# Crows & Butterflies - by EdX (~BBW, Romance)



## Tad (Feb 16, 2009)

_~BBW, Mild Sex, Romance - _ = An FA/BBW coming of age story, of sorts


 *Crows and Butterflies*
*by Tad
*​ 
Part 1

One advantage of going to university seven hours from home is that your family is not always looking over your shoulder. The consequent disadvantage is that things that could have been rolled out gradually at home can become big shocks. Specifically, my little sister’s synchronized skating team was in a competition being held in the town where I went to school. My mom had traveled with them. I was going to watch them, and I was bringing my girlfriend.

To be specific again, I was bringing my fairly new girlfriend, who I’d only been formally dating for less than two months. My first girlfriend, who I had not told my family about yet in case things didn’t work out. My girlfriend, who was a serious gamer geek, and didn’t really see the use activities like figure skating. My girlfriend with the bottle-red buzz-cut, whose dressiest clothes were new blue-jeans and a t-shirt with fantasy art on it. My girlfriend who weighed more than my mother and sister put together, probably with their luggage too.

Riding the bus to the rink, wedged onto the portion of the bus seat that her hips didn’t fill, I considered that maybe I should have said something about Alison further ahead of time, at least my mom. I’d called her earlier that morning and let her know that I was bringing my girl-friend with me, but I’d not told her anything else. My mom is pretty diplomatic, but this was probably going to be quite the shock. Mom had certainly been thrilled to hear that I finally had a girlfriend, but it was not likely that she was expecting someone like Alison.

“So are these skaters all really skinny?” asked Alison, in a less than pleased tone of voice. I wasn’t’ sure if her displeasure was based on general aesthetics, a dislike of athletes, or some degree of insecurity. I supposed there was no reason that it could not be all three. 

“As figure skaters go, not really. Singles skaters who are doing jumps need to be as lean as they can be, and female pairs skaters need to be as light as possible for lifts. Synchronized, well, they are still in skating dresses and have to be pretty fit, but they don’t need to be as skinny. Still, most of them are pretty small.”

“I can’t believe you used to be a figure skater, that is so gay.”

“Hey, that isn’t fair. There are more gay guys than average in skating, but plenty of straight ones too. Anyway I got dragged in because with three sisters we were always at the rink anyway, and they always needed more guys for dance and pairs, as partners. It is pretty easy to be in demand if you are a guy in skating.”

“I still think those costumes are ridiculous.”

I took a breath, and bit back my first retort. Alison seemed to be looking for a fight, but I was determined not to give it to her. “Look, you like gaming, most of my family likes figure skating. It is what it is. They have to try and accept who you are, please try to accept who they are.”

“OK. Fine. Are any of the girls you used to skate with on this team?”

“When the synchro team got put together, a lot of the girls who were never going to be top competitors in singles and doubles joined up. My mom mentioned my old dance partner Janice is here, I don’t know who else.”

“Why did she mention that?”

“I don’t know. Look, relax will you? My family is pretty decent, as families go.”

Brooding silence ensued until we got off in front of the rink hosting the competition. As we walked through the doors she said, “The home of perky athleticism—for me it is like walking into the gates of Mordor.” 

Normally Alison’s sardonic edge amused me, but at this moment it was just stressing me out. Instead of responding I just said, “Let’s go up to the top seats, you can see the patterns better that way. And it will avoid meeting anyone until afterwards.” When we came out of the lobby and looked up at the twenty rows of seats she looked like she might balk—I know she hated stairs—but she just bit her lip and started clomping up the stairs, perhaps slamming down her construction boots a little more firmly that was required. Due to her bulky, knee length, winter parka I didn’t even get to enjoy the roll of her hips and jiggle of her thighs, except in my imagination. 

When we finally slid onto a bench Alison was breathing heavily and her pale skin was flushed. I couldn’t help a flash of lust at this evidence of just how fat and out of shape she was, that a twenty row climb should have her so winded. I wanted to dive into her soft rolls of fat right there and then, but I contented myself with taking her pudgy hand and giving it a squeeze. Then I snuggled a little closer, so that I was pressed against the softness of her hips. Well, at least against the softness of her puffy coat, although I was pretty sure I was snug enough against her to also be pushing against her fat hips. It was kind of exciting that her hips were soft enough that I couldn’t be quite sure where the down-filled jacket ended and the fat filled Alison started.

The competition was not half bad, I thought. But after the third team Alison took a paper back out of her coat pocket and started reading. I’d told her earlier that she could take a book along if she wanted to, but I was disappointed that she’d actually done so, and had resorted to using it so quickly. While the Zamboni was flooding the ice, and Alison was pointedly staying involved in her book, I had time to examine my feelings. I decided that in part I was disappointed that she hadn’t made more of an effort to enjoy the competition. But I knew already she didn’t find this sort of thing interesting, so I shouldn’t feel as irritated as I did. The other part was that I felt she was being rude to the girls skating. Who wants to look up and see a spectator totally ignoring you? That was a lot harder to excuse at first, but when I thought some more I realized that she’d probably been ignored many times by more athletic kids, that in fact she’d probably been sneered at and snubbed actively, so maybe this was sort of a protective behaviour?

As it turned out my sister’s team skated last. Their unison was excellent, but their program was not as original as some of the other groups, and they barely made any use of their highlight skaters, so I didn’t think they’d place too highly. The final scores were up shortly afterwards, and it turned out that they placed third, which I thought they should be pleased about.

“Come on, let’s go down and we can catch them as they come out of the change room.” Alison put her book away reluctantly and followed me down. I was distracted by musings of how I could arrange to sometime get down the stairs first, and watch from the bottom as she bounced and jiggled her way down, so I almost missed it when she announced she had to go to the bathroom. I ended up standing there by the door, almost fuming: couldn’t she have gone during the performances, which she hadn’t been watching anyway?

Finally she was done and we got to the change rooms just as the team was spilling out in a chatting mass of matching blue jackets. The first couple pushed past us, giving sidelong glances at Alison. Then Janice stopped “Rob! What are you doing here?”

“I came to watch—I’m at university here.”

“That’s right, I forgot! I’m applying here, maybe I’ll see you around next year.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so babbled “Would you join the precision team here?”

“Nah, this season is it for me. It takes too much time, and I’ve had enough of 6am practices!”

“Yah, I understand that feeling. I’m glad I’m done.” I realized Alison was standing there, unhappily being left out. So I quickly switched topics. “Janice, this is my girlfriend Alison. Alison, this is Janice, I was her partner for pairs for a few years and dance for a couple after that.”

Janice’s eyes went wide, but she didn’t miss a beat. “Wow, great to meet you! I’m glad to meet the girl who finally caught Rob’s heart. He’s a good guy.”

Alison looked a bit stunned, like this was not what she’d been expecting, but after a pause she managed “Yah, nice to meet you.”

In turn Janice seemed off balance, expecting more. After the pause stretched out she finally turned to me and said “Are you coming with us all to supper? Oh, Shelly, you didn’t tell me your brother had a girlfriend now!”

My turn to be slow to react, and by the time that I’d figured out that my sister had just come up behind me, she was already asking “Oh, have you met her? Where is she?”

I grabbed Alison’s arm, half turned, and said “Hey brat, she’s right here. Alison, meet Brat, AKA Shelly. Shelly, meet Alison.”

My sister can blush brighter than Rudolph’s nose, and did so. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t see you, I mean, I saw you, I just didn’t realize you were a girl, your back was turned, and with your coat on, I, uh, sorry.”

I saw a dangerous narrowing of Alison’s eyes, but before I could think of what to say, she drawled out “Sorry for your confusion, I guess you aren’t used to girls without so much make-up.”

My sister’s fingers flew to her face, which was indeed still caked in the heavy make-up used during performances. I reeled from Alison’s open rudeness and hostility, wanting to call her on it, but not in front of others. Janice jumped into the silence. “Wow, bad start by all of us. Can we re-start the music and have a do-over?”

Janice stuck out her hand and continued “Alison, I really am glad to meet you. This is a double surprise for me, I hadn’t known Rob would be here, and I didn’t know that he had a girlfriend, but both are good surprises.” She had a pleading smile on her face.

With a sigh Alison let her shoulders slump, and took the proffered hand. “Thanks, sorry, this is a bit overwhelming I guess. I feel like I’m a crow in the middle of a flock of butterflies.”

