# Cause and Effect - by GuyFromGlasgow (BBW (multiple), Intrigue, ~~WG)



## guyfromglasgow (May 10, 2014)

_BBW (Multiple), Intrigue, ~~WG_ - a routine Head Girl campaign takes an unexpected and expansive turn


*Cause and Effect
by GuyfromGlasgow​*
[*Author's note:* Hey, my first effort at WG fiction. I suppose you could call this the prologue. Advice/suggestions welcome! Apologies for any misunderstandings caused by my British English!]

Lana trawled through her Facebook feed with a sense of growing irritation, shaking her head every now and then. As one of the rising stars (and, as anyone with half a brain could have told you, the future captain) of the school hockey team, she held herself to very high standards of physical fitness, and her opinion of others who failed to meet these standards was not high. 

Obviously, she accepted there was nothing wrong with having a couple of fat girls- hell, it was necessary, in some cases, to maintain the balance of power, and to make the likes of her look even better by comparison. True as well, she admitted, that the rot did not seem to have spread into her hockey squad, her inner circle, but still, if their Facebook pictures were anything to go by, there had been a definite pattern of weight gain among a lot of the girls in her year. And if weight gain began to become accepted, even normalized, then the results could be catastrophic. Her exalted position demanded she treat the girls in her year as a recruiting sergeant looks at a group of civilians. As the flab spread, the pool of hockey talent- and of the girls worth associating with- shrunk. 

She checked again, looking through the pictures for evidence of further decline. There was Mysie, who had definitely filled out beneath the plaid shirts she always wore. The bright colours distracted a little from her spreading gut, but it was definitely looking a little strained around the waist. 

Lana did not need to exert her imagination to imagine that flabby middle jiggling with every step the girl from the highlands took. And to think, she had once considered Mysie a possible recruit for the “B” squad. And that tingly feeling in her thighs was disgust, clearly. 

She scrolled down a little. There was Hafsah. Now, Hafsah had never been a potential recruit, showing none of the natural athletic ability or social graces required to be one of the inner circle, but now she was carrying so much chocolaty flesh Lana would be surprised if she could still touch her toes without a struggle. As well as her belly, a lot of the new weight seemed to have accumulated around her hips and thighs. Facing forward as she was in the picture, Hafsah’s arse was out of view, but Lana guessed it must be becoming bigger and rounder than ever. And more repellent, obviously. 

Another scroll. There was Penny. The tall, brown-haired girl was dressed in a white shirt that seemed to be struggling to contain both her breasts and belly. That was a shame. Those long legs could have made a good runner, but Lana doubted Penny could run more than a hundred metres now without gasping for breath. That was, of course, if she could still fit in a hockey uniform. 

She leaned back on her chair, absent-mindedly picking at the bowl of chocolates in front of her. This would not do. Not at all. And those girls were just the tip of the iceberg. She could have counted at least sixteen, who had gained either a little or a lot over the summer. Sixteen bad influences, lowering the schools standards, cutting away at their sporting talent, their prestige, their… 

She finished her chocolate, irritation growing, both at the plethora of bulging, sagging flesh on show on the screen, and at the increasing tightness of her shorts. Slightly self-consciously, she tensed her stomach muscles, reassuringly tight and hard, even if her hindquarters were growing to a worrying extent. Something would have to be done, however. 
Both for herself, and for these others. 

A cold smile spread across her face, as she relished the coming campaign. Realistically speaking, there was nothing for her to regret in what she was about to do, and yet… and yet….

(Continued in post 3 of this thread)


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## jacob286482 (May 10, 2014)

More please, this could go far and the premise is great


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## guyfromglasgow (May 11, 2014)

*Chapter 1*

The next day, not too far away from where Lana had kept herself up all night plotting, planning, and generally wrestling with herself, Hafsah was getting ready for the first day of school. Other than the fact they both went to the same school, it was impossible to imagine a more different pair of girls. 

