# Art School, Part I-III - by Non Serviam (~BHM, ~BBW, Intrigue, ~MWG)



## Non Serviam (Dec 15, 2007)

_~BHM, ~BBW, Intrigue, ~MWG - Milo has just started studying at Kentigern College of Art, but when he meets the charismatic Heath, he begins an education that includes far more than drawing technique._

*Art School
Part I-III
By Non Serviam​*

I met Heath on my first day of art college. In fact, it was the day before lessons started, when I was moving into my new room. Id been told I was going to get a roommate, but we hadnt actually met when I dragged my stuff up to our room in the student residence. It was on the first floor, for which I was thankful; there were no stairs, and some peoples room were right up in the attics. Even so, the wooden steps creaked as I hauled the boxes which contained my many worldly possessions to what the letter in my back pocket told me was Room 22.

After identifying it by the brass number on the door, I turned the handle and staggered in. Lying on his back on a single bed holding a book above his face was a thin young man in jeans and a tatty t-shirt. He was also barefoot, and waggled his toes as I entered, dropping my stuff heavily on the narrow bed by the opposite wall, making the springs groan.

Hi, he said, offering his hand but not getting up. I shook it, and he swung round to sit on the edge of the bed. Im Heath. 

Milo, I told him, slightly bemused but liking him instantly. Heath gestured around at the bare wooden floorboards and whitewashed brick walls.

They dont spare much expense here, do they? Still, it seems like the sort of place artists should be living in. Its probably to inspire us. He pulled himself to his feet, and slipped them into a pair of sandals that were lying on the floor at the bottom of the bed. Come on! Lets go exploring.

With Heath around, I soon discovered, there was a lot of exploring, a lot of adventures. Although he was as new as I was  in fact, he had lived farther away from Kentigern before coming to the college  he seemed to get to know people instantly. Physically he was lazy as sin, never lifting anything heavier than a paintbrush if he could help it, but he had what they call the gift of the gab. In the college cafeteria he would bolt down his food as quickly as possible, then spend the rest of the meal chatting. He liked talking to people, and people really liked talking to him. Its something Ive never been able to master, but it was great having him around. The two of us became good friends really quickly, and he had a brilliant knack of getting us both invited places.

One night, about a month after we had moved in, we were on our way home from a particularly excellent party a few streets away from the college, at the flat of the guitarist from Spitlove. This was a band whose drummer, Alex, was in the year above us, and liked to tell anyone who would listen how his band were on the verge of becoming big. The party had been amazing, and although we mostly abstained from any serious substance abuse, Heath and I were feeling slightly the worse for wear once we finally managed to get out the door at some time after three in the morning. 

As we walked back to the residence, Heath and I were feeling a little nervous. Neither of us had been out in the city that late before, and although we wouldnt have admitted it, wed have quite liked to get home soon. Two skinny art students who werent exactly streetwise at the best of times would have been best advised sticking to the main roads in downtown Kentigern. Only just as we were about to turn into the street where the college campus was, Heath stopped, an expression on his face like that of a deer caught in truck headlights. I tried to see what he was staring at.

As it turned out, there was a gang of skinheads advancing down the road towards us. This might have been okay, as they were taking their time, but Heath had locked eyes with their leader. They began to move faster, now staring to run towards us, shouting unintelligibly. Heath was still rooted to the spot with terror, so I grabbed his arm and pulled him into the nearest alley, and we ran.

Eventually we managed to lose them by hiding in between two bins behind a pub. Slightly shaken, we started back for the residence, only to discover that we werent sure exactly where we were.


Im sure its this way, said Heath, in a tone that suggested he was anything but, pointing down a row of grey concrete buildings I had never seen before in my life. 

Im not sure, I replied, looking uncertainly at the building above me. I didnt know how long it had been since our encounter with the skinheads. All I knew was that I was tired and I wanted to go to bed, but had the feeling that, if in fact we werent walking in circles, our convoluted path was only taking us further and further from the only place we knew in a strange city.

Heath peered over at the horizon. I think I recognise that building over there, he said. Oh, no, its not. And look  the suns coming up.

Brilliant, I moped, weve been out all night! Im going to be shattered tomorrow.

What was that? said Heath.

What was what?

That noise, Heath said. I listened, and sure enough, I could hear someone shouting. It seemed to be coming from the next alley along. Heath ran to where the noise was before I could stop him, and so I felt I had to follow.

