WG Story Drone
Well-Known Member
BHM, Romance A tale of young love and female fat attraction . . .
Chelsea Grover ran her manicured fingers through her scrunched brown hair, which fell down, past her chest. The ennui of Anatomical Biology had hit her full force. She was in her last semester of her Senior year and Mr. Malashy made it quite obvious that if she didn’t pass and get this last science credit, she wouldn’t be walking down the aisle with everyone elser at graduation. But this was stupid. This was pointless. She tapped her pencil on her desk.
The sound of panting and loud footsteps came from down the hall, as Dakota Smith came running in, his round belly jiggling with every step he took. He tripped on the floor, spilling the contents of his backpack. Several popular boys near Chelsea giggled, and she felt helpless because she couldn’t get up to help him. How could she?
Chelsea had been in lust with Dakota since they were both freshman. She had transferred from a small Catholic school, her parents were well off and she was naturally pretty, so she became popular.
Dakota, who was overweight and not as stylish as she was, found himself an outcast, often hanging out with the pathetic thespian girls, the drama whores. Not that sitting with Chelsea’s group would have been any better. They were just as shallow and catty as the drama kids. Everyone just associated her group with cattiness, because that’s the way the high school caste system always worked. The "preps" or the "populars" are always the mean ones and everyone’s the victim.
Chelsea had begun to despise the caste system as her years in high school began to fade to a close. She found herself bored with catty gossip and annoyed with the braindead jocks leaving on football scholarships. Most of all she hated the irony that she was known for being one of the prettiest girls and not being able to have the one guy she truly desired.
Despite her revulsion at the clique system, she felt unable to escape and scared of what her peers would think. Besides, Dakota probably thought she was a snobby bitch. Those stupid girls in drama would talk behind her back spreading venom and lies, she’d find out, tell her friends and her friends would threaten them with physical violence. She wished she could break the cycle. She wished she could properly introduce herself to Dakota, instead of admiring his beauty from afar.
And that’s what she did every year. During the school year and over the summer, when she knew she was alone, she would scrounge the Internet for pages, support, anything that would make her feel less like a freak. She had even joined a message board for FFA’s (female fat admirers). The women on the message board told her she wasn’t a freak for her sexual preference, but society was telling her otherwise.
She especially enjoyed coming back from summer vacation. Dakota’s weight had plateaued at 335, but he started high school at 259. Watching him gain was exciting to her, almost to the point of sexual arousal. She would watch him in her classes, multiple rolls hanging down when he sat. She thought about how nice it would be to bury her face in his ample belly, or at least run her fingers along his stretch marks.
"Chelsea..Chelsea.." Mr. Malacky put his hand on her bony shoulder and shook. "I thought you’d passed out. Come here, I want to talk to you. Dakota you come too."
She’d slept through Anatomic Biology again. Oh boy! This was probably it, Chelsea you fail, no diploma for you. But why did he want to talk to Dakota as well? He waas smart, certainly not in any kind of academic trouble. She grabbed her designer bag and shimmied over to Mr. Malacky’s desk. She looked at Dakota and he looked away, embarrassed.
He had shoulder length blonde hair and deep green eyes, almost like you could see his soul in them. He was 6 foot 3 and he had a perfectly round belly, almost like that of a Buddha statue, but with more of a "spare tire shape". She wished he would look her in the eye, but oh yeah...there was the caste system.
Mr. Malacky approached them, leaning over almost so far that they were looking into the top of his balding head instead of his face. He seemed disappointed, yet somewhat hopeful. He spoke:
"Miss Grover, you have a 59 per-cent in this class, and your chances of walking up to the front at graduation time are getting pre-tay slim, missy. Now I’ve spoken with your mother and she thinks that what I'm about to do is a good idea. Dakota has been a tutor for Biology and Math for three years and he’s an A student. You could learn from him, hopefully for your own benefit. So, you kids have fun, knock yourselves out. And get to your next classes, chop chop I don’t want to see tardy students, do you understand?"
"Yes Mr. Malacky." They both responded in unison.
They parted, Chelsea leaving with her best gal-pals Samantha and Krystal for a mirror check and Dakota leaving with a pale girl in a tie dyed shirt.
