborhood and had gone to school with each other for years. Brandon had felt like the luckiest guy when they had started dating. She had been his first kiss.

Other than her capriciousness and irreverent tendency to giggle about even the most serious things, Johanna was a great girl. She had really pretty green eyes and long hair that he liked to play with when they were watching a movie together on his couch. She had freckles on her nose and was a really good kisser. He just hated how sometimes she would embarrass him in front of other people, or tell people stuff about him that he considered “private.”

Johanna was bubbly and laughing all the time, and never took anything seriously, so by the time they had finished their burgers and fries, he was in a better mood. Johanna went to the bathroom while he cleared the trays. He didn’t want to mention it to his girlfriend, but he had some serious questions about his writing assignment in class. Where had that come from, especially the part about fat people? What did it mean about Brandon? Was there some part of himself that he didn’t know about?

When he saw the familiar brown curls bounce past, he reached for her arm. “Hey, I’m over here.”

The girl turned around, and Brandon saw his mistake. This girl had brown, bouncy curls, but she was much, much bigger than Johanna.

Surprised and embarrassed, Brandon’s eyes took in the smooth skin on her round face and bright green eyes; tiny, full lips painted a bright berry red; the barely-there shadow of a chin; a pair of big, round, blushing breasts peeping out over the neckline of a tight short-sleeved blouse; soft, round arms that dimpled at the elbow and the wrist, all pink and white and smooth like a baby’s skin; a thick, full waist that buoyed the girl’s breasts up almost into her chin; wide, round hips that were holding up a stack of rolls on either side of her belly, which filled the shirt she was wearing to its capacity and hung down over the waistband of her pants; and lastly, a pair of tiny, dainty feet, which only made her legs look even thicker and wider and rounder because they were so small in comparison.

Brandon stood there open mouthed as the girl smiled sweetly and expectantly. “Yes?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you were my girlfriend.”

She laughed politely. “That’s ok. Have a good night.”

She turned to go, delicately navigating herself around the booths and chairs. Brandon made his way outside and saw Johanna sitting in his truck already, leaning out the window.

“Where were you?” she called, smiling. “Let’s go!”

Brandon climbed into the truck beside her and tried to organize his thoughts as Johanna sang along to the country radio station. He didn’t know why, but looking at the figure of the girl in McDonald’s made him feel the same mild astonishment he had felt when he saw what he had written in class. He couldn’t stop retracing the curves of her ample body in his mind, and as a result, he almost drove past his own driveway.

“Whoa there!” Johanna laughed and called him a space cadet. Their routine had been to grab dinner on the way home from class and then to Brandon’s house, where they would lounge in the hot tub for a few hours until Johanna had to be home. Brandon’s parents almost never went out of town, so the time alone in the house was a high school couple’s dream, a big step up from the back of Brandon’s truck.

Brandon liked the hot tub. It was a good way to relax, and he liked having Johanna there with him. She was funny and good company, and made him feel good about himself. Tonight, however, he found himself getting annoyed with her constant chatter and sexual innuendos. He had a lot of his mind, and all he really wanted right then was to be alone to do some thinking about all the weird thoughts that had begun to crowd his head and wouldn’t leave him alone.

Johanna sensed his mind was elsewhere.

“You’re not paying attention to me!” she pouted and slid over next to him in the tub. When her curly hair was wet, it looked smaller and flatter against her head, which made her eyes look bigger and more childlike. Johanna was 18, but she looked (and sometimes acted) much younger. This was part of the reason that Brandon still hadn’t slept with her.

He didn’t know why he was waiting so long. She was plenty willing, and they had done everything but sex, but for some reason, Brandon just felt weird about it. He knew that she had dated other guys before him, and he was pretty sure that she had slept with at least one of them. He didn’t want to ask her, though, because he just didn’t want to think of her with anybody else. He knew she would deny it, and Johanna had always been a terrible liar.

He sighed again, and felt his bad mood from earlier returning. Johanna sensed it too, and slid onto his lap in the water, draping her arms around his shoulders.