In the shadows, I could make out two large shapes over a smaller one  an old man cowering on the floor, yelling, Please! This is all Ive got, please just take it! The two men over him were holding knives, which glinted in the pre-dawn glow.

Ah dinna believe you! snarled the bigger of the two muggers. You pure look like youre pure minted, wi yer suit an that! Hand over the rest of the cash!

As the man felt in all his pockets again, Heath slowly crept up behind the attackers. Terrified, I tried to attract his attention, but failed, and so I crept after him. He had taken up a discarded glass bottle from where it sat just beside a rubbish bin, which I, unable to think of anything else to do, moved behind to await the worst.

The man on the ground, unable to do anything, was covering his eyes and protesting in an ever-weakening voice, Pleasedont Just as they were about to move in on him, Heath raised the bottle above his head and brought it down with a crash on the head of the larger mugger, who dropped to the floor, howling in pain. The other turned and, screaming obscenities at Heath, ran for him.

An instinct Id never known I had kicked in, prompting me to push the bin with all my might, causing the mugger to trip over his fallen comrade and knock his head hard on the ground. Before they could disentangle themselves and get up, heath and I grabbed the old man and pelted back the way we had come, fleeing for the second time that night.

Once we were round the corner, Heath phoned the police on his mobile and turned to the old man. He must have been at least seventy, was completely bald, and wore a blue suit which seemed, until recently, to have been of quite good quality. Are you all right?

He patted himself down. Well, yes, I think I am, thanks to you two! He shook me warmly by the hand and Heath by his free one, even while he was on the phone. I was just on the way home. Stupid of me to have been out in the dark, I suppose, but I hadnt thought I might get mugged at five oclock in the morning!

Is that really the time? I said. Weve been lost for hours, you see

Oh! said the man. Thats lucky for me, but you must be starving. He looked up at Heath, who was off the phone by now. Would you boys like some breakfast?


The mans name was Thomas Valentine, and as we discovered, he was the owner of a restaurant. Valentines was only a couple of streets away, and though Tom (as he encouraged us to call him) usually opened at seven for breakfast, he happily opened up early for us.

It was bigger than either of us has expected. Heath raised his eyebrows and smiled as we sat down at a table near the kitchen. In the middle of the room was a massive horseshoe-shaped counter, which, though now empty, had spaces for all sorts of food. In the middle of the horseshoe was another large table with cake-stands on it which made me think it must be for the desserts. The cook, a very large, very friendly man called Esteban, told us about the place when he brought us each our meal, a huge plate of fried bread, sausages, bacon, eggs and beans. It was, it turned out, an all-you-can-eat buffet place  that was what the counters were for  which opened at seven and stayed open until midnight most nights. 

Tom had started it as a more traditional diner in a much smaller location forty years ago, but he had done so well hed moved into bigger premises and adopted the all-you-can-eat format to draw even more crowds. Judging by the size of the place, hed been successful. Esteban also delighted in telling us stories about Tom. When told what had happened with the muggers, and we mentioned where we had first seen him, Esteban chuckled.

Ah! Hell probably have been visiting Rita! he grinned, winking. Probably why he was out so late, stupid old man. His wife doesnt know about her, see? he explained, laughing even more. He still get about, does old Tom! I hope Im that active when Im his age!

We were truly famished after the night wed had, and Esteban didnt hesitate to bring us seconds and then third helpings when he saw how quickly wed eaten  I was so hungry I ate mine just as fast as Heath did. As we were eating, more of the staff started to arrive. One we noticed in particular was a gorgeous, dark-haired girl called Andrea, who came to talk to us while we were finishing the last of our food. She was new, she told us; this was her first week. She was quite tall and slim, and though the skirt she wore wasnt that short, it showed off a lot of very long leg.

Eventually, as the customers started to arrive, we said goodbye to everyone and left, though not before Tom had told us: Come back any time Its the least I can do  youll always eat here for free!


The residence turned out to but just round the corner; we had been going in circles after all. Though we were now no longer hungry, Heath and I were both very tired, so we went back to our room and slept well into the afternoon. At dinner in the cafeteria that evening, everyone asked where wed been, and so Heath told them. They were seriously impressed, but as I picked at my unappetising plate of sad, undercooked spaghetti and watery bolognaise, I thought about Toms offer.

We should go back there, you know, I told Heath, after the meal. I hadnt eaten much, and though Heath usually ate so quickly he never stopped to taste it, even he had left more than half of his dinner.