Where to Lana, physical fitness was the ultimate measure of a person, Hafsah saw it as an irrelevance. Certainly, she believed, it might have had some significance back in the distant past, when the country was run on muscle, rather than brain power, but nowadays, it was intelligence that made all the difference. 

Therefore, while Lana watched her weight- and that of others, with an obsessive paranoia, Hafsah more or less ignored it, focussing instead on her marks. That laid-back approach to her weight, combined with her fondness for wearing loose, flowing clothes whenever possible, which tended to be forgiving of a spreading middle, had left her spectacularly unconcerned- and, to an extent, unaware, as she put on pounds and inches. Now, however, she was beginning to regret that attitude, as, with a cold jolt in her ample belly, she realized that she was going to have to dress for school in clothes that had only fit her before her most recent weight gain. 

She took a deep breath. She could still fit in her clothes, she told herself- it would just require a little more time and effort than usual. She started with her skirt. She knew that any approach that involved bending over would result only in her getting out of breath, and possibly with some split knickers, so instead she lay back on her bed, and tried to slide into the skirt. She’d had to contend with her big hips before when attempting to button the school skirt before, and had come up with an approach to get round that, by pulling the shirt up to her waist and then closing it there, but now, that usually successful plan now hit a new hitch. 

Her new jiggling paunch stuck out too far to allow for buttoning. She sucked it in, managing to take a few inches off it, but not enough to button the skirt. She struggled for a while, before she was forced to release the breath, and stood, panting. The skirt clung too tightly to her hips and thighs to fall down, but that was irrelevant, If she could not get these fastened. Still, the tightness of the skirt did allow her to keep her hands free, to wrestle with the skirt again. She sucked in for a second time, at the same time pulling with all her might to get the gap closed. 

This time, puffing and panting, she managed it, but her satisfaction was dulled a little by the fact that, when she released her gut, the skirt cut deeply into it, causing another gasp of discomfort. Still, there was no help for it, she reasoned, as, with another grunt of effort, she pulled the zipper closed over the stacked folds of her gut. 

Now the shirt. She pulled it from her cupboard, and then began her struggle to get it on. She first encountered troubles as she tried to push her chubby arms into the sleeves. It wasn’t too much of a struggle, but definitely an irritation. Buttoning the shirt was considerably more than that. She began to button it starting with the top button at her throat. Her jugs were enough of a bulwark to make that difficult, and she was panting again in the time it took for her to get the first three buttons done. 

As she worked down, things only grew more difficult- her belly jutted out further than her tits by a considerable margin, but at least it was easier to suck in. That did not mean that she was not breathing like a dog in heat by the time she had finished buttoning it, and, by the time she had tucked her shirt in to her skirt, that it was looking considerably strained. Her troubles were not yet over, though. Now came the moment of truth. She breathed out, and the forward surge of her paunch untucked her shirt for her. Even as she cursed and prepared to suck in her belly again, she felt a release of pressure as her top-button pinged open.

_“Really?” _She said to herself, half amused and half exasperated. _“Really?” _

She sucked in the great dark dome of her gut again and once again tucked in her shirt, but there was no way she was choking herself with the top button again. There was only one thing for it- she could cover her undone top button with her tie- it was only a temporary solution, but the school was not especially strict on uniform. 

Speaking of her tie…she reached backwards onto the bed behind her, and found nothing, instead, hearing a giggle. She recognized that laugh. Her cousin, who was staying with them due to a trip by her parents. She must have sneaked in while Hafsah was preoccupied with dressing- her ability to concentrate single-mindedly on any problem had some drawbacks. 

Furheen must have seen everything. Hafsah loved her cousin, obviously, but she could have done without that. And Furheen’s sense of humour could be annoying sometimes. Proof of that came, as her relative snatched the tie and fled. 