“Hey,” she said, looking into his eyes, “What’s wrong?”

Instead of waiting for an answer, she gave him a kiss, long and hard. Brandon always liked kissing her, but Johanna seemed to think that making out was a solution to every problem, and sometimes Brandon suspected that she only kissed him as a way to avoid talking about problems. All these thoughts on top of the ones he had already been having kept him from being as excited as he normally would have been kissing Johanna’s talented little mouth.

He felt one of her slim hands slide from around his shoulder down his arm, down his waist, and into his lap, gently stroking him under the water. She giggled as she felt him get harder, and moved to kiss his ear, one of his favorite places. His mind was still preoccupied, so he didn’t notice right away that he was fantasizing about a different girl.

With closed eyes, he began to imagine that the girl kissing him was the girl he had seen earlier, the girl whose roundness, whose fullness he couldn’t seem to get out of his head. In the hot tub, he found it easy to imagine the size and weight of a bigger, heavier girl on top of him, caressing him slowly between his legs, and, shockingly, he realized that he had become rock hard.

Johanna had noticed too, and giggled in a self-satisfied way as she helped him find release. He shut his eyes and climaxed to a vision of fullness, roundness, warmth and sensuality. Spent, he shuddered and relaxed in the tub, laying his head back on the edge behind him.

“Mmmm, was that nice?” purred Johanna as she rested her head on his still heaving chest.

“Yeah,” murmured Brandon with his eyes still closed. “Really nice.”


3

The McDonald’s was full of families and kids. Brandon tried to look inconspicuous as he sipped a Coke in the corner, but he stood out as the only person who was there alone.

He still couldn’t believe that he was here. The whole idea was stupid. About a week after his first writing class, he had started having dreams and fantasies about bigger people. Not just girls, whole cities of fat people. He had no idea why this started, but he was finding it harder and harder to keep his thoughts from wandering to fatness.

He had attempted the creative “free-writing” exercise on his own at home a couple times, with similar results. It seemed like every time he touched his pencil to paper and let his mind wander, it would turn to detailed descriptions of fat bodies, or of people eating, stuffing themselves or each other. Sometimes, he would have a hard-on by the end, and have to stop writing to relieve himself.

Brandon was nervous. He knew that these types of thoughts and feelings must be either rare or taboo, because ne had never heard any guys talking about feeling like this before, or girls either, for that matter. He didn’t know if it was normal. All he knew was what his body was telling him, and what his body wanted was more.

Brandon’s parents had returned home from the cruise, happy and sunburned, so Brandon had more time to himself in the evenings to think about his new “problem.”

He still hung out with Johanna, but he found himself choosing activities like seeing movies that didn’t require much conversation. He liked being around her, but she wasn’t such great company when you had a lot on your mind. If she noticed his preoccupation, he couldn’t tell, and so he figured that if she noticed anything different about him, she would have told him by now.

He couldn’t stop noticing hugely fat people wherever they went. Once Johanna actually slapped his hand playfully at an Italian restaurant when he trailed off in mid-sentence as he noticed a super-sized couple walk through the front door.

“Brandon!” Johanna said in mock seriousness, “Don’t stare, it’s so rude!”

She thought he had been staring out of wonder and mild disgust, like so many others, when really he had been looking at the fat bodies as a type of puzzle that he was hoping to learn the answer to.

He began to notice the different ways that everyone carried fat on their bodies. He learned the difference in how a belly hung low and flabby or stuck out buoyant and rounded. He noticed lumbering, waddling, and the odd way that some people swung their legs in circles beneath their massive guts in order to shift their bulk forward. It fascinated him, all of it.

The day after his Italian food date, he began to drop Johanna off at her house right after class, claiming he had errands to run for his parents. He would drive past fast food restaurants and Wal-Marts, observing people and trying to analyze his feelings.

What about size and fat was sexually arousing for him? The worst part of the whole thing was the self-imposed secrecy. He had always been close to his parents, especially his Mom, and had always talked to her about any girl-problems he was having, and she would sometimes playfully tease him about how Johanna was “too good for him!”