Good idea, said Heath. Im still famished. He made for the door, but I hesitated. I hadnt meant right then, but thinking of it, why not? It was free, after all. It was just that I thought Tom probably hadnt been expecting us back so soon.

As it happened, he had. As soon as Heath and I walked in, he came over in a fresh suit, looking right as rain, and led us personally to a table. A different waitress  Andrea only worked the morning shift  came over with our plates, inviting us to go over and help ourselves. It was impossible to decide what to have, so we loaded our plates with a bit of everything and went back to the table.

Heath inhaled his food as usual and headed back for more well before I did. By the time I came back with my second plate, he was eating his fourth, and showed no signs of stopping. I had never seen him eat like that, and said so.

I know, said Heath thickly through a mouthful of pasta, but its so good! Ive never tasted anything like it.

He was right about that. I could feel myself getting full, but I didnt want to stop eating. Each plateful didnt seem like a full course, though there was more than enough food for it to be one; it just seemed like taking more at the dinner table. When I was eating my third course, Heath started to move on to dessert, which looked amazing, so the next time I went up that was what I had. Chocolate cake, cheesecake, apple pie, ice cream and jelly  which slid down my throat so that I didnt notice how much of it I was eating. 

When I was finally finished after my third plate of dessert, I sat back and rested my hands on my tender stomach. I had eaten six platefuls  three times as much as a large meal would be, which was more than I was used to eating anyway. Heath, however, was another matter. He had finished at about the same time as I had, but he had had to undo the button on his usually baggy jeans, because to his usually slim frame he had added a slightly bulging stomach, noticeable even under his t-shirt. 

We thanked Tom and left. On the way back to the college, I asked Heath, How many plates did you have, anyway?

He smiled. Fourteen, he said.

Fourteen? How did you eat that much? I asked him, astonished.

Well, thirteen would have been unlucky.


The next day, Heath and I went back for breakfast. I couldnt see myself ever making another trip to the college cafeteria again. Andrea was there, and whenever she had a spare moment she would find an excuse to come over to our table and chat to us, eating from each of our plates as she did so  though not without scolding herself.

Im going to get so fat if I keep working here! she complained, putting a hand on her flat stomach.

What about us? Heath put in. Were eating here free. I dont think well be this skinny for long.

That wasnt something Id thought about. Id always had quite a good metabolism, and never had a problem with weight before. Mind you, before I came to college Id lived with my parents, who were great, but neither of them really cooked much at home. Food had not featured majorly in my life, but now Huge quantities of high-quality fare, all for nothing. It seemed inevitable that I was going to be chubby. I should just sit back and enjoy it.

Four full-fat English breakfasts later, Heath and I left once more, though we knew wed be back in a few hours time for lunch. As we settled into the studio in the meantime, I asked him, Hey  Heath? What do you think of Andrea?

Shes nice, Heath said thoughtfully, squinting at his canvas. Maybe Ill paint her some time.

Hmm, I said.

Heath looked sideways at me. What is it? he asked. Do you like her?

Yeah, shes lovely, I said casually, mixing the paint in my palette furiously to avoid catching Heaths eye.

You know what I mean. Do you _like_ her like her?

I was blushing now. I dont know. I mean, you know I dont know. Mm. I think so.

Heath laughed, though not unkindly. I still felt like an idiot. I think thats a yes, Milo. Say no more, my man: Ill back off.

Thanks, I said gruffly, and went back to my painting.


Not everyone would have been as decent as Heath was then, nor as patient, because it took him two and a half months to say to me, Okay, what do you think youre doing?

We were sitting in Valentines, having breakfast. Andrea had just walked away, her behind swaying in a way it hadnt done on that first morning. Her prediction had come true; shed put on quite a bit of weight. Her long legs were now plumper and a little belly poked over the waistband of her skirt. If you ask me, that made her sexier than ever, but I still hadnt asked her out. That, in fact, was Heaths problem.

I told you Id back off, he hissed, but I took from that that you were going to do something! You havent even asked her to go for coffee. 

He gave me a withering look, and took three huge forkfuls from his plate in lighting-quick succession before continuing, If you dont make your move soon, I will.

Im just taking my time, I said defensively. Besides, its not like theres a shortage of girls. In the last couple of months, Heath had had a series of companions, some the sort of eccentric girl from the art college who stuck paintbrushes in her hair and made her own jewellery, some the plump girls who were regulars at the restaurant. More than a few nights Id had to ask another friend to come along or else eat alone, because Heath had taken someone elsewhere. He seemed to go through them as quickly as he did his food; every week thered be a new one, hanging on his arm and fussing around him. 