My sister had finally recovered her wits, and grabbed Alison’s hand next. “I’m glad to meet you too, really I am, and I love your hair” Turning to Janice, she added “Mom is taking Rob, Alison, and I out to supper, just the four of us. I’ll see you back at the hotel later.”

“Oh.” Janice looked a little disappointed, then brightening she added “Rob, if you have time, why not meet us for breakfast in the morning? The hotel has an awesome breakfast buffet!”

I couldn’t help teasing “They probably thought they’d turn a profit, with a bunch of girls.”

Janice grinned back, then explained to Alison “We are probably more like tent caterpillars than butterflies, with how hard we work we eat a pretty fair amount, especially after competition when we don’t have to worry about our weight so much for a couple of weeks.” As the sentence ended, I could see Janice suddenly realizing that the last remark may not have been very diplomatic when talking to someone as fat as Alison.

I jumped in to add “Off the ice these &#8216;butterflies’ are about as dainty as sailors.”

Naturally my mother arrived at that point, making me feel bad about my choice of words by her mere presence. She was wearing the smile she pasted on for dealing with strangers, which I always thought made her look slightly manic. Still she slid her way into the conversation smoothly “You must be Alison?” without pausing she continued “I’m Rob’s mom, you can call me Barbara or Mrs. Price, whichever you prefer. We can talk more in the car and at the restaurant, why don’t we get going now, I’m sure everyone is hungry, I know I am.”

I’ll interject here to say that while I may be biased, but I think my mom just looks like the epitome of a mom. She isn’t skinny but she isn’t fat, she dresses neatly but not overly stylishly, her dark hair is some unremarkable medium length and cut which is never really either stylish or unstylish, and generally if you saw her in a crowd you’d probably guess her for someone’s mom. And as mom’s go I’d rate her pretty well. We’ve had our fights of course, but you can’t get too mad at someone as generally reasonable and adaptable as her. And her mom mojo seems to work on others too, I know half my friends used to tell her their problems, and at skating practice people used to turn to her with their problems almost more than the coaches.

Rather to my shock, her mojo even worked on Alison. Shortly we were all loaded into mom’s Golf, Alison in the front seat “to give directions to the restaurant” with no mention of who could more easily fit into the back seat. Really that serves as a model for the rest of the evening. Mom kept things light, treating Alison so nicely that Alison seemed powerless to be difficult about things. A couple of pleasant hours later she dropped us off in front of the townhouse that Alison shared with a couple of other girls, and Alison said “Good-bye Mrs. Price, thank you for the dinner, it was really nice meeting you and Shelley.” She sounded like the wholesome girl next door.

Once we were up in her room I quipped “You know, butterflies is a good description of them, maybe colourful, but no real body on them.”

This was met by her spinning around, looking angry, accusing me “You didn’t tell me that Janice had a crush on you!”

This was obscurely comforting, more familiar than the meek and polite young woman I’d been with for the past couple of hours. “That would be because she doesn’t.”

“Oh Rob, soooo good to see you, oh Rob is soooo wonderful, won’t you come to dinner with us Rob?” she cooed in what I suppose was supposed to be an imitation of Janice’s voice.

I laughed, I couldn’t help it “Oh, I think you are jealous!”

“Not jealous, just pissed! Not nice to spring your old girlfriend on me.”

That was just too much, and I pretty much lost my temper, at least as much as I lose my temper. “OK, look, we were partners in skating for five years, we were together for an hour or two most days of the week, for five whole years. Starting when I was twelve and she was ten. We were kids, and I was around her almost as much as my sister. So she became like a second sister. Getting romantic with her would just feel really wrong, totally aside from the fact that she is all muscle, which as you well know is not my thing. Then I pretty much disappeared from her life when I went to University. She was probably going to either hate me for disappearing, or miss me somewhat, as a friend. And yes, I can be friends with women without trying to get into their pants, especially when they are skinny. On top of all that, I’m pretty sure that she is gay, but she’s never told me she is, so I didn’t want to say anything.”

“I like how your nostrils flare when you are mad.”

“OK, forget, I’ll get going.”

I was actually opening the door before she replied “OK, I get it, I’m a bitch. But you already knew that, and you still wanted me. Nothing has changed. I’m never going to be all nice like your family and friends are. Just because I’m being a bitch doesn’t mean I want you to leave. I just want you to show that you’ll take me as I am.”

So I stayed, and took her as she was (minus a couple of articles of clothing), which probably wasn’t quite what she meant, but it worked well enough for both of us right then.

_Story continued in post 5 of this thread_


----------



## Tad (Feb 16, 2009)

Part 2 is partially drafted, but I've not decided which way the plot will twist after that. Feedback at this point is welcome, and may help influence where I take this. (except for one thing: there will not be explicit sex, you'll have to use your imaginations a fair bit before this is done, most likely)


----------



## BSfan (Feb 17, 2009)

Methinks your protagonist is with the wrong girl.


----------



## lifelongpassion (Feb 17, 2009)

It should be retitled "Girl with self esteem problems and shitty attitude", an all too true thing.

But this was just the start of his story, so I'm rollin' with it for now.


----------



## Tad (Feb 20, 2009)

*Part 2a*

I woke up around midnight, uncomfortably squeezed between Alisons backside and her bedroom wall. Sharing a single bed with someone her size wasnt really ideal for comfort, although it did make for lots of body contact. My arm was draped across the sprawl of her belly, the front of my thighs were pressed against the soft arc of her lower bum and upper thighs, and my front was against the rolls of her back. It took me a moment to break through my sleepiness and lingering post-coital haze, but finally I recalled that I had to get going.

I loved waking up before Alison on a Sunday morning so I could lie there and admire her incredible body in the dim morning light. Her housemates kept the temperature high enough that she slept naked and tended to shed the blankets, so I would normally be treated to a visual feast, the spicy corona of stretch marks around her belly, the mild hint of her third chin, the sweet pinkish-white puddings of her breasts, and all her other delectable features great and small. 

Unfortunately the room was dark, and I couldnt linger until morning. I hadnt meant to stay even that late, as Alison had not cleared my staying with her house mates. I clambered over mount Alison, and somewhat to my disappointment she didnt wake up. Just getting across all that softness made me wonder if shed be up for a prolonged good-bye, but since I was supposed to be going I resisted deliberately waking her up. As quietly as I could in the dark I felt around for my clothes, which had all eventually been cast off the night before. Whatever difficulties I may have had during the day with Alison, our nights were always amazing. 

Eventually I got myself dressed, and let myself out, making sure to lock the door on the way out. Alisons roommates would have been happier had she not had a boyfriend, but they tolerated me, more or less. Alison tended to be of the opinion that they should just suck it up and deal, and that they were just jealous because she was the only one with a steady boy-friend. I tried not to aggravate them more than necessary, however. So, letting them wake up in the morning in a safely locked up house, without the risk of finding a guy in the bathroom, was one small part of my campaign to win them over.

My housemates could care less what I did in my attic apartment, so long as I didnt crash through the floor or burn the place down. Which made it a better place for us to get together in theory. In practice her place was our usual destination. The two places were similar distance to campus, and were not far apart as the crow flies, but intervening train tracks made it a brisk fifteen minute walk for me on my own, and more like twenty-five minutes for Alison. Plus while she had a nice bedroom in a nice town-house, I had a chilly attic in a somewhat run-down house, and the the steep steps up to the attic tended to bother Alisons knees. 

I made my way home wondering if we should take the chance on trying to find a place to live together for the next school year, or if it was just too early in the relationship for that? Waking up every morning snuggled up against her soft curves sure sounded appealing, that much I knew. And in theory two could live together more cheaply than apart, but most likely wed still need house mates, and that could be tough to find.

The temperature had plunged, and Id not really dressed properly for being outside. My thoughts kept my spirit warm, but by the time I got home my body was freezing. I knew the attic would be cold too, as the little electric heater I had up there was not a match for a real cold snap. I decided to take a shower to warm up, and that would also let me sleep a little later in the morning my mom picked me up to meet the synchro team for breakfast. I popped up to the attic to grab the sweatshirt and sweat pants I slept in during cold weather, then melted into the shower.

I dont about anyone else, but I find showers to be a very indulgent experience. At home, with three sisters, Id learned to have quick showers. Once at university, however, I learned to indulge myself more. The hot water coating my body, the privacy, the warm, moist air, it was all just comforting yet stimulating. Showers with Alison were a dozen times better, but all showers were good things. 