He knew this issue was different, but he still wasn’t comfortable bringing it up with either her or his Dad. The other night after dinner, his Mom had actually taken him aside.

“I’ve noticed you’ve been so quiet since we’ve been home. Did you and Johanna have a fight?” Brandon wanted so much to tell her about all his weird dreams, the odd feelings he got when he did free writing exercises, and his new-found fascination with big bodies. He wanted her to reassure him and pat his hair in her Mom way and tell him that it was ok, that he wasn’t weird, that there wasn’t anything wrong with him.

Instead, he glumly shook his head and just said that summer school was getting him down, and he was still unsure of what to do when he graduated. She smiled and told him that he would figure everything out in his own time. Brandon sure hoped so.

No matter how much time he spent alone, he wanted more. He had ignored two calls from Jackson that week, and in class, he didn’t feel like joking around or laughing at Jackson’s lame attempts to brown-nose Mrs. Ellison. He didn’t even blush when Johanna read a steamy sex scene that he guessed was supposed to be a fantasy about the two of them. He was in his own world. He told himself, he just really thought it was important to understand this part of himself. Always in the back of his mind was the body of that first beautiful fat girl, the one he had mistaken for Johanna.

Finally, he decided to try to find her. That was yesterday; now, he found himself squeezed behind a booth in a noisy, overly-bright restaurant sipping a flat Coke and trying not to look like a stalker.

He realized the futility of his mission. He knew nothing about this girl other than the fact that she had been at that McDonald’s about this time last week.

“Maybe she hated McDonald’s!” he thought. “Maybe last week was a fluke. Maybe she’s married with 18 kids and wants nothing to do with high school seniors. Maybe she doesn’t even live in this town. Maybe I completely hallucinated this woman and I am sitting here for no reason.”

Brandon told himself that as soon as he finished his drink, he was going to leave and go home and stop this nonsense. He had a great life and a great girlfriend and a great set of friends and two great, loving parents. He was growing away from all of them, and for what? Something he didn’t understand. Brandon reached the bottom of his Coke and he felt disappointment.

Come on, he thought to himself as he stood up. What were you expecting? Some kind of answer to all your problems? Did you expect this mystery girl to come waltzing into the McDonalds like a fairy godmother to give you a Q and A session? Frustrated, he crushed his empty soda cup and tossed it into the trash. A hip bumped into him hard and jostled his arm, landing his cup on the floor instead of in the bin. He bent to pick it up, then stood to see a girl. Not the girl he was hoping for.

But a girl who was plump, pretty, and now apologizing for crashing into him.

“It’s crazy in here with all these kids,” she said as she excused herself and moved toward the counter to order. Brandon could feel his heart beating in his ears. This is stupid, this is stupid, this is stupid, he was telling himself over and over, but he knew his body was interested.

He took a deep breath and walked up to the counter and ordered another soda. The girl was waiting by the side of the counter and he joined her. Brandon wasn’t shy, but he wasn’t exactly a ladies man who exuded confidence and charm. If he hadn’t really wanted to talk to this girl, he would have kept quiet and shuffled his feet and stared at the floor, but he made himself look at her.

Pretty face, dark brown hair with highlights, glasses, pink lipgloss. She looked like she was in her mid-twenties. Chubby, bordering on fat, but held it all in her belly, which made Brandon inwardly smile.

“Hi,” he said and smiled.

The girl smiled politely but was clearly wondering why a boy in a McDonald’s was talking to her. “Hello,” she said, and then turned back toward the counter where her order was almost ready. Brandon knew this was his one chance, but mentally consoled himself that if she totally blew him off, it was ok.

“If you’re not sitting with anyone, you’re welcome to sit with me,” he said in what he hoped was a confident tone, but which was really only loud.

The woman smiled her polite but puzzled smile again.

“Um, ok,” she answered just as loudly and a bit slowly. Brandon realized she probably thought he was hard of hearing, and blushed. He led her to the booth he had been occupying in the back of the restaurant, which was still noisy and crowded.