They never lasted, though. After they were finished with  and I never knew how this happened, because Heath never went into specifics  they stayed away. The restaurant girls gave our table a wide berth, and the college co-eds positioned their easels so that theyd never make eye contact with him. I didnt want him to alienate Andrea.

Fine then, I said. Just give me time to plan it. 

Heath snorted, and went up to get his next plate of food.

Heath, since he ate more and faster than I did, was putting on rather more weight. By now, even when he hadnt just been stuffing himself he had a stomach that bulged over his waistband and a noticeably rounder face. I was softer, but the pounds were coming slower on me. Id weighed myself a few days ago and had come in at 70 kilos, which meant Id put on eleven since summer. Heath had put on twice that at least, by my best estimate. He had always worn loose clothes, and they still fit him  more or less. He was probably putting off buying new ones.

As we left Valentines, Andrea came up to us and smiled widely. Bye, guys! she said cheerfully. See you later!

See you, I mumbled, as she saw in the next batch of diners. Heath dug me in the ribs and glared. Sighing, he pushed past me, and beckoned Andrea back over.

Andrea, he said brightly. Milo here would like to take you out on Friday.

Andrea giggled nervously, glancing from Heath to me then back to Heath again. Sure, she said finally. Id love to. Pick me up at seven?

Sure, I said, mortified. She smiled again, looked at me uncertainly, then went back to work.

Dont ever say, said Heath, as we left, that Im not good to you.


I took Andrea out to dinner. I hadnt been to a single restaurant since Id moved to the city apart from Valentines, but Heath had recommended an Italian place called La Bellezza, so I called and booked a table in advance, it being so near Christmas. Andrea lived on Calgacus Street, which was not too far from Valentines either. I walked up to press the buzzer, then stopped. I did not know which buzzer to press. 

I could have kicked myself. Shed given me her address, but not the flat number! How could I have been such an idiot? Trying not to panic, I studied the labels. They each gave a first initial and surname, but there were two it might have been: A. Donnelly and A. Stevenson. I took a deep breath, and pressed the one marked A. Donnelly.

A womans voice answered, but she had a strong Irish accent. Yes? she said.

Uh, sorry, I said, starting to blush, even though she couldnt possibly see me. I think Ive pressed the wrong bell. I was looking for Andrea.

Oh, shes just getting ready. Youll be Milo, then. Andrea, hes here. 

I heard Andrea say something, then the Irish woman said, Shell be right down. Dont have her out too late now! 

She laughed, and I sighed with relief.

Andrea appeared a couple of minutes later, looking brilliant as usual. She was wearing her hair up and smiled brightly at me as she came out the building. Ready to go?


La Bellezza turned out to be a small, quite classy restaurant in Quinns Arcade, an out-of-the way collection of offbeat shops and unique eateries which people like my classmates adored, and I had heard them talk about it before. We walked through an arch into a cobbled square, where, in warmer months, people might have eaten outdoors. As it was, Andrea and I were led to a table by the window. Our waiter came over and lit the candle, then took our orders.

Dyou mind if we skip the starter? Andrea asked. Im famished. I think Ill have the lasagne. I said Id have that as well, and the waiter left. 

I was so nervous I could hardly think straight. Of course, I was grateful to Heath  I hadnt been able to stop smiling all week. I just wished he hadnt thrown me in the deep end so suddenly. Making an effort, I asked Andrea about her friend at the flat.

Oh, thats Ann, she explained. Its her name on the bell, Im her roommate. Shes a medical student at St Lukes. She grinned bashfully. Im nothing like as smart as she is. We used to be in the same class at school, but shes always done much better than me.

Didnt you say you were at Kentigern Uni? I asked.

Well, yeah, she replied, but its not really the same. I always wanted to study medicine. I had an interview for St Lukes, but I didnt get in. So Im doing Psychology instead. I mean, I love it, but She trailed off wistfully, then shook her head. Hey. Never mind. So, art school  what that like?

After that initial blip, the rest of the evening went really well. We found we liked a lot of the same books and films, though we had a bit of a friendly disagreement about certain bands. By the time wed finished our lasagne, I was no longer nervous. 

When the waiter came to take our plates away, he asked, Would you like anything for dessert?