In this particular shower I was really aware of my body. When Id finished skating Id been really thin. Now not so much. I was far from fat, but I was certainly thicker and less defined. Overall I was more comfortable this way, but at the same time, seeing Janice and others after a couple of years, I couldnt help but wonder if theyd think Id let myself go? And did I care, and if I did care did I dread it, or anticipate it? When Id been skating Id had a strong awareness that the body everyone saw didnt match who I felt I really was. These days I didnt have that strong mis-match, but I still wasnt sure that my outsides matched my insides properly.

Eventually my thoughts calmed under the relentless soothing of the warm water, and I got out, now barely awake. I pulled on my sweats, and put my socks back on too. Then I went up to a sadly empty and cold mattress, tucked under the slope of the roof.

I didnt wake up until my cell phone rang. It was my Mom. Im parked outside, you said to pick you up at 8:30. 

I blearily focussed on the clock and realized it was already 8:36. Id forgotten to set an alarm. After a few attempts I managed to form words. Sorry, three minutes.

I quickly replaced my sweat pants and shirt with jeans and a t-shirt from the top of my dirty clothes pile, whacked my hair down quickly, and ran for the door. I stumbled out to the car with my jacket unzipped and wearing unlaced shoes, much to my mothers amusement.

You are out of practice at early mornings. You used to be good getting out the door at 5:30 in the morning four days a week, for ice time. And you would have remembered it was winter, and worn boots

I managed to mutter Yah, well, I became civilized. I didnt bother explaining that I just hadnt felt up to the extra fight of getting boots on.

Mom was kind enough to let the rest of the ride go by in silence, while I struggled to tie up my shoes in the tight confines of the car. While doing so I realized that one of my socks was pink. In the dark of Alisons room I must have put one of her socks on by mistake, and I hadnt noticed since. Well, at least my jeans were long enough to hopefully cover it.

As we were getting out of the car Mom hit me with Thank you for coming, it is good to see you more, and I know some of the girls are looking forward to seeing you. It is too bad that Alison couldnt make it.

I almost stumbled. I hadnt even thought of inviting Alison. Why not? Id assumed she wouldnt want to come was part of it. With a spasm of guilt I also realized that Id not really wanted her here. Id wanted to be able to just be part of this group, without balancing them with Alison. I felt guilty, but then almost defiant with the thought that we didnt have to do everything together.

I was still brooding over that issue when we entered the restaurant. My sister Shelley had saved seats for us, right in the middle of a long table. There were twenty girls on the Junior team, plus three younger teams, plus coaches and assorted parents, all adding up to quite a throng. A mostly female throng, but glancing around I was quickly reminded of why Id not dated in the skating club, they just werent my type.


----------



## Tad (Feb 20, 2009)

*part 2b*

Out of their costumes, with their hair loose, without matching make-up, the various skaters still kind of resembled each other for the most part. The nature of the sport meant that within any one age group they werent too different in height nor size, all of them had hair in length between their shoulders and their shoulder blades, and they tended towards similar styles. Looking around the table I saw most of them had make up on even at this hour, although right across from me Janice didnt.

The waitress pounced almost as soon as we were seated. Is that the last of you? You can go on to the buffet then. For you two, would you like coffee or tea?

Mom ordered coffee, I asked for tea, and we kept our seats as most of the girls headed off in a flurry to get food. Well, almost all of them, Janice also kept her seat.

Not hungry? I asked her.

Starving! she admitted. But I dont feel like fighting everyone else. Give it a few minutes and Ill be able to get my food faster.

Ah, grasshopper, you are learning!

And the master is also showing patience?

No, the master is waiting for his tea, so that he can wake up enough to face food.

Rough night?

I couldnt contain a smirk as I thought about the previous night No, but I got home late, and forgot to set an alarm. I explained about being woken up by my Mom, my rush, and my odd-sock.

Janice simply nodded, sighed and replied I look forward to the day when 9am is early!

I laughed, then asked How many more six AM practices?

She didnt even have to think about it Twenty-seven. Then Im devoting the next few months adapting to sleeping in, eating pizza, and developing a taste for beer. Need to be properly debauched before I get to University, dont want to waste any time getting up to speed on that.

I did teach you well, didnt I? But if you come here for Uni, youll not be able to drink again, remember the drinking age in Ontario is 19, not 18 like back in Quebec.

Did that stop you from finding beer last year?

I glanced at my Mom, grinned, and said Hey, who needs to wait for tea, lets go get some food!

Standing up, Janice quipped Hah, notice that Im on the side closer to the food, who is the master now?

Maybe I just needed the handicap to even things out? I go to twirl you out of the way and muscle memory will probably make you do it.

It was good bantering back and forth with Janice again. That was part of why wed survived so many years of being skating partners, including the stress of changing events. Wed always amused each other, and could take nearly any topic and stretch it out for endless chatter.

Our verbal duel carried over while we loaded our plates and emptied them again. Heading back up to the buffet I ended up beside another one of the team, Danielle. With all of her usual tact she asked me So you arent, like, actually gay?

I nearly dumped scrambled eggs on the floor. What? No! Who said that?

Oh, like everyone. Jennifer talked about it most I think.

Before I could ask more, Janice touched my elbow and gave me a significant look. Into my silence Danielle continued Although with that Metallica t-shirt you dont look as gay as when you were always dressed up so nicely.

I glanced down to see what I was wearing. Oh, this, yah I still prefer nice shirts, but Alison gave me this a couple of weeks ago. She kind of agrees with you about my style.

Danielle looked at the well faded shirt, and I could see the wheels turn in her head. The shirt wasnt new, so Alison must have worn it before, so it must have fit Alison at some point, which meant shed gotten a lot fatter since whenever that was. I could see when the thought process finished, then she brightly announced Well, I have enough food now, Im going to eat!

Janice and I finished re-loading our plates, then we stepped out of the way before going back to the table. She murmured In our last year together Jennifer was interested in you, and wanted me to set up the two of you, and when I wouldnt she started suggesting that it was because I was secretly crushing on you. Finally to get her to shut up I told her that I knew you were not interested in her, and that she should just think of you as being gay, totally out of reach. I guess enough people by then knew that she was interested in you that to save face she started saying that you were gay. That was right when you were leaving the club anyway, so I figured it was easier just to let it be.

Which Jennifer? I asked, although I had a nasty feeling I knew exactly.

Jennifer W. The one with the boobs. In a figure skating club, that was actually a fairly precise identifier. Remember her Dad used to run the music during practices?

I most certainly remembered, but kept it nonchalant Oh I think I remember: no hips at all, usually pouting, skated singles?

That was her.

Oh, then good call. She was really annoying! Shed also been the only girl in the club whod caught my eye at all, but it was true that Id found her annoying and would not have gone out with her.

You dont mind?

No, why would I? Im not cool enough to be gay, but I dont care if that is what some people think. Which was even almost true. But you could have just told her I liked heavier girls.

That would have been more complicated. And convincing her that anybody didnt like girls exactly like her, unless they didnt like girls at all, that was going to be hard. She had a bit of an ego, you may recall.

Yah, actually her whole family wasnt all that good at dealing with reality, I think.

Janice shrugged I dont know. Anyway, she didnt come back after you left. Which was too bad in a way because her dad was really good at handling the music. I hear Jennifer has really packed on weight, which is kind of ironic, but I guess not surprising, her dad was pretty fat, if you remember.

I most certainly remembered. I remembered how confusing his soft bulges and folds had been for me, for years. I heard her parents separated, so shes probably been going through some rough times. I was weighing whether I should finally tell Janice what had happened at the end of the season two years ago, but just then my sister came by and asked why were just standing there. We returned to the table and went back to making more general chatter.

Janice and I finished up our second plates about the same time. Janice sighed, and said I swear, after the last competition Im doing three full plates. And never wearing a spandex dress again. Go ahead and gloat while you eat what you want.

No, Ive had enough. I go to public skating sometimes, and swim a bit, and some other exercises, but Im not burning nearly the calories I did when we were in competition. I cant afford a whole new wardrobe, so Ive got to watch what I eat.

Janice stuck her fingers in her ears and teased La-la-la-la, Im not hearing you. She took her fingers out, and continued And dont you depress me! Life after skating is supposed to be about fun and food and not so much discipline, and stuff. Leave me my fantasies!

My mom uncharacteristically broke into our conversation. Oh honey, if you ever find a time of life where that is really the case, please let me know.

Which kind of dampened both of us for a bit, until we got together to tease my sister about her ongoing New Kids on the Block fascination.