“Sorry, I just figured you might join me,” he said in a normal-volume voice as they sat down.

“No, it’s fine,” she said as she unwrapped her sandwich. “I usually eat at home, but I didn’t feel like cooking tonight. I’m moving into a new apartment and still haven’t unpacked all of my dishes.”

She spoke pleasantly and conversationally, though Brandon could tell that part of her wondered if he was going to ask her for money or say something completely bizarre. He resolved to be as normal as possible.

He asked her where she moved from and learned that she was a Texas native who had moved out of state after college to work as a student teacher at a local high school (not Brandon’s). She was 24 and had just gotten a dog.

Brandon told her that he was in his last year of school and was planning to go away for college too, which he made up on the spot. He mentioned some of the small town’s attractions (hot rod custom car show, chili cook-off, drive-in theater once a month) and hoped to show her that he was really just interested in talking to her and not trying to get anything out of it.

She was really pretty. She carried herself in a way that wasn’t overly self-conscious of her size. She moved naturally, not trying to make herself seem smaller than she was or embarrassed about how her belly stuck out, increasingly so as she consumed her chicken sandwich, large fries, and strawberry shake.

She never looked down at her tray with embarrassment or seemed to think about her wobbling belly filling up in front of her. For this girl, Brandon realized, fat wasn’t something that dominated her thoughts every waking minute. It was just part of her everyday life, like having brown eyes or being left-handed. It just didn’t seem to be a big deal.

She finished her meal and smiled. “Well, I’d better be getting home to let the dog out. It was nice talking to you. I hope you have a good night!”

Brandon began to panic. Was he supposed to ask for her number? Would that be too forward? Did he even want to see her again? Was it just her shape he was fascinated with? By this time, it was too late, she had walked her tray to the trash, and was pushing open the door to the restaurant. Brandon snapped out of his indecision, pushed his way through the crowded restaurant, tossed his Coke, and pushed his way toward the door…just in time to see this girl- Brandon realized that he didn’t even know her name-drive off in her compact car.

Brandon imagined that girl’s full belly packed tightly into the tiny vehicle, jiggling every time she ht a pothole, and felt his heartbeat quicken and his face flush. He knew it might be superficial, but he knew he wanted to see that girl again, even if it was to just watch her eat. As he drove home, he formulated crazy schemes to break into the headmaster’s office to discover some kind of master roster of all of the school district’s student teachers, but he realized he didn’t even know her name.

When he got home, Brandon went right to his room, claiming he had some creative writing homework to do. He ignored a phone call each from Johanna and Jackson and lay down on his bed. He imagined the girl from the restaurant and thought of names for her. Beth? Too school-teacher-y. Cherry? Too much like a stripper. He imagined her in a little red bikini doing a striptease on a pole with that round belly on display for all to see, and got hard almost at once. The name game would have to wait, he had some unfinished business.

Afterward, when he was lying exhausted and red-faced on his comforter, he realized something: he knew the name of the apartment building complex she had moved into, and he knew she had a dog. He could definitely find a way to see her again. Ignoring another call from Johanna, he turned out his lamp and went to sleep.
 

The Id

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This is a very interesting story! It's an interesting twist on the origin story and something a lot of us can relate to.
 

SweetTea

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FOUR- DISTRESSING DOUBTS AND ANNOYING APPREHENSIONS,

(in which our hero returns to his increasingly challenging writing environment and experiences no little amount of uncertainty over his present predicament.)


Brandon did his best to edge into his customary classroom seat without meeting the eye of his visibly irate girlfriend.

The usual teasing smile was gone from Johanna’s face as she hissed, “where were you last night? I called and called!”

Brandon shrugged and took out his notebook as Mrs. Ellison began the day’s lecture on plotline development.

“I even had Jackson call you, and I totally hate that creep! You always take calls from him, he’s been your best friend for like 12 years! What is going on with you?”

“I’m fine,” he said, trying to ignore her pout. “I was just catching up with my parents, that’s all. They were gone a long time on vacation.”

“Brandon, they were only gone for 5 days, and they got back last week!” In her frustration, Johanna had forgotten to whisper.

