# Encourager's Journal - by Cylon Bob



## Cylon_bob (Jul 14, 2012)

*Encourager's Journal
by Cylon Bob​*
*July 7, 2012*

After what just happened, I finally decided to start writing stuff down, say some of what I saw. No particular reason, I've been doing this off and on for about the last five, six years, this is just me picking it up again, hopefully for longer than last time. Definitely more than just one day, this is going to take a while just trying to get the past three days down. And I'm going to want to remember these days, for sure.

But since I'm starting over (new journal and everything) I should probably explain a few really basic things. I'm about 22, going into my junior year at QSU, got an apartment with my friend Nathan, and work part-time as a tattoo artist, which is going really well at the moment. No girlfriend at the moment, got dumped a few months ago by Kat, which is depressing, but I'm past that now. She was hot definitely, but honestly, kind of a terrible human being. She dumped me because APPARENTLY, dating me was "making her fat!" I mean, yeah, it definitely was, but after all, what a stupid excuse. 

That's another thing, I like fat chicks. Remember that, it's kind of the most important part of the next few entries. Normal-sized/Skinny chicks can be. . . pretty, but let's just say I prefer extended detours to dangerous curves! 

That's not something I go around telling people about myself; I never actually say it out loud, but every girlfriend I've ever had mysteriously gained a bunch of weight. None of THEM knew, I'm just a manipulative son of a bitch. Getting a girl to eat really isn't that hard, believe me, and keeping them from exercising just looks like chivalry. Okay,time to get into what happened. 

-- First off, to set the scene: Jen's finally moving out here, which is awesome. Oh right, starting from scratch, I got to explain who Jen is. She was my girlfriend in seventh grade, and for the first time in recorded in history, a girl and a boy ACTUALLY stayed friends, post-breakup. Not that I wasn't pissed for the longest time, but I took it out on her figure. Had all of high school to fatten her up, and she made it really, really easy, believe me. Then she lost (most of) it immediately after graduation, which sucked, but it's not like I saw her every day anymore. We kept in touch, though, which is nice. . . downside to it- I got called to help her move out of the country into the city. Upside, I got to check out how, according to her, her diet's gone all to hell.

Anyway, the first thing that happened was, she was late picking me up this morning. Used to be, she was always like five, ten minutes early, but nope, this time she was about twenty minutes late. Not like her. Then again, it wasn't like her to get a belly-button piercing, but that happened just the same. Ah well, can't expect your friends to stay the same forever, grow and change and all that, but really? You're gonna be late to pick up the guy who's helping you move into a new apartment? Not such an amazingly smart move, is it? 

So when she finally showed up, I had to mess with her about it, "And just what time do you call this, young lady?"

"I call it 7:50!"

". . . Well. . . Okay, fair enough. "

"Ha. I missed you, Timmy!" 

Man, I could tell you she's looking good, but considering how she looked last I saw her, that's an understatement. Didn't really mind waiting for her, she is a friend and all, but the way she looked totally made up for the time I spent waiting, not to mention what happened the rest of the day. 

If you look at how Jen is now, you'd probably never guess she lost sixty pounds a couple of months ago. Nowhere near the size I like, but then, she never really got that incredibly big to begin with, then she lost all of what extra she had. . . but she's gained back what, twenty, thirty pounds now? Getting back up there, I'm thinking. 

I remember her saying last time we talked, she was down to 135, size eight, but no way she's anywhere near that now. I wonder what she is? Still don't know exactly, never got that out of her, I mean, I couldn't just ask outright, that'd get me smacked upside the head, and Jen's got a vicious punch if I recall correctly. But I was thinking I could probably steer the conversation around that topic, get a little info. . .

"AHH, you look so SKINNY! I HATE YOU!"

Or, you know, she could make it easy for me, start the weight talk on her own, right off the bat, that'll work, too. I already knew most of what she's going to say here, but it's way better when you HEAR HER SAY IT, so I just decided to play the fool for a while here. . . Wait, what? I look skinny? How l did THAT happen? It's not like I've tried to lose weight or anything. Heh, it's probably best for my safety that I didn't say anything about that.

"So do you! I DON'T hate you!"

" *Psshh* Don't even. I'm blowing up all over again."

Yes, she definitely is. And it is glorious. Couldn't actually agree with her of course, vicious punch and all.

"No, you are not."

"YES I AM!!!"

"You know what, no, I'm not going to play this game, if it's what you want, then, 'yes, wow, Jen it's amazing how you really are turning into an oinker.'" 

"THANK YOU!" 

It wasn't as obvious as I would have thought. The placement hid it a bit, I guess, but it was definitely there. No amount of genetic luck with where fat sits on your body can hide THIRTY POUNDS. It does make the thirty pounds extra-nice to look at, though. She's really lucky with how fat spreads out on her body. It's not any one space her fat goes, it's just everywhere, you know? 

She's not an hourglass exactly, but she's definitely close. Best I can describe, she's an hourglass with a not-so-amazingly-small middle. Maybe a bit more up top than a pure hourglass. Definitely not small up top, but not so incredibly gifted either. Even at her biggest/hottest, she wasn't really MASSIVE, just. . .well-built. It's more how she's put together than purely what she's got, so even this 'minus-thirty-pounds' version of her is really hot. Sure, there are bigger tits around, but hers? Perky, bouncy, PERFECTLY-shaped, the whole jiggly, joyful package. Not to mention, from the way she looked, they'd be plenty bigger, sooner rather than later, but at the moment, I had to lie through my teeth, in order to KEEP them.

"It's also amazing how no one else can see it. Your fatness is invisible."

"Well, I can feel it!"

No way she was lying about that one. Again, best I just disagree, keep her going about this awhile longer.

"The beginnings of psychosis. . ."

"Oh, stop it, I can't even wear most of my cute clothes anymore!"

"Why not?"

Yeah, yeah, I knew why, the answer was sitting in plain sight, sloppy around her waistline, but I had to hear her admit it. . .

"Pretty much everything I own gives me a muffin top, except super-baggy stuff like what I've got on right now."

"Gives you a what?" Again, hotter if she admits/describes her weight problems.

"Muffin top. Okay you know when girls try and squeeze into something too small, and their fat like puffs up around their waistband? That's a muffin top."

"Nope. You don't have one of those." 

"Well no DUH, I don't have one right now, I'm wearing super baggy clothes and that covers it like I said, but if I try and wear anything cute, bam, muffin top city."

She might THINK that covers it up, maybe, but I was looking at some fairly compelling evidence says it doesn't. 

"Nope, I'm looking at you, no way you could get a muffin top."

"Not like a HUGE one, but yeah, definitely a muffin top. I'm done trying to convince your blind ass about how I'm blimping out all over again; let's just get our butts on the road, we gotta get me moved into a new apartment."

I have to go now, but there will be more, this is nowhere near the best part of all this.

(Continued in post 3 of this thread)


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## Hologram (Jul 14, 2012)

Interesting...looking forward to more


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## Cylon_bob (Jul 22, 2012)

*July 8, 2012*

Okay, picking up where I left off, I've been saying for a long while it's about time Jen moved out here; she stayed at home in the middle of the freaking woods for three years after high school; she needs to try living in the city! And she needs to go to college, but I can't really force her to do that, not going to bring that up with her. Besides, now she's out HERE, I'll probably see her more often, get more frequent chances to observe her expansion. 

That's another reason I love this city, so MANY large ladies. Heaven for my type, not to mention good influences for Jen as her figure recovers from that gorram diet. Plus there's all these not-exactly-health-conscious restaurants for her to. . . Enjoy herself. 
I thought it was best to start off the moving-operations on that note.

"Waffle House, here we go!"

"Huh? I ate breakfast already, I don't need another one?"

She said that doing that weird little thing where she was sort of asking a question, but not really, which is usually a good sign when you're doing this kind of thing. It means she's thrown off a bit, not totally sure how to react. Easy to persuade.

Wasn't too much of a surprise either, I'd kinda figured she'd eaten, her stomach looked a little too round for that to just be fat, plain and simple. Probably was a good sized breakfast, too, knowing Jen, but knowing that just makes it more fun to get her to eat more, which in my experience, really isn't that tough.

"What, a slice of toast and a bowl of cereal? Not gonna cut it, we've got boxes to move and possibly stairs to carry them up. You're going to pass out, fall down the stairs and die, and I'm not cleaning it up!" 

"No, I had french toast, eggs—"

"Jen. You need breakfast. I've helped people move plenty of times; it's more work than you'd think. I'm just trying to keep you alive here, so shut up and eat."

"UGH, all right. . ."

Don't know how much breakfast she'd already eaten, the whole 'french toast and eggs' thing made it sound like it was a decently-sized breakfast, but I don't have a clue about that. What I do know is that she definitely ate her share of breakfast then. Probably more than her share, considering she's only about 5'1", but, and I don't know if you've figured this out yet, a girl eating more than her share of food isn't exactly the kind of thing that makes me get upset.

"Two All-Star breakfasts, please," I told the waitress as soon as she approached our table.

"HEY, I never told you what I wanted!"

"So I guessed," I replied.

"That's WAY too much—" she stammered.

"—Not cleaning it up, remember?" I countered

"UGH, FIIINE. But if I get fat moving here, I'm blaming you! " She gave in.

"Blame away, won't make it my fault. So where is this new apartment of yours?"

"It's on Johnson, between Broadmoor and Burbank, you know the place?

"Yeah, I think so, not totally sure; you could direct me there, though."

"It's the street with that gym, I think it's called Fontenot's Fitness? Yeah, that's it. Place is called Cortoe Plaza."

"YEAH, definitely know the place! Remember Heather? That's where she's living now."

Road's got a gym on one end, Baskin-Robbins on the other, a Wendy's in the middle, and lots and lots of fat chicks. Don't know how that gym's still operating from the looks of the people I saw there. 

Now I gotta explain right quick who Heather is, so in twenty words or less, she's the reason me and Jen stayed friends. She was Jen's friend first, we became friends during me and Jen's dating period, and I didn't want to stop hanging out with her after that ended. Jen didn't either, so we had an awkward period, and eventually just got over it. 

Heather's a good example of what this Cortoe place does; she used to be thinnish. Not a stick, just enough bounce to be interesting, but not enough to keep me paying attention. Last I saw of her before this, she was about fifty, sixty pounds fatter since she moved there two years ago. Things are definitely looking bad for Jen's diet. They'll be looking good on her body, though. 

On that note, for someone who already ate breakfast, she really didn't take her time on those waffles, or go easy on the syrup. Barely had any for my own waffles, not that I'm complaining! All I can do is hope she keeps these same sorts of eating habits after she's moved in, not go all diet-crazy again, though with Heather plus her sixty new pounds hanging around her, I don't see that happening. What I DO see is history repeating itself, specifically, Heather's history happening again, only this time with Jen as the focus.

"Yeah, I know, I talked to her, she told me it was a decent place, and it's not like it's in a bad area or anything. Plus, with that gym nearby, I can get back to exercising like I should be," Jen prattled on hopeully.

Exercising. . . riiigghht. . . Looking at her right then, stuffed with waffles and eggs, she didn't look too excited about the whole exercise-thing, which was encouraging. I've seen a little of her at that gym, and from that, I don't think there's going to be much more happening, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

She was done a few seconds later. But it took her about ten more minutes before she felt up to the task of walking again, which, strange enough, looked more like WADDLING. 

"NHHHN, man, I'm full!"

_Hurrah, mission accomplished_ I thought, but said "Well at least now I know you won't pass out in the middle of moving."

"Ugh, I can't bend in the middle and you expect me to help you move my stuff? HA, not happening, sorry!"

Goal #2 in the "Make-Jen-Fat-Again Plan": Reduce exercise - accomplished. "Seriously? Not going to help at all?"

"Nope! HA, YOUR FAULT!" 

Nope, my plan, not my fault, but I knew that if she does SOMETHING, it has a way of setting her mind at ease later with her diet. . . If she thinks she's done anything, she won't feel she has to get as much exercise. . . 

Okay, puppy-dog eyes are a GO.

" Oh, don't give me that look. . . All right, I'll help a LITTLE, but you'll have to give me a while to get fully digested here!" 

Ha, she always was a sucker for my puppy-dog eyes.

"As long as you need," I replied softly.

***


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## Cylon_bob (Jul 27, 2012)

*July 8* (cont.)
________________________

Back, just had something to take care of, so we're at her place now, Cortoe Plaza. Nice place for a guy like me, a guy with my taste in women, a bit too pricey though for a guy whose salary depends on if a guy likes a doodle well enough to wear it around for the rest of his life. 

Before this, I'd only been here twice, I think. I liked what I saw at the time, and I gotta admit, most of what I saw was Heather, but man, did she look good. Heather's one of those girls, you know the ones, looked better than decent in high school, then totally bloom once they get to college, and when I say 'bloomed,' I mean, of course, totally blimped out. 

She did like most girls do, 'improved' in her Freshman year, but then she moved here and poof, it was like she was suddenly hooked up to an reverse-liposuction machine. Glorious saddlebags last I saw, and that was about a year ago, so I can just imagine how she is now. This time, I was with Jen, who I'll admit, is (temporarily) skinnier, way skinnier, but did she put on a show! 

"OOF, and that's the last of it! Now what you want to do?"

"Rest a bit. Then I really wanna check out that gym, see what they have."

"Better idea: Celebrate being done, then go introduce yourself to the neighbors. Come on, up, up, up, get in the car, we're going somewhere." 

"Where we going?"

"You'll see."

Somewhere to eat, duh. Also, somewhere away-from-the-gym. Somewhere as anti-gym as possible. I know, she'd definitely eaten a good bit this morning, her stomach was still a bit swollen from her second breakfast, but then she HAD burned off a bunch of calories moving, I don't want all that eating to go to waste entirely. If that means more eating, that means more eating. Actually, if that means more eating, then I like it. All it really was, was a decision about which high-calorie restaurant should I take her to?

"Cheesecake Factory?!"

"What part of celebrate did you miss?"

"What part of 'on-a-diet' did YOU miss?"

"The part where that applies to a celebration. Come on, just this once, break loose on the diet, order whatever you feel like. Be realistic, you've been moving boxes for the last four hours, it's not possibly going to make that big an impact after all that."

"You'd be surprised. But okay, I'll go with the uh. . . Carrot cake, carrot cake is relatively healthy, right?"

"Relatively"

Generally true, yeah, but here? NOPE! See, at Cheesecake Factory, they don't serve carrot cake, they serve carrot cake CHEESECAKE, and not small pieces of it, either! And I sure as hell wasn't about to help her eat any of it!

"So gym after this?"

Man, she was still on that? "No, Mrs. I-have-no-short-term-memory, next we meet the neighbors. Bake them something, go around, introduce you."

"I'm supposed to bake them something? Why?"

"I don't know, because it's customary? Don't worry, I'll do it for you, I've been looking to try out a new recipe for cookies I found, anyway."

"UGH, stupid custom. Okay, fine, we'll get back, you can pop those cookies in the oven while I try and find, slash change into, my exercise clothes. Then, while they're cooking, we can run by the gym. Don't worry, we'll be back before the cookies burn, it's just a quick run-by to see what they've got, not a long, two and a half-hour workout."

This got me thinking, I could try and do my best to go there with her, try and get her out quickly, before she undoes too much of what she's been doing since she got here, maybe convince her that she undid all this. BESIDES, these exercise clothes she spoke of? Intriguing. Looking at her fat and flabby form, I'm guessing those weren't "new" clothes she had, but they weren't used, either. 

There was more cake than I remembered it being, probably at least a good 800 plus more calories for her to not-work-off. I like the way it's just sitting on her gut, too; that my friend, is what you call a "food baby!" 

"You ready to go? You look like you're just about done is all."

"Yeah, just gimme a second, and nnnnnhhhnnn! Okay, let's go." That was a familiar grunt; that was her 'Oh wow, I think I swallowed a bowling ball' grunt. In the time we dated, I heard that grunt almost every date we went on. I knew when I heard that, that even IF she went to the gym, she wasn't going to be doing much of anything. 

Then she stood up and when I saw just how much her belly was popped out, I was impressed, which, let me tell you, is saying something. After getting women to eat like pigs on a regular basis for ten years, I'm not easily impressed by how much a person's stomach swells. BUT, that food baby was in its third trimester, EASILY! 

"Y'alright there?"

"Yeah, it's just SOMEONE got me to eat too much!"

"Sorry I forced you to enjoy yourself!"

Classic cover, and not actually bull crap;, eating a good meal, even IF it's more than you need, gets your brain to make dopamine, which makes you happy, or something like that. Okay, I don't know the details, but find me anyone, anywhere in the world who says eating a good meal ISN'T satisfying, and I'll show you a liar.

"UGH, well I'm not enjoying THIS!"

Well I was, that's for sure. 

"Just chill, you'll be fine, let's just get back to your room, you can lay down and recover while I cook, but then we need to meet the neighbors, all right? All right."

"No, no laying on the couch and 'recovering,' I'd just fall asleep, then I'd have another ten pounds to work off when I wake up, what I need to do is find those stupid exercise shorts and get to that place down the street, work this blubber-bomb off before it attaches itself to my massive thunder thighs."

Bringing up the exercise agreement again, my first thought was 'CRAP.' Then it hit me, with all that food stuffed in her gut, these 'exercise clothes,' which I'm willing to bet haven't been used in a million years, are going to be. . . fun to see. And seeing her TRY to exercise in this condition? Well now, this exercise thing wasn't looking so horrible anymore. Well, not AS horrible. It had its upsides, which I'll get to in a little while. 

But that's going to have to wait 'til later, sadly, I got to stop writing for the moment, but I'll pick back up tomorrow, no worries, I'm not letting this drop mid-story like the last half-dozen times I started a journal.

