# What You Can Learn in College - by None (~BBW, Eating, Romance, ~MWG -)



## None (Apr 3, 2009)

_~BBW, Eating, Romance, ~MWG -_ a FA matures in his love of larger women

*What You Can Learn in College*
*by None
(based on the original story by Azorfire)

[Author's Note: *This is a story I adopted from the discard room, here, and decided to try and develop it a bit more. This will be in three parts, and hopefully it is slightly enjoyable.]​
*Chapter One*

You can learn many things in college. Academically, you can learn how to ponder the meaning of human existence, how to figure out discriminates, how to analyze Joyce, how to embezzle money by reading between the lines in accounting, how to argue a case to keep a monster from being executed, how to stage a coup, among other things. Socially, you can learn how to alienate people, how to make friends, how to degrade yourself to be accepted, how to make love, how to hate, how to love, how to be depressed, or how to break or have your heart broken.

It was four years ago, I was a freshman at a little liberal arts college in Orange County. Back then, I was young, well, younger and being fresh out of high school I was idealistic. I wanted the world to be some much better, so much more accepting. 

Looking back at it, idealism and naivety aren’t that far from each other. College was such a shock for me, there was so many big women! The variety on campus was expansive and ranged from the smaller one hundred fifty pound to two hundred pound girls with large chests and oozing muffin tops to the larger three hundred pounders with monumental hips and thunderous thighs.

I always had a thing for bigger women; mainly subconsciously, something drew me to them from a young age. However, it wasn’t until my junior year of high school that I realized that they were more men and even women who shared my predilection confirming that I wasn’t some fetishist. My inability to figure out my preference lead to painful social awkwardness during my first two years of high school, my not ever having a girlfriend or going to dances in those two years lead many of my male peers to think I was a homosexual. That changed when my I arrived at my fat girl epiphany while it didn’t endear me to the guys at my high school; I guess it’s better to like fat chicks than to be gay. 

Once I figured out what I liked, I had a few pudgy girlfriends, the selection of larger women was slim, no pun intended. I first dated Claudia, a fiery bottomed heavy Latina around one hundred and sixty pounds, who only accepted my invite to go out to dinner because she had recently broken up with her boyfriend Emanuel. Her appetite didn’t disappoint, and during our first date she ate three entrees at the Italian restaurant she suggested. It hurt my wallet but I didn’t mind, watching her sensually inhale her linguine caused me buckle at the knees. On the our third date after treating her to three large chili dogs on the PCH, we were walking down the beach she cradling her belly gently rubbing it to relieve the pressure and I was staring at her.

“Ya know I’ve put on ten pounds since deciding to go out with you. I&#8216;m gettin’ fat,” she said placing her hand on her expanding pooch and shaking it for emphasis. 

“It took me forty five minutes to get these pants on, they were skin tight before we ate, but now,” she raised the flowing blouse and revealed the button on the pants undone, “I had to unbutton them after the first dog, you’re a bad influence, ya know?”

I said nothing, just smiled and stared deeply in her eyes, she smiled and then jumped me. We both fell to the ground and stared making out. After a few minutes, she looked at me and said, “Take off your clothes”. 

Not one to be rude, I obliged and that night I lost my virginity.

After we’d been going out for two months, her ex, Emanuel and a few of his friends approached me in the hallway while I was heading to Psychology. He was a big guy, tall as he was wide and the other two with him looked like infants compared to him. He cracked he knuckles and twisted he neck. He took off his sunglasses and glared at me. He said nothing and glowered at me for a while. Then he apparently had figured out what he wanted to tell me.

“Ya been going out with my gurl, haven’t ya?” he growled.

“I have.”

“That’s too bad.” He said. His two friends grabbed me by the arms and as I struggled to get free, Emanuel punched me in the stomach and it felt like a gut shot from a sawed-off. I doubled over, gasping for air and clutching my stomach.

Emanuel kneeled down and right above my ear said, “Ya ain’t gonna be seein’ Claudia again, will ya? If ya do, next time it won’t be a fist.” 

I nodded and he got up and walked away. The two guys followed him leaving me on the floor wondering what I did wrong.

I learned after the incident that the only reason she agreed to go out with me was to make her boyfriend jealous, and that she mainly used me for the free meals. Its been a few years since the. I ran into her a few months back at a grocery. She blew up, her hips which used to flare out now exploded from her hanging belly and took up most of the aisle. 

I noted as she made her way toward me that she brushed past a rack of cereal knocking a few boxes down. Seeing her bend over to pick the boxes up was heavenly. She was easily over three hundred pounds now, but that makes sense since she had two kids. Both of them are Emanuel’s, whom she told me ran out on her after the second one was born. She does her best to support them on her own; she usually has to get help from her Mom. 

She apologized to me for how she treated me and asked if I’d like to catch up sometime if she could get her Mom to watch the kids. I jotted down her number and said I’d give her a call sometime.

After I dated, Claudia there was Jamie…that is too painful to remember, so the less said about Jaime the better. In my senior year, I joined the newspaper, and that’s where I met, Lauren, a buxom strawberry blonde with porcelain skin and a heavy potbelly. She just was promoted to the position of editor in chief and my being the only new reporter who was a senior, she took it upon herself to train me. The grizzled newsperson training the inexperienced cub relationship grew to be boyfriend and girlfriend soon as she realized my staring at her cleavage and me noticing she didn’t mind gorging herself on Chinese food.

She loved quoting Mencken and I loved burying myself deep in her mountainous breasts as she edited my articles. Knowing her love of Chinese, I took her to a standing date at the Korean buffet on 17th, and she would routinely clear three or four plates. We dated for the year and the constant indulgence at the buffet along with her snacking on a variety of chocolates while researching articles led to her putting on a good fifteen pounds, most going to her voluminous juggs. We broke up the summer after graduating as she got into an esteemed journalism school on the east coast and I, afraid of something new, decided to stay in Orange County.

I worked a job in the delivery bay at my college, a job that a subhuman could do, and entailed labeling packages, processing them, organizing them by building, and then delivering them to the person on the label. Overall uneventful and mind numbing, until one day when my boss, a short craggy face Hispanic man with an indecipherable accent said, “Mark, I nead ya ta go end deliber dese peckeges to Luwl bilding.”

“Huh?” I replied.

He held the sheet with the building name and numbers up to me and said, “Tek dese durh, queckly”. 

He pointed at the door and clapped his hands. I took the list and set it in the plastic container with smaller packages and then kicked back the dolly and made my way out of the delivery bay.

Once outside, I stopped a thin girl with wispy blonde hair and asked, “Excuse me, do you happen to know where the Lowell building is?”

She smiled at me and said, “Yeah, just go to where the Bursar is and then make a left, can’t miss it.”