“Johanna!” barked Mrs. Ellison, irked at being blatantly ignored.

Johanna hunched down in her seat and sulked, and Brandon was able to escape her venomous glares for the rest of the lecture. When it came time for the Free-writing exercise, their assignment today was to use Mrs. Ellison’s lecture on plot to draft the outline of a short story.

Brandon touched his pencil to the paper and tried to think of something to write about that wouldn’t give away his unconventional preoccupation, but then he had an idea: maybe this was the perfect time to really see what other people would have to say about his fascination with size? He could pretend that it was just a story, it didn’t have to be incriminating. He was so excited that his pencil tore a hole through the page as he started to write.

“Time’s up!” Mrs. Ellison shouted, smiling to herself. Brandon suspected that she secretly relished startling the students.

He laughed with the class at Jackson’s outline for a novel in which a “mature English teacher battles the evils of illiteracy and saves the world’s population from devolving into blathering idiots. He cringed at Johanna’s plot, which involved a vaguely familiar male protagonist who was simultaneously struck by lightening and hit by a car after neglecting to return his girlfriend’s phone calls. Finally, it was his turn.

Brandon took a deep breath, and started describing his story. “It’s about this girl who likes fat guys, and she’s afraid to tell anybody because she thinks they’ll make fun of her. She really, really likes them, though. And not cause she wants to help them lose weight or anything, it’s just that she likes the shape and how they feel.”

“What the hell?” muttered Johanna under her breath.

Mrs. Ellison shot a warning glance in her direction. “Go on, Brandon. What’s the conclusion your decided on for your story?”

“Um, well, she meets a guy and convinces him that she likes him the way he is, and I guess they go off and get married and whatever,” he finished lamely.

Jackson snorted in derision. “That effin' chick’s a weirdo.”

“That’s enough, class!” Mrs. Ellison took a moment to tell Jackson exactly where his comments belonged, and Brandon tried to make a beeline for the door.

“Brandon! Wait…” called Johanna, but he cut her off without hearing the rest of her comment.

“I’m having dinner with my parents tonight, sorry. I’ll see you in class tomorrow afternoon!” He jumped into the truck and headed toward the nearest pizza delivery place. He ordered a cheese pizza in case the girl was a vegetarian, then realized that he had seen her eating meat at McDonald’s just last night, and quickly ordered a meat supreme too.

He drove the pies to the brand-new apartment complex on the good side of town. The building was new and androgynous looking. Nice enough, but no personality. He wouldn’t have wanted to live there, but it looked nice enough. He pulled on a baseball cap and hoped he looked enough like a pizza delivery guy. Brandon knocked on the landlord’s office, and asked what number the new girl lived in.

The landlord was a short, round Italian with a bushy mustache, which he scratched as he thought. “Oh, the teacher girl? Got a little dog? Around the corner of the next building, number 1F.”

Brandon’s heart was beating in his throat as he rounded the corner and stood in front of the door. As he was about to knock, it swung open to reveal a very surprised looking brunette girl with glasses, and a tiny beagle on a leash.

“Um, hi?” she said in her polite-but-confused voice, which Brandon was familiar with by now.

“I was in the neighborhood and figured you would be all busy unpacking from your move, so I just thought I would swing by and see if you’d eaten yet?” He hoped it sounded believable.

She laughed, “Oh my gosh, you’re the guy from McDonald’s! I didn’t even realize. Wow, that’s so nice! Here, this is Sammy, he’s still a puppy.”

Brandon pet the tiny beagle, who licked him and started chewing on a trouser leg. They walked the dog together around the apartment building complex a few times, then came inside for pizza.

As they say down, Brandon explained, “I didn’t get the chance to ask your name last night because you left so fast, but I really wanted to see you again.”

The girl, whose name it turned out was Beatrice, was shocked as she brought her second slice of cheese pizza to her mouth. “Seriously? I mean, that’s really nice of you, but I totally wasn’t expecting to pick up a guy in the McDonald’s or I would have worn something nice!”