(Continued on page 6 of this thread)


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## Borghen (Jul 27, 2012)

Well written, fast paced and amusing.
I love how your alter ego is frettin every second about how many calories Jen might burn exercising or moving too much and how she is oblivious to his plan: he is a maniac and she is totally clueless.
Please, more!


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## Cylon_bob (Jul 27, 2012)

*July 9, 2012*
__________________________________________________
Okay, so jumping straight back into it, we're back to the room, this is my chance to see exactly what sort of "exercise clothes" Jen's got stashed away, not to mention see exactly how much they HAVEN'T-been-used. 

So we walk in and she looks around, then turns to me and says, "Okay, give me a few minutes here, I'm not sure where my stuff is, or, heh, how it's going to fit. You know where the stuff is in the kitchen, just head in, get started."

So I did. So I cooked a few extra pans, because I totally 'miscounted the doors.' Besides, I could always get her to sample a few. . . dozen. 

I started hearing these grunts from towards the bedroom, so I start thinking that's a sign I'm going to like what I see when she walks out of there. 

I walk over to her bedroom door, "All right, the cookies are cooking, you ready?"

"Yeah. . . Just. . . Gimme a sec. . . OKAY!"

Then she comes out and glory, glory hallelujah, thank the good lord for spandex! So, from the serious grunting I'd been hearing, I was already expecting a glorious sight, and let me tell you, I was NOT disappointed. I'll try to put a picture in your head, so this wasn't just a pair of basic workout shorts, this was a full-body, color-coordinated, black and grey top and bottom set, seriously struggling yoga pants, and what probably began it's life as a full shirt, but by now, it only came nearly (not quite) halfway down over her belly. 

I hesitate to take credit, but that may have had something to do with my terrible influence on her for the last few hours. Just maybe. That food baby was still alive and kicking, a bit worn down, but still fully developed; if we went around while she looked preggers, everyone would assume I was the daddy, which would be. . . awkward for her to explain when it was gone in the morning. In any case, I knew for a fact that we NEEDED to get to that gym before we went around. Only to give her time to digest, you know, the less she actually DOES at the gym, the better.

She noticed me staring with god knows WHAT kind of expression and says to me, "DON'T LAUGH, it's been awhile since I got these." 

"I'm not laughing. You ready?" Of course I wasn't laughing, WAY too turned on for that. Must have been the mile-wide grin on my face that gave her the wrong idea. But hey, as long as she THINKS I think it's hilarious, I basically had a free pass to check her out. I may be wrong on this, but I don't think she had a bra on under there. Which was weird. No sports bra, I could kinda-semi-understand, with tits that size, I doubt she can find many, but just going without ANY support? Don't know how she reasoned that one out. Maybe she thought she would bounce out of it? Plus her thong was hanging out the back of her shorts, whale-tail style. Actually, on second thought, was it a thong? Can't remember quite, might have just been normal panties, wedged up her ass crack, which I can bet you happens a lot to her, with an ass like that.

"Yeah" And with that we started walking, SLOWLY to the other end of the street. There weren't many people outside, but I definitely noticed that the people outside the other apartment complex that was further down the road were a hell of a lot more in-shape. Glad Jen didn't move into THAT one. Terrible influences from where I'm standing. Jen's skinny enough as she is, by my standards, anyway, and I'm really looking forward to seeing her get fatter, not fitter.

"So what's first?"

She just ignored me saying that, just walked right up to the desk to grab a handout. The woman behind the desk gave her this weird look like 'Really? You think you should be here?' but Jen doesn't even notice. She just looks at the pamphlet for a few seconds then walks over into the main part of the gym, over to this big blue mat in the corner, and starts doing lunges. 

I think that's what she started, anyway. She didn't do many, and whatever it was, she did it horribly. Clearly out of practice. But the view. . . that was amazing, those pants are tougher than they look, I'll tell you that, they went through a hell of a lot. I was just WAITING for the moment they finally give in and explode off her, but, sadly, disappointed on that front. I think she could feel how close she was coming, though, she never said it, but she could have gone longer on the lunges and squats and stuff. I think, anyway. Her face got red pretty quick, and she was sweating way more than she should have been for so little exercise.

She walked over to the treadmill where I was treated to a glorious two and a half minutes of her 'running,' as fast as she could, which was right about six miles an hour. She came off that thing breathing like she'd just run a marathon. Then she walks really stiffly, still kinda waddling (that food baby was STILL surviving. Somehow.) out to the middle of the mat and just collapses on her butt. Sound it made. . . Let's just say people on the other end of the gym heard it and turned to look.

In between breaths, she eventually managed to squeak out, "Get my feet, a'ight?" 

I'm sad to say, I'm an enabler. I didn't argue with her, I just mindlessly obeyed, bent down and held her feet down so she could try some situps. Emphasis on try. I think she managed one, maybe? Altogether? Does it add up, the times she nearly made it up? Because there were a lot more of those. So yeah, I broke rule #2, but in my defense, my mind was more concentrated on hiding how turned on I was. Then the lady who was behind the counter came to my rescue. Which was good for me and for Jen's developing flabby physique, but one hundred percent a BAD move on her part.

"Ma'am? Are you sure that's a good idea?"

What? We both just turned to the side and stared at her for a few seconds, no idea what she was talking about, she looked at us, realized we were clueless and took it as a signal to keep going, "I mean, don't you worry you might lose the baby?"

Aaaand that was it. Fontenot Fitness is officially a place Jen will never in a million years return to, so I guess by helping her exercise, I DID keep her from getting any exercise? Funny how things like that happen. Anyways, I know one thing. If I hadn't been there, there wouldn't be anything left of that woman to bury, and Jen would be facing a life sentence. Can't deny, I wouldn't have minded seeing her beat the ever-living crap out of that woman, bitch-fights, hot, but at the same time, I'm against murder as a rule. 

Once she got done cursing that poor woman out and threatening her loved ones with dismemberment and disembowelment, she stormed out of there, swearing she'd never come back to this place ever again, which is yet another victory for me, but I had to run after her, help her focus, comfort her, guess how I did THAT. 

I got to go now, I'm doing a special, off-the-clock, specially-requested prison tattoo for this guy who came in wanting something that was done different from the usual way (Why this guy doesn't want to just get it done normally, I'll never understand) but I'll give you a sneak preview and tell you that, to put it shortly, Baskin-Robbins and Budweiser both had an extremely good sales night. Stuff happened, too, aside from just her eating that I gotta tell you about; I'll just tell you about it to that after I finish with the job.


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## Cylon_bob (Jul 29, 2012)

*July 9, 2012 (cont.)*
__________________

So "Prison-tattoo-guy" NEARLY bailed out on me, but I took some time and in the end, I talked him into doing it anyway. Which is, you know, something you do when you need the cash, and that's really what this was all about. Did it totally free-lance, and since I wasn't using any equipment from the parlor, wasn't doing it on their time, I got one hundred percent of the profits. Which are WAY higher when it's a custom-job, not done like normal.

I'm thinking I should do this kind of thing more often. You know, free-lance tattoos, special order. As it is, I'm designing every new tattoo they use at the parlor, why shouldn't I just design them on my own and not TELL them? Then, I mean, if someone wants that design, they HAVE to go to me. . .

Yes, in this case convincing the guy after he started freaking took a little alcohol. . . Okay, a LOT of alcohol, but the job turned out kind of amazing, so it all worked out. I took a few little liberties with the EXACT design he asked for, but I think he'll agree it turned out well once he's sobered up. . . SPEAKING OF ALCOHOL, that's where I left off last entry.

So for obvious reasons, the second we got back to the apartment, I got two things. A pan of chocolate cookies, and a six-pack of Budweiser. She just dove straight in, didn't even run into the bathroom and change out of those RIDICULOUS clothes, which made the rest of the night even more entertaining than you can imagine. 

She claimed the vast majority of the food and beer for herself, which I wasn't too upset about, but to give you an idea of what I mean, I got exactly one beer, she got the other five. I'm not much of a drinker, so that wasn't a problem really, but that's just how it was. I'm not going much into what all she said exactly during all of this because, really, she didn't say hardly anything until they were both gone. Too focused on the cookies.

For a woman who's not particularly skinny, Jen's what you call a bit of a lightweight when it comes to alcohol. Meaning after that last beer, she was totally and completely plastered, slurring her words and everything, "Le's go ta' Baskin-Robbins!"

No arguments coming from me, I'll tell you that much. It was one amazingly sexy thing just seeing her sit there, stuffed like a thanksgiving turkey; it was another thing entirely to watch her stumbling along the sidewalk, that direction. Every stumble sent a shockwave through her soft body, which was pretty much on display, still crammed into that workout getup. I was a little worried we'd be thrown out because she was so wasted, but they were surprisingly apathetic about it.

We got there, Jen was way too smashed to read a menu, so I just ordered for her, "Extra-large banana split, please"

Of course that irritated her, so she yelled at me, "Stop freakin' orderin' fer'me, Tim, GOD, I can do't m'sself,jus'. . ." she paused for a second, staring at the menu, muttering to herself, then pulls herself up straight(ish) and says very loudly " Gimme wha'he said, lady, n'make it snappy! Extra cherry, extra choc'late, extra EV'RYTHIN'!"

Yeeaahh, she was gone. Not so gone she didn't eat the massive sundae they brought her, though, which I gotta say, was way bigger than I thought when I suggested it. I didn't even think she'd be able to get the whole thing down when they brought it out, especially not thinking about just how much she'd already eaten. I said something about it, and she snapped at me for it.

"I can eat it, Tim, jus' you WATCH!" she pretty much yelled that at me, which raised the same concerns about the whole possibly-being-thrown-out thing all over again, and I had to wonder, if she DID get tossed out, would she ever be allowed in again? Wasn't really able to worry too long, though, I was kind of distracted by her eating. Woman just plowed straight through that thing in record time, DESPITE how much she'd eaten already today, and then she TRIED to stand up, which, needless to say, didn't go so well.

She collapsed back onto her well-cushioned ass, laughing, "HA, Think'm jus' gonna sleep HERE t'night, you 'K with'at?"

"I'M okay, but I don't know how okay THEY'LL be with it," pointing at the people behind the counter, who were definitely getting a little tired of this drunk woman inhaling an ungodly amount of ice cream in their store.Or were they bemused, and had they racheted up the quantity of her order just to see what would happen? I had no idea. I THINK they were a little worried she might puke all over the place. "We gotta get you home, get up, put your weight on me, all right?"

She tried, yet again, and just collapsed, yet again. It's worth noting that at this point, she looked probably 10 months pregnant with triplets. "NOPE, not happ'nin'. *hic* You could CARRY me, tho', couldn'ya? Come on, Tim, help m'out here. . ."

There was something about how she said that that was a bit weird. Suggestive. So of COURSE, I took her up on the offer, but the whole way there, I was thinking about what that would mean. Actually no, that was in a small part of my brain, most of it was thinking somewhere along the lines of 'holy crap she's heavier than I thought,' which made sense, I guess. I mean, she said at some point in recent history she was up to 150, but there was no way that was still true. 

Then again, she had about four pounds of cookies and a pound of ice cream hunkered down in her gut, so THAT was definitely a contributing factor, but I'm pretty sure that either she was lying about the 150 pounds, or that was an old stat and she'd grown since then. Could be either one, but Jen's generally an honest girl, so I'm thinking it's probably an old stat she's afraid to check up on again because she knows she's gained weight. That's definitely more like her than the other.

So I carried her into her room and laid her down in her bed so she could sleep it off, but as I'm walking out she says "Thassit? Yer jus' gonna walk out now, not ev'n gimme a little t'work with? 'M jus' askin' for a quickie here, c'mon back!" 

Yes, it was extremely tempting, I confess I took a few seconds to think about it before I turned around and walked straight out of her bedroom. But it's like I said before, the whole time we were walking her back to her apartment, there was this little bitty section of my brain that was thinking about this, and I don't mean 'thinking' like in the same way I'd been thinking about it all day. 

This wasn't a "HOW-I-would-screw-Jen-given-the-opportunity" kind of thought process, this was more a "SHOULD-I-screw-Jen-and-what-would-the-consequences-of-that-be" thought process, and the answer I came to in the end was 'no'.

Okay, I have to EXPLAIN this now, so listen up, Jen is one of my best friends. YES, I find her attractive, amazingly so, I've made that extremely clear to you, I think, BUT the question is, could we go anywhere in a physical relationship? I'm picky like that. What I want in life is a real relationship; I'm not looking for forty minutes of fun for a nights. That's where I'm doubtful about Jen. I do not want a screwbuddy, I know well enough that that never ends well, it gets messy and you end up one friend less than you started. And Jen's been my friend for so long now, it just. . . if we DID try something, it might end badly, and I don't want to lose her as a friend. Hah, tables have turned there, no? A guy putting an amazingly hot woman in the friend-zone, that's something that's never happened before.

But it's not just the wanting to stay friends, if she was sober right then, I wouldn't have thought about it, just go for it, you know? But right then? She wasn't really responsible for her actions, she was totally SMASHED! I've seen Jen this drunk a few times, so I knew for a fact that she wasn't going to remember this tomorrow, and waking up next to me, she'd totally freak. She'd probably freak even more if she did remember.

So I just walked out and left her there to pass out. I had a lot to think about with this new development, so I decided to take a walk. I really didn't have a real choice of going home that night, not after what happened, and there was still stuff to unpack, and I knew Jen would have a massive hangover the next morning, and you know, one of the many things I'm good at cooking is a hearty breakfast to soothe a hangover. 

I thought, why not lend my services to helping her tomorrow morning? I was taking a small vacation from work at the time, due to 'my mother being sick,' which wasn't totally a lie, I mean, it was true when I said it, but when a vacation doesn't have a set deadline, I see no reason to go running back as fast as possible when I've got enough money saved up for the next six months.

Plus, I thought, she still hadn't gone around introducing herself, meeting the neighbors, and from what I'd heard from Heather about her neighbors, I sure wasn't missing THAT. What I'm saying is that it was pretty much a given that I was going to sleep on the couch that night. Like I said though, I had a whole bunch of things bouncing around inside my head right then for me to think about, so I decided to take a walk around the plaza, just go out in the fresh air for a while, walk around, clear my head.

And it was working great, that is, until Heather showed up and we talked for a good bit. Not that it was a BAD thing, seeing her and catching up with her, that is NOT what I'm saying, but she definitely gave me even MORE stuff to think about, that kind of thing. BUT it is now 1:30 AM and I have work in six and a half hours, so I'm leaving that conversation to tomorrow's entry and going to sleep.

(Continued in Chapter 9 of this thread)


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## Propp Matt (Jul 31, 2012)

Nice story! 
Can't wait for next chapter


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## Cylon_bob (Jul 31, 2012)

*July 10, 2012
______________*____________________


Heather. That's where I left off. Before I start on the rest of what happened, there are a few things you need to understand about this woman. Otherwise you might misread this, get the wrong idea and stuff. First, she's really smart, graduated with the second highest GPA in my class; and you'll see in a little while, she picks up on stuff most people miss. Second, she loves messing with people, tricking them into thinking one thing, then messing with their expectations. Third, she loves drama, and I'm not talking about gossip-type drama, I mean like, theater, on-a-stage drama. When she's trying to make a point, she does it in a big way, gets the point across in a big way.

I've told you what you should know about Heather as a person, now I'm going to to talk about the physical. Heather is relatively tall, about 5'7, dark brown eyes, cute face that looks younger than it is. It's the chipmunk cheeks, I think. But that's not the most important bit. The one defining detail you gotta understand about Heather's body to get an accurate mental picture of her, is that even though she's, like I said, almost pure butt blubber, she doesn't ACTUALLY have what you'd call a 'bubble butt.' Not by my standards anyway. She doesn't have those round ass cheeks sticking out a foot and a half behind her. 

No, I definitely wouldn't call it a bubble butt. On Heather, what qualifies her as a pear are her massive thighs, ridiculously wide hips, and big, flabby saddlebags on her, which isn't really the ideal pear in my personal opinion, but even so, definitely a good thing. As a rule, women whose weight centers anywhere below the waist are automatically on the top of my list, so even though that particular subsection of the description isn't my cup of tea, they still qualify as some of the hottest around. Especially in cases like this, where the girl in question weighs 200+ pounds, which I was already guessing Heather to be, but now I know for sure, since it comes up in a little while.

So this story starts about midnight. I was walking around the courtyard, and was in no expecting anybody to be up and walking around right then, so I was pretty surprised. 

So I'd stopped on the edge of the courtyard, off in my own little world. Then out of nowhere, I hear a voice coming from behind me"Hi"

I'll confess, I let out a bit of a scream. In a manly fashion of course, "Whaaaah!" 

That was roughly how it sounded. You'll need to take it on faith that it was more masculine than it looks. I don't need an excuse for the scream, I'm just a bit jumpy at midnight in a strange neighborhood for some bizarre reason. It doesn't help any that, for a larger woman, Heather's hella quiet walking around.

"Hah, surprised ya. How you been?" She paused for a second, looking at me kind of weird for a second, then went on, "You're looking pretty good, did you lose weight?"

Seriously, why do people keep asking that? Have I? I honestly don't have a clue. 

"I've been good, how about yourself?" I didn't say it, but herself, Heather was looking a tad better than 'pretty good.' To put it bluntly, she was looking pretty damn hot! 

To begin this next bit I need to say a few things. First off, it's a fact that each and every girl's has a slightly different body type, BUT it's helpful when you're visualizing to compare to something you already know. I'm going to be comparing Heather's to Jen's, which I have described in detail. Heather's is totally different though, you see, Jen's well-built, up top and down below, but Heather, on the other hand, is a pure pear-shape, through and through. Everything goes downstairs if you catch my drift. 

Well maybe not EVERYTHING, she's got a bit of everything, but in order from biggest to smallest, it goes Ass-Waist-Chest. I want to emphasize that she doesn't so much NOT have tits, it's just that, well, compared to her ass and belly. . . it's nothing much to speak of. And I've I said before that she was going to be a good influence on Jen, but at that moment, I had a good look at Heather, and I saw that was even more true than I'd thought. 