“Thank you” I replied, put the paper in my jacket pocket, and leaned the dolly back and began to head through the quad to the Bursar. One of the many drawbacks of the job is that you can’t go anywhere in a straight line because the use of dollies makes it impractical to use the stairs which means you have to take the long way around to the ramps to deliver the packages. Heaven help you if the elevators are out in a particular building, once I had to lug a dolly full of packages up four flights of stairs, easily the worse time of my life.

It took me ten minutes go get to the entrance to the Lowell building, and hit the handicap button that automatically opened the door. I stood back to let it swing open then made my way inside. The first few packages were easy enough to deliver and presented no excitement whatsoever. The second to last had me waiting ten minutes for the secretary to return from lunch, which was annoying, but killed time that I could otherwise be working. The last package was on the fourth floor and was for the Psychology research department. It was in delivering this package that I met Sara, a tubby Asian freshman with a pronounced pot belly, thick arms and hips that spilled slightly out of the arms of her computer chair, she worked there as an assistant to Doctor Manning.

She smiled when she saw me and asked, “How can I help you?”

“Ugh…ehrm…” I stammered and sweated a little bit as I held out the package.

“Oh, this is the book Doctor Manning has been waiting for, perfect. Do you have anything I need to sign?” Her smile bordered on manic as she took the package and set it on the desk.

“Yes, here.” I said handing her the sheet and pointing to where she need to sign, as she bent over to sign it I caught a nice glimpse of cleavage.

“Here you go, thank you. Have a nice day.”

“Yeah…you too.” I said and exited the room covered in embarrassment and shame.

I walked down the hallway with my head down and began lightly chastising myself, “You idiot, why didn’t you flirt with her a little bit? You should have asked for her phone number.” I stopped, set the dolly down and kicked the ground. Then stood in silence, all the while I didn’t hear the loud footsteps behind me as Sara waddled behind me and noticed my whole Tyler Dyrden episode.

“Uhmm, is this a bad time?” She asked as I turned around my face flushed with embarrassment.

“You didn’t just see all that did you?” I asked rubbing the back of my neck.

“See what?” She grinned. “Anyway, I just wanted to stop you and give you something.”

“I didn’t forget my sheet did I?” I said patting my jacket pocket and feeling for the paper.

“No, no nothing like that. I wanted to give you my phone number,” she said and handed me a slip of paper with her name and number on it, 

“You’re cute, call me.” She said and waddled off, her hips swaying seductively. I looked at the sheet of paper and took out my cell phone and programmed her information in, then smiled and walked to the elevator.

I called her a few days later and we decided to go to a little Cuban café that I knew. I arrived a little early and got a table outside near one of the outdoor heaters they set up. She arrived wearing a thin black button up sweater stopped just above her belly and covered the top portion of her yellow dress. 

The buttons on the sweater fit fine on the bust and strained a bit at the top of her gut. The dress seemed like usually it’d reach down to her knees but rode up a bit and revealed a generous amount of her tanned thighs and gave me a good view of how they rubbed together hypnotically as she walked over to the table. 

Being taught by my mother to always be a gentleman, I sat up from my chair and walked behind her seat, pulled it out, motioned for her to sit and pushed the chair in for her. I’d found that the antiquated gesture has the added bonus of being able to check out a girl’s ass as she sat down and noting how difficult or not it was for her to get into it. 

In this regard, Sara provided quality material that I’d use later that night when drifting to sleep and handling business. Her ass looked amazing, so fat and round. The yellow dress was so tight that I could make out the lines of her panties. She was wearing ones that covered her whole ass, something I’m particularly fond of, which isn’t to say I don’t enjoy a nice thong or no panties at all, but there is something about the amount of material it takes to cover an ass of monumental proportions that is such a turn on. 

As she squeezed into the chair, I noticed the edges of her thighs and hips squeeze in tightly between the arms, I fantasized her hips and thighs growing to where she couldn’t fit in them, and then I watched as the sides of her thighs spilled out the side of the chair. After helping into her chair, I returned to my seat and as I did I noticed out the side of my eye how her juicy potbelly sat on her thunderous thighs and bunched up into two delicious rolls.

“They brought some rolls, would you like one?” I asked offering her the basket of bread the waiter brought out a few minutes before she arrived.

“Yes,” she said taking a roll from the basket and placing it on the plate in front of her, “Thank you”.

“Would you like some butter for it?” I asked.

“What would be a roll without it?” She replied as I passed the butter over to her while placing a roll on my plate as well. She took the napkin to the right of her plate, unrolled it and placed it neatly on her lap. She then scooted the chair in a little more; her belly pressed tightly against the edge, and seeped over stopping just short of the plate. 

She smiled broadly at me as she smoothered her roll in butter, remarking as she did, “Oh, thank goodness this is real butter. I can’t stand that margarine nonsense.”

“I can’t stand that stuff either,” I replied, spreading a little butter on my own roll.

“It’s got no taste,” she said. Then took a large bite out of her butter drench bread and chewed slowly savoring each bite, she bit her bottom lip and let out a soft squeal of joy as she swallowed. 

“Oh wow, that is so good,” she yelped and quickly finished the rest of the bread then took another piece from the basket and slathered it in butter. Almost as soon as she finished buttering the second piece, it disappeared from her plate. 

She noticed my staring, took the napkin from her lap, and began to wipe her mouth. She placed the napkin back on her lap and said, “Sorry, it’s just so good I couldn’t help myself. I’m making a bit of a pig out of myself.”

“Nonsense. I like a girl who can enjoy a good meal, this bread is phenomenal. Don’t feel the need to hold back on my account.” I said pushing the basket a bit closer to her.

“Oh, okay. But I have a feeling I’ll regret eating this much later,” she said grabbing two more pieces of bread from the basket, “but these are just so good.”

She slathered them in butter and inhaled them just as the waiter arrived. He smiled weakly and his eyes widened as he saw Sara’s considerable bulk crammed in the chair. He composed himself quickly and asked, “Can I start you two off with some drinks?”

“Sure, I’ll have a sprite.” I said while looking over the menu.

“And for you, miss?”

“Hmmm, how is the Cuban coffee?” She said scrunching her nose looking at the item’s description.

“Miss, it’s out of this world. It’s so rich and flavorful; your taste buds will be in utter disbelief.” He said and put his fingers to his lips and then gave them a slight kiss and threw them in the air.

“You make a strong case,” she leaned forward and thought for a moment, “okay, I’ll have one.”

“Oh, you’ve made a wise choice, you won’t regret this,” He wrote down her drink order and then added, “I’ll give you two a moment while I get your drinks to go over the menu.”

“Looks like you’re going to get quite the cup of coffee.” I said deciding on what I was going to order.

“Yeah, I was afraid he was going to go into epileptic shock he was so excited.”

“It all seems very Freudian.” I said grinning slightly.

“How’s that?” She asked raising her left eyebrow.