Shaking her head in frustration, Hafsah gave chase. Or, at least, tried to. The bulging, juddering weight of her belly, the tightness of her clothes, and her full hips and breasts slowed her down considerably, and, to her growing alarm, she began to realise that her playful cousin was outpacing her. She tried to speed up, but a summer spent avoiding exertion, free from the tyranny of PE lessons, had taken its toll. Breathing heavily, clutching the stitch in her side, she lumbered to a halt. 

Furheen skipped down the stairs, but Hafsah, wary of letting her new centre of gravity betray her, ascended more cautiously. As such, Furheen made it down the stairs far, far faster than her gasping cousin, and slammed the baby-gate behind her. 

Hafsah’s brow furrowed. This was another problem. The baby gate was a cheap one, that her parents had purchased in an attempt at thrift years before. Since they occsasionally had relatives with small children staying as guests they'd not removed it. A bargain it might have been, but the lock had a habit of jamming. Hafsah would have to climb over it. With another deep breath, she leaned against the gate and attempted to haul herself over, planning to use weight and momentum to compensate for her lack of fitness. 

All she managed, however, was winding herself, as her belly snagged on the bars, and put paid to any attempt to haul herself over. She slumped down on the stairs, panting. But her mind was working fast as she did, and, as soon as she got some her breathing under control-at least to an extent, she pulled herself to her feet, slowly, laboriously, and then put her left foot between the bars, and, with that as a stirrup tried to climb over the gate. 

Her muscles, unused to such exertion, and burdened by all the recently added excess weight, screamed in protest, but she managed, eventually, gasping and grunting, to haul herself above the gate. Triumphantly, she began to ease herself over, but she had misjudged both the angle and her newfound bulk, and her wide hips caught on the top of the gate as she climbed over, sending her sprawling to the ground on the other side. 

For the first time that morning, her weight proved an advantage, as she landed on her belly. It drove the air from her lungs, and left her stunned and gasping on the ground, but unhurt. 

Groaning and groggy, she rose to her feet. 

“_Well at least_,” Hafsah said to herself. “_Today can’t get any worse_.”

(Continued in post 5 of this thread)


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## guyfromglasgow (May 17, 2014)

thanks for the edit, mods 

and thanks for the comments, Jacob


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## guyfromglasgow (May 17, 2014)

“Hey, Mark.” Gordon said, as his lanky classmate entered their form-room. They were not friends, but Gordon, a naturally talkative boy, could start a conversation with anyone. 

“Hey.” Mark said, in response. For his part, he was a little wary of being engaged in conversation by someone so far above him in the social hierarchy of the school, but snubbing Gordon would be even more dangerous than talking to him. “How was your holiday?” 

“Not bad. Banged Nadia Little.” Gordon said. “You?” 

“Yeah, alright.” Mark said, but something in his face must have told Gordon something about what he was really thinking. Gordon, never one for subtlety, felt compelled to call him out on it. 

“What?” He asked. 

Mark paused for a second. 

_“I’ve been speaking for you less than two seconds, and you’ve already brought up your sexual exploits?” _ was what he wanted to say, but Gordon was a lot bigger than him, and Mark knew who would win in a fight if he got annoyed. 

“Nothing,” Mark replied coolly but politely. “Nadia’s not my type, that’s all. No offence though. Good on you.” 

Gordon’s features relaxed as he decided Mark had meant no disrespect. “Not your type? What do you mean " 

Mark shrugged his bony shoulders. “I tend to like bigger girls, you know? More to hold on to.”

Mark was still a virgin, as it happened, but no point in telling Gordon that. He wondered if he would open himself to ridicule by telling Gordon about his particular taste, but Gordon simply matched Mark’s shrug with his own. 
“Fair enough. Less competition for me for the skinny ones.” 

Mark had to hide a grin at the idea that Gordon could consider him competition, but said nothing. He was interrupted before he could reply, in any case. 

“No, no, no!” Both boys turned, to see Lana Gartmore, storming into the classroom. “Exactly the kind of attitudes we don’t want.” 

“What?” asked Gordon, perplexed. 

“Fat.” Lana said. “Is a disease. Have you seen how some of the girls have been putting on weight this summer? Ridiculous! “ 

She shook her blonde mane. 