I can't communicate exactly how she looked, not in a way that does her justice but I'm going to try. First off, to give you an idea of what I'm saying about how she's gained weight, you should know it had been about four or five months since the last time I'd gotten a good look at her, and normally a woman, even one who's gaining "weight like crazy" doesn't add more than maybe ten, fifteen pounds in that kind of time. 

Heather's. . . was not a normal case. In those four or five months, her body had been. . . enhanced, if you know what I mean. By rough estimation, she'd been "enhanced" by at least thirty pounds, give or take five. And all of these pounds had been settling below the waist on her monstrous thunder thighs and incredibly wide hips.

I know that look she had on her face. There was something on her mind. "Pretty decent; I saw you and Jen a while ago, what happened with her?"

"She got wasted and ate way too much ice cream." Why lie? It's bound to come out later, better she hear it from me than one of her neighbors. I guessed by then that look she had that whatever she wanted to say was directly related to this, but had to wonder where she was going with it.

She got this sympathetic look on her face.

"Ah. Been there. Many times," she paused, and slowly a smile spread across her face, "and THAT is where THIS came from!" 

She broke out laughing and grabbed ahold of her spare tire and jiggling it around for a second. She always was comfortable with her weight, nice to see she STILL doesn't give a flying fruitcake about how fat she is. Her smile faded slightly though, as she went on clarifying her question, "What I was really asking though, was what was going on between you two; you get back together?

"No. No, she's just totally wasted and too full to walk, so I just carried her is all"

"'Cause it just looked, like, well, you know."

"No, nothing's going on there."

She hesitated for half a second, with this look on her face like she wasn't sure if she should say what she was about to, "Bet you wish there was. You must have loved watching her in there."

"Huh?" I had a sinking feeling about what she was hinting at.

Now she'd gotten that out there, she seemed to gain a bit of confidence as she clarified what she'd said, "Jen making a pig out of herself. You must have LOVED that."

"What?" I asked her that, partially because I didn't want to believe right of the bat she knew what she was talking about, but also partially because I wanted to double check this wasn't her messing with my head. I think on some level, though, I already knew she was for real. Questions started running through my head like crazy. Does she know? Well, OBVIOUSLY, she did, but how did she figure it out? How long has she known? Does anyone ELSE know?

"Oh don't even try and hide it, pfft, it's like you think I was born yesterday. I've been your friend for how long now? I KNOW you by now!" 

She paused, then began again, emphasizing every word," Okay, I'm gonna break it down for you." 

She paused again, "I know. You like. Fat chicks."

So that was it, my secret was wasn't quite as well hidden as I'd figured. I had to get some of these questions answered. I thought for a second and decided to start of with, "How long have you known?"

"Good long while. You're good at hiding it, that I'll give you, but I've been your friend for a long time, you pick up on a pattern after a while."

"Pattern? What are you talking about?" I figure if I know what gave me away, I can figure out how to disguise it.

"Okay, so, in high school, you dated what, four different girls? Lauren, Sammi, Kara and. . . Ugh, what was that other one's name?"

"Miranda"

"YEAH. SO, out of those four, were any of them under one fifty?" Okay, maybe I CAN'T disguise it. She figured it out because of the girlfriends, not because of me.

I had to correct her on that last one, though, "Lauren. And Miranda. Half of them."

"AT FIRST, maybe. But after a few months of dating YOU, they weren't anymore now were they? Kara was like two fifty when y'all broke up, wasn't she?"

Two twenty-five, actually, but she was short, so it looked like more.

Then Heather went on, "But she was already kind of big." 

Damn straight, right about 190 at the start, I just kindly stopped to help her along her pathway to morbid obesity. Heather continued, "It was Lauren that clinched it in my mind, she was a cheerleader in Junior high, but I remember she didn't make the high school team, and you were right there to comfort her with a box of chocolates and a gallon of ice cream. Y'all dated for six months, she gained like fifty pounds, Kinda nailed it down."

Forty pounds, actually, again, a short girl, and she had by far, the best. Ass. In. School. God, I can only DREAM how another ten pounds would have looked. . . 

All this talk about old girlfriends sent me off into my own little world for a few seconds, remembering them each individually. It was a little interesting to think about how I'd changed methods through the years, gotten better at what I do. They were all slightly different stories behind them, and I figured out early on that no two girls respond the same way to certain techniques, so thinking back and remembering how I figured out how play them was interesting.

One in particular kept me focused for a while. Miranda was the last girlfriend l had in high school, not to mention a particularly good memory. She came in senior year, right when I was the best, most manipulative little bastard in the entire high school. So good, people never knew it was me leading them on. Miranda came in from another school midway through the first semester, and even though she was nineteen years old, she was this seriously tiny little thing, I'm talking about the five-foot-nothing-weighs-ninety-seven-pounds-when-soaking-wet level of tiny.

Her being so disgustingly skinny, I left her alone for most of the first few weeks she was there. No interest in girls that skinny, you know? Then I noticed something. I saw her in the cafeteria one day, she had like three trays in front of her, every one of them loaded down with as much food as possible. 

Now gluttony is a major turn on, and for a second, I was thinking this must be some kind of a freak occurrence. I mean, she was STICK-THIN! Figured out pretty fast I was wrong on that account, she ate like that at lunch on a daily basis, but all I could figure is she must not eat hardly anything the rest of the day, and exercise freaking CONSTANTLY. But she was full of potential gainage, so I decided to test my skills, try my hand at getting her fat. 

So we start dating, and first thing I find out is that I was right on both accounts; her parents were serious health freaks (I can barely IMAGINE how they responded to all this) and they insisted she do at least thirty minutes a day on a treadmill and keep up a strictly vegan diet whenever she was at home. It doesn't always, but in her particular case, that meant only raw salads, morning, noon, and night. 

That answered the question of how she was eating three trays of food every lunchtime and maintaining that blasted stick-thin figure. I mean, those three trays? That was pretty much her entire days-worth of calories! But I spent those first few weeks working my magic on her, and managed to move her up from eating two or three trays, to eating FOUR OR FIVE trays at a time. 

Not to mention I made sure she getting way more than her moneys-worth at the local all-you-can-eat buffet three or four times a week, which, ENTIRELY BY COINCIDENCE, often kept her from her scheduled daily exercise time. Surprise, surprise, under my influence she STOPPED being flat as a board and skinny as a stick, and the whole school was shown right away that any weight she gained went directly to her tits. 

Maybe not entirely, after the first ten pounds she started developing a good sized pot-belly out of the whole experience, but the rest of it? Straight to the rack. We broke up at graduation, as she was going to a different school, and I don't do long-distance. What I know is that, right the last time we screwed, I caught a glimpse of her bra size was, 44E, no lie. Then the fun REALLY began, so I didn't have much time to think about it, but in retrospect, what that means is that, in one and a half semesters, the lovely lady's bouncy bits shot straight from an A-cup, to an E, due to me. 

I snapped back to reality with a quick apology for zoning out, "Sorry, I totally spaced out for a minute there. Okay, I'll confess. You're right, I prefer my women to be carrying a little extra meat around, what's your point?"

"More than a little. And I have no point, I'm just letting you know that I know."

"Have you told anyone?" Serious worry for me, some women are kind of. . . paranoid about their bodies, if it gets out there that dating me makes you a fat cow, I may never get laid again.

"Pssh, heck no, I've got more sense than that! You think I'm TRYING to ruin your life? I'm just saying, I got you figured. Knowing that, I have to congratulate you on NOT taking advantage of Jen, you've earned my respect on that." Should have expected that reaction from her, Heather's smart, that's obvious just from the fact she caught on to me. She'd know what would happen if this got out, and she's my friend, but I had to ask, make absolutely sure. 

There was a long awkward pause then because, I mean, where do you go from there? I hate those kinds of pauses, so I had to fill the pause. Time to change the subject, get it off of me, onto her, off my preference, onto something else. Literally, ANYTHING else. "So, uh. . . What are you doing over the summer, then?"

"Working." 

Not very specific. I got the feeling she wasn't telling me something, so I asked her, "Where?"

Now read this closely, this is a typical show of what I said at the start about Heather. She glanced around, all nervous like, then began with a totally straight-face, in a very ominous tone of voice, "I'm seriously sorry, but. . . I'm afraid. . . I'm afraid I can't share that information with you. . . If I did, I. . . well. . . I would be signing your death warrant." 

At this point, her straight face had me fooled, which is slightly embarrassing, since I'm not usually that gullible. That's just to give you an idea how good her straight face is. So I went quiet, wondering what it could be; it sounded like it was either deep government, all hush-hush political work or illegal, and I knew she wasn't even remotely interested in politics. So with that in mind, the tone of voice was implying something illegal, but I wasn't sure. 

THEN she turns everything I was thinking completely upside-down. She dropped the straight face and broke out giggling. That lasted a few seconds, then she caught her breath, "HA, you should have seen your face, that was GREAT! Don't worry, it's nothing BAD. In fact, I can pretty much guarantee, you are going to absolutely LOVE this. That Baskin-Robbins you were just at? Yeah, there. AND I get employee discounts. Like I wasn't fat enough as it is, right?" 

"You aren't." It was kind of relieving to have it out in the open with her. No need to hide how I actually felt about her size, now I knew she knew. Still. Not making it public. 

She had this mile-wide grin on her face, and somehow, when I said that, it got even wider. With a huge smile on her face, "Oh, shut up! Much as I wish more people had your kind of attitude, I'm a little sick of having to squash myself into movie theater seats made for like, little kids and, you know, people UNDER 200 pounds!" 

"So find a place with bigger seating."

"Give me those for a few months, and I predict I'd be either be too fat for those, or getting close to it." Then she went struck a dramatic pose, and for the next few minutes, gave an impassioned, but ironic monologue,

"Stupid, addicting, soft-serve ice cream, _THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!_" she said, slapping her massive butt, which jiggled around for a few seconds in response, "THESE, TOO!" 

With that, she bounced her boobs a bit, then reached for her spare tire and started shaking it around like crazy, continuing on in a less accusative tone, "I really can't blame you for this though, this is totally MacDonald's' fault." 

She paused a second, thinking of something else to say, then concluded her monologue with, "Actually, I really have to thank you for the tits, though. I'd like some more, though, they're kind of a lot of fun! Please and thank you!"

The whole thing was a joke, but definitely a fun one to watch. I had to respond somehow, so I waited a second in case she had anything more to add, then said, "Wow. That was the most touching soliloquy I've ever heard directed at junk food. Kudos." 

"Thank you, thank you, I'd also like to thank the fine people at Hershey's chocolate, Little Debby, and Dunkin' Donuts. All of this," she gestured towards her whole, overblown figure, "wouldn't be possible without their fantastically fattening contributions."

"Done now?"

"WAIT, I nearly forgot, one more! Thank you to the Cheesecake Factory, for giving me these four pounds of arm fat for me to feel jiggling whenever I point at anything! Okay, now I'm done. I must admit, that last bit? A bit of an exaggeration. That wasn't big enough to be four pounds. Probably only two pounds, maybe two and a half at the most."

"That was touching. I'm moved almost to tears."

"Well it's been a larger-than-life journey," she paused for a second, then "if you know what I mean. . . " 

Ha, I'd forgot that how much she loved wordplay.

"I DO know what you mean, but we'll have to continue this oh-so-punny discussion later, it's getting late, I need my beauty sleep, you know."

"Like it helps! Ha, all right, good night, man, I'll see you tomorrow!" 

It was nice catching up with Heather, in a lot of ways, she hasn't changed at all since high school, in some ways, in others. . . she HAS, but more on that in a later entry It was nice to see how she has LITERALLY grown, and on that, glad to see she's still not at all self-conscious about her size. Not. At. All. But like I said, there was a lot for me to think about.

Here's some of what's been going on in my head, to give you an example. How many people that I know have figured out my secret? I mean yeah, in some ways it's obvious, like she pointed out, but no one else has ever given me even the slightest hint they ACTUALLY knew what was happening. Only, I didn't know Heather knew. How many people were doing like Heather and not admitting they knew? 

One detail I could rest easily knowing is that I knew for sure: I've dated many women, and successfully fattened every single one of them by at least 10 pounds before the break-up. Of those women, I've had exactly one girlfriend who finally came to the conclusion it was my fault she was getting fat, and that would be Kat, the one I mentioned in the first entry, but she never had any kind of proof. 

She didn't seem to believe it herself, it sounded more like an excuse than an actual reason, and that's probable, considering she was with another man less than a week later. Anyway, I'm completely over all that, so now back to how no girlfriend I've had made the connection. I know they weren't hiding that they knew, because most of them HATED how fat they were getting, and complained about it all the freaking time. 

I had a few second thought from time to time on that score, I mean, they weren't willing to gain, what gave me the right to make them do it anyway? On the other hand, I wasn't forcing food down their throats, so who's REALLY to blame? Anyway, none of them caught on, so I'm thinking maybe it's something only an outsider can see? Someone who's not caught up in the relationship, who can look at it objectively, like Heather did. 

Well in any case, the best I can hope for is that no one ever decides to prove, once and for all, what I'm up to and announce it to the world. It wouldn't necessarily be the WORST thing, I mean, it's not like they could actually prove it, anyway, the evidence is purely circumstantial. Ha, like that actually means anything outside a court of law. 

From what I've seen, people believe what they see and hear, they draw their conclusions from other people, and from that point on, nothing in the world, no amount of proof can convince them they're wrong. No data to back me up, but I'm almost a hundred percent certain that's why the world at this time thinks fat is disgusting. They heard it when they were young, just accepted it as fact, and are willing to ignore the millennia of human existence where voluptuous women (read: chubby) were considered the ideal of sexiness.

Anyway, back to my concerns, it seems pretty likely now that anybody who looks close and notices the pattern is going to know, and they won't need more proof. There's really not much I could do about it either, like I said, it's not ME that's giving it away, it's my girlfriends. 

All I can do, now that I see the little hole in the screen that's been hiding my secret motives from the world, is, you know, just hope that no one ever DOES look too closely. No one ELSE, I should say, I'm fair certain Heather was being honest about never telling anyone, she's a good friend, not a back-stabber or anything. Not so sure about the rest of the world, they're not necessarily so understanding and accepting.

UGH, I'm done now; trying to work through all this is making me tired; there's still more, don't worry about that, but I gotta get some sleep right now, I'll just write some more tomorrow, you know the drill.


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## 123Superpro (Aug 2, 2012)

This is brilliant. I love your writing style, it's very imaginative and fluent. Looking forward to reading more.


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## Cylon_bob (Aug 3, 2012)

*July 11, 2012*
________
Getting pretty good at this, this is the longest stretch of days in a row I've written in a long, long, LONG time. Okay, so I'm not telling about anything CURRENT, but that's not the important thing, now is it? The important thing is that I'm DOING IT. And I swear I'll stop congratulating myself on my consistency.

So back to where I was, I woke up pretty early the next morning, way before Jen was up, got started on the big, hearty breakfast thing I was talking about, french toast, cinnamon rolls, and bacon, always works wonders, for me at least. I also went and started baking some pans of brownies, since Jen had eaten most of the cookies already, and, in a massive plot twist you'll never see coming, I once again, in a total crazy accident, 'miscounted the number of doors' when determining how many pans to make.

I was just popping the last pan in the oven when the groans started coming from the bedroom. Then the words, "Oh my HEAD!" made their way in.

And _that_ was my signal that she was up, my signal to keep her awake, my signal that I needed to get her up, sober, ready to meet the neighbors without making a complete fool of herself, oh, and unpack some more.

I went in, first round of Operation Sober-Jen-up, offer her a big glass of water, "A little hungover, are we?" 

Dumb question. Obviously. But don't judge, that was totally rhetorical . 

A fact which passed right over Jen's head, "It'll pass soon enough. Until then, just kill me." 

I was tempted to leave her be, I know how serious a hangover can be, but I knew that I couldn't. Remember? All those things we had to get done? "Not an option, we got to get you up, cleaned up, and ready to introduce yourself to the neighbors. I unpacked your shower stuff for you, so just go in, it's all set up."

She rolled over on her side moaning, but I just flipped her back on her back. She had to thank me in the end, once she pulled herself together. We repeated these steps a few more times, before she got sick of it.

You might have guessed, she wasn't in the mood to thank me right then. More in the mood to strangle me to death with my grandfather's pocket watch, which she gave up on pretty immediately. She struggled to sit up, then complained, "Man, I'm so bloated it's not even FUNNY. What happened last night?"

See what did I tell you? No way she was going to remember that night. I thought for a second on what to say. This was a case where understating the events of the night would reassure her, so I broke it down to the basics, "Well you drank a little, you ate a little, you hit on me, then you passed out." 

Truthful Translation: You got major-league screwed up, ate enough to feed the entire Prussian army, tried to have sex with me, and passed out. 

She awkwardly jerked when I mentioned the "hit-on-me" bit. It was kind of pathetic, but at the same time, it was probably the most upset motion she could manage in the state she was. Her voice though, managed to convey how freaked out slash worried she was feeling, "I did WHAT!? What did I say to you?"

That was the most coherent thing she'd said so far, and in, that a faint glimmer of hope for her recovery, "Nothing too bad, don't worry." 

Ignorance is bliss, I didn't feel like she really NEEDED to know exactly what happened.

She struggled even harder, managing eventually, get up and walk over to the bathroom, muttering something about how a shower usually helps. My happiness at her recovery was a bit over powered by my happiness that over the fact that she was unintentionally giving me a very clear view of exactly how much she WASN'T exaggerating about being bloated. It was like someone had come in in the middle of the night and pumped her up with a fire hose. She was still shoe-horned into those spandex workout clothes, so it made for a beautiful sight. All I could think about was whether she brought any slightly baggy clothes with her, because her normal well-fitted clothes weren't going to be fitting today. 