My cheeks rushed with blood and I slumped a bit in my seat. I meekly said, “I don’t know, I was just trying to seem like I knew something about psychology, considering…”

She looked at me emotionless for a minute then her mouth slowly tensed upward and she began to laugh loudly. “Oh, sorry for laughing, but that is so adorable. I don’t care if you know about psychology. I’m mean, it’s my major and all, but don’t feel you need to try and impress me.”

“Sorry…” I said looking down to the side of the table. She was about to speak when the waiter interrupted her by placing our drinks next to each of us.

“You two ready to order?” He asked flipping his notepad to a new page and readying his pen.

“Uhmm…” I said, but Sara spoke over me, “Yes, we’re ready. I’ll have the number four and three empanadas.”

“Superb choices and for you, sir?” He said looking at me.

“Cuban sandwich with the house soup.” I said handing him the menu. Sara handed her menu to him as well and took a sip of coffee as he walked away. Then she looked at me and tilted her head to the side and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it’s just…nothing.” I murmured.

“Come on, tell me.”

“I mean I didn’t appreciate you laughing at me.”

“Why? It wasn’t like it was a bad thing, I thought it was cute.”

“It’s just makes me feel bad.”

“I’m sorry then,” she said grabbing her napkin and wringing it a bit under the table, “You shouldn’t feel bad though.”

“I know, I know. I just...am a bit nervous. I want you to like me.” 

She smirked, “Like you’re the first person to be nervous on a first date and said something stupid. Do you honestly think I’m any less nervous? I mean for heaven’s sake I’ve just about ate an entire basket of bread and a stick of butter.” 

She patted her tummy for emphasis.

I grinned broadly and said, “I guess you have a point.”

“I do, now, why don’t you relax and tell me about your major.” She said ripping a piece of the latest roll she had just put on her plate.

We continued to talk. She told me her dreams and I told her my fears. When the food came, she tore into hers with vigor. I ate mine slowly, reluctantly. I only finished half by the time she chewed the last morsel. She looked at me as I picked at my food. She offered her help in finishing my meal. I, not that hungry. didn’t refuse. 

After I finished we finished eat, paid the check and left the tip, I walked her back to her apartment. Despite my initial awkwardness and outburst at dinner, we got into a comfortable rhythm of conversation we laughed at each other’s jokes and thought deeply at the right cues. 

By the time, we arrived at her house we were all out of things to talk about, so we stood outside in silence uncomfortably looking away from time to time until I decided to grow some balls and kiss her. We began to make out for a while, and then she unlocked her door and motioned with her finger for me to come into her room. That night we made love and after she cried. She said it wasn’t because of me, but I had my suspicions.

“You know man, being a pizza delivery guy is nothing like in the movies,” my roommate said sitting in a computer chair in nothing but his under and a world’s greatest lover trucker hat. He was playing a shoot em up game on the Xbox 360, and I was laying on my bed staring at the ceiling half listening to his inane ramblings.

“Uh huh,” I replied rubbing my temples.

“No seriously, I feel betrayed, like I can’t trust anything anymore. I mean the only women who can’t pay for the pizza are the ones that you don’t want to have sex with, well, except maybe you, but you know, normal guys wouldn’t unless under the haze of half a bottle of whiskey. Like yesterday I get this order for two large pizzas with the works, and when I get there this chick takes up the entire door frame, and she’s in nothing but her bathrobe. You can see the cellulite on her thighs and her giant gut hanging out of the bottom of it. It was disgusting, anyway she says she doesn’t have the full amount, but figures we can work something out. Then she unties the sash on the robe and I’m just staring at her naked body for a second. I stand there speechless, and just shove the pizzas at her and run like do not want.”

“That sucks, man.”

“You’re not even listening, are you?”

“Can’t say that I am.”

“Whatever, so, how’d your date go with whatsherface? Did you get down to some hot whaling?”

“It went alright, and if by whaling you mean did we have sex? Then yes, and that was odd.”

“Outside of the usual odd of having sex with a blimp, how do you mean?”

“She cried after.”

“Oh,” he replied pausing the game and turned to me, “That’s rough man.”

“Yeah,” I said wiping my hand over my face.

“So, I guess you’re not going to see her again then.”

“Actually, we have a date this Saturday, I’m taking her to that all you can Korean place on 17th.”

“She’s getting the famous Mikey second date.”

I sat up leaning my head against the wall and said, “I have appearances to keep up after all.”

“Speaking of gluttony and all, I’m starving, wanna go grab a bite?”

“I could eat. Where do you want to go?”

“Depends do you want to pay or not.”

“I gotta save my bread.”

“Then let me get dress and we’ll drop by my work. I think Nicola is working and she should hook us up.”

“Doesn’t she hate you though?”

“You kidding? She loves me, she just doesn’t know it is all.”

“Alright man, get ready and let’s go.” I said.

(To be continued)


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## Lardibutts (Apr 3, 2009)

Great bit of foster parenting on an apparent "no hoper" of a discarded orphan. You have a real gift for being funny and poignent at the same time.


> fiery bottomed


Wow! This is an exciting image (very moving too).

Looking forward to part 2


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## shintobreak (Apr 3, 2009)

This is a great update to this story. Can't wait for the remaining chapters.


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## Angel00101 (Apr 4, 2009)

I look forward to reading more.


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## None (Jun 15, 2010)

*[Author's note:]* This story has been resurrected with chapter two. All it took me was a little more than a year to finally finished the second part. The delay became a confluence of not having a great idea of where it was going outside of a few scenes, classes and other commitments. However, I plan on finishing the story in another week or so, and hopefully, I keep to that commitment. I also couldn't let this story die and go to the discard room, the irony of an adoption becoming a discard hilarious as it is would be terrible. Anyway, I hope you enjoy


Chapter Two  Undergraduate.

I often tend to think about my father. He died a few months before I graduated high school. The kick of that is he seemed perfectly fine before he died. He didnt have cancer, didnt have AIDs, didnt have some exotic flu or heart problems. He didnt die in a car crash, in a plane crash or in a fire. He wasnt murdered. He just dropped dead. One minute he is laughing and having a ball with his friends. The next he is laying on an examining table under bright fluorescent lights waiting for the coroner, who just finished cutting open some dead greasy toothless meth head, to figure out who and what room and with what killed my father. The results were inconclusive. We cremated him without a clue as to how he died.

I loved my father even when cliché dictated that I hate him. He never judged me, which is rare. Everyone has an opinion, everyone is a raging narcissist that thinks that their opinion is gospel, and that if they feel so incline to share it with you that you should kiss their feet that they told you what is wrong with you. Who am I to throw stones though, I think everyone is an idiot. When most fathers would have teased their sons about not having a girlfriend, he would smile and tell me that Id get one when I was ready. When I brought Claudia to dinner to meet my parents he didnt care that she was chubby. He was glad I was happy and he even made a point to offer her seconds on everything. He was a good man, something that is even rarer.

