It was a snowy night, and I really felt cooped up. The
roads weren't real bad, yet there wasn't much activity. I
thought I'd go to the neighborhood bar--which was also a
good pick-up spot.
There really wasn't much activity. There were several
couples in the booths, and several neighborhood men with
their night out with the boys. The only other person was
a young lady at the bar. I wasn't interested in her, but
I thought I'd stay for a drink or two.
After getting my drink, I noticed that she kept looking
over towards me. She wasn't my type at all. She was
extremely attractive. But she had on a lot of make-up,
even though it was done well. She also had on high heels,
and very tight pants and top to show off her very thin
waist. Despite her thinness, she was busty and hippy. I
kept ignoring her, hoping she would quit looking.
However, she finally came over to me. She started with
the small talk, but I was getting annoyed. While I'm sure
99% of any American man would have killed for a chance to
talk to her, I was the 1% who enjoyed the "girl next
door," and I knew it. After squirming, and trying to end
the conversation, I finally blurted out, "You're very
pretty, but you're just not my type." She came back with
"Oh no? Well, what is your type?" I apologized, but told
her that I liked the "girl next door," perhaps not as
pretty as she was, maybe chubby, someone who liked to camp
out, or just do something informal. Actually chubby was
quite an understatement for my preference in women, but I
wasn't about to go into it with a stranger.
Her expression changed, and she looked a little sad. She
had lost her sarcastic tone of voice. Well, I was the
"girl next door" when I was growing up. I hung out with
the neighborhood kids. We would go to the schoolyard and
play kickball, or maybe just talk. And yes, I was chubby.
That was the problem. I was chubby all of my life, but
after a point as I matured, I started to gain a little.
My parents were alarmed, and they sent me off to diet
camp. Then they sent me to finishing class, and modeling
school, and advanced classes. I had lost the weight. It
was easy to keep the weight off, because everyone I hung
around with half anorexic.
As she slowly sipped her drink, she kept going deeper in
thought, and kept pausing as she talked. I hung around
with another crowd. I didn't have much time to be with
the neighborhood gang. They probably thought I abandoned
them to hang out with the "popular" girls, but my happiest
times as a teen was with the gang. I dated the football
star, and the wrestling captain, and all the other jocks.
But I hated it. The jocks were either into their bodies,
or winning. I had better times dating nerds when I was
younger. The girls weren't any better. They were all
into dieting and modeling.
So, she said, how could you tell I wasn't the girl next
door? I had told her about the make-up, and the tight
clothes, and the high heels. We had talked about other
things, our childhood, etc. I had really enjoyed the
conversation, and I could tell she did too, even though it
made her sad at times. She invited me to her house the
next night for dinner to thank me for listening. I
agreed. Perhaps her looks weren't my "type," but I found
her thinking definitely was.
When I came over, she looked different. She had on
sneakers, and her hair was braided. She didn't have any
make-up on. However, she still had on slinky pants and a
top. "Well, I hope I look like 'the girl next door' a
little bit," she said. I would have bought something less
formal to wear, but I didn't have any food, and I didn't
have time to shop for both. I never keep any real food in
the house, just diet dinners. It's never been a problem,
because all of friends are on diets. I told her that she
looked great, and much less formal than the night before.
She was anxious to keep the conversation going from the
night before. She relived more of her early teens. She
told me that she was glad to have someone around that
wasn't into sports and fitness. She said jokingly, "I
hope that you really don't mind chubby women, because this
is the first time I've had regular food in years." I
resisted the temptation to tell her about my real weight
preference, since I knew she would never be that big.
I could tell that she was really enjoying my company, but
I was afraid to get emotionally involved, since I sensed
that her feelings were more for her missed pass with the
"gang," rather than me. However, I wasn't seeing anyone
else, and enjoyed female companionship in general, and
found her denouncing the "beautiful people" quite
interesting, even though I though she may have been a
little obsessed with it. But we agreed to meet at the
mall for dinner two days later.
