# Megan 1- The TA - by Mollycoddles (~BBW, Stuffing, ~MWG)



## Observer (Jul 28, 2007)

_~BBW, Stuffing, ~WG _- a lazy coed takes an easy TA job that turns out to offer more than she expected

[*Editor's Comment:* the first three chapters of this series are the classic version known to many - Chapter Four begins new material by Ekim]

*Megan 1: The TA
by Mollycoddles*​
Megan couldn’t believe her good luck. Landing a job as TA for a cooking class had to be the sweetest deal a senior could land. Not only would she get credit for doing practically nothing, she’d also get free food! And, to Megan, anything free was definitely good. 

Megan was a slender girl with dainty B cup breasts and short, mussy mousy brown hair. She had a slight bit of pudge around her middle, an inevitable result of her lazy, sedentary lifestyle, but for the most part she maintained a naturally svelte figure. 

With thick plastic framed glasses and a crooked smile, she might not have been the picture of conventional beauty but she was definitely cute. She was also definitely lazy and she never passed up a chance to get something for nothing. 

“Prof. Addleson?” said Megan’s roommate Arlene when she told her about her new job. “Geez, I wouldn’t work for her. You know how much work she gives her TAs? When she taught “Creole 101: The Influence of Jumbalaya on Southern Plantation Culture,” she made that poor TA stay up for two weeks preparing the final exam! He was so traumatized that now he’s afraid of the entire state of Lousiana. Don’t you think it’s weird that they’re letting an undergrad TA with her? It’s because none of the grad students want to deal with her!” 

“Whatever,” said Megan, rolling her eyes, “The university made her cut back after that one guy fell asleep and fell into the gumbo pot. And besides, this isn’t a history of food class. It’s a cooking class! What kind of work is she going to have me do? The application just says I have to taste the students’ creations and say if I like them. There’s no way that she can make that into work!” 

Arlene shrugged. “Do whatever you want, Megan, but don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

*****

Megan was still scoffing at Arlene’s warning when she walked into the professor’s office the next day. A chunky girl sat at a desk in the foyer, doodling on the placemat in a distracted way. Must be her secretary, thought Megan. By the looks of it, she was another lazy undergrad hoping for a recommendation. 

“Hey,” said Megan nonchalantly. “I’m here to see Prof. Addleson. I’m going to TA for her cooking class.” 

The girl stared at Megan in disbelief and waved her in. 

The professor was young for a professor; Megan guessed she must have only been in her mid 30s. Dressed smartly in a crisply pressed suit, Prof. Adleson sat ramrod straight behind her desk, stern lights creasing her flawless face. Her sandy blonde hair was tied tightly into a bun behind her head and her wire-rimmed glasses sat perched on her button nose. Megan felt just a tad self-conscious showing up in a tattered T-shirt and jeans. The professor glared disapprovingly at her. 

“You’re late,” she said tensely. 

“Yeah,” said Megan. “Sorry &#8216;bout that. I lost my way in this building, you see-“ 

“If you want to be my TA, you’re going to have to do better than that. Lucky for you, I’m desperate. I’ve had to slog off all the normal TA work onto that good for nothing secretary out there. It seems that I’ve acquired a reputation as a slave-driver simply because I care about the quality of work here. It also seems that most of our students in this school are too lazy to TA properly. I trust you don’t have that problem.” 

She glared at Megan. Megan smiled sheepishly. 

“Our first lecture is tomorrow,” continued the professor. “I expect you to know what Triple Chocolate Blitz cake tastes like by then. Eat one tonight, that’s your first assignment.” 

*****

Megan arrived for the morning class decked out in hip hugger jeans and a belly shirt. (She didn’t have anything formal so she couldn’t dress any better even after her first meeting with the professor.) The class began with a brief lecture from the professor before the students split up into groups to try out the new recipes. 

Megan sat, twiddling her thumbs and staring off into space &#8211; and occasionally fantasizing about that cute guy in her chemistry class &#8211; while the class worked dutifully. She’d eaten a slice of cake the night before like the professor had said to do. Of course, she hadn’t eaten a whole cake. That would have been ridiculous. Prof. Addleson couldn’t have seriously meant that. Finally, as lab time drew to a close, students began approaching the professor with their concoctions.

The professor shook her head, wincing as if she despised the idea of dealing with students, and pointed towards Megan. Megan took a bite of the first student’s &#8211; a petite nervous-looking Asian girl - creation. 