Thinking of my father has the unfortunate by product of thinking of my mother. While I adored my father, toward my mother I was indifferent. She meant well, but whatever it was that bonded, me to my father didnt happen between my mother and I. While my father was supportive when I brought Claudia over my mother gritted her teeth through the entire evening. I never came out to my family because I dont think that being an FA is comparable to being a homosexual, but my parents caught on to my preference because every time I brought over a new girlfriend she was fatter than the last. It is one thing to say you like fat chicks, but another entirely to act upon it and not be ashamed to date them. My mother never understood it. Whenever she could sneak it into a conversation, shed tell me that I was such a handsome boy that I didnt have to settle. After she told me that, I always thought about trying to explain it, but figured what would be the use? Id just smile and agreed.

Even if I did explain it, she wouldnt understand. She grew up in Orange County and her family expected nothing less but perfection from her and her sisters. Which would explain why she developed bulimia, my aunt Ashley was addicted to heroin and my aunt Maggie moved to Japan to be as far away as possible from my grandparents where she gained a hundred pounds and the family disowned her. After my fathers death, our tenuous relationship deteriorated. My father was a cautious man and made sure he had a good life insurance policy in case something ever happened. My mother set up a small trust fund for me that allowed me to avoid taking out student loans. She took the rest and moved to London. I visit her every couple of years and it always ends with me catching a red eye home.

She was generous enough to give me five thousand dollars as a graduation gift of which I used on a plane ticket to Japan and visited my aunt Maggie. I took only my passport, some cashiers checks and all the clothes that I could fit in a duffle bag. My aunt met me at the airport. She was the youngest of her sisters and as such had a rebellious spirit, which explains running away, and the first twenty pounds. She is short with long raven black hair that contrasted her alabaster skin that made it seem like she was constantly under moon light. Her piercing blue eyes gave a person pause if she stared at them long enough. She had a slender nose that was slightly up turned. She dressed in all black and smoked clove cigarettes an affectation that she agreed was pretentious, but as she always said, she started doing it before it became fashionable. She wore a black blouse with silver buttons and a pair of black jeans. The shirt emphasized the weight she recently put on as it strained against the size of her belly. The jeans hugged her lower half and made her butt seem bigger than it actually was. She was apple shaped and she let her tummy rest outside of her pants often causing her butt crack to be exposed. 

Standing next to my aunt was my uncle Ray who was responsible for the first extra hundred pounds and the recent fifteen. He is a giant, half Japanese and half Irish, his mother used to call him Little boy as a teenager as a joke. His classmates in middle school referred to him as Gojira. Long greasy auburn hair hung below his should blades. Due to his long wiry frame, he looked like a cobra searching for prey when he walked. He was the lead singer of Japans number one punk rock group, Seppuku Bukkake. Even though I cant understand most of their music their live shows kick ass and my aunt is always in the front row of every show shoving one hundred pound Japanese punkers around. While he was a Japanese rock star, my aunt painted neo-abstract pop art and was successful in the Tokyo art scene.

Im sorry about your father. I would have been at the funeral, but my sister, you know, she said as Ray grabbed my duffle bag.

Yeah, I replied.

Its a shame. I quite liked your father. He was good for my sister, she said as she gave me a big hug and patted my shoulder.

Thank you, I said catching my breath as she let go of me.

Careful, Mags. Youll crush the boys ribs. My condolences for your loss, Mike, Ray said bowing to me. His English has improved incredibly since I last saw him; then again I was ten then.

You hungry? she asked as we walked to Rays car a green mid size sedan.

I had some peanuts on the plane, I replied.

Come on thats no meal.

Im okay.

Alright then Im hungry. Ray and I are going to get something to eat on the way to our place if you feel so inclined you feel free to order whatever youd like. She said as she lowered herself into the passenger seat. We shut the doors and drove off. 

It was after staying with my aunt Maggie for two months that I met Jeselle. She was half-Cherokee, and half French, giving her beautiful light caramel color skin that glowed when the sun touched it. She grew up Georgia with her mother, her father leaving back to Paris after impregnating her mother. After graduating high school, she moved to New York to study photography and was good friends with Nikki Lee, but her photography while less popular than Lees did get some notice by a rich buyer in Paris. The man bought all of her photographs, and she used the money to attend graduate school in Paris where she earned her masters in contemporary photography. Upon receiving her masters she applied for an assistant professor position at a small private university in Tokyo where she taught a class about the impact of graffiti on photography and art, as well as classes for beginning, intermediate and senior seminar photography. Through mutual friends in the Tokyo art scene, Maggie and her met, and became fast friends; upon seeing her Maggie told her that she needed to draw her. Jeselle agreed only as long as she could take photographs of Maggie. Thus, began a beautiful symbiosis of two talent, visionary, and beautiful women.

Jeselle was small in her adolescence, twig-like, and remained so, only having an A-cup until senior year of high school. The boys at her high school cleverly called her a surfboard and she cursed her petite frame wishing she could be voluptuous and buxom like her mother. Despite her attempts to jump start her genetics by eating seconds and thirds at dinner, and snacking throughout the day, her body refused to budge, she remained a stick; and she longed to kiss a boy, but her self-esteemed prevented her from even talking to a boy without blushing and running away. Things changed senior year though, before she dreaded walking pass mirrors seeing her fleabites, and jeans that were baggy where her ass should be she never thought that dreams could be her size and still be baggy. Whether it was because she was a late bloomer or the snacks, winter semester she grew out, in a two-week period she outgrew all her bras and her sweat pants, looking at the new her she thought that she might be dreaming a contrived dream. A dream where she is switched bodies with some raven hair bombshell with killer hips and bodacious bust, while the former rubenesque beauty is trapped in her mousey overall-covered body. 

Her mother noticing her daughters developments took her to buy some new clothes, and Jeselle jumped at the opportunity, after selecting as many new outfits that she figured shed fit in, she stripped bare in the dressing room, and for the first time took a hard look at this new person. Her breast went from non-existent to two perky apple-size boobs, her tiny waist expanded slightly matching the growth of her breast, and finally she could claim that she had an ass, if anything she had junk in her trunk, no more baggy jeans for her. Realizing that it wasnt a dream, and that this was her now, she smiled widely, and tried on the outfits she selected. If only she knew that, this wouldnt be the end of her metamorphosis.