“Each to their own.” Mark said, without thinking. Lana was not someone anyone spoke to with anything less than full agreement. She didn’t explode, this time, as she was liable to, but turned to face Mark directly. 

“Wrong. I’m running unopposed for Head Girl, this year, so it’ll be each to my own.” 

The breath-taking arrogance of her statement confounded Mark for a second, as, almost instinctively, his brain began to search for a suibtably sardonic comment. Top of his list were ones to the theme that being Head Girl would hardly give her the dictatorial powers she seemed to be managing. 

The second was that, if his eyes did not deceive him, Lana’s skirt seemed to be clinging to her hips and thighs a bit more tightly than they had at the end of last year. He was saved from having to supply an answer, however, by Gordon. 

“Not unopposed, if what I’m hearing is right. Kendra Leslie was saying she wanted to try it.” 

Mark didn’t know Lana well, but he had the feeling that she would not react well to this. Ducking his head slightly, he made his excuses, and pushed the door open, fleeing in search of sanity. 

He would have been surprised by the controlled nature of Lana’s reaction, had he stayed. Far from exploding, she simply looked quizzically at Gordon, asking him to go on with his eyes. 

In fact, inside, she was raging. Although plenty of people had experienced the force of her famous temper, she despised no-one as much as Kendra Leslie. It was not just that Kendra was English, which marked her out as a target in any school north of the border. It was not even that she was- the recent weight gain of some of her peers notwithstanding- easily the biggest girl in the year, although both of those contributed. It was the fact that Kendra did not even have the decency to be ashamed of her weight. No! Worse than that! She was proud! Proud of her lack of self-discipline! She had to suppress a shudder of disgust. 

Gordon, however, dismissed the signs of her anger, and kept talking. “Umm, yeah, that’s according to Nina, anyway. Apparently Kendra asked her to run as her deputy. Nina laughed in her face apparently, as well.” 

Lana grinned in satisfaction. So, the bloated cow wanted to spread her poison in her school? It seemed like her classmates had enough sense to be rejecting the English cancer. Still, she could not be assured that the others in her year would be as switched on as Nina to the dangers of letting in the enemy at the gates. 

In her mind, this Head Girl election was becoming more a crusade than anything else, an opportunity for her to lead the charge in the name of physical fitness, which was linked intrinsically in her mind with moral decency, and the forces of degeneracy that Kendra represented. 

She turned to Mark. 

“That doesn’t surprise me.” She said, in a low, deadly voice. “Either I’m running unopposed, or someone is going to learn why I deserve this position the hard way.”

(Continued in post 7 of this thread)


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## guyfromglasgow1 (Jun 7, 2014)

hi, guys, it's me here, no, this story is not dead, but i have been locked out of my account and so had to make a new one. Update ASAP


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## guyfromglasgow1 (Jun 7, 2014)

A few hours later, Mark was just as agitated as ever, but for a very different reason. It was the start of the first English lesson of the term, and they had just been assigned seats for the rest of the year. Usually, this did not bother him much- he had a small circle of friends, and conversed with the rest of the year through the medium of snark and sarcasm, which usually covered his social awkwardness. But there were exceptions to that. 

Having grown up with three brothers, speaking to girls that he found attractive was more difficult for him than anything else. And he found the girl next to him extremely attractive. So attractive that he did not dare to look at her. 

Instead, he stared straight ahead, taking in the blackboard, the teacher’s desk, the walls, everything except the girl sitting beside him. Well, that was the plan, at least. His eyes kept flitting to the left, taking in the stacked folds of her belly as it strained at her shirt every times she breathed, the thrust and sag of her breasts, and once, while he was feeling particularly brave- or reckless, her thick right thigh as she shifted her considerable weight from one side of the chair to the other. 

“Are you looking at my arse?” Hafsah asked him, suddenly. He started like a spooked horse, as he raised his head to make eye contact with her. 