“That’s not bad,” said Megan, sucking the chocolate sauce off her fingers. “That’ll do just fine.” 

“Excuse me?” said Prof. Addleson, folding her arms across her chest, “Is that all you have to say?” 

“Yeah,” said Megan, “It’s fine. I’d give her an A.” 

“An A? You only took one bite! You can’t judge a cake on one bite! You have to eat the whole thing!” 

“Oh,” said Megan, “Sorry.” She quickly shoved the rest of the slice into her mouth and chewed it vigorously, giving the professor an exaggerated thumbs up. 

"Yikes," thought Megan, "What a bitch. Is this how she plans to make more work? She’s gotta be kidding me. "

Megan smiled slightly, her cheeks still puffed out with cake. She recohnized one thing. This wasn’t work. If there was one thing that Megan liked more than not working, it was eating. 

“Mmmfff,” she said through a mouthful of cake. “Ith good. A.” 

“Megan,” hissed the professor. “If you’re not going to take this seriously, I shall have to get myself a new TA. Did you eat a cake last night like I asked you too?” 

Megan nodded, feeling slightly guilty for the deception. “Uh huh.” 

The next student was a chubby goth chick, dressed all in black with frizzy purple hair. She shoved her cake slice at Megan with a grunt and Megan guessed that she was taking the class for an easy credit. She stuffed the cake into her mouth and was about to award another A when she caught the professor glaring at her. 

“Not bad,” mumbled Megan. “B!” 

****

Towards the end of the class, Megan began to falter. She had eaten more cake than she’d ever dreamed possible and she was beginning to feel rather full. Her flat stomach bulged out, causing her short belly shirt to bunch up slightly. She self-consciously pulled it back down over her rounded stomach every few minutes. When she did so, the shirt was stretched tight, without a single crease &#8211; except for the slight depression caused by her sunken belly button - over the smooth, convex surface of her full tummy. She hadn’t realized how many kids there were in this class! Sure, eating every slice of cake hadn’t seemed so bad at first, it had even seemed like it would be more fun that way! But now she didn’t see how she would ever finish them all… 

“Oh,” groaned Megan, stifling a belch. “Can’t I just eat a bite of each piece? Why do I have to eat the whole thing?” 

“Why would I need a TA if I was just going to eat a bite of each?” demanded Prof. Addleson. “I could do that myself. If you’re expecting to get any credits for this class, young lady, you’re going to have to earn them.” 

“Hey,” said the second to last student, a perky sorority girl, “Like, how do ya like my cake?” 

Megan didn’t know how the sorority girl could stay so perky, considering the grades the rest of the class had received. Every grade Megan had given was too high for the professor’s liking and every subsequent grade she’d given had been even lower. By now, students were getting Ds. 

Megan took a bite and winced. It was awful! “Ewww,” she gagged. “Something tastes really wrong with this! I think you’d better try it again! How much baking powder did you use?” 

“Like, baking powder?” said the sorority girl. “That is, like, so gauche! I used, like, baking soda. Duh!” 

“Baking soda?!” said Megan, “No wonder it’s so bad! No, you go back and try it again! D!” 

The next student was a scrawny, hunched boy with thick glasses and a mop of dark unruly hair. He presented his cake with a nervous grin. Megan thought for sure she was going to throw up but she forced herself to eat it. She chewed the food as slowly as possible, dreading the stomach twinge that accompanied every swallow. 

As the last bite went down her throat, Megan thought she would burst she was so full. She rubbed her hands over her bloated stomach and concentrated on not swaying too much even though she felt slightly drunk. 

“How was that?” asked the professor, not even looking up as she scribbled in her class planner. 

“Awful,” moaned Megan, “They were all awful! Hic! F!” Megan moaned even louder as hiccups wracked her stuffed tummy. 

“Excellent,” said the professor, marking Megan’s comments down in her book. “In that case, everyone fails.” 

The students gasped, stunned. Megan would have protested that the professor was being too unfair but she was far too queasy to even open her mouth. The hunched boy gaped, too shocked for words. 

“I’m just doing this for a stupid core credit,” he mumbled as he walked away. 

***

That night, Megan stumbled home, groaning in pain the entire trip. When she got home, she collapsed in bed. 

“What’s wrong with you?” said Arlene, turning away from her computer where she was writing a take-home midterm and, in true college dorm fashion, secretly downloading pirated music. 