Jeselle enjoyed her new assets, but not realizing that the side effect of becoming more endowed was that she could no longer indulge herself like she use to, but old habits are hard to break. Plus, once youre use to eating whatever you want and however much you want of delicious food with no consequences, the habit is nearly impossible to break. This was something Jeselle learned the hard way. Despite being at a shape she was happy with, Jeselle kept with her plan to jump start her body. She continued to get seconds and thirds, sometimes fourths if her mother cooked something good. At the same time, the influx of hostess snack cakes, hot Cheetos and candy bars remained steady in between meals. The result is that by graduation she needed to get three new size upgrades, by the second one she got a clue and bought a few sizes large. She ended up with grapefruit size breast, a thickened waist with a belly that hung over the waistband of her jeans, and an ass that had its own gravitational pull. At first, she felt terrible that she blew up, but she quickly realized that all this meant is that shed never be that timid, tiny girl who never could talk to a boy, and was unsure of herself around people. Now she was large and commanded the attention of a room when she waddled in, looking like a goddess of sensuousness. Upon receiving her diploma, squeezing her gigantic butt in a plane seat to New York, and her first time in her college cafeteria; Jeselle knew she was meant to be big, and that big was something to celebrate. Thin was an antiquated notion, no longer adequate to contain her vivaciousness.


The first time I saw Jeselle I was in love, my tongue flapped out of my mouth, I was a cartoon wolf. She was years older than I, twenty-eight to my freshly eighteen, what popular culture would now deem a cougar, but her nose ring glinted as the sun light shone through my aunts bay window as my aunt painted her massive figure. Sprawled on a white couch her caramel skin glimmered, she chewed through a bunch of grapes. When she arrived at my aunts studio she was dressed in a crimson cocktail dress, and by the time she reached the couch, she was wearing nothing. 

Despite being nude, she let me stay, and I studied the contours of her body, my sight focused on her every luscious curve as if I was trying to crack a safe. Each breast hung ponderously to the side of the top of her bulging belly, she looked like she ate a big lunch before heading over, her nipples stood erect in the chill of my aunts apartment. Her belly hung lover over her pubic area covered in light stretch marks showing the signs of a recent weight gain. I wanted nothing more than to bury my head in her breast and belly, let my head sink into her mounds of fat. The front of her body was nothing compared to the story behind her with an ass that threatened my perception of reality and gravity. If only I could give it a nice smack to see how it would jiggle at my firm yet gentle touch. 

She caught me staring and shot me a look. It was then that I noticed her eyes, and I was lost. Her emerald eyes pierced my soul, and as gazed deeply into her eyes, lapping up the pools of jade, she gave me a wink. Upon seeing her juicy lips covered in purple lipstick, curl upwards and her double chink show a little more, there was nothing more I wanted to do than be enveloped by her layers of glorious fat.

When my aunt Maggie finished her last brush stroke of Jeselles breath-taking figure, she asked if she was hungry. To my delight and shock, she said yes; she was starving even after snacking throughout the painting. Jeselle dressed the red dress hugging tight against her hips, belly and breast. Her ass jutted out forming a shelf below her lower back, I wonder if shed find me crass if asked during lunch if I could set my drink on it. Probably better not to ask. Aunt Maggie led Jeselle down to the kitchen, and I followed behind them watching the way Jeselles ass swayed as she took each heavy step, the stairs creaking between each footfall of her raised sandals, the clasp hugging her cankles so tight it made me wonder if it will cut off the circulation to her feet.

In the kitchen, my aunt Maggie made her famous fried bacon, salami, and sausage sandwiches heavy in mayo, mustard and horseradish. A stack that towered over the pitcher of freshly squeezed lemonade on the table. A mountain of high caloric greasy treats that could feed a firehouse was divided evenly between my aunt and Jeselle except for the one sandwich that I ate. Armed with two large cup fulls of lemonade, the two juggernauts of flab stared each other down my aunts pale blue eyes against Jaselles dark green eyes, chubby fingers greedily poised to grab the first sandwich, the silent tension built in this unacknowledged competition between friends. I coughed and the two fatties started to chow down. The two each inhaling sandwich after sandwich into their chubby lips down their throats into their eager tummies, and one after another, the stacks disappeared. In the end, it was a push, even though my aunt claims she won, but with my eyes firmly stuck on Jeselle, Ill have to take her word. The two groaned and leaned back, my aunt unbuttoned her pants letting her massive paunch surge forward, and Jeselle gently rubbed her tummy as her dress struggled to contain her newly expanded belly. Aunt Maggie belched and said she was a bit sleepy and she was going to take a nap. She asked me to walk Jeselle back to her apartment a few blocks away. I couldnt think of anything Id rather do.

Jeselle cradled her belly as she waddled slowly out of my aunts apartment, and I asked if shed rather not sit down on the couch in the living room for a few minutes to give her a chance to digest a bit. She took up my offer. Upon backing her butt onto the couch, she sat down and her hips sprawled over the second couch cushion. I sat on a chair at the other end of the couch, and did my best not to stare. Seeing me sit away from her she scrunched her nose and made a face, then spoke.

Why are you sitting all the way over there? Youre not scared of me are you? she asked, her eyelids fluttering.

Scared isnt the word Id use.

Well, what is the word you would use? she said pursing her lips.

Intimidated. I said moving over to the couch.

Why would you be intimated by me? she grinned.

You have an aura about you that pulls me toward you, and there is nothing more Id like than to let that force pull me all the way in, but Im intimidated that you wont let me.

Thats understandable, she said sliding her hips closer to me pinning me to the arm of the couch. She leaned over and put her finger to my mouth stopping me from protesting. However, you have nothing to fear Ill let you be pulled in, and Ill devour you, she smirked and then grabbed me by shirt collar and gave me a giant kiss forcing her tongue into my mouth. At first I struggled then I let go and let her tongue probe me, losing myself in the ecstasy of her touch, her embrace and her furious tongue. She melted me. I was clay in her hand ready to be molded. I was a gummi bear waiting for her to devour me.

After our tongues explored the terrain of each other, she pushed herself up off the couch. She struggled against gravity and then asked me to help her up; I did pulling up her bulk feeling the heft of her, letting myself get caught in her center of gravity. As she stood up and straightened out her dress, she asked, Do you have a room of your own here? Or would you prefer to walk me home?

I have a room, but Id prefer to walk you home, I said gesturing to the door.

That works for me. I hope you can cook because Im starting to feel a bit hungry.

I spent the last month of my time in Tokyo at Jeselles place in a whirlwind of sex and food, mainly feeding her insatiable appetites. She was an unapologetic woman who knew what she wanted and was not afraid to tell me what she wanted, and what she wanted was to devour me because she was ravenous. As I grew more confident in my sexual performance her waistline grew as well, her belly swelled and her booty inflated behind her. Opening up my world sexually, I proved a match for her mounting hunger, keeping her sated with food as I provided her with pleasure. She taught me more about myself and how to please a woman than any amount of girlfriends could. A guru of indulgence, she told me never to be afraid to pamper a woman, indulge her ever whim leaving her satisfied. A food or sexual coma are the same as far as I should be concerned, and it was with that knowledge that I returned to Orange County to start my first year of college.