“Nah…nah…” He said, trying to think of an answer that would not make him sound like a future sex-offender. “You’ve got something on your skirt. Like, a stain, or something.”

To be fair to Mark, there was a small stain on the area where hip met ass, where the fabric appeared stretched nearly to breaking point. It was, however, a stain small enough that you would have to have been looking fairly closely to notice it. 

“Oh, thanks.” Hafsah said. She licked her fingers, and rubbed at the stain. 

Mark had to shuffle his chair forward so she could not see the swelling at the front of his trousers. 

Mercifully, the class started then, and Mark had an excuse to break off the awkward conversation. But he could not put her out of his mind, as the lesson progressed. It was, he considered, a little unfair. Not that it was unlikely that Hafsah would ever, in a million years, consider becoming his girlfriend, but the fact that, today, in 21st century Scotland, their relationship would be mocked. He doubted if even his parents would approve. 

A generation ago, the objection would have been because he was white and she wasn’t, but today, although those attitudes had not vanished, not by a long shot, it was Hafsah’s weight that was more likely to draw the sneers and sniggers. He spent the rest of the English lesson pondering this issue- along with other weighty matters. (He didn’t think Hafsah would appreciate the pun.) 

Hafsah, as it happened, was far better at keeping focused than Mark was, and did not notice his glances and wriggles for the rest of the lesson. She had much more difficulty ignoring her hunger, though- the extra time it had taken for her to prepare for school in the morning had meant that she had had to go without breakfast (other than a stick of cookie dough she had grabbed on the way out, but that didn’t count) and English was the last period before lunch. 

It was with a sense of relief that she lifted herself from the chair, and began the walk towards the lunchroom. It was longer than she remembered, but less laborious than getting dressed in the morning had been. Still, she was panting slightly by the time she reached the lunch counter. 

For all her indulgent attitude to food, Hafsah was disciplined in all other areas of her life, including spending, and as such had plenty of money to blow on the canteen. She bought three fried chicken sandwiches (One for lunch, one to make up for her missed breakfast, and the third because…well, why not?), and two cookies (She had only planned on one, but they looked smaller than she had remembered and…well why not?). 

Her tray was overloaded by the time she had finished, but she was well practiced in keeping it balanced. What was less easy was manouvering her newfound bulk through the crowded lunchroom. She had to suck in her belly as far as it would go, and walk sideways, to avoid knocking anything over. 

_Really,_ she thought, _this lunchroom was not been designed for a person of my dimensions. Perhaps I should lose a little weight, to make things a little easier._

Those thoughts, however, had long gone from her mind by the time she had reached the table her friends were at. She hadn’t seen most of them for a while, and was eager to catch up. She smiled as she sat down. 

“Hey guys,” she greeted her friends.

“Hi” replied Mysie. She had gained weight as well- her face was significantly rounder than at the end of last spring under its canopy of pale hair, and there was a paunch testing the integrity of her school shirt. 

“Hey.” Said Penny. The most weight conscious of all the girls in the clique, she had come into school wearing a belt. That constrained her spreading gut, but could do nothing about her engorged, sagging tits (not that she objected to that.) 

“Whats up?” Asked Lindsay. Sitting down, she looked well fed, but only a little plump. However, the table hid a set of wide hips, meaty legs, and a bulging arse. 

In any case, all of them were slimmer than Hafsah, by a considerable margin. 

“Not much.” She said. “What you talking about?” 

“Nothing much.” Mysie said. “Head Girl contest. I think having Kendra run is good for people of our…um, proportions.” 

She patted her tummy. “The others disagree.” 

The girls ate and talked, Hafsah doing the least of the latter, and the most of the former. By the time she had finished her food, she knew she had overindulged, but found she didn’t care. She doubted being skinny could taste better than that. 

The next few moments proved a challenge to that assertion. The tables in the lunch hall were packed closely together, and Hafsah’s gut, now swollen with food, now occupied a few inches too many for her to manoeuvre out comfortably. 