OR SO I THOUGHT. I'll admit, maybe "fit" is the wrong word, but she WAS WEARING the same size clothes she'd worn the day before. . . barely. In a technical sense, they weren't REALLY fitting her in any way shape or form. Those things had looked slightly uncomfortably tight the day before, and one area I was entirely right about her was that she could NOT get the pants to button. She'd worked around it though, old-school style. 

Classic move, the old use-a- safety-pin to get them fastened. Always handy in a pinch. One of the best things about this situation was that, NORMALLY when girls have to do this, and when I'm dating a woman, that happens rather a lot, you can see the safety pin just fine, but IN THIS CASE, I only saw the safety pin because she leaned back in her chair to pop her back. Why? Because in this case, the whole front of her pants was almost completely hidden by her beginner's belly, which was left hanging out over her waistband. Didn't expect to see that kind of gut on her, I've never seen so much of the weight she's gained going to her belly, it normally just distributes itself directly to her thighs or tits. But there's no denying it any more, that starter belly she was carrying around, wasn't too far off from losing classification as that. 

Actually, I say it's like that very rarely the belly hides the safety pin, I should clarify that this is the THIRD time I've seen this happen on a girl. The two times previous both happened, post-high school, the first during the summer before I started and during Sophomore year. 

These are some good stories, so I'm going to take a pause here, tell you about one of them.

The first girl was the first college-age girl I met who was also planning on going to the same place as me, so first up, we bonded on that, she was this relatively tall blonde with these good sized cans for someone as skinny as her, went by the name of, uh, can't quite remember. . . SADIE! That was it! I used to mess with her, sing that Beatles' song, Sexy Sadie, pretty much all the time, especially when she complained about how she looked. Hey, stop judging me, we all do stupid little things like that from time to time, especially when we're straight out of high school right? Right? Please tell me I'm right on this. . . Actually, no, not important, it doesn't matter what you think, it got me laid.

We dated until about midway through that first semester, I think, and I found out that, even though the majority of the weight she gained went to her tits, it wasn't THAT big a majority, and as she gained more, less and less went to her tits. If I had to give a rough estimate, I'd say that she gained twenty-five pounds by the end, and her tits were up to an E, but her belly wasn't far behind, and she couldn't seem to wrap her mind around how fat it was. She kept buying pants with way too small a waistband, which is what caused the problem with the safety pin, the band was still cutting way too far into her fat rolls, which just engulfed the whole thing. We broke up pretty smoothly, not because of her getting fat, you know by now that's a GOOD thing in my opinion, we just. . . both kind of knew it was over before we actually ended it.

The other one was this was the one I dated Sophomore year. Her name was Lacy, and she was in my graphic design class, and that's how we met. She was, at the start a BIT chunky, bottom heavy, but I saw potential in her, so I uh. . . Well, telling you my pick-up line. . . This is either going to make me sound either really really creepy, or really, really smooth, but I just walked up to her in the food court one day and said something like, "Hi, Lacy, right? We're in the same design class? Yeah, that's me, anyways, I was thinking. I've been working ahead in the book, and you know what we're doing next section? We're doing nude portraits, and I was wondering, would you help me out?" 
______________________

To this day, I have no clue how that line worked. 
______________________

It did, though, and she never happened to bring up the awkward fact that NEVER once during that entire graphic design class, did we EVER so much as mention nude art. And yet, I used that excuse successfully, more than once to get her naked, and somehow, I'll never figure out exactly how this happened, I DID manage to finish one or two, those other sessions, well. . . Yeah. . . You can guess.

ANYWAYS. I was with Lacy almost all Sophomore year, and in that space, I turned her from 'a bit chunky' into a bottom heavy goddess, we dated for about nine or ten months, she gained fifty plus pounds during that time, and she was bottom heavy, definitely, but her stomach was nothing to ignore, the little guy went from a slight pooch to a big, sloppy gut flopping out over the front of her pants, so no one could see when they weren't buttoned. I think Lacy definitely picked up on my hints that I liked her no matter how big she got and that she didn't have to watch her diet so closely. I don't think she really like knew I straight up like fat chicks, but she didn't stick closely to any diets while we dated. Not closely, anyway, she went on like three of them, none of which lasted a week. 

Oh, yeah, that's a good memory. . . 
_____________________________

OKAY NOW, OFF of that. This entry is going to be about Jen. Not my ex-girlfriend Sadie's transition from big tits to big tummy. Not about the way that by the end of the relationship, she was sweating just thinking about a flight of stairs. This isn't about how Lacy asked me that one time if, instead of doing that classic pose with the grapes, she could be eating a piece of pizza. This isn't about her big, sexy stomach that hung out four inches over her waistband, it's about Jen. And I just realized I made that last bit about my exes anyway. 

No. This is not about Lacy, it's not about Sadie, it's about JEN. So this was my first time seeing how JEN'S stomach isn't so much a 'beginner's belly' these days; it isn't so much starting out, as it is fully established and expanding its territory. Her hourglass is losing its thin center. What would that make it, a pipe? ANYWAY, aside from THAT not-at-all sexy image, we're back to the button issue. The shorts she'd managed by some act of God to wedge her thunder thighs into DID do their job, on a technicality; they held together, but you could see a mile away, how strained those seams were, and she was walking funny from how much they were pinching her. 

I think that shirt she had on was one of those "cute shirts" she was talking about before; you remember, the one's that gave her a muffin top? Well, I don't know exactly what quantifies a "cute shirt," but the muffin top was a definite thing. The shirt was form-fitting, so I could see that the cute little food baby that she'd been nursing so carefully under my guidance all day long, was at long last, gone (Aaaaw. . .) but at the same time, it left a pretty clear mark on her semi-sorta-kinda-not-really-but-almost-skinny figure. 

I had to ask, "Hey, feel better?"

"A bit. . . not really, but kinda. . ." She definitely didn't LOOK much better. But she could just as equally be uncomfortable because of the clothes as she was because of the hangover, those pants were pretty nearly cutting off her circulation. 

Instead, I deployed my go-to maneuver at dealing with hangovers, "Here, sit down, have some food, a good breakfast usually helps." 

It really does, I don't just use it on girls.

She grimaced and said "UGH, I don't feel like I could eat ANYTHING right now, what did I EAT last night, a walrus?"

Again, underestimation always helps in this situation. Puts the mind at ease. "Just some ice cream, and just try a little, it'll help, I promise. Here, have a cinnamon roll." 

Even if she can feel it, if she can't remember the six dozen chocolate cookies and the jumbo sized banana split, I see no reason to tell her about it, get her all diet-crazed. Besides, if she KNEW, there's no way she'd eat this breakfast, and yes, I cooked it for two, but I only PLANNED on ONE eating it! 

The less she knows, the worse for her diet, and, the less she knows, the fatter she'll get, and the fatter she gets, the hotter she'll be. Therefore, the less she knows about how much she ate, the hotter she'll be. This applies to times when she's NOT drunk, too, I read a study once, if someone doesn't notice the container emptying, they'll eat up to twice as much food. I took that as advice to always keep a woman's plate full of food, always keep HUGE containers of junk food around, since there's always like a hundred Twinkies around, and they ate just one, eh, no one's gonna miss another. And another. Maybe one more. So far, it's been working out great, they don't even realize how much they've eaten until they've eaten way too much.

Anyway, this breakfast operated on the same principle. She looked at the humungous cinnamon roll on the plate I was handing her in shock, "these things are like, massive! How am I supposed to eat all this!?" 

Expected that, but this should be easy, classic case of convincing, and I've been doing it with Jen so long it's not even a challenge anymore. Just routine.

The first thing to do, make a joke out of it, she's thinking about something else, it takes her mind of of how full she is. But how to do it? I decided to mess with her, take her question literally, "well, step one is you insert the pastry into your mouth like so" and I took a big bite out of one.

"Step two: You move your mouth like—" In retrospect, teasing a woman like this who was this hungover wasn't the nicest things I've ever done. 

She was a little too unfocused to get too annoyed, but she did cut me off there, "Ugh, stop, I know HOW IT WORKS. If it'll get you off my back, I can eat ONE, I guess." 

Well, that was part two of the plan, get her to 'just try ONE.' Well, if she's going to jump straight to that step without me having to work for it, that's totally fine with me! Getting Jen to 'try just one' is actually more of a big deal than it sounds like, because that, coming from Jen, it can be translated as: 'I will eat every single one and demand seconds.' 

"Good."

She took a bite, and her face brightened a bit at the taste, then turned to me, and told me "Just so you know, I feel like a hippo right now. You seriously should have stopped me at some point last night." 

I noticed how feeling like a hippo didn't actually stop her from taking another bite of the cinnamon, though, which undermined her point a bit.

I didn't respond to what she said at all, just kind of nodded, and immediately turn away, back to the brownies, pull out a pan. That was a dangerous topic of conversation, always something you need to avoid. I needed a bit of misdirection to get her to stop trying to get me to NOT let her overeat, so I pulled out all the pans, and then left the room to take a shower. In an inexplicable mystery that will possibly never be explained by science, I come back to see Jen halfway through her third cinnamon roll, and via a similarly inexplicable phenomenon, she was sporting a mini-sized version of the previous day's food baby. She looked like she feels better. 

She turns to me and confirms that thought, saying "You were right, this does help. You ARE a good cook, where did you learn?"

"Ah, just messing around in the kitchen, trial and error, that kind of thing." Also, when you enjoy getting girls to eat too much, you learn how to cook. I wonder what the correlation is between guys like me and really amazing, world class chefs. . . 

A few minutes later, she finishes the last of the six rolls I made, as expected, and was, same as I predicted, seemingly incapable and entirely unwilling to eat the rest of what I'd cooked. I managed getting her to eat it all though, but you can't really say I did anything special to get her to do it, there was no test of my skills in that. I mean, all it took to get her chewing was me putting the French toast and bacon on a plate directly in front of her.

Yeah, for the first few minutes, she raised the same kind of complaints for a little while, saying crap like "I've already had to undo the safety pin!" and other (true) complaints, like I haven't heard those a hundred times. 

I remember one time, Miranda was near her biggest ever, she was having problems finishing some of what I'd gotten on my last trip to the buffet for her (she was too stuffed to go herself) so I suggested she loosen her belt. Her response? 'But it's on the last loop already!' This was the same situation, only in Jen's case, there wasn't the option to just take the belt off completely, but they had the same response in that I knew I didn't have to say anything to get them to eat, they couldn't resist the smell for long, and after they took a few bites, and in Miranda's case, sacrificed the belt for the rest off eternity, there was no more resistance to the gorging.

I didn't give Jen a huge plate or anything, I wasn't looking to exactly repeat yesterday, mostly because of the introductions. Actually I was looking to get her to eat as much as possible WITHOUT looking like we'd been playing hide the sausage without the casing. I have absolutely no interest in getting labelled as the new girl's baby daddy. When it was all said and eaten, even though I intentionally limited how much she had, she still ended up feeling immobile for a good while. I guess those last two or three slices of French toast were overdoing it a little.

I really was tempted to get her to help "taste-test" that extra pan of brownies, but at the same time, I also really, really wanted to meet the neighbors and that was never going to happen if I kept giving her food because Jen. . . Well, being totally honest, Jen is a glutton, one of the biggest I've ever met, and when you have my taste in women, that means a lot. 

What Jen does is, she tries to refuse food, but she never really does, she'll say no, then get a sample from someone else, then another. And another. Until she's eaten more than she would if she'd just straight said yes in the first place. And then she'll feel good about how she refused to eat whatever it was she was offered. Right then was a perfect example; even though she was bloated as a balloon and had eaten a breakfast that would probably feed six people, I knew without a doubt that Jen would have tried a brownie. Then another. Until the whole pan was gone, because that's how she is, no self-control, no restraint at all. 

What I decided was going to be the deciding factor for us to go was for her to be able to get that safety pin fastened back up again, and I told her that, and she actually managed to fasten it on her first try after I told her that. Well, sort of, anyway, it wasn't REALLY fastened right, the pin was immediately bent, and we had to find her a whole new one. In the end, it took a full hour and a half before she was digested to where she didn't look knocked up anymore, but it finally happened. So we left to go around, meet people. Which was fun, I got to see what Heather meant when she told me everyone got fat out here. But more on that later, I have to go, I nearly forgot to go to the store, pick up some stuff and they're closing in not too long.

I'll be right back in just a minute, maybe thirty. However long I'm out; I'll have to get back to this immediately after I'm done.

(Continued in post 15 of this thread)


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## Cylon_bob (Aug 3, 2012)

123Superpro said:


> This is brilliant. I love your writing style, it's very imaginative and fluent. Looking forward to reading more.



Thanks! Gotta ask though, imaginative? What exactly do you mean by that? I mean, realize it's a compliment, but what does it actually MEAN?

Like, the story is imaginative, the way I word things is imaginative, the way I describe things is imaginative, my characters are imaginative? I can't think of any other possibilities, so which is it? If none, tell me what it is please, so I can try and work it into other things I do.


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## 123Superpro (Aug 3, 2012)

By imaginative I meant the style of a journal as opposed to a straightforward story, and your varied vocabulary. It makes it more unique and interesting to read.

I'll have to read the new chapter later. It should be good!


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## Bubblybee (Aug 5, 2012)

Wow, it's been a while since I read a piece that got me hooked like this. I just love the writing style too. Thanks for a great read.


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## Cylon_bob (Aug 8, 2012)

*July 11, 2012 (cont.)*
__________________________________

Back now, sorry about that; I had to pick up some groceries, since Nathan forgot about it.

ANYWAYS, on the subject the subject I'm SUPPOSED TO BE TALKING ABOUT, and NOT my irresponsible roommate, we're getting into the people living around Jen now. They were all pretty interesting folk, we had decent conversations with most every one of them, but I'm not going to even try and give you the kind of line-by-line treatment I've been doing in most other entries. It took us a couple of hours to meet everybody, and we all did a lot of talking, you CAN'T expect me to remember every single line. I'll be doing that when I get to talking about what happened in Heather's apartment, though, which will be tomorrow, I can say that for sure right this second

Besides, for this part of the story, the descriptions are for the most part WAY more interesting than the talking anyway.
___

So, the first door we knock on, this guy answers. Jen introduces herself, offers the brownies, the guy says his name is Jose, and I liked the guy pretty much immediately. His first response to us handing him brownies was him saying, really excited-like, "My girlfriend is gonna LOVE these, Jasmine! Come here, meet the new neighbors!" 

This was a sign right off the bat that THIS was the kind of guy who shared my taste in women. Not that I was totally sure straight off the bat, I don't know his life story, didn't know anything about him really but at the same time something clicked in my head telling me we had the same intentions with our women. . . I mean, that's exactly the kind of thing I do when I'm with a woman I'm trying to fatten, respond to a gift of food with the intention to give it to said woman. I might take maybe one or two pieces to keep her from catching onto the fact that she was overeating. Its little things like that I give credit for my success in getting women fat. This guy, though, didn't seem so subtle with it; he didn't even bring us in and make a scene of opening them and getting one, like I'd be doing in the same situation.

He didn't have the chance to do that, anyway, since she yelled back something like, "Give me a minute, my hair's a mess!" 

But then Jose calls back to her again, "They brought us brownies!" 

Musta been magic words. . . Within seconds, a very large Hispanic woman is right at the door, huffing and puffing from running. She must have been relatively close, because for the few seconds she was running, she sure as hell wasn't very fast, and the thuds she was making could be compared to a small meteor shower hitting the earth. On seeing her, my sneaking suspicion about Jose was proven 100% correct; this was a man with the exact same tastes in women.

Well, similar tastes. Looking at Jasmine, I could verify that he's similar in that he likes the larger variety, but this woman clearly carried her weight in her potbelly, which was hanging out underneath the edge of her T-shirt. Yeah, I'll admit, that is definitely a turn on, but like I've said before, I prefer hourglass/pear type women. I also knew straight off why he didn't bother going through the motions of opening the brownies. This was a woman who was totally comfortable with her fat rolls, totally unashamed of her size, I got from the vibes she was giving off while she was eating that she knew full well the kind of thing her man was into, and was happy to oblige.

I've considered letting some of my girlfriends know, just with the hope that they react like that, but so far, I've gotten the feeling from all of them that they'd kill me in my sleep. They've all been real upset with their size, even with me telling them it was okay, that it wasn't a big deal. They knew I didn't mind, but they never found out I more than just accepted it that I LIKED it. Me telling them it was my fault? That would be. . . Well it's like I said in the other day's entry; that would be sexual suicide. Besides, I know it's a personality flaw, but I really, really enjoy being the conniving, manipulative bastard that I am! What can I say; I get a kick out of tricking a woman into getting fat without her knowing it's me doing it. 

So, back to Jasmine. She ran as quickly as possible, about the speed of a quick walk, to the table and stuffed a brownie into her mouth pretty immediately, made a big scene of it, adding to the feeling she was putting on a show for Jose. I felt like I was intruding a bit, mostly because I was enjoying it so much myself. I could see how this woman got so big, and she was BIG, like 350+ kind of BIG, which I gotta say, is a good bit bigger than I normally like, but this woman was better looking than most women her size and shape, by far. Clearly, she takes good care of herself. . . 

It was at this point I shook myself to my senses. She's taken. Off the market. Not about to try and insert myself into that relationship either (not that I do that kind of thing anyway.) I have to respect a man so good at what he does, (he's got me beat, and it's not bragging to say I'm good at it) so I specifically forced myself not to think about it too much. There was no real reason for me to want to stay.

I kind of felt like, knowing why Jasmine was putting on the kind of show she was, we were intruding in on something that really ought to be private, something special, get what I'm saying? I was in a bit of a hurry to make my exit, but I don't think Jen got the same feeling of intrusion as me. In this case, it was me who called time to leave. We kept the goodbyes short, wrapped things up with them pretty quickly and move on to the next door.