****
I took Sara to the Korean buffet for our second date. She wore a pair of tight jeans and a thin silk blouse that didnt quite cover the bottom of her belly any longer. When we walked in the man at the front standing behind the counter, who has seen me several times before, gave me a dirty look as I paid him for our two meals. As we walked away, I slightly turned my head and noticed his eyes widen as he looked at Saras mountainous backside as she waddled ahead of me to grab a plate and pile it full of greasy meat and noodles. 

The way Sara walked was in short steps that gave her booty a nice sway as her padded feet hit the ground and the impact caused a minute ripple in her luscious fat that was easier to notice when she wore the dress on our first date. However, the skintight blue jeans she wore that night allowed me to notice the sheer size of it. To say that her butt was big would be an understatement; it was absolutely enormous, and soft to the touch, my hand sunk into it when I grab a handful on our first date. It rather reminded me of those commercials for those memory foam beds. After she had piled her plate high with food, we found a booth in the corner and she struggled to get in, but managed. Sitting opposite of her, I noticed that she seemed a bit taller sitting down.

She demolished plates piled with food before she gave in the towel. Piles of spare ribs found their way into in slowly increasing paunch, along with mounds of noodles and chicken. Sauce covered the sides of her mouth as she wheezed while looking at me droopy eyed. You sure you wouldnt like me to get you another plate? I asked. Oh, I couldnt before she could finish a fresh tray of barbeque pork was put out, Maybe another plate. A small one though. Just some barbeque pork. And maybe some fried rice. I got up to get her another plate when she stopped me, Wait! Also a little bit of noodles and did they put out egg rolls? A couple of those too. Thanks, youre such a sweetheart. She said gently massaging her swollen tummy.



Weeks went by, Sara and I went out on a lot more dates usually involving me plying her with fattening foods en masse quantities and her happily eating what I supplied her. In her dramatic changes happened, she was pretty chunky before, but now she was out and out fat, she grew a double belly and her thighs were no longer just thunder but also lightning, and her ass has a life of its own jiggling in its own direction anytime she took a step. She was sexy as hell, and I loved the way a new pound would settle on her mammoth frame. However, our sex life remained strained as most of the time as we finished she broke down in tears. I did my best to figure out what was wrong, but every time I asked, she said it was nothing. After a while I couldnt take it anymore, I mean I wouldnt mind the crying if shed tell me why she did it, but every time I asked she shut me down. Eventually, I had to know, so one day when we were sitting on her couch watching TV, her taking up more space each time I came over, I turned off the TV and tried figure out why she was shutting me out.

Can I ask you a question?

I guess.

Why do you cry sometimes when we have sex?

I. I dont want to talk about it.

Come on, you can trust me weve been going out for a while. Ive think its time Ive gotten some explanation on why.

Can we please drop this topic?

No. Id like to know. Am I that terrible in bed? I mean I havent been with millions of women, but Ive had no complaints so far.

It isnt that at all. You know how. Never mind.

No go on, please.

You know how most people willingly lose their virginity?

Yeah.

She looked at the ground, her body began to shake, and tears fell from her eyelashes.
Oh, I said wrapping my arm around her should and embracing her. She continued to cry as I stroked her hair and rocked her to calm her down. She pushed my arm away and jumped off the couch.

So there, the reason I cry when we have sex is because some asshole that pretended to like me in high school overpowered me and took my virginity. Satisfied? She asked eyeliner running down her cheek.

No.

Didnt think so, she said turning her back to me. Look, I dont think this is going to work between us.

Dont say that, I said walking toward her. I put my arm on her shoulder and she pushed it off.

Dont get the wrong idea that this is all about me spilling my guts to you about me getting raped. Youre no good for me.

What do you mean?

Look at me! Ive gained twenty three pounds since weve started dating. She exclaimed lifting her shirt to reveal her massive jelly belly. She grabbed a handful of golden flesh and jiggled it to emphasize her transformation. Once she dropped her tubby tummy, it continued to jiggle for half a minute much to her chagrin. She then turned around and pulled down her black lycra skirt which was harder to get down than it was to get up. 

Look at my ass! It was big before but now its like the universe. It just never ends. I have anxiety going to classes thinking that this will finally be the day when my big ass gets me trapped inside of the desk and they have to call maintenance to get me out. Its gotten so big that Ive had to get my professor to give me a chair without handles. My thighs have gotten so fat that I waddle now. I waddle! When I get ready in the morning, everything jiggles. My ass shakes for a minute after I finish brushing my hair. Ive never been thin, but now this is getting ridiculous. I know you think Im beau She glared at me noticing the erection in my jeans. Are you getting turned on while Im breaking up with you? she yelled, Just go.

I wanted to say something, but knowing that nothing I could say would make any difference, I turned and walked out. 


We broke up before finals, and then I spent the entirety of summer drinking heavily trying to mend my broken heart. I didnt so much as look at a woman for three months. I was celibate and I tried to figure out what was wrong with me. Why was I toxic to all the women who I loved? Why couldnt I just let them be who they were? Why was I so set, consciously or unconsciously on expanding their already gorgeous figures? Is it because Im trying to perfect them? Whats to say they arent perfect already? Why do I have to force my desire for an even larger woman on one who might be perfectly happy at the size she is when I meet her? Why cant I let them choose and be content with their decision? Is there something inherent in an FA that makes them no different from someone who likes skinny chicks? Are we just as image obsessed except instead of wanting them thinner, we can only love them if they get fatter?


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## Lou Grant (Jun 15, 2010)

Compelling stuff. Glad you found time and motivation to continue.


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## The Id (Jun 16, 2010)

This is not the average story at all and I'm intrigued by it.


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## None (Jun 16, 2010)

The Id said:


> This is not the average story at all and I'm intrigued by it.



As someone who admires your work, this means a lot.


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## KainFA (Jun 16, 2010)

Very good stuff. Thanks for sharing. I like that you explored the "you're not good for me" angle, it seems to be ignored sometimes in these stories. 

Looking forward to more.


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## None (Nov 5, 2010)

_[Author's Note:] While it took more than a week or so to finish, and there is an excuse. There is always an excuse. Although, I finally got the idea on where I wanted to take the story and end the story that differs greatly from where I originally wanted to end it. I think it worked out for the best, but that's subjective. Anyway, for those who have read the story, I hope that this is a worthwhile ending. Enjoy my final piece of weight gain fiction._

*Chapter three  Cyclical*

After Sara told me I was a piece of shit, I spent months in a depression and existential funk. Although, I wanted to do nothing but sit in my apartment sleeping all day listening to The Cure and re-reading Sandman, life had to continue.

I spent the next two years working on getting into the creative writing concentration, and got in end of my sophomore year. By end of my junior year I got into my first advance class. I had moved off campus to a two bedroom apartment that was rent controlled which allowed me a room of my own. I kept working on campus in the delivery bay and the job continued to be a wholly painful experience. Since I couldnt cook anything, I bought a meal pass for the campus dining hall because it was close by and easy. Also, it gave me a nice way to scope out some hot fat chicks, even though since dating Sara I pretty much avoided getting involved with anyone. Not that I was celibate, but I wasnt ready for another heart break.