Um, said Andrea, examining the menu, actually, I think I could go for another main course. How about you, Milo? 

A little surprised, but finding I was still hungry, I nodded. We ended up ordering a pizza each, then sharing a third before we got to the desserts. We both ate quite large quantities of ice cream before we left as well.

As we strolled together down the street, Andrea put a hand on her stomach. Oh, Im getting so _fat_! she groaned. They give me a free breakfast at Valentines, you know. And Anns such a good cook. Im turning into such a pig.

I think you look great, I told her. And besides, Ive put on weight too.

Well, I think you look great, she giggled, patting my belly playfully. The more the better.

On an impulse, I put my arms around her. We should kiss, I said. 

She looked up at me, a funny little crease between her eyebrows. 

Really, I said. I think that would work well.

Okay, said Andrea, smiling, so I did.


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## lewis-spence (Dec 20, 2007)

I enjoyed "A Visit of Discovery", and already love how this new story has started in a well-written and realistic style. I demand its continuation!


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## Non Serviam (Dec 21, 2007)

*Part II*

So, Heath asked, through a mouthful of cake, have you and Andrea got any plans for tomorrow?

We werent at the restaurant, but the studio at the college. Heath had begun to buy himself snacks to eat while he worked. He said it improved his concentration. Whether that was true or not, it meant he now ate more or less constantly, something which was beginning to show. To someone who had known the skinny guy who had been my roommate at the start of the year, he was almost unrecognizable. Though he had finally bought some new clothes just after Christmas, even these were now becoming too small for him. His t-shirt rode up and his waistband was pushed down by the exposed roll of pale fat that was evidence of his new habits. 

I had kept my own wardrobe in better check, though not without effort; as I shifted my much larger behind in the roomier jeans I had bought that week, the stool creaked audibly. Um, not really, I said, going a little red. We were just going to go to hers and stay in.

Ah, said Heath, giving me a sly grin. Well. Say no more. Until afterwards, that is.

How about you? I asked, changing the subject a bit. Have you got any plans with whatsername?

Morgan? Oh, shes gone, Heath said casually. Im going out with Samantha tomorrow.

Samantha Burns? I said incredulously. She was a fourth-year student and a raving beauty  it was a true testament to Heaths charm that he had managed to get her to agree to go out with him, especially since tomorrow was Valentines Day. She must have had plenty of offers. Maybe shed last longer than a week.

The very same, Heath confirmed, with a slightly smug look on his face. Looks like neither of us is going to be back at the room tomorrow night.


I arrived at Andreas around seven, and she buzzed me up. Opening the door to the flat, I called out. Hello?

In here, came Andreas voice softly from the kitchen. Grinning, I took off my shoes (Ann was very particular about this; there was always a row of pairs lined up neatly by the door) and followed the sound.

Andrea was sitting at the candlelit table, which was set for two. At least ten courses lay about the place on the countertops. My stomach rumbled with anticipation. Smiling like a cat, Andrea came over and kissed me hello. She, too, had gained a good deal of weight, especially since wed started going out. I could feel her stomach against my own, and as I ran my hands down over her ass, I could feel how that had grown too. She still wore the same little skirts she always had, which made her look even more fantastic. Tonight, though, she wore a short black dress that clung to her every curve and which was making me salivate just as much as the food.

Dinner was incredible, but where Andrea really came into her own was dessert. Esteban had obviously taught her a few tricks, because everything she brought out tasted fantastic. Tiramisu, sticky toffee pudding, chocolate cake and, to finish off, an ungodly amount of ice cream.

We ended up lying, stuffed, on the couch in the living room. I tried to lean over and to kiss Andrea, but as I did I heard my mobile ring in my back pocket. Sighing, I rolled back over and fished it out, saying, Sorry. One second.

It was Heath. Hey, he whispered, I need a favour.

This isnt a good time, I told him, making an apologetic face at Andrea. Anyway, arent you supposed to be out with Samantha?

I am, he hissed. Or  look, you have to help me. Im in deep trouble here. Come over to Valentines, but come round the back.

No! Its Valentines Day, Im not doing to ditch Andrea.

Please! said Heath, and I could have sworn I heard his teeth chattering. Hurry!

I hung up. Andrea, I told her, scratching my head, Heath wants me to go to Valentines. He said he was in trouble. I promise, Ill be back as soon as I can.

She sighed. I suppose you have to go. Do you know what it was about?

I shrugged, getting to my feet. Ive no idea.