This one was probably the second most interesting room, for me anyways. We knock, and a few seconds later, a short redhead answers. A very ATTRACTIVE redhead. Let me say here and make this totally clear for future reference: there are a few things that, for me automatically improve the way a woman looks, and I'm talking about ASIDE from an extra thirty pounds you already know I like. There are actually four things specifically, and I'm going to tell you, in no particular order, what those are right here. For one, I like my women to be short, second, I like it if they have naturally red hair. I like a woman who's walking around with a really nice, really large ass, and I like my woman to have really, really big appetites. I'll leave it to you to figure out the exact order these things come in. This girl, introduced herself as Maila, fit all these categories to a T. 

Obviously, like I said before, she was short, I'd guess a little under 5'1, and redheaded. She was cute, too, by any man's standards. She had these big eyes that seemed too big for her face, a big smile, that you could say the same about, rosy cheeks, and a small double chin, which mostly showed up when she looked down. I'm not sure on this, but the hair color LOOKED natural, and by that I mostly mean it wasn't so bright it was obviously a dye job anyway, but that's no guarantee. If it WAS fake, I have to give her props, at least she didn't go with the neon red I keep seeing around these days, that just looks freaky. 

But the hair and face, while both nice to look at, wasn't what got the most of my attention. She had one thing that was particularly memorable, and by now you know that I'm talking about her ASS. It was this really fine, really fat, but at the same time, perfectly formed, apple-shaped ass, with cheeks the size of two pumpkins. I've never understood that term, 'apple-shaped ass' until I saw this one. Those other women you hear that term referred too, they just have tiny little apples, I guess. Those apples need to grow a bit more, you see what I'm saying? Then there's that last bit you need to know about Maila, the question about her appetite, and I can actually answer that. I know, it's a bit of a strange thing to know that kind of thing this quickly after meeting someone, normally it takes a while knowing someone to that figure out, but not in this case. 

We came in while she was eating lunch, and what did she have on the kitchen counter, all to herself? Oh. . . Not much, just an extra-large supreme pizza from Dominoes. With breadsticks, of course. There were no people around for her to share with, aside from us, and we obstained. She hadn't opened the box when we first arrived, but she did while we were visiting, and during those fifteen minutes, she ate all the breadsticks, and almost half the pizza. Watching that happen was one of the highlights of the day, I'll tell you more about it in a few minutes, but before that, I gotta tell you more about her ass.

I can't say enough good things to really match up to the quality of those glorious globes, so I'm going to break it down to the basics. Maila has the bubble butt that Heather sadly lacks, and even though she's a lot smaller than Heather, she's still not what you'd call "skinny," by any stretch of the imagination. I'm estimating she weighs about, uhhh, probably 160, 170, maybe, somewhere in that range, but even STILL, working with forty, fifty pounds less, she's STILL got a better ass than Heather. 

How is that possible? Well first off, there's less weight going elsewhere, so her shape is better overall, for sure, and isn't that the standard for judgment? There was a whole lot more of a contrast on her between upper and lower body. Above the waist, Heather's relatively thin, but the emphasis is on RELATIVELY. There's a definitely significant potbelly hanging down for her hip to contend with. On Maila, though, above the waist, she looks a little soft maybe, not quite chubby. Perhaps a slight muffin top if you squint? Nice, respectable tits, though, I'm guessing full B, possibly a C-cup? But when you move about six inches below her waistband and get a good view of her from the back? 

That, my friend, is where things get very, very interesting if you know what I mean! I had premiere seating to one of the greatest backsides I've ever seen. I have to tell you a bit about what she had on for you to picture this, so here goes, and I'm sorry, but it's like I said before, I probably can't do it justice. I say I had premiere seating; that's because I got some really good views of her big, beautiful buns walking all around the room. She answered the door wearing these super-small short-shorts that didn't quite cover her cheeks. Okay, they probably weren't REALLY so small for most girls, they were still probably plus-size, but on her? Like two sizes small. Surprisingly little cellulite, I've never seen an ass THAT big have so few dimples, but on Maila looked like she'd avoided it entirely! She waddled ever-so-slightly, since her thighs rubbed together right at the tops

Time for a confession now, I may or may not have such an in-depth knowledge on the shape and quality of Maila's ass because I 'accidentally' knocked over a stack of magazines, with the intention of getting a good view of her bending over. It was a bit of a risk, since I wasn't that close to them to begin with, so I had to move, inconspicuously over to them. I know what you're thinking, that's kind of a classic, cliché move, and, to be honest, it's almost a dead giveaway, so overdone; I know that, and I hesitated to do it, but somehow it worked; she didn't catch it. 

And I have to say, that the view I got? It was absolutely WORTH the risk. Cannot emphasize that enough. Her ass, those smooth thighs, her wide hips stretching those shorts to extremes, MAN that was beautiful. I'm not exaggerating, either, those shorts were seriously as tight as they could POSSIBLY be, while she was bending down, I was more than a little worried about how those teeny little shorts would be able to handle the pressure, especially when I saw the seams, not to even MENTION how much I hoped it would happen. I was a bit disappointed when they hung together, though, aside from hearing quite a few stitches pop, they seem to have survived more or less intact. 

I was tempted to do the whole thing again, because I got the feeling there was no way they could possibly survive a repeat performance of that kind of pressure, but at the same time, I didn't really want to push my luck. Better to stop when you're ahead, you know? I mean one classic (Read: Predictable) excuse for making a woman bend down like that in front of you, that's okay. Pushing it, yes, but still something you could play off as being an actual accident. Repeating that exact same trick just a few minutes later? Can't convince anyone that I'm just that clumsy anymore; it's a dead freaking giveaway, now isn't it? 

I'm fairly sure those shorts won't be lasting her too long, even without my tricks. The way she was digging into that pizza gave me the impression she's not worried about her size, which I'm always glad to see in a woman. She was completely and totally on just eating it, not a thought in her head about what it was going to do about making her gigantic ass, which must have been getting bigger and bigger and bigger lately, even more massive, her hips even wider. . . Okay, I have no proof of what she was thinking, it's purely conjecture, but damn, it's fun to imagine. . . There was just something about her that gave me a feeling that she just loved eating for eating's sake and that the effects weren't important to her. 

I can't say the same, the effect that eating was having on her were right there, very large, in plain sight, squeezing themselves into way too-tight short shorts, looking like overstuffed sausages. About to bust free from their casings. . . There's definitely something to say about the way she was stuffing pizza and breadsticks and brownies down her throat without a second's hesitation that made me think that she's not going to stay much longer in the weight range she's now. Eating like that on a regular basis, there's no chance of her NOT blowing up faster than a water balloon hooked up to a fire hose. 

I have this feeling, and you should know that I'm usually right about this kind of thing, call it a sixth sense, that Maila is going to get amazingly fat, amazingly fast, and since I have two excuses to come down here now, I'm going to be a first hand eyewitness to her expansion. Yep. Keeping my eyes on that ass every chance I get. I'd be doing that anyway, but now I'll be checking to see the changes in just how big it's getting.

There's other little things I look for, like intelligence, geekiness, some kind of interest in the world around them, that kind of thing. I know that's what all guys say, but like I said before, I want a relationship, not a fuck buddy; I want the girl I'm going with to be kinda similar to me. Maila fit that profile, too. We may have gone off into our own little discussion, blocking Jen out a bit, TOTALLY UNINTENTIONALLY. I know I say that sarcastically a lot, but I MEAN it this time. Maila and I just went off into our own little thing. Jen got tired of it eventually, and decided it was time to go. 

I really didn't WANT to leave that apartment when we did. Actually I didn't want to leave at all, at least not until we finished what we were talking about, and to a lesser degree, until that pizza was gone and I'd offered more food, but Jen pointed out we had three more rooms to go by, and we were planning on hanging with Heather for a long time, so I sadly departed before she'd finished. But the next room. . . I'm going to put it lightly and say that the next room was also extremely fun to be in. What was it about this place I began to wonder where every woman on this hall was freaking porn-star-quality!

This time it was a tall brunette woman who answered the door, and I tell you, I have never seen a body like that in my life. Okay, so to try and give you an idea, you know how I keep describing Jen as an hourglass shape? Well compared to this woman, she's built more like a shapeless blob. This woman was, I kid you not, built like an overweight Jessica Rabbit. I'd estimate that (and this is just an educated guess) her measurements were something like 40F-31-46, no joke. Her name's Penny, and holy crap, that was just. . . her body. . . was just. . . just wow. . . It was like the body of a freaking Greek goddess. (Gotta explain here, in old times, chubby was ideal for women, skinny meant unhealthy. I was seriously born in the wrong century (Wouldn't trade, though, I'm a little too attached to NOT dying from the black plague)) She doesn't measure up as well as any of the other girls on the other levels of my scale, but for sheer shape, she wins the prize. 

I got no concrete proof of it, like I said, it takes getting to know someone before you get an idea about how much they eat, but I got the feeling that she's a big eater, because there were a bunch of empty pizza boxes in her kitchen. Not that that's any kind of proof, I mean there was no real guarantee that she was the one who emptied them. But the first thing she did when we handed her the brownies was, fast as possible, grab one out and stuff it in her mouth, so she's clearly at least a little bit of a glutton, but probably not on Jen's level.

Oh what am I saying, there's like no chance she's anywhere NEAR Jen's caliber piggy. Jen is like the top level of glutton imaginable, if this woman was anywhere near that, I'd be impressed. Ha. If anyone can eat the way Jen does when she loses control, I'm impressed with them. In all the years I've been watching for this kind of thing, I've only met a few women who can beat the kind of stuffing I've seen Jen do on a regular basis, the night before being a perfect example.

I got the feeling Jen was more than a little intimidated by Penny, which is predictable. Who can blame her? This woman's body was like some teenager's wet dream in the flesh! Plus, I MAY or may NOT have been all but drooling while staring at her. I feel like that may have been noticed. So, Jen was in a bit of a rush to just get out of there, as quick as possible, and I like I said, I can understand that. I understood, but for obvious reasons, I wasn't happy about it. I dragged it out a bit. Didn't try anything like the 'knocking over newspapers' trick in this room, I was trying to keep Jen from picking up on it, and she was there before, she'd put it together.

Two more doors, and one was Heather's. We decided to do her room last, since we already knew her and all, we figured we'd hang around chatting and stuff, who knew when we'd get out of there? Best to do her last so we don't wake the last person up at midnight. So we went and met Ellen, which was, yet another amazing looking woman. At this point, all I could think was 'WHY ARE THERE SO MANY WOMEN HERE AND WHY ARE THEY ALL SO BLAZING HOT!?' 

Now I've had time to think about it, I have to say that, for that first question, I have no answer, but the best answer to the second question is in a little shop right down the road serving ice cold, refreshing bowls loaded down with enough calories to last a woman a week. Maybe they moved here because it was so close? That would explain their overall amazing size and amazing shape. . . 

I realize that I'm overusing the word amazing, but it's the most accurate description I have for these women. Which is, I fully realize, a sign I need to work on improving my vocabulary, but that's off topic. Back to Ellen. In her case, what made HER amazing was. . . Well, remember a few days ago, in that entry where I talked to Heather, I mentioned my ex-girlfriend, Miranda? 

Good, now, do you remember how I told you that when we broke up she was a 44E? Well, side-by-side, Ellen would make Miranda look flat-chested; that should give you an idea of the size I'm talking about. I'm guessing. . . Maybe a H-cup? HH? Can't be sure, but that should give you a picture of what I'm talking about here. To add to the sexy, she'd clearly recently gained a bunch of the weight, I could tell by how she moved around, which wasn't much at all, but it was enough to give me an idea. Plus there was how her clothes fit. She was wearing clothes that nearly fit well, nothing too insanely small, but this stuff was definitely designed with a smaller woman in mind. 

This was someone who hadn't quite made the mental jump between 'I'm skinny' and 'I weigh more than 200 pounds,' which is a nice way to describe her size and I'm kinda thinking it's probably a lower number than the ACTUAL number. This was classic denial. She was crammed into all skin-tight stuff and it wasn't particularly what you would call 'modest clothing.' She wasn't used to being the size she was, you could tell because her knockers knocked stuff over just about every time she turned. Facially, she wasn't quite up to the specs the rest of the complex had been setting, she was a bit plain, but let's face it, no one was ever looking at her face. Not with them knockers swinging about. 

Ellen is one of those rare cases where I can guarantee you she has an absolutely HUGE appetite; that woman never once stopped eating throughout the whole fifteen minutes we were in there, and I'm not talking like little, healthy snacks, like peanuts of anything like that, I'm talking like family-sized bag of M&M's type snack. Finish one bag, pick up a box of Twinkies, finish those off, some Pringles. . . You get the idea.

Ellen was at the door when we came in, but immediately after we were inside, she walked over, gestured us towards the chairs in the common area, just collapsed onto the couch, and just started gorging herself on whatever she had in reach. She ALWAYS had food in reach. I may or may not have moved a packet (or three) of Ding-Dongs over a bit closer during a moment when she wasn't looking. 

Whenever she leaned back to grab her next treat, her shirt raised up, and in a twist you'll never see coming, her belly was folding over on the sides into several thick rolls of fat, and I wasn't sure at first, still not quite 100%, but I'm pretty certain that her flab was totally hiding a belly button ring in one of her bigger fat rolls. Pretty sure there's no way I would have noticed it at all if I hadn't been checking her out continuously the whole time we were in there. 

In the probably thirty seconds when I WASN'T admiring Ellen's body, I noticed that off in the corner, there was a stationary bike, covered in dust and magazines, which is the only way those things should ever be used if you ask me. I half wanted to ask about it, but I figured if Jen noticed it, she'd want to try it out, so I kept quiet. I had to wonder, was that thing used? Like, at all? Ever? If so, it definitely wasn't much, the thing still had some tags on it. I actually built a sort of story around that stationary bicycle. My best guess, some concerned family member bought it for her, like for a Christmas present or something, came over and set the whole gorram thing up, in the hopes that she'd take the hint and get her fat ass up on it every once in a while, maybe, somehow lose some weight. 

I also feel like that concerned family member was a BIT of a dumbass, I mean, I'd known this chick for all of ten minutes, and I could tell that expecting that woman I was looking at to do any kind of exercise was about as likely as convincing a cow to enjoy a nice slice of veal. Woman was so lazy she wouldn't even get up and go to the kitchen to get herself some snacks. And I knew she'd been like that for a long time, I mean, a body like that wasn't built in a day, you know. Even with a guy like me around to help, it would take AT LEAST a year and a half of complete dedication to self-indulgence for a girl her height to get to that state! MAYBE thirteen, fourteen months, but that's some world class gluttony right there. This made me think for a few minutes because like I said before, a good portion of that must be recent for her to be moving around as awkwardly as way she was. 

My thoughts, and remember that there is no concrete evidence to back up any part of what I'm about to say, goes something like this. Ellen's been blimping out for a long time now, maybe two years? So then, the concerned relative I mentioned before gave that to her bike this past Christmas, suggesting Ellen try is out. Ellen, not used to being told she was fat, got very upset and started comforting herself with food, causing the results I was seeing. It kind of fit, right? Of course, you'd think now, so long after Christmas, she'd stop eating like she is, but what the hell, I'm not complaining!

She talked a LOT while we were there, but not about her weight, so I can't verify any of this. Well she didn't say anything about her weight in detail, I should say. She DID make a few comments on how it all went to her tits and how AMAZING that made it feel when men. . . Yeah, I'm not going any further than that, suffice to say, she didn't hold out on the graphic details much. At all, more like. She was very, very, VERY open about her sex life, that kind of thing. Some might say, TOO open about it. No shame at all.

She did make an indirect comment about her weight, something along the lines of 'you see all these skinny girls on diets, it's just ridiculous, you don't get girls like THESE without a few extra pounds!' so I can say with pretty good certainty that she's not too interested in losing weight. Also, that kind of hinted to me that maybe this wasn't 'denial?' Just sort of an 'I'm fat and I'm loving it?' I don't know. I was loving it, that much I can say for sure.

I willing to bet she doesn't get called out on being fat too often, not with knockers like those. That's a common thing when girls are that top heavy. Their chest is a tad bit too distracting for the majority of men to see what's going on down about a foot. It's hard to miss the gut, it's just equally easy to ignore. Also, big-tittied women get fat eventually, every single one of them. If they're natural, that is. 

Yet hardly any guy ever points it out (except online) because I mean, honestly, give a man a choice between a skinny bird with no boobs and a woman with a G cup, it's not going to matter that the bigger girl's lugging around an extra twenty pounds, he's GOING to choose the chunky one. Boobs are just more eyecatching than the belly below them, so no one hardly calls a woman with tits that ridiculously huge fat. Again, the internet is the exception, because there's always a skinnier version somewhere online. 

Ellen was, though. Fat, I mean. I said above, I was estimating 200 MINIMUM, and the way she was eating, she was going to be busting out of her bras in a very short amount of time. She was looking a bit close on the one she was wearing; she was popping out the tops of the cups a tiny bit, in any case. She seemed just as interested in hiding that fact as she was in hiding the sweaty details of her sex life, which is to say NOT AT ALL.

I think we spent about twenty, maybe twenty-five minutes in there, the two girls talking, me sitting awkwardly off to the side, too busy trying to be inconspicuous while at the same time staring too intently at Ellen's fantastic floppers to listen to much of what they were talking about. I caught enough of it to semi-sort-of-nearly-but-not follow the conversation and did manage to successfully respond whenever they me asked anything. It was fun for both of us in the end, for very different reasons. This was the first person Jen seemed to connect with right away, so we stayed there longer than in most of the other rooms. 