****
After my Thursday Advance fiction classes I had to wait around for two hours to attend a reading by a visiting author my professor set up. The two preceding readings I skipped completely in favor of drinking some Guinness in my bed and feeling sorry for myself. Out of respect for the author and my professor I decided to go to this one. Even though, I knew the trick to getting out early.

So, the time rolled around and I signed in at the front of the auditorium to show that I attended, but although I had intended to stay, I have no such intentions to carry through with it. After scrawling down my name, I walk to the right of the auditorium. I seat at the end of an isle near the side exit, so I can leave early without calling attention to myself. As I dump my backpack on the floor in front of me, I notice a few seats to my left a friend of a friend sitting there. She was a slightly chubby brunette in her second year and in an introductory class that semester. She had a little bit of a belly and some thick thighs, but not my type.

I smiled at her and she jumped when I said, Hey.

Whoa, where did you come from? She asked choking a bit on the ham sandwich she was working through. I could see in her thin spaghetti strap that shed put on a few pounds since I last saw her.

From outside.

Funny, but I meant you kind of just popped up there, she said taking a bite from her sandwich.

Yeah, I guess I did.

You havent been to many of these have you?

I come and go. I went to a few in the beginning of the semester, but sometime grabbing a bite to eat or sleeping wins out. Plus, Ive been to a lot of these throughout the years, I said as a blonde from my workshop sits in front of me.

Hey, Rachel, I said to her as she sat down and she looked back at me and smiled before saying, Hey.

See, Rachel and I are seasoned vets at these things, I said smiling at Rachel.

Yeah, I dont know, its just after youve been to enough of these things you get a bit bored.

Jaded, I said.

Burned out on hearing reading after reading, Rachel said.

Yeah, plus, were advanced fiction people. We have the author come before the readings and speak to us directly about their work, so by the time we get here its kind of redundant. I typically stay for the readings and then blow out by the Q and A. Unlike you introduction kids who need to earn your stripes, I said including the friend-of-a-friend back into the conversation.

Oh, thanks, she said a bit uninterested at our shop talk.

Yeah, it wouldnt be so bad if it wasnt such a wait after our class, but the two hours becomes a chore to sit through. I just want to go home and eat and sleep, Rachel said to me as friend-of-a-friend started jotting down things in her notebook.

I know. I mean, I love the readings and everything, but the question and answer is such a fucking bore. Unless, of course, I ask a selfish question about how to get published, I joked referencing a colleague who asked the author that question earlier in class.

Rachel laughed, I know whats up with him this semester. He is such a dick.

I dont know, man. It maybe that anxiety to publish after this year, but its delusional to think were going to get anything major published after graduation. I mean, itd be great to get a deal at Oxford right after, but shit thats unrealistic. Its going to be years of struggle.

Yeah, it will happen when it happens.

And thats the way it should.

I talked to her a bit more until the moderator asked everyone to quiet down, then after the introduction of the author he began reading a short piece. It was funny and then he read from his first novel. I had read the novel and it was great, funny and a moving coming of age story. It was a lively reading that was animated and kinetic when so many were monotonous and stilted. Even so, after he finished and paused before reading from his second novel, I grabbed my backpack and rushed for the door. As I was exiting I looked back and see Rachel following after me.

If things were different, Id have asked her out for a drink, and wed have talked more, find more common interests and rapport. Then Id invite her or shed invite me and wed go back to one of our places and wed have a night full of sloppy and passionate sex. But things werent different. She had a boyfriend. I was still hurt. We were both not what the other was looking for. She was looking for someone who fit the tall, blonde and insanely handsome. And I was looking for something that wasnt what she was now. While I couldnt become what she wanted ever, she could easily become what I wanted. 

Shed just need my help and encouragement. She needed my desire to transform her into a dream girl through fattening foods, extra helpings, take out and generous amounts of snacks. Maybe some weight gaining shakes to speed up the results. And if she did it, Id be unable to keep my hands off her until either she or I became uninterested. Or that she decided that she didnt really want to be that way and upset at what shed done. Then shed be left with a massive weight gain and unhappy about what she did for my love or lust. For my part, Id feel bad, but try to tell her she was sexy at any weight and should accept how she looks as if that made a difference.

Itd be different if she wasnt thin.

****
I sat in the dining hall eating a hamburger shirking my responsibilities as a delivery boy when I noticed her again. She was short-ish and very tan, but not an orange fake one, but a nice golden color of someone who regularly sits down in the sun. Flowing down to her shoulder blades was the prettiest, shiny blond hair Ive ever seen. Most of the time she wore it in a pony tail, but every now and again shed let it flow out. The way it moved in a breeze made her seem like it was a shot a cinematographer practiced for months to get down just right. Her teeth were pearly white and straight, and she had the greatest smile Ive ever seen on a girl. The way she laughed was loud and throaty, but the smile that went along with it killed me. 

Ive seen her before as I was entering the dining hall and she was leaving or I was leaving and she was entering. Or Id be sitting down stairs and shed walk upstairs, or Id be sitting upstairs and Id see her sit at a table downstairs. While I ate at the dining hall alone as I knew no one still had a meal pass, and a single meal there was like ten dollars, she always sat with someone. So, I was content to casually watch her as she ate her meals. No matter whom she was with or what meal it was, she had her tray loaded up with food. Every time she cleared her tray, and often shed go back for seconds without shame. And always she had dessert. It didnt matter how much shed eaten, shed always have some form of dessert, either a piece of cake, some cookies, ice cream, or fruit with whipped cream. Always a dessert.

I noticed through the months of our just missed meetings that she had put on weight by the way her pants fit tighter, and her shirts rode up a bit more. She didnt seem to mind the gain though. At least it seemed that way from what I could tell by her eating habits. Then that day when she entered in my life again, she had new clothes that fit a bit looser and from what I could gather she accepted that she was bigger.

As I sat eating my burger watching her walk to get some food, I was mesmerized by the way top of her belly jiggled in her tank top. She was a very big girl, huge all around, but her belly dominated her figure. The way it pushed at the front of her jeans and the roll it formed above them that she had a classic double belly. Although, she wasnt an apple shape despite the colossal belly, she had an ass that jutted behind her forming a little shelf where the bottom of her shirt bunched up causing her to pull it down as she entered the serving area. The smallest part of her was her breast, but they were generous filling the top of her tank top nicely. Her thighs were wide and sturdy. While they werent exposed today, from past experience I noted that her calves were thick and she had a bit of cankles forming. As she exited my line of sight, I thought she was perfect.

After I finished my burger, I grabbed a book from my backpack and started reading. I started eating some French fries as I got lost in the novel I was reading when someone asked me, Mind if I sit here?