Given my past experiences, I was more than a little anxious about being in an alley at night. Still, the one behind Valentines was quite wide and lit above the back door of the restaurant and the music shop on the other side. I tried the back door, but it was locked.

Over here! said a voice. I couldnt tell where it was coming from, until I spotted a tiny window high on the wall. Wedging a piece of cardboard under the wheels of a bin to stop it moving, I climbed up on it (with some difficulty) to look in the window.

Looking right back at me were Heaths bright blue eyes, which were wide with what seemed to be panic  something Id seldom seen on him. Thank goodness youre here, he shivered. Youve got to get me out.

I cant, I told him, the doors locked. I peered in past him. Are you in the freezer?

Yes! he snapped. Ive been here for ages. The only way I can get a signal on my phone is by standing up here. I think Im getting frostbite.

How the hell did you end up there? I asked, totally bemused.

Heath sighed. I came here with Samantha. Dont look at me like that, I wasnt being cheap  she suggested it. It was great at first; I think she has a real thing for fat guys. She wouldnt let me stop eating. But then she said we could go into the kitchen and get the cook to whip us up something special. She knows Esteban pretty well, it seems. And then, right, Tom turns up!

So?

So Samanthas Toms mistress!

But Toms not fat, I said, obviously.

I know. Heath rolled his eyes. But hes rich, isnt he? Anyway, apparently, even though hes cheating on his wife with her, he gets mad jealous whenever he sees them together. So she shoves me in here to hide from him, and now hes got Esteban to make the two of them a romantic meal. Theyre in the kitchen, right outside this door! Besides, it doesnt open from the inside. Im going to freeze to death, Milo!

What do you want me to do? I yelped, panicking now too.

Think of something, said Heath unhelpfully. But you cant let Tom find out. If he does, we can kiss free meals here goodbye. Hell probably never let us near the place, and he might fire Andrea as well.

He wouldnt do that!

He would. He saw Andrea kiss a guy on the cheek once - he called a contact at the bank and had the guys house repossessed. And that was her cousin.

Heath might be exaggerating, I suspected, but the prospect of losing my free meal ticket to Valentines was not one I relished. I sat down on the back steps and racked my brains. There had to be something.


I barged through the kitchen door from the restaurant, almost walking right into a waiter. Tom spotted me at once.

Milo! What are you doing here? You know Samantha, dont you?

Yes, I do, I said, smiling nervously at her. I  just came to give me compliments to the chef. Excellent as usual, Esteban, I told him. The large man, a pained look on his face, made a shrugging gesture behind Toms back  I cant do anything! Tom, I said, why dont you let Samantha try some of that great cake out there. There wont be any in here; I just saw someone put out a fresh one a minute ago.

That sounds great, Tom smiled, could you get me a piece, too?

Uh  maybe you should go out, Esteban told him. That new girl, Beth  shes been slacking off a bit lately. If she sees the boss hanging around, maybe shell step it up.

Tom nodded. Say no more. Ill be back in a moment, my dear, he told Samantha, giving her a wide smile, and went out into the restaurant.

Quicker than his size would suggest he could, Esteban wrenched open the door to the freezer and let Heath out. Th-th-thanks, he shivered.

Im so sorry, Samantha blurted, reaching out for him. I didnt know hed be here!

Never mind, Heath muttered. I think Ill just go now. Samantha tried to say something else, but he turned away, and left out the back door before anyone could stop him. I turned back to see if Tom had returned with the cake yet. Fortunately, he hadnt. Unused to such exertion and stress at my size, I sat down heavily in his empty chair. Even as I did, though, the door swung open, and I couldnt get up in time. It wasnt Tom, though  it was Andrea, wrapped in her winter coat, her mouth open. She looked from me to Samantha to the table, then back to me again. She stood there for a moment, then promptly flounced out.


It wasnt easy to convince Andrea of the truth. Every time I phoned, Ann answered and started to lecture me, deaf to my pleas and explanations. Andrea had quit her job at Valentines, too; I had no idea how to contact her. 

I ended up going to the Kentigern Uni psychology department and hanging around outside the building for four hours until I saw her come out of a lecture. She spotted me before I could even call out to her, and began to walk speedily in the other direction. Neither of us was exactly in shape, though, and my desperation gave me the edge. I caught up with her, red-faced, and panted, Andrea just let me explain.

She sighed and folded her arms, making her breasts and stomach bulge out in the too-small smock top she was wearing. All right. You have one minute.