“I ate, like, 100 pieces of cake today,” gurgled Megan, carefully rolling over in bed to avoid putting any pressure on her distended stomach. Her tank top still covered her enlarged chest but left her enormous, swollen gut bare. Her pants were open - after class, she’d finally felt safe enough her unsnap her overtight jeans. “Do you have any antacids? I’m gonna need them.” 

“Yeah, you want a glass of water with them?” 

“Oh no!” cried Megan, holding her inflated, gurgling belly and making a pained expression. “If I swallow one more thing, I know I’ll explode! On second thought, I’ll just lie down. Bleh!” 

“I told you this was going to happen,” said Arlene, shaking her head. “I knew your laziness was going to get you in trouble.” 

“Knock it off!” snapped Megan. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not in trouble.” 

“Oh no? Just keep in mind that this was only the first day. If Prof. Addleson stuffs you like a Thanksgiving turkey every lecture, you’ll be an absolute blimp by the end of term. Now that sounds like trouble to me, huh?” 

Megan would have made some snappy retort but she was already asleep, her enlarged midsection rising and gurgling as she breathed. 

***

That same night, some of the kids in Megan’s class met to discuss their first lecture.

“That TA is something awful,” said Sandy the sorority girl. “She’s, like, so bossy. I can’t believe she gave me an F! I am sooo gonna give her a bad evaluation at the end of the semester!” 

“Aw, she wasn’t that bad,” said Judy the Asian girl. As the first victim, she’d gotten away with only a B-. 

“You say that now but you know she’s never going to give another B all semester,” said Sepulchura the Black-Hearted Goddess of Despair (Previously Bobbie Jo). “I think I’m going to put a hex on her.” 

“Like, that is sooo not gonna work,” said Sandy. “I should know, we had this, like, witchy girl living next to us when I was, like, um, that thing you do when you’re little and then you get big?” 

“Growing up?” offered Judy. 

“Yeah! She lived next door to us when I was growing up and she, like, said she put a hex on me to turn me into, like, a total ditz. And, like, you know that never worked! If you want to, like, get even with her, you’ve got to do something, like, serious!” 

“Like what?” asked Judy. 

“Um, what’s the worst thing you can think of to, like, happen to a girl?” 

“Split ends?” said Judy. 

“Having your soul eaten by the Infernal Buzzard Demons of Dis?” said Sepulchura. 

“No,” said Sandy, “Getting fat! Can you imagine being fat?” 

“Shut up,” said Sepulchura. 

“No, no, I mean, like, really fat! Like, fat like a whale! And I’ll bet we can do it, too…we’ll show her to fail us all!” 

***

Megan couldn’t believe it. Taking for the cooking class was having a real impact on her figure. As the weeks went by, Megan could have sworn that things were actually getting worse. Students were screwing up more rather than less, dropping extra eggs and butter into the batter and pouring on sugar like there was no tomorrow. Worse was the fact that Megan had to eat all their mistakes. Megan had never been the most active girl but she’d never really had to worry about her weight before, but with all the extra calories she was consuming it wasn’t long before they started showing up on her waist and hips &#8211;as well as other places. 

Her hips were spreading, so much that she was starting to have trouble dressing in the morning. Her thighs didn’t want to squeeze into her old pants. She was starting to gain a little bit of pudge around her middle too. The little slit of her navel was becoming deeper, surrounded by soft adipose tissue that hung over her belt in two flabby folds. 

She was getting soft “jelly rolls” down her front when she tried to bend over and her expanding ass was forcing her panties to wedge between the cheeks of her butt. Her breasts received the bulk of the extra weight, though &#8211; that greedy area was soaking up calories like a sponge, ballooning into a pair of impressive hooters. She’d busted out of her B cups and moved into a respectable C last week. Now she wondered how long longer this new bra would last, since it was becoming harder to hook in back. 

Arlene’s head snapped up as Megan lurched through the door. Megan was having definite difficulty walking. Not only was she stuffed nearly into a stupor but her bulging gut sloshed and bounced with each step. She wobbled across the room and threw herself down on the bed, groaning. Her unbuttoned pants strained across her expanding bulk, her expanded melons pressing against her tank top. Her cheeks were fleshier and her face rounder. 

“Again?” said Arlene. She was shocked at the size of Megan’s tummy. “You look like you’re nine months pregnant!” 

“Shut up,” growled Megan, rubbing her distended stomach. “I feel like I ate a volkwagon! Bleh!” 