If she had really wanted to, she supposed that she could have pushed her way out by brute force, but that would have been unnecessarily exhausting, as well as painful for her bloated gut. And her usual trick of holding in her stomach wouldn't work here- she had too much food inside her to take her gut in to any noticeable degree. So she edged out sideways, already dreading the long walk up to the chemistry department next period. 

“Anyone memorized the timetable yet?” Asked Lindsay. She had, long ago, and with only partial justification, been cast as the airhead of the group, and saw no reason to reject that role. 

Hafsah shook her head. “Don’t know what you have next period, but we’re all choosing our games options period after next.” 

Inwardly, she groaned. That was going to be fun.

(Continued in post 10 of this thread)


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## fanofthemass (Jun 12, 2014)

I really like the story so far. The characters read like real people.


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## guyfromglasgow1 (Jun 12, 2014)

thank you kindly


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## guyfromglasgow1 (Jun 15, 2014)

Anyway, the point is, choose the option that is the best for you, not the one that all of your friends are doing. Mrs Brian finished. 

Hafsah, sitting near the back of the hall, wondered if the PE teacher really thought that her words would have any effect whatsoever. The school balanced its budget in a way that Hafsah had never quite understood- somehow, they had ended up with a situation in which most of the subject departments in the school were having to make do with tighter and tighter finances, while the PE department was somehow able to afford to offer a variety of games options for seniors. 

It was, she supposed, linked to the attitude that created a breed of girls- well, a few boys as well, but mostly girls- that seemed to regard every pound gained as an admission of weakness. She had never understood that, either. 

What do we think, girls? Lindsay asked, cheerfully. Alone of all the girls in the group, she seemed unaffected by the dread that the phrase Physical Education invoked in people of a certain size- especially in a school that saw it as a chance to ritually humiliate the weak and deviant. 

Hockey, clearly. Mysie said, softly and sarcastically, prompting a laugh from Hafsah. 

I think Lana would kill us if we tried to join, she said. 

Mysie and Lindsay chuckled, but Penny frowned. Speak for yourself. Im not that bad. 

Hafsah couldnt help noticing that she sucked in her gut while saying it. Penny was, if anything, heavier than Lindsay and Mysie, but her height and top-heavy build meant that the flab was less noticeable. That didnt mean, however, she had the type of figure that Lana and her cronies would have approved of. And, Hafsah noticed, that the belt that had been fairly effective in hiding her sagging belly earlier on in the day, was now starting to look increasingly uncomfortable, creating a jiggling muffin-top. 

Yes, Penny, youre a natural athlete. Mysie said, her tone growing more and more sarcastic with every word. Which is why you got so out of breath walking to Biology. 

Penny reddened. You can talk! You were as out of breath as I was. More, if anything! 

To emphasize her point, she prodded Mysies bulging belly. Whens the baby coming? 

Mysie, unlike Penny, was capable of accepting her weight, but even she was getting concerned at how big around the middle she was getting. She sat up, indignantly, her stomach jiggling as she did so, so much so that she feared for the structural integrity of her shirt. 

Moving on. Hafsah said. Athletics? 

That was met with frowns from the rest of the group. The idea of so much running and jumping and throwing appealed to none of them. Lindsay actually clapped her hands to her meaty thighs in dismay at the thought, as if asking the world how such flabby limbs could possibly serve her on an athletics track. 

Hafsah, heavier than Lindsay by at least thirty pounds, agreed less dramatically but even more emphatically. Aside possibly from Kendra, she could think of no one in the school less suited for the agile work of athletics. 

Swimming was met with a similar refusal. Although it did have the added bonus of being in a local pool away from the school, which meant that less of the allotted games hour would be spent doing actual physical exercise, none of them relished the thought of doing continuous laps of a pool. And, of course, Pennys bloated tits, Mysies paunchy midriff, Lindsays hefty rump, and Hafsahs general heaviness were all formidable obstacles when climing out of a pool. 