Shortly, everyone was fed, and the skaters had to start the long drive back to Montreal. I borrowed a pen from my Moms purse, and wrote down my e-mail and phone number for Janice. I know I kind of disappeared on you a couple of years ago, I, well, I just really needed to be away from skating club for a while. But Im sorry, and it was really good to see you again. So, drop me a line if you want to. Let me know what you do about schools next year, and if you come up here for a visit or something, give me a shout, I can show you around.

Thanks. Alison wont mind?

I struggled for words, and finally came up with Not too much, not more than the usual.

Then after some quick hugs they were gone. I was left wondering what picture of Alison Id given with that last comment, and why those particular words had come to mind.


----------



## fattyloving frank (Feb 21, 2009)

Love it, can't wait to read more. keep taking your time and kicking ass with this one.


----------



## Bluestreak (Sep 23, 2011)

These are all great sketches...I just wish there was more! Thanks!


----------



## Raider X (Sep 24, 2011)

I like the story... Although I agree with the rest of the readers here that the protagonist is with the wrong person and they'll separate eventually, how will it happen?


----------



## Tad (Sep 27, 2011)

*Author's note:* Back when I started this story, I’d given up on it after those first parts. The complexity of what I was trying to write was rapidly spiralling beyond my capabilities. But now that I’ve been reminded of the story, I’m going to take another crack at continuing it, by pulling some of the issues out into the open.

======================

I still had two mid-terms to write, and in order to see the skating I’d traded out of my usual Saturday afternoon shift, and had to work close on Sunday instead. So much as I wanted to spend time with Alison, it wasn’t to be.

At work that evening I was gathering up produce that was getting old—one of the perks of working at Nature’s Garden was buying the old produce at a big discount, so I was also considering what I wanted to buy—when Duncan came in. Normally I’m happy to see Duncan, but that evening it really stirred up feelings and memories.

I’d better give you some background. Nature’s Garden is an overtly precious fruit and vegetable store, the sort of place that yuppies with bohemian pretensions go to buy overpriced produce and congratulate themselves on being too awesome to shop at a regular super market. Most of the staff are young women of the granola eating, yoga practicing, persuasion. Yah, I know, between the figure skating and the store you’d think I was interested in overtly healthy young women.

Duncan was probably not the target audience of the store. He’s about five foot two, probably at least as big around as he is tall, pale as can be, thick glasses, always wears suspenders, and breathes a bit hard just walking around. If you were going to draw a cartoon of what our society viewed as a loser, it would probably look a fair bit like Duncan, except that he mostly seemed happy and always looked scrubbed clean.

I had a totally ridiculous crush on him. I know, just that morning I’d said I wasn’t cool enough to be gay, but I was some sort of bi, liking mostly fat women but having a soft spot for soft men, and being attracted to Duncan certainly was not cool, you know?

Anyway, I was sorting through the romaine lettuce when I heard his distinctive shuffle and open mouthed puffing. He asked, in a high pitched voice that you pretty much expected from everything else about him “Pardon me Rob, could you pass me a nice crisp one of those?” 

Just speaking that many words strung together caused him to breathe faster, and I had to take a deep breath myself before I turned around and handed him his lettuce. 

“Glad to help, Duncan. Enjoy your shopping.”

“You aren’t normally here on Sundays, are you?

“I traded shifts, my family was in town yesterday.”

“Oh, that is nice!” He patted my arm with a plump hand, for all the world like someone’s dotty old aunt, then carried on his shuffling, puffing, way. Normally at that point I enjoy some unformed yet intense fantasies while I finished sorting through produce, but that day it instead reminded me of Mr. Woods.

His daughter, Jennifer, was “the one with the tits,” the girl in the skating club who’d had a crush on me, then later apparently told everyone I was gay. Truth was, I’d had a growing crush on her father. At all sorts of horrible hours he’d be at the rink, sitting in the time keeper’s box, handling the music for our various programs. Really, he was the sort of volunteer parent that makes things like a skating club work, and while people tended to take him for granted, I think pretty much everyone liked him.

He had this thick, ugly, sweater, covered with patches and pins from various skating events. Over the years the sweater got tighter and tighter on him, clinging to his love handles, his breasts, his soft belly. Above it his double chin and jowls grew thicker and jigglier by the year. At early morning sessions, he’d sit there eating donuts while we skated, getting icing sugar on his lap and around his mouth. He was just a perfect, soft, pudgy, gone to seed, out of shape, fantasy for me.

I generally kept my distance, but in my final few months with the club, when I was eighteen and soon moving away I couldn’t resist getting a little closer, giving more fuel to my fantasy fodder. I helped edit music for the Spring Follies that the club put on, after Janice and I came second at divisionals I included him in the round of hugs, and so on. At the time I thought I was being pretty subtle about it, but well, I was eighteen.

I guess all of that might have put me around Jennifer more, and perhaps she misinterpreted it all as a way to get closer to her, thinking that I was interested in her. To have me around, underfoot, looking interested, but then told I wasn’t? I can see how her ego wouldn’t have taken that well.

And I guess it was not transparent to Mr. Woods, either. At the year end banquet he double checked I was eighteen, then offered me some wine. Later that evening he mentioned that Jennifer and her mother were heading out of town the next weekend, but said if I wanted to come over he was sure he could find some music editing to offer up as an excuse….but that we could do other things.

My heart started beating like a jackhammer, my blood roared in my ears, I nearly ran away from shear mental stress. I finally managed to choke out “Mr. Woods, I am 18, and leaving the club, but …. I don’t think you should do the music anymore.”

I hoped that he could see in my eyes how sorry I was to say that. All I know is that he sighed and said “Do you really think….oh, never mind, in this world…” 

He kind of deflated, and wandered off, and I never saw him again. But I had heard that he’d resigned from doing the music, that Jennifer had left the club, and that his wife had left him.

Had I ruined his life? I thought I’d done the right thing, if he asked me over, how many other boys might he have been lusting over? He’d waited until I was an adult, and leaving skating, so I doubted he was dangerous, but still it had seemed like the right thing to me at the time. I still didn’t know if I’d done the right thing.

My brief encounter with Duncan brought all of that confusion back. Later that evening when I was trying to study for a statistics mid-term, instead I kept wondering if I’d done the right thing. Should I have just turned him down quietly and left well enough alone? Should I have told more people? How much had I led him on, with poorly disguised interest? Should I have gone to his house, could I have gotten this crazy fascination of mine out of my system if I had?


----------



## Tad (Sep 27, 2011)

Over the next couple of days I avoided getting together with Alison. I didn’t want to be kissing her while Mr. Woods was still haunting my thoughts, it would be too creepy. I wanted to explain to her what was going on in my head, but I couldn’t imagine doing that.

Too distracted to study well, too chicken to face my girlfriend, I did further damage to my straight guy cred, and picked up a needle and thread. With so many kids in figure skating, my mom had made us all learn to sew in order to help with costumes, and I was honestly pretty good at it, I could follow patterns and everything.

There was a store not too far from campus with all sorts of cheap ends of cloth, and a good selection of patterns. I picked up a pattern for a basic teddy bear, but chose fabric to make it into a Bamf Doll. You’d have to be as big a fan of old X-Men comics as Alison was to even know what that was, but she’d explained to me, and I figured I remembered what it looked like well enough to put one together quickly.

Wednesday’s Stats mid-term went about as well as I could have expected, given my lack of effective studying, but fell short of being a full disaster. Once it was done, I headed over to Alison’s.

The brunette room house mate answered the door, rolled her eyes upon seeing it was me, then warned me “She’s on the warpath, the girl who was supposed to take my room over the summer just reneged because she’s going on an exchange to Germany, so she doesn’t have anyone lined up for either other bedroom now.”

I wasn’t sure what all of that was about, so I decided to be the clueless boyfriend. Once I’d shed my boots and jacket I crept up to her room, gave it a quick knock, opened it as she was snapping “Now what?” then threw the Bamf doll at her while yelling “BAMF!”

She snagged it out of the air while asking “What the hell?”

I explained “It is supposed to be a Bamf doll. Happy two month anniversary.”

“What? You made this?”

“Yah, I remember you telling me about the Bamfs in X-Men, then how there was a Bamf doll, and I thought you might like one.”

“You remembered that?”

“Obviously!” I was getting a little frustrated. Even from Alison I’d expected a little more excitement or pleasure or something.

