Chris looked up from the printout the student placement office
gave him, to doublecheck the address for his job appointment, not
far off campus in this university town. "The Bibliophile" was
burnt into an old wooden sign on the door that he opened, to the
sound of a cluster of chimes dangling noisily. He was immediately
struck by the closed confines of the store, and began to
understand why the job ad he had just reread said: "small strong
agile person wanted..." Narrow shelves and displays would have
been a problem for a person larger than Chris; but Chris was
built like a jockey, a muscular 5'5" tall, and only 140 pounds.
While questions continued to fill his head, he heard a "hello"
accost him from the back of the store which was otherwise
completely silent. In a strange neighbourhood, and as a man
entering a woman's private place, Chris coughed nervously, and
then said..."only me, your job applicant".
"Ohhh!" chris thought he heard disappointment in her voice. Had
she already found someone.
"If you've found someone already, I'll be leaving, thanks". But
before Chris could go, she said...."no, it's just that when the
placement office told me your age and size I expected a young
girl, not a..... man."
Chris was now confused. He walked to the back of the small store,
where he found an office, and finally, ...
"I'm ...pleased to meet you, uh....Chris is it?" Chris came
around the last shelf, and saw a huge smile, as a hand extended
across a cluttered combination work table and desk. The arm
seemed in danger of knocking a pile of books askew, into the
combination of papers, snackfood, and...the rest of her,
actually. Chris nervously backed away a moment, trying to grasp
what he was seeing, but the hand stayed out for an impolitely
long time. Waiting.
"Oh....I'm Sonya....Sonya Woytowycz, and I guess I'm ....ha
ha.... the original bibliophile."
Chris finally took the hand, and began to take in the
heart-stopping sights...all around him, surrounding him in the
small crowded office. Her big soft hand was so much larger than
his own, that he did not know how to react to the sudden warm
glow, as he met her eyes, through her thick glasses. She did not
appear to see him too well, through such thick glasses. Perhaps
she had no idea what he was staring at: a soft, warm hand so much
bigger than his own, a desk littered with food and books and
invoices and packingslips, and ....the rest of her. Her breasts
took away a large portion of the work area on the table; they
also took away a large portion of Chris's air.
In the silence Sonya did as she usually did, filling the space
and the silence with her own presence: "uh, I hope you love
books. You know that a "bibliophile" is someone who loves books?
Do you, uh, love books?" That last question was suddenly
plaintive, as if she were concerned that her own passion was not
shared by this student in her store. "what do you study, Chris?"
Chris was still gaping at her, and then realized he had not only
not answered, but was just standing there silently staring....
"...OHHH.... uh, engineering. Electrical engineering, ...and
computers. You..... don't have any electronic stock control, do
you?"
Sonya could only snort....a kind of attempt at a laugh that never
quite came out the same each time, but at least gave Chris
permission to relax for the moment..."This place? Wht would I
computerize these"she said, gesturing with her arm at the pile of
older books to her right, but accidentally knocking them over in
the process...."whoooops!"
She jumped up to grab the falling books, just as Chris leaped
forward to save the books from falling, and the two collided,
cracking their heads slightly. The embarassment each felt in that
collision helped Chris conceal his next major shock.
As Chris reeled, trying to master his emotions, Sonya chuckled at
his obvious respect for books. "Thanks but you don't have to
throw yourself onto any live grenades here to prove you love
books.... but I never knew this store could be dangerous." The
chief danger was to Chris's pants staying dry, or bursting from
the excitement he was experiencing. "Here: are you okay? Sit
here," she said, pointing to a chair beside the desk...Chris had
to remove several books first.
He practicaly fell into the chair, as his knees gave way with
pure shaking excitement. He looked up....way up. Sonya looked
down tenderly in her fogged and unfocussed way, from all of her
imposing five foot thirteen..... Six foot one, she towered over
and all around Chris, who couldn't seem to catch his breath, as
if Sonya kept sucking all the air out of the room. She stood
there, puzzled as usual, because she could not really see his
expression.
Assuming that it was the bump on the head, and that it wasn't
fatal, she returned to her chair. Once seated, Chris could no
longer see so much woman in the room, because Sonya sat on a very
solid but low armless chair behind her desk. That she could reach
so far above the desk, Chris noticed, was an indication of her
immensity: had he sat there he would be completely invisible
above the table.
...invisible above the table....the thought stayed with him,
although he wondered why, and also wondered why the thought of
sitting at Sonya's low chair, invisible shook him to the very
marrow of his being. Did this somehow remind him of being a
child, unable to reach the table? why did this move him so much?
He stored the thought away as one he would to explore.... like so
many other sensations he was feeling since arriving in the store.
He rose, and continued small talk about inventory control, and
commputers, while sidling around to the side of the desk.