I gotta admit, I was a little surprised, Jen always was a little thrown off when people went into the kind of details that Ellen had no problem with sharing. It always made her uncomfortable, but she seemed weirdly okay with it, maybe a little surprised at first, but she was totally adjusted to it by the end. She even, much to my delight, accepted the gift of a few Oreos and a glass of milk, but it was when Ellen started offering to share some cheesecake she'd been keeping in the fridge for a special occasion, that she seemed to break out of a trance and realize where she was, what she was doing. 

Her first reaction was to look around nervously, realize how she was already eating too much for the last few days, not counting all the calories she'd had that she couldn't remember. Her hand floated down to her belly, giving it a small squeeze to test it, feeling just how soft and squishy the last few nights had made it. She got this determined look in her eye then refused the offer, which has to be the first time in her life when she said no to cheesecake. 

Then she told Ellen how we had to get moving, explained how we knew Heather from back in the day, and were planning to hang out for a good long while, talking and catching up with each other, swapping some stories, that kind of thing. Ellen just sat there, took another bite of her Twinkie, nodded, sending a beautiful bounce all down her bosom, and we made our exit.

Next, we met with Heather, and THAT was. . . Well, it was more than interesting. I don't have time right this minute to write it all down right, and it is without a doubt the kind of story you have to get in one shot, so I'm going to wait until tomorrow to go through it. Just you wait, it's pretty crazy. Surprises in store.


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## Cylon_bob (Aug 13, 2012)

*-July 12, 2012*
____________
I got time now, so I'm just jumping in straight away. So we walk over and knock on Heather's door, she answers right away, Jen gets straight to the point, "We brought brownies!"

Heather does a little happy dance, lots of wriggling and hopping about, and says in a ridiculously heavy Southern accent, "Oh, glory, glory, hallelujah, thank HEAVENS you stopped by, I been getting SO skinny as of late! My saviors!" 

This was the first time since Jen's arrival that I was able to see Heather by full light of day, and from that I can stand by the description I've already given you. She had on this grey shirt and black pants, form-fitting, the both of them. Her belly drooped down in front, over her waistband, and every roll along her sides was in plain view. 

Standing up, her thighs were really big, but it might have been the way the pants clung to them that exaggerated it a bit. . . Then she sat down on the couch aaaand THAT possibility was tossed out the window. She was taking up something like one third of the entire freaking couch! Yeah, that's how much her thighs spread out when the rest of her blubbery body weighed down on them. Yep, it wasn't even a thing anyone could deny, Heather had really let herself go.

I glance over towards Jen and I see her reaction and I realize, Jen hadn't seen Heather since graduation, which was, unless I'm mistaken, about fifty plus pounds ago. This new Heather was. . . Not what she'd been expecting, to say the least. Heather saw it, too, but kept right on going, "JEN! You are looking GREAT." 

I gotta agree with her there. 

"you've probably lost every pound I've gained!" 

_Not quite that much, thank goodness,_ I thought

. "I heard you were trying still, didn't hear you were doing so good on it!"

"Umm. . . yeah, I've done pretty good lately. What about you?"

"What're you so nervous for? Get in here, grab a Coke and sit yourself down! We gotta catch up!"

Jen started doing that thing, you know the one, where she twirls her hair around because she's nervous. Oh wait, right, you DON'T know that thing. . . Well she does, it's kind of her nervous twitch, and that's what she was doing, right as she started, "Well it's just. . . It's just been too long, and you don't really. . . Well you don't look like you used to, and. . . well. . ."

Heather cut her off, "let me stop you right there, sister, I'm just gonna put it plain, I got fat. We both changed, you got skinny, I got fat, pretty simple, now we can just talk plain about it, stop dancing around it, all right? All right, good. I'm fat, and I'm happy; it really isn't that big a deal." 

Jen relaxed a bit. To be honest, I was a bit surprised by how she reacted in the first place; she was still a bit uneasy, I could tell that about her, but she was a little less freaked out. Then Heather continued on, "besides, the fat is nothing compared to some OTHER recent developments that have been happening 'round here!"

Huh? What was she talking about? I talk to Heather relatively often, she'd never mentioned any big changes that I remember; I had to ask, "What? What are you talking about?" 

She laughed a second, then told us, "Just wait, it's a surprise, you'll see what I'm talking about in about, um," 

She checked her watch, "twenty minutes."

Uhh. . . okay. . . Leaving us in suspense like that, that's typical Heather, like I told you, she loves a dramatic moment, always has. 

So then Heather gets up and walks into the kitchen, saying how it was lunchtime, we needed to get some food in us, which I had no argument with. I wasn't HUNGRY, per se, but I WAS feeling a wee bit peckish myself, but then she walks back in with these two big plates loaded down with fried chicken and mashed potatoes. More than I needed.

But, of course, didn't want to offend Heather, I mean, she's like family to me. Plus there's the discovery from the night before where she could blackmail me into almost anything. Jen was looking the way I was feeling, clearly overly-full, but trudging onwards through the onslaught of calories, stomach bulging out in what a very familiar fashion. 

This time, though, I knew my stomach looked more or less exactly the same, not as drastic, though, I mean, I'm a big guy, well, okay, a very-much medium sized guy, but the point is, I'm not skinny, and I hadn't eaten a huge breakfast like Jen had, OR those Oreos at Ellen's, but this was probably a half a chicken. Or it felt like it, anyway, looked like it was about that much in Jen stomach, too. 

We both laid back on the couch, neither of us felt much like moving, but Heather wasn't affected so much, probably because this wasn't that big a meal for her. She was moving around the room, picking stuff up off the floor, tidying, and while I greatly enjoyed the sight of this chick, scuttling around the room, fighting against her flabby stomach to get a dirty sock up off the ground, I had to wonder, why. I mean, this wasn't like Heather at ALL, she was a slob, and proud of it, same as she was proud of her humungous ass. Why would she be cleaning up? 

The twenty minutes she had said where up for the past two or three minutes, and I figured this had to be related to that somehow, but why would she be cleaning up? The doorbell rang, and Heather leapt into action. I say leapt, maybe bounced might be more an appropriate verb? I think she was a little past being capable of leaping.

She answered the door, smiling hugely, and Penny walked in, hugging Heather. At this point, Jen and I were just confused. But we didn't stay confused long

Heather put her arm around Penny's surprisingly small waist and walks her out in front of the couch, in front of me and Jen. She stands there a second, not saying anything, with a faint smile flittering, ever so slightly across her face. I knew right at that moment, that she had something prepared. We'd been friends long enough for me to recognize her 'wait 'til they see THIS' face. But, even knowing that, I was not at all ready for what happened next.

She looks at us for a few more seconds, then turns back to Penny, pulls closer to her, and locks lips.

It wasn't a long kiss, three, four seconds at the most, but it drove the point home. It wasn't a light, tight-lipped kiss, this was a full, romantic kiss, and even though it was short, it was intense, the two girls focused on nothing but each other and it the message was clear. Heather isn't driving stick these days.

Woah. Yeah, this would make absolute and convincing proof that she wasn't exaggerating before, the forty or so newfound pounds really WAS the least of the changes she'd been going through. Lesbian. Wow, didn't see that one coming. I remember something she said the night before, "I wish more people had your kind of attitude." _PEOPLE_. Not men. It's weird thinking that Heather's gay. Not that I have a problem with it; homosexuality is a perfectly valid lifestyle, and in this case, sexy as hell, it's just. . . Not expected. 

But Heather knew I felt that way, we'd had discussions about the topic, so she already would know that I'd be totally fine with it; it wasn't my reaction that she was worried about. It was Jen's. I looked over to see how Jen was taking it, I already knew this would be tough on her, I mean, she'd grown up in a really religious family, she was way against it, and suddenly one of her best friends was no longer on the straight and narrow. To be honest, for a second I was a tiny bit angry at how she'd come out, just because I could barely imagine the effect it would have on Jen. 

Speaking of Jen's reaction, I was really surprised how well she took it, my first thought, the one that had me temporarily angry at Heather, was that she'd probably go into catatonic shock and wake out of it screaming at Heather, but no, that wasn't her reaction at all. I'm not saying she looked super excited her friend was gay, but she wasn't horrified, at least not that you could tell. She was surprised mostly, maybe there was a little disappointment in her face, but not as much as I'd expect. It was mostly shock and surprise on her face, I think. Hard to say, she was kind of completely speechless for a few minutes there.

Now I don't want you to get the wrong idea about this, Jen's not homophobic at ALL, but she's not exactly supportive of it. I had the discussion one time, I think her exact words on the subject were, "It's not my business whether they sin or not, they can go to hell if they want to" which I think is a perfectly reasonable way to look at it. Sorta kinda. At least she's not forcing her beliefs on other people, you know? Couldn't focus on Jen too long, though, not with the slightly distracting performance in front of me featuring two smashingly sexy lesbians right in front of me. My mind started racing, but I'm not going into details on that.

Heather spoke first, ending the silence, "Guys, this is Penny. We've been together for about the past two or three months, and I wanted y'all to meet her." 

We knew who she was, obviously, but no one wanted to break in with that. It almost felt like the whole bunch of us were in some kind of trance and we couldn't break out of it. We DIDN'T want to break out of it, really, because then we'd have to find ways to respond, and even though we all knew how WE felt about it, there were other people's feelings wrapped up in the whole thing. People we cared about.

So we sat there silent a few more seconds, Jen was clearly still trying to process this, but then Heather broke the spell. I think maybe she took our silence as disbelief/not understanding, because she continued on, explaining something that really needed no explanation, "Jen. I'm gay. I know that must have been a huge shock, but I thought this would be a good way to get that across loud and clear." 

She paused for a few seconds, clearly rethinking how she'd done this, while Jen fidgeted, clearly uncomfortable with this news, then asked, concerned, "Jen? You okay?"

Jen fidgeted a bit longer, then stammered, "Well. . . Well I guess. . . I guess it's up to you, if this is. . . If this is what you want, who am I to. . . I mean. . ." 

She paused, clearly gathering her thoughts for a minute, then continued, in a strained sort of voice, "If this is what you want, I. . . well. . . who am I to judge?" 

That was a proud moment for me. This is something me and Jen have talked about, just as an abstract concept, and she never gave me the idea that she'd be so accepting of it. I can't take credit for this or anything, I'm not fooling myself into thinking anything like THAT, but it just. . . well it showed just how much Jen has grown, you know? How she's moved past her close-mindedness. 

Now don't misunderstand me, I'm not dissing her religion or anything, I just firmly believe God wants us to not be dicks to one another, no exceptions to that, no matter the circumstances of someone's lifestyle. What this was, was proof that Jen's mind, like her body, had been expanding recently, and that's always a good thing. 

Again, a silence spread through the room, and everyone just looked around at each other, deep in thought, but not sharing what was on their mind. Jen was still off in her own world, processing the whole thing. This time it was Penny who broke the silence, acting like we hadn't had any interaction previous to this, which was probably for the best, I mean, this was a totally different light we were seeing her in now, I mean, before this, when we were talking, she was just another neighbor. NOW she was Heather's girlfriend. That changes things. "It's good to finally meet you; Heather's said so much about you both."

It was a simple little line, the kind of thing that you hear a lot when meeting new people. It was by no means the kind of big, eloquent thing you'd expect to settle everyone's nerves, but it was what we all needed, a return to the familiar, and with it, the awkward quiet was dismissed. Well, not instantly dismissed, and not completely, there were more than a few embarrassed pauses in the conversation, but the complete silence, as it had been, was not to be seen again while we sat in there, discussing all kinds of things, my ears perking up as Penny's story was told.

She'd been living in the area for a few years now, but not in Cortoe until just over three months. She'd been in the other apartment I mentioned earlier, the one down the road, near the gym, the one where all the fit people lived, living with her previous girlfriend. At the time she'd been there, she'd fit the profile I'd noticed, skinny, fitness-focused, but that all changed when she came here. 

The break-up was ugly, and without anyone to share rent with, she couldn't afford the rent at that place. She worked nearby, so she didn't want to move far away, so Cortoe was the obvious choice. She needed comfort, and she met Heather when Heather went to welcome her to the building with a cake and a card. Heather saw how tore up Penny was and stayed a while to help comfort her, and you can guess how she did that. 

The 'comfort sessions' happened again and again, and now, Penny looked nothing like she had when she first came. The two girls became friends, then, after a while, they became something more than friends. Heather didn't want to tell us in any way other than directly to our faces, so she waited until a time like this to come out to us. 

The whole time the story was being told, in between asking questions, I just ogled at these two, beautiful girls, soft and swollen, rubbing up against each other. To give you a better image, Penny was dressed. . . well. . . she was dressed to present her best bits, and from what I've told you about her, you can guess what that means. She had on a low-cut powder blue V-neck, with these khaki shorts that were, you guessed it, freaking skin-tight. She was nearly sitting on Heather's enormous lap, thinking about. . . Well, you know what I was thinking about. 

These two girls, separate from each other, were both extremely attractive on their own, but this? Their bodies were so different, but so similar, their soft flabby bodies rubbed together, squishing, folding against itself and against the other girl's rolls, even just sitting there, no one could deny the physical wonder of the overly-voluptuous duo. 

Jen even, sat in some sort of a state of shock while the overblown couple cuddled, so clearly and completely caught up in one another. It was a little off-putting to conversation, to be sure, but we soldiered on anyway, trying to act like it was nothing, with Jen constantly averting her eyes and me trying to disguise the fact that I was drooling all down my front.

The conversation went on for an hour or two, then I looked at the clock and realized it was time. I needed to get home. I figured one night at Jen's was enough for one visit, I didn't want to overstay my welcome or anything, so I decided it was time to get home. I hugged the whole group goodbye, I surprised Penny when I included her in that hug, so I had to explain that now, she was included in the group, just by association with Heather. 

Okay, I'll admit, I also had my own, selfish reasons for giving her a hug, too. My thinking is, hey, she's lesbian, there's no chance of me getting with her, this is the closest I'll get with her, I should be allowed to feel around from time to time, am I right? Okay, no, not really, but I just couldn't resist an ass that nice, you know? You're NOT going to make me feel bad about this, so don't even TRY!

I couldn't just bail, though, this was a huge thing to Jen; she had loads to process. I mean, she goes away, loses contact with her best friend, and now. . . This HAD to be some kind of emotional overload going on in her head. She finally moves out of her house, goes off into the big city, and that friend from high school is fifty pounds fatter and lesbian? Put yourself in that situation! I tried to help a bit, I mean, I was probably the only predictable element she had in the whole equation. I stayed a little while longer, stretched out my goodbyes, reassured her I was there if she needed to talk to somebody or that kind of thing. 

Then. . . Yeah, I got in the car and went home. Dropped by Barnes and Nobles to pick up this journal so I could write this down, record it for posterity.

So. . . Yeah. . . That's the. . . kinda anticlimactic end to the story of me helping Jen move in!

Hey, what did you expect? Keep in mind, this is real life. You can't expect some crazy heroic shit to go down, all right? There's no Death Star here for me to blow up, no secrets hidden by the Allied government to uncover, and I'm (sadly) not running off with a madman with a blue box. All I'm doing with this is just stating the facts of what happened. Life never really moving on, does it? There is no ending in life, so how can you expect a proper, satisfying ending with this? I'm just proud I at least got this one full story down. Only took me what, five days? 

Nothing really memorable's been happening in that time. Nothing worth taking the time to write it all down anyway. That's what this journal's going to devolve into now, just a space for me to write out things I'm going to want to remember later, the BIG changes I see around me, that kind of thing. Big changes. . . Well you've read this so far, you can guess what I mean by THAT. Big changes in everything, including, no, ESPECIALLY, changes in the people around me. Specifically, the women around me, I guess I could just basically use this as an in-depth score card? Only it's not just what I've caused, so that's probably not the best description. . . 

Whatever, it's just going to be what it's going to be. It won't be anything like consistent, I'm just going to be writing entries here and there, have these breaks in between, just something like that. My day-to-day life is boring enough living once; I don't really care to RE-live it by writing it all down. The INTERESTING bits, though. . . 

So. . . yeah, see you soon!


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## Cylon_bob (Aug 24, 2012)

August 10, 2012
_______________________

Something happened today. Not a HUGE something (though two huge somethings ARE involved) but I like the way this is headed. If I'm right, this little entry is just another gateway to many, many more entries.
You'll notice a familiar theme.

I'll start off saying you'll never guess who I saw today, and I know that because I haven't mentioned her at any point so far. No reason to, she also wouldn't have shown up in any of my sparsely kept journals from anywhere since high school. Last I saw her was at graduation. 

She saw me first, yelled from halfway across the parking lot at the Cheesecake Factory. What was I doing there alone? I know one of the waitresses, and from the look of her, she eats every meal there, breakfast, lunch and dinner, and orders off the dessert menu every time. 

She hasn't been getting any fatter, but then, at her size, she doesn't REALLY need to. Then again, another five pounds is NEVER a bad thing in my book, so even though I'm not seeing any gainage thus far, I'm holding out hope. Oh right, back to Courtnee. 

"TIM!"

I see her a few lanes over and start towards her. We hug, and I respond back to her, "and how's my favorite stripper doing?"

Now I need to explain here, that's an old running joke we've had going on for years now, you see, Courtnee's last name? Diamond. I'll let that sink in for a second. Courtnee. Diamond.

I have a theory that's (mostly) proved right so far. Nearly every single woman I've met who spelled her name that SHOULD end with a Y with two E's, or God forbid, an I, has turned out to be a terrible person/unfaithful to every guy she'll ever date. Perfect example, you'll remember Heather mentioned I dated a girl named Sammi. Worst. Relationship. Ending. Ever. Maybe I can't say that, but for me it was. I'm not going into the gritty details of her, but it's totally okay now. No resent there, I'll just hate that bitch with all my heart for the rest of my life. 

Back to Courtnee, who, obviously, spells her name with two E's. THEN, making it worse, she's got a last name like Diamond to go along with that? Courtnee's parents basically gave her a stripper's name to have to tell people was her REAL name, thereby unintentionally destining her for a life where for she would end up on the corner somewhere, turning tricks by the time she was seventeen.