“Who celebrates their two month anniversary, and makes gifts by hand?”

I stared at her. Finally I said “Your boyfriend.”

“Fuck.” She stared at the Bamf doll, and finally said “That is about the most fucking thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me. Why?”

“Because you are awesome. Because I want you to be happy. Because I’m crazy about you.”

To my shock, she started crying. She clutched the Bamf doll tightly, tears glistening off her plump cheeks, throat pumping with silent sobs.

It took me several seconds longer than it probably should have, but I finally managed to gather my courage and go sit beside her on her bed and hug her. I moved on to stroking her back and murmuring “What’s wrong” type of noises. After a bit she buried her head against my chest.

Eventually a lot came out in a great gush of stress. Since going out to breakfast with Janice I hadn’t seen her and she’d thought I’d come to my senses and left her. She didn’t have any housemates for the summer and couldn’t afford the rent on her own, but she held the lease. She’d felt so awkward around my family. She hated her economics professor and everything she stood for. She didn’t know how to be a good girlfriend. She hated her family and didn’t want them to scare me away. I think there was more, but I was too stunned from it all to retain much after a while.

Finally I wailed “Why didn’t you tell me any of this.”

She snapped back “It wasn’t in your script. I was trying to be the cocky, self-confident, girl friend you wanted, but I’m not good at it.”

I probably should have had some deep response to that, but I was twenty, and had had an arm full of soft girlfriend for over twenty minutes, and hormones were beginning to get hard to ignore. The best I could come up with was “Don’t you get it, I’m pretty crazy about you, I can work with what you’ve got. Now stop crying, please, you are ruining your mascara.”

“What, I never wear mascara….oh, you are such a prick.”

“What, you never noticed the rest of me? It is all about the genitals?”

She went along with the banter, which led to other things. Later, when I had her bent over the bed, I saw the Bamf doll lying on the floor, looking at me, and I felt guilty for diverting things into sex. But the guilt was soon swept away on a wave of lust.

(Continued in post 15 of this thread)


----------



## agouderia (Sep 28, 2011)

Yeah .... you're taking care of your poor semi-orphaned stories again! 

Read this only the other day as it was bumped and think it has a lot of potential. And I must say I disagree with the other posters who think he is with the wrong girl.

Good fat fiction has more to it than just the pretty, popular girl getting fat or the sweet BBW finally accepting herself by finding the right FA (or analog the BHM versions).
More complex characters and stories are more than welcome - so more please soon!


----------



## Tad (Sep 28, 2011)

Thanks Agouderia.....and it happens that Rob agrees with you, but we'll have to see how this one goes. Part of my problem with this story is that I know the themes/conflicts I want to explore, but they can actually play out more than one way in the plot, and it is not entirely clear to _me_ yet how things wil end.

ETA: if anyone is wondering what a Bamf doll looks like:

Here is an image from the X-Men comics (featuring also NightCrawler, whom the bamfs were spoofs of): http://www.google.ca/imgres?q=bamf+...&tbnw=154&start=0&ndsp=23&ved=1t:429,r:19,s:0

And someone's home made Bamf doll--I figure the one Rob made for Alison would be about like this: http://www.google.ca/imgres?q=bamf+...12&tbnw=84&start=0&ndsp=23&ved=1t:429,r:4,s:0


----------



## Bluestreak (Sep 29, 2011)

I hate Facebook for its compartmentialization of the vast range of human emotions in "Status"

Humans are complicated and this latest section does more than hint at that fact. Thanks for continuing this story!


----------



## Tad (Nov 10, 2011)

_*Author's note:* the flow of this section is very odd. That is intentional, although I don't know how well it really works._

Over the next week and a bit I didn’t get to see Alison much. I still had an organic chemistry mid-term at the end of the week, then she spent several days all but living in one of the computer labs while she finished some huge programming project. On top of which we both had part time jobs, me at Nature’s Pantry, her at a video rental place. The joys of being university students at the end of the twentieth century.

There were times when I missed her so much it hurt, and I wished she had a cell phone so I could at least call her up, but there were other times that I was just busy with life and barely thought about her. After those latter I always felt guilty, and after those former I always felt a bit pathetic. The joys of new love, or at least new infatuation, I suppose.

Through it all, I was thinking about Alison’s problem about having no roommates for the Summer. I came up with a solution that I thought was brilliant, but I’d begun to understand that Alison didn’t really like things being solved for her, at least not too obviously. Why it was a bad thing to present a solution that made life better, I didn’t understand. That it was a bad thing to just hand her a solution to her problems, I did understand. It felt like selling the solution to Alison could be harder than coming up with the solution, which felt backward.

Friday evening, and I climbed the stairs to my attic room while feeling a big dejected. Schoolwork had finally eased up for both of us, but Alison worked every second Friday evening, including this one. As I came up the stairs and into the attic, I walked into a blanket of warmth. Then I saw a few tea lights were burning on my desk. As my eyes adapted to the low light I first saw a couple of additional, unfamiliar, electric heaters. Then I saw something much hotter sprawled out on my mattress.

Alison was almost naked. She wore one of those glittery carnival half-masks over her upper face, she had some sort of glove with fake talons on her hands, and she what looked like a loin cloth was almost hidden by her belly and thighs. She opened her mouth and growled, showing fake fangs, like you’d wear with a Halloween vampire costume.

Lisping a bit around the fangs, she announced “The knight came home to find the Queen of Beasts had occupied his abode. Grabbing his sword, he prepared to do battle with the monster.”

Sure enough, I saw that there was a kid’s toy plastic sword sitting on my chair. Obediently I picked it up, and tentatively I stepped towards her.

She announced “The Queen of Beasts could not easily be slain, the battle would be long and hard.” 

Then she growled and swiped at me with one taloned gloved. 

Tentatively I reached out and tapped her with the sword. She glared at me and announced “At first fear robbed the knight of his strength, and the Queen of Beasts mauled him.” 

She surged forward, fat jiggling all over her, and grabbed one of my ankles. The talons dug through my socks, like there was wire in them.

“What….” I started objecting, then cut off in shear shock as she dug the toy teeth into my thigh, just above my knee. “Stop that!”

She loosened her teeth long enough to narrate “Would the knight gather his courage in time to deal stronger blows?”

Annoyed, I smacked her bottom with the sword, noticing that even the weak plastic blade dimpled her soft posterior. She let out another growl and scampered back a bit, panting a bit as she looked up at me.

Still a bit tentatively I jabbed her in the meatiest part of her upper arm. She let out a soft squeal, then reared up on her knees, slashing at the air in front of her. Her belly and breasts bobbled and jiggled most distractingly, but she announced “The Queen saw that the knight would be a true foe, and redoubled her attack.” 

With that she moved from slashing at the air to slashing at me.

I jigged out of the way, then jabbed the sword into her soft belly, dimpling it by a couple of inches. I was rewarded with “The knight struck a true blow, but against the massive Queen of Beasts, with her enchanted hide, it would take many such strikes to bring her down.”

So I swung in and smacked her belly from one side, causing it to sway differently. Then a reverse stroke to smack one dimpled hip. But I’d come too close, and she scratched the back of my hand, leaving a few beads of blood. I was less than amused, so my next poke into her belly was a little harder, but I made sure to also leap to one side. She shuffled around on her knees to keep facing me, then started shuffling towards me again.

I responded with a salvo of slaps, to her upper arms, her hips, thighs, belly, even one—gentler than the rest—to the side of her neck. All the while I kept moving to stay away from her crazy claws, but she kept following me. She was beginning to breathe hard now. Moving around on your knees is hard work I guess, but this was also more vigorous exercise than she normally ever got. I figured that she’d be willing to stop this now, so I carefully poked at her chest, in the swell of her left breast, over where I figured her heart would be. I even announced it “A strike to the heart.”

I figured we were done, and stopped moving. She surged forward, wrapping her arms around my thighs, crying out “But the Queen of Beasts had hidden her heart away!” and started biting into my thigh again.

Annoyed and a little freaked out, I looked down at her soft back and wide butt, then gave what had to be a stinging smack across one buttock. Although it caused delightful wobbles, and drew a muffled growl, she didn’t stop. I smacked again and again, eventually mixing in strikes to the rolls of fat sitting just above her hips. I tried to shuffle backwards, but she held me tight. Soon I could see red marks left on her pale skin, and had to stop.