"Blablabla" they said, while he continued to shake, and then saw
what he needed to see: the side view....he didn't dare to stare
for long, so he hung his head, shyly, so that she would not
realize he was staring...that side view pushed his heart rate up
higher than it had yet been. He saw her immense thighs, in dark
olive green tights, with a drab brown sweater hanging loosely
around hips that went this way and that, loosely jiggling. And
the ripply cellulite of thighs that hung over the side of the
chair. the chair. the chair. How much weight was softly pressing
down on that chair? Thighs that should be measured in the number
of FEET wide they were... He continued smalltalk, but pictured
the chair, under thighs. They spoke, and he realized she was not
really able to see him anyway, but she continued to chatter back
politely.
The job appeared to be his....thank the lord, then aloud, "thank
you lord" Chris said, quietly, under his breath.
And so, fully recoverd, Chris began to learn the layout of the
store, the procedures, the ins and outs. He was surprised to
discover how busy this little place could be: frequented by many
from the university. In the process, he remarked to himself at
all the new words and concepts he was discovering: "humanities",
"clsssics", "social sciences". What a contrast to the sharply
defined edges of his own discipline of electrical and computer
engineering. Somehow the store reflected its clientele, who
gravitated to its special atmosphere of blurry and out-of-focus
clutter and ambituity.
One day, Chris steeled himself to dig further into these unknown
and disturbing thoughts. Sonya had been talking to him about the
accounting and the books, and the possibility of better inventory
control. Chris was certain he could create something very simply
with one of the older machines that people were selling for next
to nothing...he remembered how a 486 once cost in the thousands,
and now was next to nothing to obtain. Chris had decided to come
into the store on Monday, which was usually his day off and the
store was closed. It was a bright sunny afternoon, so he turned
on no lights, but let the sun filter to the back of the store
where he needed to explore.
But the chair.... He put his hands on the wood, and decided to
sit down. Looking at the desk he realized that he had been lying
to himself. Work? He came in because this place excited him. He
pictured how Sonya filled this space, her thighs her breasts, and
that sweet out-of-kilter sense of confusion. His hands brushed
the wood, wondering at the contrast that must be between this
hard wood and her softness. Then he touched himself, and thought
again of softness and hardness. Imagining her here-- yes, he
could smell her faint perfume, and he saw...surely the floor
was.....bent, yes, bent here where the chair somehow withstood
her immense weight. He pictured how she could bend the floor just
by being there, unaware behind her glasses while the very floor
became bent under her. Thoughts of her immensity, and her gentle
lack of awareness of what happened under her feet, under her
ass....That sweet and blind ignorance crazed him further and
further, as he was closing in on an orgasm...
He heard her coming, humming softly to herself, as she opened the
door. She turned on the lights, and came, slowly. Chris marvelled
at the sound of her, her soft footfalls that were both gentle,
and yet awesome at the same time. Had she learned specially to
walk so delicately for fear of seeming as big as she was? He
heard her brush against shelves, because she barely fit through
in many of the tighter places. He loved imagining her size... how
her body swelled so large that the place was too small for her.
Chris had not said anything, but now, as she entered the office,
he saw that her arms were completely laden with books. He
slouched down, and almost giggled at what he was thinking. She
couldn't see him there.
Sonya placed her pile of books into the chair beside the desk,
then as slowly as an avalanche, sat into the chair. And just like
an avalanche, once the process was begun it was not eaily
stopped. Partway down Sonya realized something was different,
although she couldn't place it. As her centre of gravity shifted
back atop her pelvis, and she leaned back into the chair she
began to drop gently onto the chair. She never dropped without
control anymore than she walked without control because of bad
experiences, breaking chairs: she always flexd those huge thighs
most of the way down, holding her weight back as surely as she
held back her weight walking in order not to land too heavily.
But there comes a point of no return nonetheless, whether in the
act of sitting or in the act of self-pleasuring. Just a fraction
of a second after this point, which is that moment of relaxation
when her muscles would all sigh at her, saying "thank you for
letting us rest now".... She realized that the chair felt
wrong......wrong wrong wrong....But she continued to sink back,
as her weight pressed down upon the ballooning flesh of her ass
and thighs, riding deeper into that softness, feeling the
hardness of the chair more than usual.
She began almost instantly to jump back up.....she heard the gasp
of breath, and a giggle, and was instantly mortified, embarassed,
shocked....and worried. "are you alright? what.....what are doing
here?" She almost became angry, although this was not a normal
part of her emotional vocabulary.....She was so sure that the
place was empty, and the lights had been off. "Were you asleep in
the chair???!!!"
"sorry......sorry" was all Chris could say..... concealing the
fact that he had just had the orgasm of his life. She had been as
soft as he had hoped, but she had engulfed him so completely,
pressing his hands and his crotch and his entire body mercilessly
for a moment of blissful eternity when he thought she would pave
him right into the wood, when his mind said press me through the
floor.... his breath came in ragged gasps.
She was concerned at his breathing..... "are you alright? I
didn't hurt you did I?"
"Oh no!!" he replied. "you.....you've really woken me up." And he
meant this in the most literal sense possible. "I was doing extra
work. I ....want you to know that I have really come to love
books, ......and the people who love books." He said this with
the deepest and truest smile he had ever made in his life.
And....was it possible? She seemed to see that smile.