Unleashing her Inner Desires
By the Taxidermy
1
By the Taxidermy
1
Chelsea Grover ran her manicured fingers through her scrunched brown hair, which fell down, past her chest. The ennui of Anatomical Biology had hit her full force. She was in her last semester of her Senior year and Mr. Malashy made it quite obvious that if she didn’t pass and get this last science credit, she wouldn’t be walking down the aisle with everyone elser at graduation. But this was stupid. This was pointless. She tapped her pencil on her desk.
The sound of panting and loud footsteps came from down the hall, as Dakota Smith came running in, his round belly jiggling with every step he took. He tripped on the floor, spilling the contents of his backpack. Several popular boys near Chelsea giggled, and she felt helpless because she couldn’t get up to help him. How could she?
Chelsea had been in lust with Dakota since they were both freshman. She had transferred from a small Catholic school, her parents were well off and she was naturally pretty, so she became popular.
Dakota, who was overweight and not as stylish as she was, found himself an outcast, often hanging out with the pathetic thespian girls, the drama whores. Not that sitting with Chelsea’s group would have been any better. They were just as shallow and catty as the drama kids. Everyone just associated her group with cattiness, because that’s the way the high school caste system always worked. The "preps" or the "populars" are always the mean ones and everyone’s the victim.
Chelsea had begun to despise the caste system as her years in high school began to fade to a close. She found herself bored with catty gossip and annoyed with the braindead jocks leaving on football scholarships. Most of all she hated the irony that she was known for being one of the prettiest girls and not being able to have the one guy she truly desired.
Despite her revulsion at the clique system, she felt unable to escape and scared of what her peers would think. Besides, Dakota probably thought she was a snobby bitch. Those stupid girls in drama would talk behind her back spreading venom and lies, she’d find out, tell her friends and her friends would threaten them with physical violence. She wished she could break the cycle. She wished she could properly introduce herself to Dakota, instead of admiring his beauty from afar.
And that’s what she did every year. During the school year and over the summer, when she knew she was alone, she would scrounge the Internet for pages, support, anything that would make her feel less like a freak. She had even joined a message board for FFA’s (female fat admirers). The women on the message board told her she wasn’t a freak for her sexual preference, but society was telling her otherwise.
She especially enjoyed coming back from summer vacation. Dakota’s weight had plateaued at 335, but he started high school at 259. Watching him gain was exciting to her, almost to the point of sexual arousal. She would watch him in her classes, multiple rolls hanging down when he sat. She thought about how nice it would be to bury her face in his ample belly, or at least run her fingers along his stretch marks.
"Chelsea..Chelsea.." Mr. Malacky put his hand on her bony shoulder and shook. "I thought you’d passed out. Come here, I want to talk to you. Dakota you come too."
She’d slept through Anatomic Biology again. Oh boy! This was probably it, Chelsea you fail, no diploma for you. But why did he want to talk to Dakota as well? He waas smart, certainly not in any kind of academic trouble. She grabbed her designer bag and shimmied over to Mr. Malacky’s desk. She looked at Dakota and he looked away, embarrassed.
He had shoulder length blonde hair and deep green eyes, almost like you could see his soul in them. He was 6 foot 3 and he had a perfectly round belly, almost like that of a Buddha statue, but with more of a "spare tire shape". She wished he would look her in the eye, but oh yeah...there was the caste system.
Mr. Malacky approached them, leaning over almost so far that they were looking into the top of his balding head instead of his face. He seemed disappointed, yet somewhat hopeful. He spoke:
"Miss Grover, you have a 59 per-cent in this class, and your chances of walking up to the front at graduation time are getting pre-tay slim, missy. Now I’ve spoken with your mother and she thinks that what I'm about to do is a good idea. Dakota has been a tutor for Biology and Math for three years and he’s an A student. You could learn from him, hopefully for your own benefit. So, you kids have fun, knock yourselves out. And get to your next classes, chop chop I don’t want to see tardy students, do you understand?"
"Yes Mr. Malacky." They both responded in unison.
They parted, Chelsea leaving with her best gal-pals Samantha and Krystal for a mirror check and Dakota leaving with a pale girl in a tie dyed shirt.