In frustration I leaned down and forced the plastic blade under her chin, then grabbed it on both sides and lifted, forcing her head up. She looked at through a now crooked mask, her mouth wide open as she panted for breath, then twisted with her arms, pitching me to the mattress. I lost the sword in my fall, but scissored out my legs, breaking her grip. I managed to grab one soft wrist with both hands and twisted it around to force her to roll. 

We tussled for several seconds, her weight giving her a certain leverage, but she lacked both strength and wrestling experience. Soon enough I had both her arms pulled up behind her back, effectively in control. “Are we done?”

Between gasping for breath she narrated “The knight managed to subdue the queen of beasts, but he knew that as soon as he loosened his control she would go wild again. It came to him that there was only way he could prove his mastery over her, only one blade that could tame her.”

I took long seconds to realize what she meant. “Oh, you are kidding me….”

She murmured “Happy two month anniversary of fucking.” 

Then more loudly “The Queen knew what had to be coming, and seemed suddenly more compliant, perhaps eager to be tamed at last.” 

Sotto voice again “Get your clothes off.”

While I complied, she reached onto my desk and grabbed a marker that I certainly had not left there. She roughly scrawled across her belly “tamed.” She untied the loincloth, then sprawled in a submissive posture. I felt more like I should rub her belly than screw her, but I stuck to the script.

It was kind of weird, because she still had on the rest of her costume.

Later she announced “The knight had started to tame the Queen, but there was still more to do. He knew that feeding her would help bond her to him.” 

Looking around I saw that there was a plate of sandwiches also sitting on my desk. I really didn’t like having food up in my room, but I wasn’t going to argue this one time. I tried to eat one myself, not yet having had supper, but Alison growled at me when I raised it to my mouth. On the other hand she devoured the four peanut butter and jam sandwiches in no time, then kissed me savagely, nipping at my lip with her fangs.

She eventually released my lip and announced “No longer free to roam the deep woods, fed profusely by the knight, her only activity of an amorous kind, the once Queen of the Beasts became indolent, soft, dedicated only to food and pleasuring the knight.”

I thought I was done for a while, but as she rubbed and occasionally enveloped my delicate bits in her jiggly bits, I was amazed at how soon I was ready for another bout. This time she took the initiative, mounting me. After I finished losing my mind and bucking uselessly against her weight, she wrapped up her story “The Queen was truly conquered, or so it would appear. But the knight spent his time satisfying all the Queen’s appetites. There was perhaps a question over who had tamed who.”

With that, she finally shed her mask and gloves, then plucked the toy fangs out of her mouth. She dismounted then collapsed beside me on the mattress.

I offered “Holy cow, that was different.” 

She grunted, then said “Yah, well, I don’t sew.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I said nothing, and we soon both fell asleep.

I woke again around ten pm, starving. I prodded Alison awake and suggested going out for burgers. She wasn’t very verbal, but she made agreeable noises and started digging out her clothes from where she’d hidden them.

Dwarfing the chair she was on, with a tray of burger, cheeseburger, shake and fries, Alison looked more like fat suburban kid than the Queen of the Beasts. Except that there was still something in her eyes--a glow, a challenge.

I drained my ginger ale, and gave up on soft selling my idea. “There is one of those student painting crews hiring for the Summer, I talked to the lady managing it, and a spot is mine if I’m willing to go canvas houses to line up contracts. I could do that, then work here for the Summer, painting. As well as Nature’s Pantry. This place doesn’t normally rent the attic in the Summer, it gets too hot. But, I could rent the other room at your place, if you haven’t found a new roommate that is. If you’d have me. I guess you just told me a bit of what to expect if I did move in with you, maybe….”

She took her time chewing up some fries, then finally responded “What will your Mom think? Or your sisters, or Of-Course-She-Doesn’t-Have-A-Crush-on-Me-Janice?”

I was a bit taken aback, but I found the answer in the script of her story “Does the knight really worry about what family thinks?”

Her lips twitched part way towards a smile, but she said seriously “I sure don’t give a fig about what my family thinks, but your family actually seems nice. I don’t know that I trust nice things too much, but I think I’d like them to like me." 

She paused to have some of her shake. I waited, inwardly exulting that she wanted to get along with my family!

"I don’t know that I’ll be any good at getting them to like me, but seducing you to spend your money and stay with me--because I was too pathetic to find a roommate--doesn’t sound like a very good way to go about it.”

I felt boggled, and blurted “That isn't it!" 

After a moment I amended "That isn't how I see it. This is just taking advantage of an opportunity, to see how we'd do living together.” 

As she just sat there, looking at me, I finally admitted "OK, it would be possible to see it that way, but I'd explain that wasn't it."

She looked at me sadly, then said “Of course you wouldn't see it that way--knights are kind of dumb that way.”


----------



## agouderia (Nov 11, 2011)

What a surprising, really funny take on BDSM!

Looking forward to more - especially since I think there is more to the family predicament! And since we know at the latest since Romeo & Juliet, nothing adds more spice to a story than a family squabble...


----------



## NKT (Nov 11, 2011)

Yes, yes, yes! A splendid addition that drives the entanglement deeper! I love it! Please do continue, there is so so much more. You have packed this narrative and it is ready to pop!


----------



## Britt Reid (Nov 11, 2011)

For the record, despite the unexpected theme change I saw nothing awkward or wrong with your story flow. I think the question of who is taming who and in what manner is yet to be resolved. The supense is great. Keep up the good work!


----------



## Tad (Nov 11, 2011)

Thanks for the nice words, people! I'm glad at least one person didn't see anything awkward about starting and ending the section looking forward to the Summer, but having the bulk of it occupied by a nerdy attempt at special sexy time. I do hope that it helped put Alison in a slightly different light.


----------



## Tad (Aug 3, 2012)

_*Author's note:* I was recently reminded of this story, I had this next section mostly written, and I ended up having some free time this afternoon....so here is another section to the story. For better or worse it is more of a bridge than an event. I almost dumped it, to frame into what comes next, because I hate long bridge section....but I was too lazy to throw it all out_


It took me a week or so before I understood that the whole shtick with the Queen of Beasts and all that, that was Alison accepting my offer to move in with her. Well, I’d not technically made the offer when she pulled that one on me, and it was accepting more than just moving in together, but it was an acceptance. Well, expression of concerns and reservations, along with acceptance. 

She had to summarize for me before I got it: “I’m not sure that this is a good idea, for some reasons I could explain and more that I probably couldn’t. But I’m greedy and selfish, so I’m giving in to your persuasion.”

I’d learned already that when she was in a mood to talk like that, it was best not to try and challenge what she said. I called it her sphinx moods—in ancient mythology the sphinx devoured those who could not answer it’s riddles, and I’d never been good at riddles or word play in general. For all her self-proclaimed &#8216;geek’ status and that she was studying computer programming, she was way better with words than I was. Then again, I was an athlete turned biochemistry major, so I guess I wasn’t expected to be especially articulate. I thought I was pretty good at expressing how I felt through action, but less so with words.

Speaking of biochemistry and my preference for actions to words, my classes were kicking ass. Up until that term I’d not found university too hard. But I had two lab courses that term that took huge amounts of time, a statistics course that made my head swim, and a biology course that had a roughly infinite amount of memorization to do. Oh, I also had a calculus course focusing on differential equations-- maybe it gives some perspective when I say that was my least stressful course. 

I’d let things slide a little bit, wanting as much time with Alison as possible. Now the work load was crazy intense and I was starting from a bit of a hole. On top of which I’d committed some evening and weekend hours to canvassing for painting jobs and I still had my job at Nature’s Pantry. Maybe it still wouldn’t have been so bad, but I’d never really worked hard at school before. I mean, it had always been work, but it had been a matter of put in the hours to do the readings and the practice problems then I was good. Now I had to work to learn the material, and that was something I’d never had to do that before, and so I’d not developed those study skills.

Honestly, I could have flunked that term. I was beginning to think that I was screwed and should just throw in the towel. Then Alison lost patience with my moaning, and bluntly gave me a new way to look at things. 

“I don’t know what you are whining about.” She snapped after hearing me rant for the umpty-umpth time. “If you could learn those crazy skating routines, how hard could learning this stuff be? You talked about the hours and the discipline that skating took, don’t try and convince me how helpless you are now. Either I call b.s. on all your stories of how hard you worked on your skating, or you show that it wasn’t just crap..”