I lowered my book and my heart stopped. Standing right in front of me was my angel, her emerald eyes looking directly into mine. I fumbled at the words, and she was starting to back up when I finally spat out, No. I dont mind. Please sit. Then I gestured to the seat. As she pulled it out, I started to clean up the napkins sitting around the table and condensing in to allow her enough room as her tray was loaded to the gills.

Thanks, it is pretty crowded here, and I hate eating at those long banquet tables. Its so hard to get out and grab a refill or more fries, she said setting down her tray and smiled at me.

I know what you mean. Im usually here alone so I try not to take up one of the smaller tables to myself, but I find myself not caring anymore after some guy elbowed my drink and spilt on my lap.

She laughed, Ugh, yeah theyre so cramped and for me thats no good.

I smiled unsure how to respond, and then said, No good, yeah.

Then she started eating and I went back to my reading my book. As I looked up from a page, I saw her trying to get a better look at the cover, but the way I tilted it prevented her. I put it down and said, Im reading Ulysses.

Oh, I know. I was trying to figure out what version it was.

Its the complete and unabridged version from 1961.

I read a different one, but I love Joyce. Have you ever read Dubliners?

Only Araby.

Thats a good one, but the entire collection adds so much richness to each of the individual stories. You should read it when you get a chance, she said taking a bite from a bacon double cheeseburger that she must have made herself because Ive never seen them served by themselves.

Yeah, Ill have to check it out whenever I finish this, but it likely wont be for a while. This is so dense and tough. Im lucky that this week I have nothing to read in any my classes and it gave me a chance to crack it back open.

Oh, but its so worth it to get to the end. I love the way Joyce constructs sentences. Theyre so beautiful, she said moving to her slice of pizza.

Im trying to get there. So, I take it youre a mining engineering major.

She snorted as she sipped her soda and I handed her a napkins. Thats so embarrassing, she said turning red.

Dont worry about it, I only half judged you.

She half grinned and replied, Did my love of early modernist prose really give away my mining engineering background?

A little.

Damn, I was hoping to hide that shame, she said eating a few fries, Seriously, though, Im a pre & early-modern literature major. What about you? Im guessing Sustainable Agriculture.

Close, creative writing, I said.

Oh, one of those.

One of those?

You know the ones. The ones that have a delicate temperament, but are the legislator of the world.

I laughed, Shelley was an asshole.

She finished her fries and said, I know Im betraying my people, but I agree him and Lord Byron were hacks. Mary Shelley was the only with any talent.

Frankenstein is so god damn good. The monster is such a fascinating character. Its too bad most people only know Boris Karloff and mistake the monster for the doctor.

Ugh, thats so annoying. I hate that the main legacy of the novel is some shitty James Whale pictures.

She started eating a half of her sandwich as I finished my fries. Then we sat smiling at each other as I drank from my cup and she continued eating her food. She was through with her sandwich and starting on her pasta primavera. As she twirled long strands of noodles around her fork, she looked and me and said, I guess this is a lot of food, huh?

I guess so, I answered and looked at her kindly. She put forkful of pasta in her mouth and then looked over her empty tray of food save that.

She shrugged her shoulders and said, Im not trying to excuse myself, but I figure I should point out that it is. But I cant help myself I love food and I love to eat. And all the food here tastes so good. I suppose I shouldnt be surprised that Ive put on quite a bit of weight since freshman year because of it. I knew to expect fifteen pounds, but they came with another thirty. Then sophomore year since I didnt change anything another thirty followed, and this year Ive gained about fifteen. I wasnt small to begin with, and I wont ever be small. 

At first the changes were a shock, my tummy has grown so big that it folds down the middle, but now the changes dont bother me because it means I can enjoy as much yummy food as I want. Now my ass spills over seats meaning I take up more room. But I like personal space so that means judgmental assholes will stay away from because of their notions of what a fat girl is. It means that I can weed out the assholes from those who really matter in life. My friends now never judge me or tell me that I shouldnt eat that second helping or that Ive gotten fat. Hell theyre all fat themselves and there is nothing worse than a fat girl calling the kettle fat. At first the changes in my body worried me, but then I grew ambivalent about them. Now, I look forward to the way my belly hangs, the roll forming at my thighs, and how my ass jiggles and sways as I walk. My hips are powerful, they can open up paths for me, and they are capable of giving so much love.

I dont know why Im telling you this. This is probably TMI as Ive just met you and everything. I dont even know your name and you dont know mine, but Ive seen you here by yourself a bunch of times when Ive come here with friends and you look so sad. I guess its because as Ive sat here talking with you and eating youve never looked at me in any cross way or in judgment of my portions or the amount of food I have on it. And not to make you feel uncomfortable, but I saw you checking me out as I walked in, and I wanted to sit with you because youre cute and you were checking me out.

This all is probably crazy and you think Im insane. That Im just some nutty fat chick who eats way too much. That I revealed entirely too much that I dont mind being fat or getting fatter. I probably misread your looks as some sort of carnal urge and they were more interest akin to looking at a fat lady at a carnival. You probably werent flirting with me and were just being polite talking to me as a decent human being, and Ive She stopped spilling everything out for a second and flitted with her pasta.

My name is Mike, and Im an FA, I said smiling at her and extending out my hand across the table.

Im Jenny and Im a fat girl who loves food and her curves, she said calming down a bit and shaking my hand.

Jenny, I think youre an incredibly gorgeous girl, and that your curves are to die for. I was checking you out as you came in and every time Ive seen you in here before. Im glad that you love food because so few girls actually do, and fewer accept their fat the way you do. I dont think you need to change a thing, at least not on my part or anyone elses. If you want to change it should be on your terms, I said as she took tiny bites of her pasta.

Im crazy arent I?

You probably are a little, but not for being yourself. Then again were all a little crazy. Im crazy because Im going to ask you to come right now with me to go for a walk in the park and sit under a tree with me because I dont want you to walk out of here without me next to you.

She finished her last bite of pasta. Then looked down at her tummy and rubbed it a bit. She scrunched her nose and said, Only if we get something sweet on the way, and then you take me to dinner. After all that exercise Ill be starving.

I always abide a lady, I said getting up, I pushed in my chair and then walked to the other side of the table. I took her chubby wrist in my hand and helped her up, and held out my arm to her and she linked in it. We both walked out of the entrance to the dining hall the sun shining into our faces.

Outside as we slowly walked toward the park, she said, Im thinking ice cream with lots of toppings. A triple scoop most likely.


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## pr0nm8 (Nov 6, 2010)

this is just great so far! i'm anxious to see more.


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## Lou Grant (Nov 7, 2010)

pr0nm8 said:


> this is just great so far! i'm anxious to see more.



Don't get too anxious, as you can see in the quote below taken from the Author's note.



None said:


> ...Enjoy my final piece of weight gain fiction...



Although we can always hope that was a typo.


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