I picked her up, and we walked the mall. She had on a
slinky dress, but the rest of her was still braids and
flats. As we approached Lane Bryant, she told me about
shopping there as a young teen. However, she surprised me
as she walked in. I told her that nothing there would fit
her now. She didn't say a word, but went from rack to
rack. I thought she was carrying her reminiscing too far,
but I didn't say a word. She picked out a size 14 tent
style dress, brought it to the front and paid for it. She
started talking about something else, so it was hard to
bring up the dress later. We had dinner, went to a movie,
and called it an evening. She invited me over the next
night for dinner again.
As I drove over, I thought about the dress, and wondered
if she bought it for someone else. She did say her
friends were all small. When she opened the door, she was
wearing the dress. It looked a little funny on her. Her
arms were about half the size of the sleeves. Her
bustiness did give it a little sense of fullness, although
most of the dress just hung on her. But my heart beat a
little faster. Without gaining a pound, her image changed
from sleek to full figured.
She stood, and modeled it, and said, "Well?" I told her
that it was big on her, but she didn't have to wear it for
me. "I'm glad to get rid of my model image," she said.
"and besides, since I've begun to eat normal meals, I may
just become a size 14." "That's not too chubby for you,
is it?" I had told her that I had dated women much larger
than that, and she didn't have to worry about my
preference. I told her that I liked that style dress. We
had dinner, but this time it included more potatoes, and
ice cream for desert.
A week later I was at her house again. She invited me in,
and said, I want to model something for you. She went up,
changed, and came down in the outfit she had met me in.
However, this time her pants didn't meet at the button,
and her zipper was only half way up. Her top revealed
that her midriff was starting to bulge, and the silhouette
of her bra showed a hook starting to break. "Are you sure
you don't mind?," she asked. Again, I assured her,
telling her she looked great. She left the outfit on,
until she ripped the back of her pants as she down to
dinner. The tent dress was still big, but not as it had
been.
Her favorite size 14 dress was supplemented by a few
more. And while I was sure that she would hit her peak
soon, I enjoyed watching her sleek body fill out to be
soft. At times I would fantasize what she would look like
at 250, but then realize she was only 160.
As the time went by, it seemed that some of her early teen
talk had been replaced by food talk. Ice cream had
replaced all of the diet dinners in the refrigerator. She
had put candy dishes around the house, and I noticed her
trash cans filled with candy bar wrappers. At the same
time her breasts became fuller, and unable to stand erect.
Her hips were filling the loose area of her dress.
We had continue to see each other as friends quite often.
However, one night we were talking on the phone, and she
told me that she needed to have a serious conversation
with me. I didn't know what it was about. She said that
she had two things she wanted to tell me. She told me
that ever since the night we met, she tried to respect my
wishes that she wasn't my type, but she was falling for
me. I told her what I said that night didn't apply
anymore, because she WAS the girl next door type. I
didn't know she thought I still felt that she wasn't. The
other thing she wanted to talk about was her weight. She
told me that she bought the size 14 dress to symbolize
that she no longer wanted to flaunt her thinness.
However, she said, she really was a size 14. I can try to
watch my weight, she said, but I gain weight fast, and it
would be hard to go back to my old ways. I held her hand,
and told her she had nothing to worry about on either
count, and that she could never get too big. I thought to
myself that being a 14 to her must have felt really big,
but to an FA, it's really small.
She kept enjoying her new found freedom from dieting, by
eating snacks and full meals. It wasn't long after our
talk that the lose fitting size 14 became tight on her.
Her selection in the size 16 clothes were much more
varied, since she said she no longer had a thin body to
camouflage. While I still had my preference of larger
women, she didn't look too bad in either dresses or pants,
which showed a figure on the verge of blossoming into that
of a large lovely lady.
Now that she was wearing tighter clothes, it was easy to
see the new rolls that she had acquired. Although she was
busty as a thin person, her growing breasts were too much
for 38DD bra. Flesh protruded above the cups and around
the sides of her bra. She had started to develop a small
midriff bulge. Over the weeks her breasts were getting so
large, they were pointing lower and lower.
She was getting more comfortable with herself and felt
more comfortable with me. She kept eating, and talked
about her growing body. It took her only several months
to from her size 16 into the twenties. She would always
wait a little too long to buy the next size. But I
enjoyed seeing her flesh through the ripped seams or
between her buttons. I also realized that she would be
more than just a little chubby. I figured she would peak
sometime soon. While not as large as I fantasized, she
was certainly appealing.