That was a bit of a slap in the face, but it was what I’d needed, I guess. I started March with my alarm clock set for 5am. I’d get up, go for some sort of short jog—or occasionally slog through the snow—to get my blood flowing. Come back into the house and grab some cereal and tea, then study for a couple of hours before I’d head off to class. Those early morning study sessions seemed to be way more effective for me than staying up late. I was just attuned to working hard in the morning I guess.

This did wonders for my academic life; not so much for my love life. If I was realizing how much of a morning dove I really was, Alison was a committed night owl. Once I’d shifted I to getting up at 5am, I had a hard time staying awake past ten at night—which was when she was just ramping up to seriously get working. I did shuffle my lab times around, so that we were both free on Tuesday afternoons for a few hours. 

It became our thing to scurry back to her house and head straight to bed. Afterwards she’d slap together some peanut butter sandwiches from her infinite supply of white bread and jars of peanut butter and we’d call that lunch. Then, being the age we were, usually back to bed for more play time before having a short nap, and then she had to head off to work. 

All of this didn’t leave a lot of time or energy for conversation about our future.

We did talk, of course. For example, between bites of sandwiches one Tuesday I let her know that I’d talked to my parents, and they were OK with the situation. After all, the previous summer I’d gone up north to a tree planting camp for most of the Summer, and at least here I was physically safer than out in the bush. Alison asked, rather too perceptively, if I’d even be able to tell if my Mom didn’t approve. I had to admit that it would be pretty hard over the phone, then I rapidly changed the subject away from my Mom before that killed my mood. 

Another time we ended up in a brilliant discussion about cars as status symbols, where after totally shredding mainstream views of luxury cars, Alison admitted “Doesn’t mean I don’t lust for a luxury car. I totally get girls who marry rich guys for the jewels and cars: ignore the old bag you are opening your legs for and just get off on the thought of the Mercedes waiting for you in the driveway.”

I didn’t think she was serious, but the truth it was that I couldn’t be sure. About then I may have started to really work on extending our foreplay, to leave less time for talk.
Anyway, about then exams hit, leaving me no real time to chill out and talk, or really for anything but studying. My early mornings had helped me find some more discipline, and I did a better job of studying than I’d probably ever done before. 

Of course, my classes were more challenging than ever before, so it all balanced out that I was well prepared for the exams but still took my full time on each exam to squeeze out every mark that I could. I knew my marks were going to take a big hit compared to my first year, but I knew I’d at least passed.

After exams I had a week until my first painting job, and all I really wanted to do was sleep; I was totally wrung out. Allison seemed to be able to pull off solid marks without ever getting stressed by school, and wasn’t so tired at all. In fact, the day after I’d moved my stuff into her townhouse she woke me up at 7am. I grumbled something about knowing she did not get up that early, to which she sweetly whispered back “All those times you turned everything else into sex? I’m collecting. I’ll go back to sleep after you ravage me, and you can go make breakfast.” 

I guess in theory I could have disagreed, but she right then she began to rub her belly against my groin; darned if I didn’t leap at the opportunity to do just as she’d commanded.

It wasn’t that she was normally shy about sex, but I admit that I’d been the one who was more aggressive about it normally. But that week, oh man, after a couple of days I had to cap things at three times a day just so I didn’t get too sore. Tired as I already was, I was pretty much a zombie in between performances. 

I did go to a couple of training sessions on painting, I did cook, because even as a zombie I was not going to let Alison commit sacrilege in the kitchen. But I was really functioning on auto-pilot--in fact at work I ended up creating a beautiful display of nectarines where I’d been asked to put out plums, I was just that fuzzy headed. Not that I was really going to complain—all the sex that I could handle, with a totally hot, eager, inventive, partner? What hot-blooded young man wouldn’t want that? 

I did feel guilty at feeling relieved when my week off was over, and it was time to get painting. I slipped out of bed before Alison woke, and pulled on old, beat up clothes. A last look at her lying peacefully, naked but hugging the Bamf doll I’d made her, and I felt tremendous fondness mixed with the need to get out before she woke up. I loved her, I was pretty sure I still lusted for her—albeit not at that instant-- but being together almost all day had been tough!

What can I say about painting that isn’t totally obvious? It takes a lot of energy, especially when you are up and down ladders a lot some days. Once you get into the rhythm it is kind of peaceful, almost meditative. In that it reminded me of certain skating drills, shut off most of your thoughts and let your mind and body flow together and things went great, and time flew by. The first couple of weeks we had a long spell of dry weather, and worked literally seven days a week while it held—and on some of those days I had to quickly clean up then rush over to do my shift at Nature’s Pantry. I wasn’t the same zombie I’d been during my week off, but I was physically exhausted. 

I was also starving. I hadn’t been this physically active since skating, and it really revved up my appetite. In turn this led to a big of argument over groceries. Alison lived on the cheap, and claimed to be equal portions peanut butter, ramen noodles, day old bread, and tomato soup. Feeling her flab and imagining it as being mostly peanut butter was oddly appealing, but that horrible diet couldn’t keep me going in the best of times, and certainly not when I was painting. I could bring produce home cheaply from work, so I forced some fruit and vegetables into her life that she couldn’t object to much. 

But when I made up pasta sauce and chilli that was thick with ground beef she complained about the cost. I insisted it was essential to my well being, that I was making enough to pay for it, and that she did have to share it. Me living there was OK, our taking over the double bed that one of her roommates had left behind was fine, sleeping together was good, sex was grand, but me cooking for her made her uncomfortable. Still, we worked it out.

After supper I’d be so exhausted that I’d zone out watching TV for a while. On nights that Alison wasn’t working late at the video rental store we’d get frisky, then I’d pass out and she’d read for a couple of hours. When she did work late I’d pass out even earlier, but she tended to wake me up for some attention when she got home. I had moments when I felt like asking “What, I’m stud on demand? Just a little softness and I should be ready to perform?” But then I’d get over myself, and admit that pretty much this was the case, and I did like the sex, so I didn’t really have anything to complain about, right?

It was a decent routine I guess, a little disappointing somehow, but it was OK, kind of comforting in its own way. I guess you could call it &#8216;domestic,’ and I guess you could say I found that maybe I liked being domestic a bit--I wasn't ready to admit to more than that, even to myself.

Of course it couldn’t last like that.


----------



## NKT (Aug 4, 2012)

Thanks for continuing Tad! I look forward to what comes next, you have built an intriguing narrative.


----------



## Tad (Aug 7, 2012)

_Author's note: The story has managed to get off the bridge...and right into an interchange. A LOT of conversation in this one, sorry if anyone doesn't like that style._

Just about as soon as our domestic routine was comfortable established, it came under assault from every which way. Eventually all the different threads got mixed up in one big tangle, but it all started with a note in the mail, saying that a package was being held for me at the post office, please come and pick it up within seven days.

Naturally the post office was only open when I was working, and without a car I couldnt exactly whip back from the painting site my local post office. I knew Id figure out a solution eventually, but in the meantime all I could do was wonder who had sent me a package. Painting, as it turns out, gives lots of time for that sort of speculation. My parents sending some sort of care package seemed the most likely, but it would be unlike my Mom to send something and not let me know by phone. I couldnt imagine any of my friends being organized enough to be sending me a parcel in the mail. It didnt make any sense that Alisons family would be sending me anything, because Id never met any of them. For some reason my mind kept turning to Janice, my old skating partner, what if she was sending me something, like an album of pictures from when we skated together? How would Alison take that? 

None of that speculation actually got me to the post office, of course. Instead I kept painting, my thoughts running around in a circle.

Over supper that eveningsloppy joes-- I surprised myself by asking Alison Hey, should we invite your Mom up for the long weekend, its next weekend so not a lot of notice, but I didnt think about it sooner. Id say we could take the bus down to visit her, but we both have some shifts that weekend.

Alison literally started at my suggestion, and actually put down the book shed been reading. Why?

Why what? Invite your Mom up?

Yah.

I was a bit flummoxed. Umm, why not? I mean, shes your Mom, I thought you might want to see her. And, you know, you met my Mom, I thought maybe I should meet yours.

No, we arent doing that.

Doing what?

Meet the families. I met your Mom and sister, a little bit, they were here, couldnt be avoided, and it was fine. But no, even if Im trying to be a good girlfriend, families are too much.

Im talking about your Mom! Dont you want to see her occasionally? I have to meet her eventually. I knew I sounded exasperated, but I couldnt help it.

Dont get all righteous about it. I love my Mom, and I see her at Christmas, that works for me.

I have to wait for Christmas to meet her?