She played it off as a joke, but Brandon could tell she was flattered.

“You’re really pretty,” he said, and he meant it. She was cute, even with the glasses. He had never been into the whole “sexy schoolteacher” fantasy, but he could easily see himself enjoying it a lot more now.

“Um, thanks,” Bea said, automatically pulling down her shirt over her rounding belly. Slice number 3 disappeared in between her berry pink lips. “You’re not bad looking yourself.”

Now Brandon blushed. He was relatively tall and well-built, but he didn’t spend a lot of time working on his body for looks, just functional lifting for sports. In the off season he seldom worked out at all. He always thought he looked “good enough” but for maybe the first time, he felt the urge to make himself look his best for her. She was really comfortable talking to him, Brandon noticed. Weren’t fat girls supposed to be dorky, or weird, or really desperate and awkward?

Maybe it was because she was a teacher and a little older than he was, but Brandon realized that Bea didn’t seem too self-conscious about her size or eating, even though Brandon was watching her eat slice number four with ravenous eyes. He noticed that her lips were shiny from the oils from the melted cheese. He felt himself stiffen slightly as she pulled a piece of pepperoni from the top of her 5th piece and popped it between her lips.

“Mmmm, “ she said, as if reading his mind, “I haven’t had pizza like this in such a long time! Where’s it from?”

“It’s a local shop, I’ll have to take you there sometime,” Brandon blurted out awkwardly, then looked down as she laughed.

“So you work around here?”

“Well, actually, I’m just finishing up school,” he admitted. He saw a teasing glint appear in her eye as slice 5 completed its exit into that tiny, perfect mouth.

“Wow, now don’t I feel like I’m robbing the cradle! Don’t you have a girlfriend or something?”

“No,” Brandon said without even thinking. “There’s nobody.”

“Aw,” she said, “that’s too bad, because you’re cute.”

Her hand hovered for a moment over slice 6, and Brandon held his breath, imagining yet another steaming slab of cheese-and-meat-laden dough finding its way down into that rapidly-filling belly. Would the breads expand in her belly and puff it upward like rising bread dough? Would the heavy, oily meats and cheese sink to the bottom of her belly and weigh her down? Maybe both would happen at once, making her gut so big, round, and heavy all at once that it would topple her right out of her chair!

Brandon felt himself get fully, unbelievably, rigidly hard as he imagined Bea pulled to the floor by the size and weight of her gut. He could almost hear her whining about the pain of rolling on the floor on top of the massive, packed ball of belly. He could see his own hands help roll her over onto her back, her giant gut bulging out on top of her like a beach ball inflated with wet cement. He saw his hands reach way under the gurgling, warm, soft ball to unbutton her pants, which flew open under all that stress. He heard Bea’s sweet voice, now urgent, begging him to massage that giant, over-stuffed…..

“Brandon?”

He snapped out of his reverie to see her amused smile. “Whoa, sorry, I was just, uh, I just spaced out for a second.” He blushed beet-red up to the roots of his hair.

She giggled, but instead of annoying like Johanna’s incessant bubbly laugh, Bea’s laugh was musical and sweet. “I have to ask you a question, Brandon. You have been watching me eat like a hawk tonight, and you about passed out when I almost picked up another piece, even though I’m way too full. What is going on, hmm?”

Brandon cursed himself. I probably offended her by acting like a weirdo. I should tell her the truth. “I think it’s really sexy to watch you eating. You just look really good. I’m sorry if that’s weird. There’s just something about it.”

Bea didn’t look angry, just amused. “It is maybe a little….unorthodox….but I don’t think it’s creepy or anything. I can tell you’re being honest, too.”

She eyed the very prominent bulge in his pants. “Why do you think it’s so hot? Eating is just a normal, everyday thing, right?” A faint lilt crept into her voice that almost made her taunt sound like foreplay. Brandon was so unbelievably hot that he could only shrug. His heartbeat was so loud he was sure that Bea would hear it.