On another meeting, she was talking about the old gang. I
asked her if she had seen any of them. She told me that
it had been quite a while. Most of the members had moved
away from their parents, but most returned every summer
for a block party. I told her that I would like to meet
some of them. She said that most of them thought she was
conceded, and would probably ignore her. I told her that
I could tell she liked them, and she should see them
again. She said maybe, and crunched down on a candy bar
she had been opening while we were talking.
We were becoming very fond of each other, and spent a lot
of time together. She had lost her last bit of inhibition
eating in front of me. Sometimes she would rub a growing
part of her body against me while eating a snack and ask
me if she was my kind yet.
On one of our frequent trips to the mall, she had stopped
at Lane Bryant. She had tried on a few things, but left
empty-handed. Didn't like anything, I asked. Well.. she
said, Do you remember what you said the FIRST time we
walked in here? I thought for a moment, and then said that
nothing in there will fit you. Bingo, she said. I'd
better order some things from the catalog tonight.
I noticed that her clothes styles were changing. She was
wearing more tent style dresses. Her pants were stretch
pants, and her tops were the long type that went below the
waist. Her weight had shot up to well over 300, and she
was wearing a size 52.
We had discussed her friends, and she finally agreed to go
to the block party next summer, which was 10 months away.
I was looking forward to it since it seem that I knew each
person without ever meeting them.
She was gaining weight a little more slowly now, which was
probably just as well. She was a super-size woman now,
and had to learn to be graceful. Her hips, which was
always proportionally large were causing her dress to ride
up. She had also learned to walk gracefully, despite the
size of her thighs and arms.
We had gone through the fall and most of the winter
talking about marriage. She was happier now then she had
ever been when she was thin. She had hit 400 pounds
around Christmastime. She was ordering all of her clothes
from Lane Bryant, but the fashionable clothes ended at
size 56. She was sitting at the couch filling out a Lane
Bryant order blank. She had ordered the only item that
came in a size 60. She said she hoped it looked better
than the picture. She also wrote away for a catalog from
a firm that specialized in sizes over 60.
She was anxious to get both, and I could understand why.
She was bursting out of her size 56. She had cut the
sleeves to accommodate her fleshy arms. But her hips and
breasts filled her dress like a water balloon ready to
burst.
She had gotten her package from Lane Bryant, but was
disappointed. I can't wear this to work, she said. It's
a housedress. Her attention then turned to the catalog
that also came the same day. She ordered some nice things
She phoned the order in to rush it, but was disappointed
to learn that the company made each item as it was
ordered. Even with a rush, it would be one week. I was
delighted to hear the conversation on her end, "bust 70,
waist 55, hips 85. Yes, 7X will be fine. Thank you."
I didn't say too much, since she seemed to be unhappy
about the situation. But she came to me and told me how
comfortable her new dress was. She got playful again,
rubbing her 85" hips against my body.
The next morning, she was getting ready for work, when I
heard a loud rip. Even with a 2" wide rip in her size 56
dress, it was still tight. She put on her size 60 dress,
and said she couldn't go to work. She called and got a
week vacation.
Her appetite had slowed down for quite a while, since she
was not longer trying to gain weight. But she didn't deny
herself, either. But the boredom of her being by herself
was too much. She had gone back to her old eating habits
and then some. That last splurge pushed her over the 500
point. By the time the 7x clothes came, they were a
little tight. She said she didn't plan to eat like that
again, but she ordered 8x clothes just in case, since she
couldn't take any more time off.
As summer came closer, her weight leveled off to 515, and
the 8x clothes fit fine. She had retained the same
beautiful face she had when we met, although it was
obviously fuller. I often thought back to the night at
the bar, and how thin she was.
Well, the great block party had came, and we went
together. She got a lot of stares, but nobody talked to
her. Finally, most of her friends had gathered to talk,
and she went up to them. One of the ladies said. "Why
talk to us now. I see you got fat, then you decided to
come back to us." "No", she said, It's the other way
around." After the long stories about the diet camps, and
how her gaining weight was a symbolic return to the gang
and a rebellion to her thin days, she was welcomed with
open arms. Most of them saw us walking down the aisle
when we got married that fall.