Alison snapped Whats your problem? Then after a sigh she continued Dont worry, shell love youyou seem all normal and successful. Shell gush over you, apologize to you for my shortcomings, admonish me to not blow my chance with such a great guy, and generally make it clear that she doesnt think I deserve you but that she hopes youll overlook that long enough to put a ring on me. And who said anything about YOU seeing her at Christmas?

Come on, I cant believe your mom would do that! And why not Christmas?

I told you before, my Mom is a sop. I take after my other gene-donor, the asshole, more than I do her. And Im not saying no way about Christmas, just..cool it. You dont even know if well be together at Christmas, or if we are if well be desperate for a break from each other.

That pushed the discussion of her parents out of my mind! What, is something wrong? Whats bothering you?

She gave an exasperated sigh Aw crud, now you are going to be all fussy and kicked puppy on me. Nothing is wrong, really! Im just saying who knows what the future brings. By Thanksgiving you could have forgotten me and be fucking Janice or somebody, and maybe thats because by Labour Day Ill be in jail or shacked up with a prof or something.

Alison, I reached to grab her thigh, but she jerked away and cut me off.

Dont get all sincere and sweet, and dont try to fuck the doubts out of my mind, OK? I like now, now is nice, now is good, but now isnt then, and things dont move in straight lines. Just.dont fuck-up now by worrying what will be then, OK?

Fine. Ill drop it. I really hoped I didnt sound as sulky to Alison as I did to myself when I said that. I probably did, however, as I certainly felt sulky. Shed pretty much told me that our future was up in the air, that she didnt want to talk about it, didnt want me to meet her Mom, and to top it off that she didnt want sex right now.

We finished supper in silence. A couple of times I opened my mouth to say something, but then I stopped myself. Alison had gotten more and more wound up as our discussion had gone on, I probably just needed to give her a good amount of time to settle down, and then shed be more reasonable.

After dinner, Id just decided to try and calm myself with a beer and hockey when my cell phone rang. Relieved by the distraction, I took the call.

I was greeted by a familiar, feminine, voice. Dude! I got into business at WLU! Janice sounded like she was about to pop from excitement. 

Hey, congratulations! What about your other choices?

Western and McGill also said yes and Im still waiting to hear from Queens. Western has the best rep, but I really like the program at WLU. I cant believe I didnt think to check out the campus when I was there for skating, so on the long weekend Im coming down to tour both it and Western. Please tell me that you and Alison could hang out, maybe even we could all go out somewhere. Im coming down alone so I dont have to take care of bored parents or anything.

Part of me was screaming Stupid-stupid-stupid even as the part that had been sulking agreed Sure, it will be great for the three of us to hang out!

Awesome! And hey, skating is done, maybe we can hit a buffet and I can see what damage I can do now!

The mental scream hit a crescendo of SSSSTTTUUUUUUUUUUPPIIIIIIIIIDDDD!!!!!! as I thought of how that would work out. I wasnt too far gone to ignore that warning, and I equivocated Sure, we can find stuff to do, we can work it out when you are here. Seeing Alison already shooting me a sceptical look I cut things off quickly Look, sorry, I was in the middle of doing some stuff, maybe we can talk more tomorrow?

Sure thing, I wouldnt want to interrupt anything! There was definitely a leer in her voice. Call me tomorrow, Ill be home studying all evening.

After I closed my phone, Alison beat me to the punch That was Janice, shes coming for a visit. 

Uh, yah, the long weekend, shes coming to visit WLU here, and Western, down the road in London. She wants to meet you, hopes we could all hang out or something.

I thought you wanted my Mom to visit then?

You said no to that, like, ten minutes ago.

More like twenty, and Ive been thinking. The longer she doesnt see you, the more nuts she is going to be. Better to do it sooner rather than later.

Couldnt that be another weekend? I just told Janice we could hang out on the long weekend!

Without talking to me about it. You can always call her back and let her know it doesnt work after all.

My cell phone rang again. I honestly dont get that many calls it, but when it rains, it pours, or something like that. I figured it was Janice calling back, so I snapped it open and said Hey, whats up? pretty casually.

Robby? A deep, sombre, voice. The only voice that calls me Robby anymore.

Oh, Dad! I wasnt expecting you. Uh, is everything OK?

Everything here is OK, but youll have to tell me about your end. Your marks came in, and we thought youd want to know what they were, so we opened them so we could tell you. They are .. down quite a bit from your first year.

Yah, I know. But I passed everything, right?

Yes, but that you had to ask, that disturbs me.

This year was a LOT harder. Harder than I expected, harder than I was really ready for. I got myself into a hole, but I got out again, pretty much.

Your mother and I were worried that maybe youd let yourself be.distracted. From his tone, there was no doubt he meant Alison.

Dan, Alison helped me get out of that hole. Shes a fantastic student, and really bright. Maybe I was a bit distracted, but that was all my fault, and I figured out how to work my way out of it.

Id like to believe you, but these marks dont really look like you got back to a very good place.

I only had so much time to dig myself out. And last term, it honestly was really brutal. Look, Im not promising first class honours or anything, but it should get better from here.

Could we talk through your plans for that in some more detail?

I held my phone away while I let out an exasperated breath, then brought it back to say Sure, just, not right now. I already had another planning conversation going on.

Perhaps we could talk this weekend then.

Sure. Wait, no! This weekend is already looking.difficult. How about sometime next week?

How about Wednesday evening, at 9pm.

Sure, that would be great. Ill, Ill talk to you then.

As I sat there staring at my cell phone, Alison said sympathetically Marks were a disappointment, I take it?

Yah. No big surprise, I guess. Crap, I forgot to even ask what they were!

I noticed. That is one thing I dont have to worry about with my parents, at least. I guess your Dad hasnt accepted that you arent really an academic star?

What?

That you are not that strong of a student. I mean, youre bright enough, but school isnt really your strength.

Thanks, that was just what I needed. So what, Im a dunce?

I just said you are bright enough! But look at where you put your time, when you have a choice. Figure skating, tree planting, painting, fucking me. Theyre all physical things, and I know you are good at the fucking and from what I can tell you are good at the others, too. Nothing wrong with being body smart, it just doesnt make for a natural academic. 

I stared at Alison, totally at a loss for words.

Oh come on! she admonished. This cant be news to you. Dont tell me that you love sitting in class and cracking the text books and that is what you want to do most in life?

I shot back Does anyone? Challenging her words, not what she was really saying.

She gave me a look. Hello, the Summer after grade eleven I taught myself Fortran and Cobol, dead computer languages, so that I could make sense out of old computer science text books that used them for examples. Im taking two classes this summer, because Im interested in the subjects.

Oh. Right. Id never really thought about what that meant, I guess Id assumed she was just really bored, not that she really enjoyed all that. So where does that leave me?

What do you think? Youll struggle through to the end of your degree, get a job in biochem that youll figure out eventually you hate, youll probably go back for an MBA at that point, just to escape your field. Your marks wont get you into a top school, but with your background and everything youll get in somewhere. After that youll eventually drift into a role that suits you, but it might take a few tries.

I felt slapped. You have it all figured out for me, do you? Great fucking future.

She shrugged, and replied Hey, its all your choices, Im just saying how I expect it to go. Its not all bad, I bet youll be really good at doing business on the golf course.

Bitterly I snarked No wonder you dont want to make any long term plans with me.

Alison looked slapped then, then a moment later close to tears. That isnt fair. I didnt say Id leave you for any of that. It isnt like Im expecting you, or anyone, to support me. If anything I expect to do more of the supporting, I should make good money once I graduate, you know. Honestly, you are a great guy, and I do appreciate that you can put up with me, and want to fuck me, and do that well. I want things to work out between us, I just think that a few months together isnt enough to predict the future.

But if we dont set goals....

Pfft, you are a dreamer, Im a realist, goals dont really matter, just the decisions we make. Then she totally changed gears. Come on, tonight has gotten way too heavy. Lets go to bed early and exercise that physical brilliance of yours.

What? I had to say it: I thought you didnt want to fuck tonight.

I said not to try and fuck my opinion of my Mom out of me. You try that sort of thing, and you succeed sometimes. But I already changed my mind on that. Aaaannnnd....Ive been such a bitch that I think I deserve to be spanked, dont you?


----------



## agouderia (Aug 10, 2012)

These two are such an unusual pair around here - I can't wait to see how it works itself out!

I always love new and different approaches to the genre!


----------