“So you think eating is sexy for everybody?” she purred and leaned the smallest bit closer to Brandon. She watched his face as she slid one finger under the edge of pizza slice number 6 and laughed again. “This is so fun! I have never had anybody ever tell me that they thought it was hot just to watch me wreck my diet!”

She pulled the slice out of the box and took a big, greasy bite.

“Mmmmmm…” she moaned, theatrically, but effectively. Brandon felt like his head- and something else- were about to explode. Half the slice disappeared into her mouth before she opened her eyes. “So, you never answered my question. Why is it sexy to watch this?”

Brandon was embarrassed now.

“Because you’re big,” he said, ashamed to say it for fear of embarrassing her. Bea just giggled again.

“I’ve always been big. I used to be huge in high school before I started taking thyroid meds and lost a bunch of weight. My skin got really lose, though, and it felt weird. I never liked the feeling, I felt like a deflated beach ball. Every once in a while, I eat like I used to, just to feel filled out, like my skin fits me again. I haven’t done it in a long time though.”

Beatrice licked the remnants of slice 6 off of her fingers and smiled devilishly at Brandon.

“Only two pieces left in the box now, see? I would hate to waste them. What do you think I should do?” she batted her eyelashes innocently at Brandon.

His pulse was pounding in his head so loud that he could barely think. He sat in his chair staring desperately at Bea, her lips and fingers glistening, her breasts heaving with the effort of stuffing her belly and the heat of the sexual tension, and her belly, stuffed, straining her shirt, rounding out under her breasts into her lap in a perfect arc, almost touching the table.

He hoped against hope that she was about to do what he desperately needed to see- stuff the last two pieces into her belly. He gasped as she slowly, tantalizingly laid one slice on top of the other, and opened wide. With one hand, she guided the pizza-sandwich between her perfect lips, and with the other, she reached out so slightly into Brandon’s lap.

All he needed to feel was one little stroke of her finger along the length of his cock and he exploded right in his pants, shaking and gasping, with head pounding and eyes ringing. He was limp and spent afterwards, feeling tingly and pleasantly exhausted, like he had just tired all of his muscles out doing something enjoyable, like playing a sport. A tiny bead of sweat trickled down his temple as he looked at Bea with disbelieving adoration.

She laughed again as she struggled visibly to stand and move to the door. Brandon didn’t understand until she opened it and said to him, “You get your excitement, and I get my indigestion. We’re even. You’re too young for me anyhow, but that doesn’t mean I can’t still have my fun with you. Thank goodness you’re not going to the school where I work!”

Still dizzy from his exhausting, earth-shaking orgasm, Brandon shuffled/staggered to the door, barely hearing Bea’s voice as she closed the door behind him, “Tuesday night at 7, Chinese food. Night-night, little Brandon!”
 

SweetTea

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FIVE- TUMULTUOUS TROUBLES AND TANTALIZING TAKE-OUT FOOD-

(in which our hero and his increasingly-petulant lady friend Johanna come to a parting of the ways, which does not leave him entirely despondent.)


Though he had been humming and singing to himself cheerfully all the way home, Brandon knew he was in trouble the second he pulled into the driveway. The sight of his mother looking uncertainly out the kitchen window could have tipped him off. That, or the sight of a seething Johanna standing cross-armed in the driveway like a very irate statue wearing denim shorts.

Brandon felt guilty. He had been lying to Johanna all week, and tonight, he had even told Bea that he was completely single. He had all but cheated on Johanna that night, even though he never laid a hand on Beatrice. Johanna didn’t deserve to be ignored and lied to. She had always been a good friend, and the worst thing she was capable of so far seemed to be to occasionally get on Brandon’s nerves.

He steeled himself for the inevitable attack, but as he approached her, Johanna’s expression turned from fury to disbelief. Brandon traced her gaze to the front of his jeans, where he realized that the evidence of his earlier excitement was partly still damp and definitely visible.