That leaves gymnastics. Penny said, heavily. 

They looked at each other. While undoubtedly the best option on the table, it was still not exactly desirable. Gymnastics would be less demanding from a point of view of sustained effort, but would still involve all manner of twists, stretches and moves that four girls in such terrible shape would find it difficult to master. Hafsah found it hard enough to touch her toes, let alone turn a cartwheel. But still what could she do but grin and bear it? 

Suppose it does. She said. 

Meanwhile, near the front of the hall, Lana was also dawdling to submit her option. Not because she was in any doubt as to what to choose, but because she liked to see what everyone else was doing. Her lip curled in disgust as she saw Kendra lumbering along. She was possibly the slowest mover Lana had ever seen, hindered not just by her weight, but also by the extra time and care it took to plot a course for her vast bulk through the rows of chairs and people, without knocking anything over. It seemed to be a considerable challenge for her- she was breathing heavily by the time she reached her destination, her face flushed with effort. 

Pathetic, isnt it. She said, to Nina standing next to her. Nina, a party-girl rather than an athlete, would never be admitted into Lanas inner circle, but she was high enough in the school hierarchy to be worth talking to. 

Yeah. Nina said. Did you hear she was running for Head Girl? 

Yeah. Lana chuckled. Champion of the fat girls. I heard she wanted you as her deputy. Not surprising, come to think of it. 

Ninas pale face darkened. Her party-girl lifestyle had taken a definite toll on her previously slender figure over the past few months. leaving her with wobbly thighs, pronounced love-handles, and a slight beer-gut. Lana eyed her newfound fat like a judge assessing a prisoner while Nina choked out a denial. 
Lana silenced her protestations with a wave of her hand. 

Twenty jumping-jacks, and Ill admit Kendra made a mistake approaching you. 

Nina, reluctantly, began the exercises. If Lana Gartmore said jump, you jumped- in this case literally. Her fleshy body, combined with the tightness of her clothes, made it difficult for her, and she wobbled and gasped with each jump. She was, however, only a little winded by the time she finished. 

Lana didnt like that shed managed it. It made her feel defeated, in some way, even diminished. That couldnt stand. So she began her own set, planning to do thirty, fifty, and not even be slightly out of breath by the end of it, just to keep Nina in her place. 

But, on her thirteenth jumping jack, she landed awkwardly, and felt her ankle twist under her. There was a crack, and a sudden spike of agony, as she lurched to the ground. Pain from her broken ankle swept through her, and with it, somehow, the sense of a life about to spin out of control.


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## guyfromglasgow1 (Jul 27, 2014)

Hey. Hafsah said, coming through the door. 
Hey. replied Furheen. Just me in the house. Sorry about this morning. 
No problem. Hafsah said, though she was still a little irritated about it. No point in picking a fight with her cousin though. 
I made dinner. Furheen said. Itll be half an hour. 
That pushed her a long way towards forgiveness. Furheen was a trainee chef, and, in the time that she had been staying with Hafsahs family, she had been testing out her culinary skills on her hosts. Much to their appreciation. 
Great. How was your day? Hafsah asked. 
Meh, not bad, yours? 
Pretty uneventful. One of the girls in the hockey team broke her ankle. They were freaking out about it on the bus back- apparently it hurts their chances this season. 
Ah. Furheen said. Despite her lithe figure, Furheen was as uninterested in sport as Hafsah was. 
There was a moment of silence. 
Theres some crisps* on the table if you dont want to wait, by the way. Furheen called. 
Hafsah moved into the kitchen, and picked up a handful of crisps in her plump hand. 
Oh, by the way, do you know a guy called Mark Kerr? 
Yeah, he sits next to me in English, why? Asked Hafsah, surprised. Mark was hardly a socialite, and Furheen was new in town. 
His big sisters on my training course. Seems nice. Very opinionated about your school, though. 
Yeah (munch) whys that? Hafsah said, over a mouthful. 
Apparently theres a lot of bullying overbody type. 
Hafsah repressed a smile at Furheens polite skirting of the f-word. In truth, it wasnt as much bullying as stigma. Segregation, even. There was an obsession with it, among some of the girls in her year- those like Lana, who defined themselves by weight and personal fitness, were trend setters in the year. It was all a little pointless, and more than a little irritating, Hafsah thought. 
Still, she pushed it from her mind, and she and her cousin chatted with each other until the lasagne was ready. 
Between them, they finished three quarters of it in twenty minutes. Or, rather, Furheen had one piece, and Hafsah demolished about a kilo of meat, cheese and pasta in about the same time it took Furheen to have a slab. She leaned back , groaning, attempting to shift the strain and bulge of food inside her. 
Take it that means my skills havent slipped? Furheen asked, smiling. 
Hafsah, torn between ecstacy at the good food, and agony at her overfullness, could only nod, promting Furheens smile to grow even wider. 
Great! Ive got some stuff coming up that means Ive really got to get my stuff together with this cooking malarkey. So youll be tasting a lot more of this while Im staying with you. 
For precisely seven seconds, Hafsah considered all the pointed looks and bitchy comments she had received for her weight, and wondered if Furheens cooking, delicious as it was, was worth all that. 
It wasnt difficult to decide that it was. 