It should be noted that everything I said before about names were NOT universal truths. Courtnee obviously did NOT end up as a seventeen year old prostitute, but she is the ONE exception I've met. Still, teasing her about it had to be done, just a fact about life. AND she made it even easier to make fun of her. 

By graduation, there were two other things I could point to as "proof", you know, because I totally needed any more ammunition. First one was is actually IS her fault. She was captain of the dance team, and during her two years as captain, the team was, more than once, chastised for being "inappropriately sexual," though, to be honest, I think that was less because the whole team was dancing sexy, more because of her "natural talent." 

See, and this, even though it's totally not her fault, is probably the thing that made the stripper joke almost plausible. Courtnee has massive tits, since pretty much forever. She tried taping them down after the second complaint because she figured it was their fault, too; that was a total failure. Even when she was skinniest, in I think sophomore year, she had D's. I'd say that they just constantly grew bigger, the next two years. 

I remember at prom, senior year, I think that was probably her peak in high school, and you could tell her bra was uncomfortably tight, and she still had a (fairly) flat stomach. Looking at her now, D's are a joke to her, and that stomach? Looking more pillowy than washboard these days.

"Oh, haha, very funny, I work at a bank, thank you very much!" she was stifling a smile, which meant I could keep this going a bit longer.

I put on a skeptical face, "Nope. Not falling for that, you're totally a stripper."

"Please. Freakin' look at me, there's no way a club would hire me, looking like this!"

I was happy to oblige. She'd invited me, hadn't she? Totally her fault. She was squeezed into a bank teller sort of outfit, you know the one I mean, black button down shirt, a jacket, black pants, and from the looks of it, it wasn't something she'd gotten yesterday. Not because it was tattered or anything, it was in pretty good condition, it's just that, unless by some chance she'd gained five or six pounds since yesterday, she'd had it a while. 

I'm guessing it was probably about six months old, just remembering how she ate in high school, and figuring this was just her metabolism slowing. Take it from someone who's all but down peer-reviewed studies on this, the average woman adjusting to a slower metabolism rarely gains more than that. Courtnee was still building on the body-type I remember from high school, meaning most of the weight she gained was in those watermelons weighing her down, but she was probably at least fifty pounds heavier than she was back then. 

Clearly those five pounds were just joining their forty plus friends. The buttons near the top of the shirt were very much strained, which gave me my response, "I dunno, tits like those. . . You got your choice of titty clubs from what I can see. How big ARE those things?" 

That was USUALLY a risky question, but I felt safe asking it in this context, I mean, Courtnee always was super proud of her gigantic jugs, she was always ready to flaunt them, brag about their size.

And sure enough, she breathed in deep, pushed her chest out as far as she could and proudly announced, "Up to a double L! I defy any girl in this city to beat THAT!" 

I'd take that bet. I mean Ellen was probably second place, but Courtnee's. . . Well they were. . . yeah. . . Anyway, immediately after she finished bragging, she breathed out, stopped posing, and leaned back, placing her hands on her stomach, continuing, "THIS is the problem! The girls are great, the gut. . . yeah, no."

And it was pretty well-developed, I have to say. Not quite as big as you might expect from a chick walking around with all-natural fifteen pound bowling balls on her chest. Normally you see a girl like that, she's got a good sized beer-belly to accompany it, and Courtnee wasn't quite average, but you could tell, she'd definitely been working her way towards it.

"PFFFT. Tits like those, who's going to even notice that? Seriously, take it from a man, we see tits with that kind of quality, all other thoughts, just. . . *poof.* Out of our heads. So, despite whatever you say, I maintain that with tits that insanely huge, and a name like Courtnee Diamond, you do not have a choice in the matter!"

"Ha, forty pounds ago, maybe! Are you even freaking LOOK at this!" I was looking, but she clearly didn't believe me, so she jiggled it around a bit, and I looked even more. Like I said, she didn't have that much of a belly comparatively, but what she had. . . jiggly. Very, very jiggly. That muscle backing she used to have? Yeah, ancient history. Not just playing hide and seek behind the spare tire she was rocking these days.

I pulled myself together, can't get caught looking too closely, the invitation to stare couldn't last forever, so I brought us back to the beginning, "So? You never answered my original question. How's my favorite 'totally-not-a-stripper-but-totally-should-be' doing?"

She rolled her eyes then, "Pretty great! I changed schools AGAIN, so I gotta move out here now. I seriously do NOT want to stay in the dorms, so I gotta find some kind of apartment complex, something that's affordable, you know what I mean?" 

She looked at me a second, then her face lit up a bit, "HEY! You live around here, maybe you can help with that!"

The evil side of my brain heard this and began plotting, "Oh, definitely! I just helped Jen move into a new place about a month ago! I'm pretty sure they had a few empty places, it's down on Broadmoor and Burbank, you know where I'm talking about?"

"That's the road where Fontenot's Fitness is." It wasn't a question, it was a statement. There was some kind of story here. Had to get a bit more info on THAT.

"Yeah, you know that place?"

She snorted derisively, "Know the place? Oh yeah." 

She folded her arms, awkwardly over her chest, "I know the hell out of that place. Freshman year, when I still went to college here, I worked there. Got fired by Christmas."

Again, she was holding something back here, but it was obvious she wanted to vent about whatever it was, so I asked why.

"They don't look too kindly on the freshman fifteen there. Assholes."

That surprised me because you see, I didn't go into it at the time, since it seemed unimportant to the story, but the woman who was there when me and Jen went the woman who thought Jen was preggo; she was pretty a big woman, way bigger than I'd expect someone who worked in a fitness center to be; I just kind of assumed she did all the paperwork all the time. Also, emptied out the vending machine at least once a week. I'd also thought it weird for a GYM to have one of those little bowls of Hershey's kisses at the front desk, obviously they were for her.

Really? I say a bitch fight would be super hot, and you just ASSUME it has nothing to do with BOTH women being rather hefty? Okay, yeah, they are definitely sexier if there's at least ONE side with a significant weight problem, but please. This isn't a THING for me; I don't get off on two women fighting; it's just my natural interests as a man. I, and I emphasize this; I do NOT have a thing for chick sitting on someone. . . Else, that is. If we're taking about sitting on ME, then well, yes please.

She saw the slight second of confusion in my eyes, and asked what was wrong, I told her, "I'm not 100% sure on this, but did you know the woman working behind the desk?" 

Courtnee nodded her head, and I told her the story, not neglecting to mention the SIZE of this woman.

This huge grin slowly spread broad across her face and she excitedly started asking questions, "Did this girl have black hair with highlights? Average height? A tramp stamp with some kind of dragon on it?" 

I had to take a second to think about that last one, but sure enough, I'd seen something of the kind when she'd bent over to talk to Jen. Her shirt wasn't quite long enough to cover it. I nodded and she jumped for joy, which, let me just say, is something I'm VERY glad to have witnessed, "Oh YES!" 

With that kind of response, I HAD to hear more, that woman had done SOMETHING to get on Courtnee's bad side which I know from what I saw in high school, is a BAD place to be, she must have known how curious I was, because she continued, "Oh you have no IDEA how happy that makes me!" 

Truer words have ne'er been spoken. She goes on, "That's Maura, she's the owner's daughter, that's probably the only reason she's still there. That girl. . . that CUNT is the ENTIRE FRICKIN REASON I got fired. How big is she? In freaking DETAIL. C'MON, freaking engage my bitchy side!"

I don't know if you've picked up on this, but I'm kind of in the business of getting women to indulge, if you know what I mean. Plus Courtnee'd clearly been doing that plenty herself. This wasn't going to make her fatter, so it's not exactly my usual method, but then again, in my years of encouragine, I've noticed a tendency for happy women to eat a tad bit more than is strictly necessary, so of course I was happy to oblige. 

I went in to the exact same kind of detail I do in here, every fat roll, every overly-tight seam, all of this, without emphasizing how HOT this was to me. I told her about the woman's muffin top, about how she'd been eating a snickers bar when we walked in at the beginning, how close her pants looked to tearing at the seams, and I wrapped up telling her I was estimating she was most likely weighing in about. . . eh, I think she was probably 210, give or take fifteen pounds, well, give fifteen pounds, If she's less, I'm only under, maybe five or six. Over 200, definitely, 

I've seen enough girls that size to know how to pick them out. OBVIOUSLY, I didn't ACTUALLY tell her that last bit, but it's true. When she heard me say over 200, she was absolutely ecstatic. Cue a repeat of the jump-for-joy performance, then a pleasant surprise, a great big hug, which was fun because of. . . Well because reasons. Two nicely shaped, LL-cup reasons.

"HAH, Karma, I love you so much!" I was kinda surprised how pumped she was over this, not to mention what the circumstances must have been around her getting fired, so I just straight up asked her, why the excitement? 

"Okay, so that woman you saw? Her name is Maura, she's the owner's daughter, pretty damn sure from what you said, that's GOT to be the only reason she's THERE anymore." She paused for a second, then continued in an angry sort of voice, "First semester up here, I was signed up for nineteen hours. NINETEEN FREAKING HOURS, DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT'S LIKE!?" 

I nodded and told her that I didn't know PERSONALLY, but I told her a little story I knew about this, I told her how this past year, one of my best friends took that many classes, ended up in a psych ward near the end of the semester. Not sure they're related, though, he always was a tad unstable. . .

She continued on, "So I was like, crazy-stressed, and I dealt with that with comfort food. I know right?" 

she looked at me expecting some kind of response, I just shrugged noncommittally, because, you know, that's a great response in my opinion. That seemed to settle her, so she went on, "It's freaking retarded, yeah, but it's about the only thing that helps me cope. It didn't seem too bad for the first part of the year, but after the first like, three weeks, when things really started picking up, I started eating WAY too much to help me focus. Yeah, you can see how THAT plan worked." she grabbed a roll of fat and shook it. 

Mesmerizing. Didn't get to pay attention as long as I wish, she wasn't done with the story, "MAURA, bitch that she is, had to point it out every five minutes throughout every shift I took, saying crap like 'ooh, you really think your shorts can handle a set of squats? You're so brave!' It's worth noting that at this time, even when I was gaining weight, she was ten pounds fatter than me! Like, even when AFTER I got fired, she was fatter. She started teasing me, you know, tempting me, bringing in donuts and constantly eating junk food while I was in there, rubbing in my face how SHE wasn't getting fat! Delusional bitch. She made a big deal when I came back after Thanksgiving, a bit bigger than before. I'M SORRY, but that is TOTALLY understandable, ESPECIALLY considering the pressure I was under! I mean, like four of my teachers assigned papers and freaking. . . IT WAS FREAKING THANKSGIVING! If you DON'T gain a bit of weight, you're DOING it wrong!" AMEN, SISTAH! "But NOOOO, freaking Maura just HAD to whine to daddy about how fat I'd been getting, and he freaking called me in his office on it. Ten he made me weigh myself right there in his office, like just getting fat wasn't bad enough, he HAD to embarrass me over it. Sonuvabitch could see that shit plain as day, I know that much, but NO, he had to know if what I'd gained was 'too much for the company to deem acceptable,' like they actually had standards for that. Never told ME about them, that's for sure. APPARENTLY, gaining the freshman fifteen fits into that category. They made the point how that normally was over the whole year and this was all in one semester, but crap, you'd think they'd give me a frickin CHANCE to lose the weight."

She was getting wound up all through the story, gesturing wildly (there was much bouncing, so, you know, much fun was had) By the end, she was practically yelling at the top of her lungs. That was a bit much, I had to try and calm her just a bit, 

"Well think about it this way, if you move to this place, you can go there and bitch at her all you want. Plus you can see for yourself how fat she's let herself get." Hit and miss, if this DOES get her to go to Cortoe, that's great and all, but I've violated rule #2, yet again, told her she could go to the gym. . . Ah well, knowing Courtnee, she's usually pretty relaxed, but god forbid you get on her wrong side. She can be confrontational, but then she usually avoids you from then on, all I can hope for is that's what happens with Maura. If not. . . Jail time might just end up being a thing Courtnee has to deal with, and you can IMAGINE how crappy the food is there. Jail time would do horrible things to her figure!

One thing kept running through my head, and that was me wishing I'd talked to Courtnee more, hung out with her that first year. With me around, even if we WEREN'T dating, I feel like those fifteen pounds that first semester might have turned into twenty plus.

"So, you moving to Cortoe or not?"

"YES I AM! You think I'm gonna miss an opportunity like THIS!" Well, not really, but I didn't want to get my hopes up just yet. NOW I have that luxury! I asked if she needed help moving in, but no, she said her brothers were in town, they could do it. So there will not be a repeat performance of the events surrounding Jen's move in.

With the whole situation, I gotta say, I'm a little conflicted, I mean, I know she's got connections to the gym, even if they're bad ones, so she's either going to go there every day, or NEVER go. I'm hoping for the latter, and I think it's more likely, but it's kind of a toss-up. At the same time, with Courtee there, I would have an even BETTER time when I went there. 

Also, more of an excuse to go see this mixed bag of top-of-the-line hotties. They got every kind I could ask for! Jasmine's got the belly, Ellen's got the big tits (plenty of belly to support it, too) Maila and Heather got some SERIOUS ass, then there's Jen and Penny wrapping up the hourglass portion of the bunch! Adding in Courtnee adds some more PURE boobs, since she doesn't have the sloppy gut to back up the boobs like Ellen's got. They're all going to be very nice influences on her though, I can guarantee that, so maybe, just maybe, I should hold out hope that she'll get that gut soon enough. 

On the other hand, it's possible she might help the entire bunch to get more into fitness, which I'm NOT looking to happen. But I can't imagine Jen facing up to the embarrassment she'd have to endure from Maura if she went, and Heather? Ha, THAT'S a laugh! Besides, the whole complex? I'm betting they aren't ALL such great friends; they probably don't have that kind of serious impact on each other on a daily basis. 

But ASIDE from the small disappointment over moving her in, all I could think was about how a group of the hottest chicks I've ever seen, all of whom somehow, mysteriously banded together in the same apartment complex, now has another smoking hot addition to their ranks. Bringing their collective cup size up a bit which is impressive because of Ellen, who KINDA, EVER-SO-SLIGHTLY skews the bell curve a tiny bit! 

Yeeeah, I'm definitely going plan a visit real soon. . . I'm thinking maybe a week after she moves, maybe earlier; bring her some kind of "housewarming gift," plus food. Which shouldn't surprise you by now. I mean c'mon, is it really such a shock at this point that I'd love to see another few pounds piled on to Courtnee's body? If you answered "yes," you're an idiot. Read even one paragraph I've written in this thing, you'll hear me loud and clear. I'm not exactly subtle about this.

I'll keep you updated on where this leads. I have a good feeling about it.


----------



## Cylon_bob (Sep 12, 2012)

August 22, 2012
______

I got the call today. Courtnee. Said she'd gotten moved, thanked me for telling her about the place, said everyone there was awesome, and wow, had everyone changed so much, and that kind of thing. I took the chance I had, asked her if she'd had a housewarming party-thing yet, gotten to know all the neighbors, you know, used the fact that she was moving as an excuse to get presents from her friends and family, that whole thing. Somehow, I don't think she had any idea what I was talking about, like for real, total ignorance.

So yeah, I did what any responsible friend who wanted to help, but more importantly spend time with an amazingly attractive group of women would do! Invite myself over and organize the whole thing, right? All right, maybe it was a bit of a stretch, but still, was she going to throw me out over organizing a party where people give her free stuff? I know, it's a flimsy excuse, pretty easy to see through, but I'm willing to grasp at straws for a chance to check out the women of Cortoe. Besides, I don't think she. . . Well it's just Courtnee. . . Okay, I'm not trying to be mean here, but she isn't exactly the sharpest crayon in the tool shed. I have reason to doubt she'd pick up on the REAL intention I had for going over there, which was, of course, to check on the enhancements the last few weeks were showing on her and her. . . *fluffy* neighbors.

So yeah, slight risk there, but doesn't every great story start with uncertainty? Trust me, when I get to the end of it all, you'll be agreeing with me, this has been a million times better than it was moving Jen in.

So. Back to where I was. On my way over, I stopped to pick up a cheesecake. I didn't know how ready she was for visitors, she might get pissed I was there for all I knew. So, peace offering cheesecake. Not that we 'd really gotten to arguing, this was just in case, an excuse to get a few hundred more calories for Courtnee's metabolism to NOT burn. I had to have some kind of reason for her to indulge; anyway, this was as good a chance as any. 

What I mean by that is, well, you see, with Jen it's just a matter of waving food in front of her face, but if I'm remembering Courtnee correctly, and as it turns out, I was, she's needs reason to gorge herself. It doesn't matter how flimsy that excuse may be, as long as there IS one, she takes it as a green light. It's probably just a bit of a hold-over from when she was skinny, back in high school/the first half a semester in college. From the way she's. . . expanded. . . I think she's lowered her standards as to how good an excuse she needs since high school. Lowered them like, a lot. 

When I got there, I explained ONE MORE TIME what a housewarming was. Have I mentioned how very not-bright Courtnee is? And anyways, how on EARTH has she lived as long as she has without ever hearing of a housewarming is a mystery for the ages. I mean, yeah, I know, her family has been living in the exact same house all her life, but so? Mine has, too, and I've known about housewarmings since I was like, seven. I had one myself when I moved into the apartment I'm in right now. Not that I NEEDED to have one, I already had what I needed, but hey, it gave me duplicates of all my kitchen supplies. You know, in case something breaks. OR, maybe if I was a bit behind on rent and needed to pawn something off, I'm set. 