Arlene stood up and walked across the room, pausing to glower at her roommate. She shook her head and poked the exposed flesh of Megan’s tubby tummy. 

“Look at that gut,” she said in disgust. “Megan, I told you that this plan was going to backfire. Unless…” She smiled evilly. 

“Unless what?” said Megan groggily, struggling to prop herself up against the bed’s headboard. Her bloated belly gurgled painfully as she shifted positions. She peered over her bloated gut and grabbed at the two zipper flaps of her pants. She tried to pull the zipper back up but her rounded stomach prevented any movement whatsoever. 

“Unless you start exercising more,” grinned Arlene. She seemed to think the whole situation quite funny. Megan couldn’t disagree more. 

“Feh,” Megan grunted angrily, flopping back down into bed. “I don’t think so. I took this class to avoid work, not to make more for myself. If you think I’m going to waste a single second of my precious time sweating in some stinky old gym, you don’t know me very well.” 

If there was one thing Megan despised it was exercise. Physical activity was even worse than mental activity to her! 

“Oh, we’ll see,” said Arlene. “We’ll just see what’s more important to you, your figure or your…your..uh…being lazy. Yeah. That’ll be the day. You’re way too lazy to do anything like that. I’ll bet a million dollars that you don’t lift a finger until you hit a metric ton.” 

“Shut up,” growled Megan, still struggling to do up the zipper on her pants. She did not want to deal with a snarky roommate right now, not when she seemed to be expanding by the second. Megan knew she had to do something before her job turned her into the fattest girl on campus. 

“C’mon, Megan, I’m not gonna let any roommate of mine turn into a jumbo butterball.” She grabbed Megan’s chubby hands and pulled her to her feet &#8211; with just a tiny bit of struggle since there was more of Megan than before. 

“Let’s get you to the gym,” said Arlene. “I’ll just help you get out of these pants and into some sweats and we’ll go work out together, how does that sound?” 

“I don’t wanna work out,” said Megan. “I want to sleep. I’m still full from class.” 

“And you’re never going to drop an ounce with that attitude! Come on, off with the pants.” 

Arlene grabbed the sides of Megan’s jeans and pulled down. They were tight around Megan’s tubby thighs and chunky legs so it was difficult to pull them off &#8211; even more difficult than it had been to pull them on. And since Megan, committed to her lazy ways, wasn’t cooperating, it was even harder. Finally, Arlene had them off and Megan stood before her in a pair of skimpy underwear. Megan’s flabby tummy hung over her public area, obscuring much of her panties from view. 

Megan gritted her teeth as Arlene helped her wriggle her massive butt and thunder thighs into a pair of sweat pants. Even her old sweat pants seemed tighter than she remembered and she found she didn’t need to draw the string very tight to keep the pants from falling down. 

“Don’t just stand there,” said Arlene, “give me a hand getting your shirt off. Those big knockers of yours keep getting in the way.” 

Megan raised her arms obediently but kept a sour look on her face. Arlene pulled her shirt off, sending her expansive breasts into a frenzy of jiggling that almost had them pop out of her bra. 

Arlene pulled open Megan’s clothes drawer; Megan was still sulking about the whole thing and didn’t even feel like she had enough energy to yell at Arlene for going through her things. 

“You don’t have any gym shirts,” said Arlene, surprised. “Well, I guess I should have expected that from you, you lazy blob. Every girl in my family has at least three gym outfits. What do you wear if you ever want to work out?” 

Megan shrugged indifferently. “Dunno. I never wanted to work out. I still don’t. I’m only doing this because you’re being such a whiny bitch about it.” 

“You’ll thank me when you slim down,” said Arlene as if she knew it for a fact. 

Megan wasn’t so sure. Yes, she was getting fat. But at least it was easy. And working out in the gym was hard. She didn’t like hard things like that. 

“Here, this should be good for going to the gym,” said Arlene, pulling out a tank top from her own drawer. “It’s one of my favorites, though. So don’t you go and rip it.”

Megan rolled her eyes. “How fat do you think I am?” 

Arlene ignored her and concentrated on pulling the tank top down over Megan’s ripened breasts and chunky gut. It fit but Megan felt like her chest was being constricted. She grumbled to herself but didn’t complain out loud. She didn’t feel like hearing any more of Arlene’s weight and laziness related insults. 