“Brandon! I thought you had been blowing me off to hang out with your ******* friend Jackson. I was upset enough about that. But then lying to me about dinner with your parents so you can go run off and do who KNOWS what? Who is she? Is it Elise? Michelle? Is it one of the new freshman girls? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Brandon wasn’t prepared. He was uncomfortable with the pressure of the direct confrontation, and again blurted out the first thing he thought would help the situation: “No, it’s not anybody you know. It’s just this girl I met last night at McDonald’s…”

This had a much worse effect than Brandon had hoped.

“WHAT? You picked up a stranger at McDonald’s?! Then you blow me off to go cheat on me with some random-ass whore?! What the hell, Brandon? Am I not even worth the courtesy of getting dumped before you’re off having one-night-stands? I wish it had at least been someone I know, so I could see if she was worth it. To see if she was prettier than me. To see who you thought was so special that you would throw away our whole 8 months together just to hook up with her!”

Johanna burst into tears, and Brandon felt completely and utterly miserable. Johanna was right: he had been completely selfish. Just because he was confused about his feelings for Beatrice and everything she stood for, that didn’t give him the right to treat his girlfriend of almost a year like she didn’t exist. Ever since he had started having questions about fat and sexuality, he had been pulling away from Johanna, and all his other friends. If he could just make her understand….

Brandon realized that he couldn’t explain it to her. Not in a way that she would understand. Knowing Johanna, if she knew that she had been replaced by an overweight girl, she wouldn’t understand. She would take it as an ultimate insult, like she was such a horrible girlfriend that she had driven her guy to THAT. She wouldn’t understand that Brandon had sought Bea out BECAUSE of the way she looked, not in spite of it.

By the time he realized what to say, Johanna was already walking past him in tears, down the street towards her house.

“I’m so, so sorry!” he called out, but he knew it wasn’t enough. Johanna paused, but then kept walking, and Brandon knew it was truly over.

He noticed his mother still at the window, and realized that she had seen the whole thing. He could see the disappointment in her eyes that her son would cheat on a girl who he claimed to care about. Sure enough, when Brandon entered the kitchen, his mother just shook her head. “I didn’t bring you up to treat people like that. That girl deserved the truth, Brandon.”

Somehow, hearing it from his mom was even worse. Brandon just shook his head and climbed the stairs to his bedroom. He flopped down on the dark blue comforter and sighed. He rethought his choices: if he had known Johanna was going to find out, would he still have done it?

He sighed as he realized that the answer was undeniably yes.

He hated feeling like he had to lie about his attraction to Beatrice just because she wasn’t conventionally “pretty” like Johanna. People would judge him negatively for being seen with her, he knew it. It was stupid- why couldn’t the world see her like he did? She was really beautiful.

As he started remembering the events of the evening, Brandon felt himself getting hard again. There was no doubt about it- Brandon had a serious sexual desire for all things FAT and gluttonous. He was fixated on the memory of Bea pushing those last bites of thick pizza into her mouth, her cheeks swelling with food as she chewed and swallowed….he imagined he could see the pizza travelling down her throat until it reached her big, round belly.

He started thinking about what she said about how she had used to be even bigger. This was amazing luck! Because she was so much thinner than her previous weight by comparison, she felt that she was “skinny” and didn’t feel the need to watch her weight religiously. Oh, he knew it would be too good to be true for her to stuff herself silly like that every day, but if she enjoyed it occasionally like she said she did, and she didn’t mind that Brandon took some ‘enjoyment’ in watching, then the possibilities were endless!

He felt a momentary flash of guilt at the fact that he should be thinking about Johanna and how he had hurt her, but the visions of his coming Tuesday with Beatrice and the Chinese food (quick- where could he get lots and lots of Chinese food?) was monopolizing her thoughts.

Before he knew it, he found his writing class notebook and was feverishly scribbling notes to himself, half-reminders, half-fantasies: “Serve her the noodles first for bulk and volume without feeling heavy. Move on to meats and fried things that are heavy….can’t eat as much, but the weight will cancel it out…finish with crisp, friend wonton skins and vegetables in sauces…easiest to eat at the end because they’re lightest.”

Brandon fell asleep with his pencil in hand, and dreamed about massaging soy sauce into Bea’s taut, glowing belly.
 

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