A few streets away, Kendra Gerrard was also eating. It was safe to say that Kendra, despite liking her just as much as, if not more than, Hafsah did, she was not enjoying this particular experience as much as Hafsah had. Kendras parents were out, and, never having learnt to cook, she had been left to consider the contents of their freezer. Shes had a couple of microwaveable pizzas so far, which had left her feeling full, but strangely unsatisfied. Well, it had been a tiring day. Her bid for Head Girl seemed to be falling apart- she could talk all she wanted about her qualifications for the job (not to mention the complete absence qualifications in her rival), but all that most people seemed to be interested in was her weight compared to Lana Gartmores. It had been an effort not to take any spiteful satisfaction in Lanas accident at the end of the day. Sure, it was maybe wrong to be pleased that a fellow human being was in pain, but on the other hand, the psycho, megalomaniac bitch really deserved it. 
She shook her head. Desert. Rising from the couch was a slow, clumsy effort that caused every roll of fat on her to jiggle and shake, and which elicited a low, soft, almost sensual gasp of effort from her. She walked to the fridge, absent-mindedly brushing the pizza-crumbs from her billowing front as she did so. The kitchen was placed inconveniently far away from the TV room, and, in her stuffed state, she had a slight stitch by the time she got to the freezer. She opened it. There was a cheesecake there, and an apple crumble. That took a moments thought. Sadly, not even she could manage both, though they were equally appealing. With haphazard logic, she decided that the apple crumble had fruit in it, ergo, it must be the healthy option. That decision made, she slung it in the microwave, and waited impatiently for it to defrost. She briefly considered unzipping her jeans, but she figured there was enough give in them to handle the desert. Unable to wait for the walk back to the TV room to have the food, she ate it standing up, in front of the fridge, burning her fingers slightly, but not caring as she lost herself in calorific pleasure. As she finished, however, she dropped the foil plate on the ground, greasy fingers relinquishing their hold. She sighed, and considered her options for picking it up. She could, she considered, drop to one knee and pick it up, but then there was the question of how she would haul herself back to her feet. No, the only course of action, distasteful as it was, was to bend over, and hope her bloated middle didnt prove too much of a hindrance. 
As it was, it wasnt her gut that proved the biggest problem- although it was enough of a hindrance, making her huff and groan with frustrated effort as she tried to reach for it. Instead, it was her arse. Always tight, her jeans finally gave up trying to contain the twin, overside globes of her cheeks, and tore a good clean inches, just as she grabbed the plate. 
Could have been worse. She told herself. Imagine if Id had the cheesecake.

*British English for Potato Chips.


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## richman92 (Jul 28, 2014)

Pretty nice addition, could be longer though.


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