Samanthas Toms mistress, I was distracting him so we could get Heath out of the freezer, I had only sat down for a second, I said breathlessly. I swear its true.

I suppose its too stupid to be a lie, Andrea sighed. I was just really pissed off that you ditched me, you know? It was bad enough when I thought it was Heath. I came to see if you needed any help, then I saw you with this gorgeous, thin girl you can understand why I thought She sniffed, and I saw a tear run down her face. I just thought, you know, why would you spend Valentines with me when you could have someone like her?

Saying nothing, I took Andrea in my arms and held her close. Youre a thousand times more beautiful, I told her.

Im not, she mumbled. Im fat.

So? I said. Look at you, youre gorgeous. Besides, Im fat too. The more the better, right?

Right, Andrea smiled wetly.


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## Ssaylleb (Jan 2, 2008)

Well done, I enjoyed reading this although weight gain in part 2 was a bit hurried.

Is there more to come in the next semester??


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## Non Serviam (Jan 13, 2008)

*Part III*​ 
I rolled over, and kissed Andreas neck. Morning, I whispered in her ear.

With a cute little grunt of effort, she turned herself onto her back, making her whole body quiver, and the bedsprings creak. Mm. Morning, she replied, then groaned softly. Oh. Its Saturday, isnt it?

Yeah, I said apologetically, pushing back my side of the covers and heaving myself out of bed. Sorry about that. I walked over to the discarded pile of clothes on the floor, and started putting them back on for my walk back to the residence.

I cant believe youre going to be gone all summer, Andrea grumbled, pouting. Her tousled hair drifted around her round, soft face. In the last few months, it had filled out, giving her dimpled cheeks and an adorable double chin that wobbled when she yawned. Cant your parents come and visit you here? I could meet them, she suggested.

I grunted, trying to pull on my boxers. My ass had gotten bigger yet again. I was going to have to start going to one of those special shops  these were the biggest size Id been able to find. Even elastic has its limits, I suppose, but surely I wasnt that big? No, I thought, Im well past those sorts of consolations.

Apart from wardrobe issues, however, I was having a whale of a time  forgive the pun  being fat. Heath and I were sort of class mascots at college. People would give us food during studio sessions, and I was sure the average weight in our class had gone up over the past year. Valentines had become a trendy destination, much frequented by art students who discussed Dali and Cezanne over their heaped plates, and chatted about postmodernism as they waddled, utterly stuffed, out the door every evening.

Mind you, no matter how fat they all got, Heath was still by far the biggest. During our still-regular visits to the restaurant, he now took up two chairs instead of one, and showed no signs of ever stopping getting bigger. Hed broken his bed in our room, and now slept on a mattress which was barely wide enough for him. Many nights he didnt even use that, because he was doing better than ever. He still saw Samantha from time to time, on a casual basis when there was no risk of Tom being around, and the rest of the time he used his God-given talents to do what he did best.

Having finally pulled on my boxers, I tried my jeans next. There was no way they were ever going to button up, so I pulled the zip as far as it would go without biting into the big flabby belly which also defied the t-shirt I was trying to force down over it. I turned round to Andrea. Will you help me put on my socks  oh.

She was leaning against the door, wearing only a smile. Her heavy breasts rested on top of her big stomach, and when she shifted slightly, crossing her long, jiggly legs, the movement of her hips sent a jolt straight to my groin.

Ill go later, I said, Andrea squealing as I grabbed her round the waist and we dove back into bed.


_[Authors Note: This concludes Year One, and will be the last installment of this story for the foreseeable future. However, Im now working on the sequel to my other story, A Visit of Discovery, so watch this space!]_


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## lewis-spence (Jan 14, 2008)

I was a bit disappointd by Part III. For such an interesting character, when introduced in Part I, Heath gets very short shrift in Part III, especially when implied how fat he has become...

He began as a beanpole, but ended up, within the space of an academic year, so fat he broke a bed, and is now sleeping on a mattress which is almost wide enough for him. On another story in the BHM/FFA story thread, "Saturday Morning with Evan", we are talking about someone who was *480 lbs.* - now, given that universities will use cheaper building materials, Heath would still have to be at least 350-400 lbs. to break his bed. Even that would mean he must have put on close to 200 lbs. in a year, and would have provided an ideal subplot.

In short, any possible re-write of "Art School" so far should include more Heath towards the end, and how he became so much more, to balance his great introduction.


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