****

Megan, sweating profusely, arrived in class just as the bell rang. Badgered by Arlene, she’d spent the entire evening and the following morning in the gym working to sweat off some of the additional weight she’d packed on while TAing this class. Granted, all her gym exercising was a bit half-hearted &#8211; who really likes getting all sweaty, she reasoned &#8211; but at least she showed up at the club and that ought to count for something. 

Still clad in her overly tight sweat pants, It was obvious that Megan had clearly grown rounder and softer over the course of the semester. The halter top she had borrowed from Arlene strained to hold back her ample cleavage, which swelled over the top ever so slightly with each heaving breath she took. The back of the sweatpants was giving her a rather uncomfortable wedgie between her larger butt cheeks and her pudgier pot belly hung over the front waist band and she was sweaty and tired and, above all, late. This day can’t get any worse, thought Megan bitterly. 

She sat down in front of the class, still huffing and puffing, and waited for the professor to call the class to order. In the front row, Sandy prodded Judy and pointed at Megan. The two girls began to giggle, careful to hide their smiles behind their hands so that Megan wouldn’t guess that all their mistakes had been intentional. Nothing gave them greater pleasure than to see Megan blimping out so fast. Not knowing anything about Megan’s exercise habits &#8211; or lack thereof &#8211; they hadn’t expected the results to be quite so dramatic. 

She was wheezing hard to catch her breath. The professor glared at her sharply, although Megan couldn’t tell if she was more annoyed at her being late or at her breathing so loudly that it interrupted her lecture. 

Soon she’d finished talking and the class set to work cooking &#8211; this time it was some sort of fruity cheesecake concoction with a foreign name that Megan couldn’t pronounce. (Megan hadn’t bothered to do any of the reading) 

“Crap,” whispered Megan to herself. “Not another cake! That’s gonna undo all that stupid exercise. I’ve got to talk to the professor and get out of this.” 

Megan lurched to her feet, still unaccustomed to her near weight distribution, and walked over to the professor. She felt rather shy &#8211; not only was the professor a real hard ass, but Megan was obviously dressed even more sloppily than usual. She didn’t think the tank top did nearly enough work to restrain her hefty boobs and, when she looked down, it was with some shock that she realized she could no longer see her feet over her billowing bosom. 

“Professor,” she said. “Do we always have to make desserts?” 

“First, don’t tell me how to run my class,” said the professor. “Second, don’t come to class dressed like a slob.” 

Megan tried to stammer out an explanation. “It’s..it’s just that I was at the gym before class..and it’s hard to eat all.. cakes are fattening and… I mean, c’mon, couldn’t you just make a salad one day?” 

“If you’re worried about getting fat,” said the professor coldly, “then I suggest that you go to the gym more.” 

“But that’s hard work!” whined Megan, completely forgetting who she was talking to. She stamped her foot, sending ripples through her plump frame. 

The professor had no sympathy. “Be that as it may, that’s what you’ll do. But not before class. You need to look professional.’ 

Megan returned to her seat, grumbling but secretly thankful that she now had an excuse to avoid the gym in the mornings. But that bitch Arlene will probably make me go more in the evenings, she thought angrily. And maybe even on weekends! Bleh! 

She fumed silently about her unreasonable roommate until it came time for her to try the class’ desserts. 

She mowed quickly through the first dozen, hoping to force it all down before she started feeling sick from her gluttony. 

“Are you going to try our dessert, Megan?” asked Sandy sweetly, showing 

Megan’s eyes glazed over; she was ready to pass out. Her clothes were so tight that they were practically cutting off her circulation. 

RIIIPPP!! 

Megan’s eyes shot to her front. Her engorged tits and large gut had finally stretched the flimsy halter top apart, causing it to rip down the front between her big cantelope-sized boobs. 

Sandy flashed Judy a grin and a thumbs-up. Megan’s hands shot to her front to hide her deep, spectacular cleavage. Sandy and Judy barely manage to suppress their giggles as Megan raced from the room &#8211; but they couldn’t help but feel a sudden jolt of jealousy as they saw how much of Megan’s new weight had been concentrated in her heavy breasts... 

(Click here for the next installment)


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## Browniestuff (Jul 29, 2007)

very nice. i can't wait for the next bit. -max


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## Da Games Elite (Jul 30, 2007)

Oh, I really love this story... ^_^


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## zonker (Jul 31, 2007)

MC, I have no idea how you create such beautiful stories...

This one I have always loved, and I am looking forward to the new chapter...

:wubu: :wubu: :wubu:


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