It took way too long, but Courtnee got the idea eventually, and seemed pretty enthusiastic about it, so I whipped up some invitations for the rest of the building really quick. I made them LOOK like they took a while, though, calligraphy, all that shit. That's something you pick up when you work as a tattoo artist, tossing out professional looking crap at light speed. I kinda HAD to, we wanted this to look like it was planned out, not something that we threw together at the last second. Even though it WAS thrown together at the last second, I mean, she still hadn't met the building yet, wanted her first impression to be good. So first off, the fancy invitations, second, we decided to do it THAT DAY, I mean, she'd been moved in all of one full day, it made sense to do it right away. Third, she really had to get a change of clothes. 

Breaking up the narrative here, I just want to say that I could tell already; it looked like Courtnee was going to fit in VERY well at Cortoe, gaining right along with the rest of them. OOH, and this was WITHOUT the kind of influence the Cortoe crew put off, this is going to be very interesting watching how quick that gain accelerates now! She was dressed in kinda raggedy clothes when I showed up, which made sense, I mean, she was still moving in and stuff, but those raggedy clothes were looking a little. . . Well, a little little for a woman of her figure. 

Her tank top was clearly an older one, and when I say that, I don't mean 'five pounds ago,' I mean MUCH older than that. It covered her boobs well enough, and the top. . . three inches(?) of her pudgier than previously, not-so-tiny, spare tire. It clung tight enough to her chest that the overflow at the top was clear to anyone looking at her. And who WOULDN'T look at her? Even fat-a-phobes gotta admit, them's some damn fine titties! Her pants were looking overloaded, too, visible panty lines, visibly strained seams, but nothing you wouldn't expect. No, this weight, I'm estimating like. . . In those five days between the meetings, she'd probably gained three pounds? It's more difficult to tell when a girl's wearing such old clothes, trying to compare to when she's got fitting ones. 

I want it noted, I personally did NOT want her to change clothes, I was finding this particular getup rather exciting, but I had to admit. Looking like that on a first meeting, bad impression. She looked like an overweight slob who needed to just accept that she was getting huge. Which, yeah, is pretty accurate, but not the kind of thing you want people to think of the first time they meet you, you know? I was. . . kinda terrified to bring it up, but she took it pretty well, she was dressed just in the not-nice stuff she had laying around. She could clean up well. Until then, I could do all the inviting and stuff where people would see me.

Organizing the house-warming (well apartment warming, but whatever) was seriously a short notice thing, so we figured no one was going to have much time to get presents, and since they didn't KNOW Courtnee, they didn't really have a REASON to get presents, so I made sure to include on the invitation that 'gifts are unnecessary, but appreciated,' and said food was as good a gift as any. Big letters on that one, get the message across LOUD AND CLEAR. Not that I asked her about that, I just assumed. I made sure to emphasize how this was supposed to help Courtnee meet the building. That's everyone she was inviting, so I mean, that's all it WOULD accomplish. I told Court how usually it was close friends and family who got invited to house-warming, but she was determined to just do it, and like I said, she still hadn't met anyone in the building. ASIDE, that is, from Jen and Heather, but she hadn't talked to them in forever, and they were never like, close friends or anything.

Courtnee went to Wal-Mart to get supplies for the whole thing, still in that crazy-tight outfit, which, at least, was fun to watch her leaving, all worried someone she knew was going to see her. Total strangers, totally fine, but someone she KNEW?! THE HORROR! All this left it up to me to spread the word about the whole thing. So, I went around knocking on doors, handing out invitations to everybody, telling them it was set for 8:30, and please could they come. Most of them straight said yes, but a few said they'd TRY to make it, but weren't totally sure they could or not. They all seemed pretty understanding of the whole thing, and I got the idea everybody would show up, make themselves known. The whole building, like I said before, was made out of really nice people, very agreeable folk. 

I had to help Courtnee get ready for the party, so I tried to keep every stop short, which I didn't really WANT to do, especially when Ellen answered the door in this metallic silver bikini, from. . . two years ago I'm thinking? Either that or she just really liked putting her body out on display and got it because it showed each and every fat roll, each and every stretch mark. Not that THAT was her intention, she was probably just thinking something along the lines of 'hey, this is skimpy. Like almost illegal skimpy. Guys like skimpy. Therefore, this is hot!' From what I know about Ellen, I'm thinking it was the second of those two. She's not the sharpest crayon in the shed, and is like, obsessed with sex.

Plus, if this was from two years ago, then I'm thinking it would probably have fit back then like this does now. Meaning it fits. . .Sort of. . . Well, in a technical sense. Technically, YES, she had on a top. Had a top ON, but NO, it did not fully cover her nipples. Moving lower down, I only saw her from the front, and I'm FAIRLY sure she had on bottoms? There was kind of a big blubbery belly drooping down, blocking my view. Okay, a bit of an exaggeration, but between the way Ellen was acting last I saw her, gorging herself without ANY physical activity, and the fact that she answered the door holding a half-empty box of donuts makes me think it's DEFINITELY in the cards for her, and not in the oh-so-distant future. More like the by-Christmas-eve future.

I'm guessing she was about. . . eight pounds bigger than last time I saw her? Definitely impressed me, I was maybe expecting, I don't know, three pounds? Oh, there was no doubt she was going to be fatter, Ellen was NOT gonna plateau. No way in HELL she was going to maintain her weight, the way she was pigging out a month and a half ago. You can always tell if a girl's going to keep getting fatter, level off, or lose weight, or at least I can. I'll call it now, of the women of Cortoe, I'm predicting Ellen, Maila, Jen and Heather keep getting fat, and there is no way any one of them is losing weight.
Okay, went off track there, Ellen gaining eight pounds in a month and a half? I would consider that a personal success if I started fattening a girl up and got that kind of gain out of her. Eight pounds ain't nothing to sneeze at. Especially when it's so beautifully plastered all over a huge, sloppy gut like Ellen's

Pretty sure looking at her that these brave few pounds of pudge decided to cut against the grain, disrupt the pattern, yay rebellious blubber. What I'm saying is, I'm pretty certain her tits were the same, very impressive size, but that gut she was rocking, no. That was definitely NOT the same size. There were new creases along her sides now, an extra roll or two. This time, with her gut in plain view, that belly button ring I was suspicious of, can be confirmed, definite yes, also, a little heart tattoo, musta been hidden in a roll.

I didn't stay too long; Ellen made the whole thing kinda awkward. The whole time I was talking, she kept acting sexy at me, throwing obvious signals at me, you know, making a big show where she TRIED to cross her hands on her chest, squeezing her tits together, emphasizing the cleavage. It started one of those internal fights for me, were one part of me was all like, 'I WILL FUCK HER BRAINS OUT,' and the other part of me was just going, 'Dude. Look at her. Listen to her. How many guys you think have gotten a joyride in HER playpen?' The second voice won out, thank the lord. A few hours of fun with them bouncy bags of joy, not worth a lifetime of herpes, or whatever else she may have. Maybe she's clean, I don't know, but I'm sorry, easy women, not something I want to pursue. It ended up one of those things where I had to get out of there; else I'd cave in to my baser instincts, and end up contracting some kind of ungodly infection that would haunt me the rest of my life. 

I wanted to hang around at Penny's, too, she was looking slightly softer, not much, probably only visible to a trained eye like my own. Still, even skinny, sort of kind of, no, not really, just compared to the surroundings, she was definitely a major league hottie. And she was eating out of an almost empty pint of Ben & Jerry's, and if there's one thing I love, it's an overindulging woman. It got better, too, soon as she tossed that one out, she went and pulled out some Cherry Garcias, dove into that. Don't know that's a regular occurrence, but it definitely was a nice little addition to my day. Kinda doubt it's a regular occurrence, that's the kind of behavior that signifies a girl's going to start gaining, and Penny. . . I had her pegged for maintain, maybe gain a teeny bit, but if this is something that happens a lot, I'm looking forward to seeing a lot more of Penny. A lot more of Penny's ass, a lot more of Penny's tits, and who knows, a belly might even make an appearance!

But, I kept having to remind myself, Courtnee had all these boxes, she needed to get out the way, kind of at least TRY to organize the space a little bit. I warned everybody not to expect a spotless, well-organized apartment, but what it was now, if chaos took the form of an apartment, Courtnee's room would be messier. Me and Courtnee definitely needed to put a bit of work in, make it better. Try and make it so the guests aren't risking a broken leg trying to get to the snack table anyway. So I did my best to keep it short.

That's not to say I didn't hang around a little longer than I probably should have at certain doors, specifically Jen's, Heather's and Maila's. Heather and Jen, mostly because of the hugging (very enjoyable, I can verify that Jen felt an inch or so softer) and their squeals of surprise, (didn't tell them I was coming) Maila because I got caught up in a conversation with her as soon as I saw what was on her TV at the time. An episode of Battlestar Galactica, which, I'll confess, is a favorite of my inner geek. Also my outer geek. They're more or less identical. 
I asked her about it, she said she was watching it through for the first time; I was seriously tempted to pause for ten minutes to watch the episode to the end. But I knew how the episode ended, cliffhanger, and if I watched, I'd HAVE to watch the next episode with her, and while that was a VERY attractive idea, I couldn't just abandon Courtnee in the middle of her getting ready.

On a side note, she was looking REALLY good, bigger and better than before. Well not like, heavy make-up, nice clothes pretty, just like, you know, good. But this isn't the time to go into that, that's going to come up in, detail later.

Inviting Jose and Jasmine went quickly (something like 'HEY, remember me, come on over to this apartment, and bring a present!') and with that, I finished up, went back to the apartment, and don't you know it, Courtnee wasn't back for the next twenty minutes! She had all the supplies I'd recommended, and then some, which was a bonus in my book. Clearly she was feeling hungry, and you know what they say about grocery shopping on an empty stomach. BUT STILL. I TOTALLY could have watched the rest of that episode, and I WISH I could have seen the look on Maila's face when. . . Oh, crap, I don't know who you are reading this, don't know that you've seen the show. Spoilers. So. . . AH! I wish I could have seen the look on Maila's face when she sees that huge and extremely engaging plot twist/cliffhanger. 

I feel like it's okay saying it was the season 1 finale she was watching. GOD I remember that airing; that had to have been the worst hiatus EVER. I mean, a cliffhanger like THAT, then that long a break before it was FINALLY resolved? UGH, talk about TORTURE. *Okay, done with the nerd talk, I promise,* I'll hold myself back the rest of the whole story. NOW. ONWARDS, to the SEXY events of the evening!

I took the time before she showed up to TRY to get all the boxes either out of the way, into closets, into the bedroom, just, you know, out of the kitchen and common areas. I didn't look in the boxes, so I wasn't sure if I put the boxes in the rooms where they actually made SENSE, I think when Courtnee got there and started unpacking, putting things where they were SUPPOSED to be, I think she found her bathroom supplies in the bedroom? Eh, close enough, from my point of view, anyway. Bathroom's directly connected, not like it was a long way! I couldn't resist when a bra fell out one of the boxes, 40M. Looks like someone's been moving up from that L cup she was bragging about last time! Didn't I say, it was looking kinda extremely, way strained last time? Well I'm guessing she only bought one or two M cups for now, and they're all dirty, so she's gone back to an old L cup for the time being, because I hugged her that day in the parking lot, I hugged her when I got there, and they didn't seem THAT much bigger. Just a tad bit. And more clearly, visibly, straining. Actually, now I think about it, they were nowhere near strained, that day in the parking lot.

That day, I can remember, yeah, they were DEFINITELY bubbling up, more than a tiny bit, but not like THIS. This time. . . Phew, it was looking like a good jump would have them melons escaping their cottony confines. Huh, now I think back, pretty sure the bag I was carrying, dirty laundry. And from when I 'accidentally' dropped it, in a move that I, in retrospect, find extremely creepy, but excuse me for wanting to know a bit more about how fat she was, there were a LOT of bras in there, looking about the same size, so now I'm thinking she wasn't wearing just a size down from her actual measurements. She'd just rather cram those glorious gazongas into a space two sizes too small than do laundry. NOT THAT I'M COMPLAINING, oh my GOD did it keep me entertained while we were cleaning. Looking back every two minutes, 'did it happen yet, are they out?' Never happened entirely, but more than once, she had to pause and cram them back down into the cups. 

That wasn't an option with that gut, though, that guy was out on display, proudly showing the world just how much Courtnee could eat. To be honest, the thought crossed my mind more than once, how the hell did she get those things buttoned up? I know from that 'accident' with the laundry, Courtnee's strutting around at size 16, and unless she was using the same tactic with the jeans as with the bra, she's about, eh, three, three and a half inches too wide in the middle for sixteens. It was fun, though, watching her try to bend at all, seeing that flabby, squishy stomach curl up into rolls of fat, hearing her grunt, trying (and sometimes failing) to get something up off the floor. On a totally unrelated side note, I mostly got the stuff that was up OFF the ground.

But we did it in the end, got the place remotely presentable, so all that was left, refreshments. I helped, laid out the food, got everything looking nice and pretty for guests. Well, nice and pretty by MY standards, but I'm not exactly a neat and organized person. Despite that, she didn't feel like she had to re-arrange everything, so I call this a win.

8:30 rolled around, and it was time for the guests to start showing up, aaand no one did. Which was kind of a shock, I mean, like I said, everyone seemed pretty interested, and most of them said they'd show, so where were they?

Late, it turned out. It seems that out of the seven people I invited, five of them were nice enough to run out and drop by Wal-Mart and pick up an actual present for Courtnee, even though they had no idea who she was or what she was like! That was the excuse they used, anyway, and what the hell, so Courtnee now has two more egg beaters than before. They're better quality than the one she already had, so yay! Whatever, it's not important, the big thing of note here, they had the presents, which is kind of amazing in itself.

They all brought food, too, so there was more than enough to go around. Like I didn't make sure there wasn't ALREADY more than enough to go around, you know me, I cooked enough before I came to feed a family of eight to the point of bursting. Now that family of eight had enough to last three thanksgiving style gorgings. 

You can imagine how happy this fact made me.

I'm not going into the stuff that happened between everybody right now, the details, not interesting, and I've got another one of those special-order-prison-tattoos scheduled. That little enterprise has really taken off, way better than I'd have expected. I mentioned it to a few customers at the parlor, and the word's just kind of spread from there, I've done four just this week, five including the one I've got in just a little while. Okay, that's enough of that, I really gotta get going, but I'll do the next one tomorrow. It's a free day for me, so I may even be able to get the entire rest of the story down, while it's still fresh in my head.

______
(Continued in post 20 of this thread)


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## Cylon_bob (Mar 23, 2013)

*August 16, 2012*

All right, it's 10 AM and like I said yesterday, I got the rest of the day totally free. This is where I'm going to go into the juicy details of the party, and the aftermath. There's some big news in these next few entries, so follow along closely, you hear?

First off, like I said before, no one ACTUALLY made it at 8:30, which sent Courtnee into a mild panic attack. By this time, she HAD changed out of the clothes she'd been wearing, so now, instead of a 'chunky slob' vibe, she had totally improved her first impression! NOW she just gave off this sort of 'fancy dressing fatty' feeling. Yeah she had on YET ANOTHER long-since retired outfit, though this one didn't LOOK so worn down, it's just there's no way in hell she'd be crazy enough to get a dress like that NOW, at THIS weight. 

It was this red number, and where it probably started out its life ending at her ankles, these days, that fabric has to take some extended detours on its way to the floor. The waistline of it was made for a woman with a flat stomach. Courtnee's stomach. . . Well It hasn't been flat for AT LEAST sixty pounds. So there it was, clinging close to her pudgy potbelly, but that wasn't the best of it.

The most INTERESTING effect of Courtnee's size were caused, of course, by her biggest assets. The dress was clearly intended to be worn by, and emphasize the more marketable features of, a very well-endowed woman, which IS an accurate description of Courtnee, the problem is somewhere around the fact that the very well-endowed women this particular dress was designed for, happen to be three cup sizes and about thirty pounds lighter than Courtnee. 

|Here's a rundown of the change.|

| COURTNEE BEFORE:
Extremely chubby woman, in denial of how fat she was getting, who didn't seem aware of the fact that her clothes had started being tight ten pounds ago.

| COURTNEE AFTER: 
Fat former prom queen who was squeezed into what was probably the dress she'd accepted the award for senior year despite the fifty pounds she'd gained in the meantime.

Don't misunderstand me this; she WAS decent, completely and entirely covered, but the threat of tearing the dress with a deep breath, of hiccupping and flashing the entire room, yeeaaah, very real. Her boobs, which were STILL squashed into a bra two cup sizes too small, were AGAIN being squeezed EVEN MORE, this time into a low cut dress. So first, her boobs were bubbling up around all the edges of her bra, AND THEN, they were pouring out the sides of the dress, with her cleavage being pushed up and out of the neckline. From the back, you could see, the shoulder straps. . . yeah, definitely kinda risking it with that there.

So with the whole thing so close to tearing apart, the LAST thing Courtnee should do is eat, right? Well then no one showed up for the party! Remember what Courtnee said at the parking lot, how she deals with stress? Hint, thousands of calories are involved. And hey, what do we have in the room at this point? Only a few million calories, all out in the open, inviting Courtnee to eat her weight in ice cream, and in the process, destroy that dress from the inside out.

She walks as quickly as she can without risking her dress, to the table where I had all the food laid out. Well, maybe walking is the wrong word, she couldn't really move too well in that crazy tight dress, so it was more a waddling kind of movement. I very much enjoyed this, the walking, and the eating that followed. Her boobs never FULLY escaped the neckline, but a rippling ocean of golden tanned cleavage, bouncing around as the woman waddles towards you. . . AND THEN, AS IF SHE WASN'T HAVING ENOUGH PROBLEMS WITH HER SIZE, SHE STARTED EATING.

She waddled to the strawberry cheesecake, and cuts herself this absolutely massive slice, almost half the entire freaking cake, then carefully sits down in a chair near the table. I come over, hug her, partially trying to comfort her, but at the same time, I did it mostly to feel her huge breasts pressing against me, my fingers sinking down into her soft, pudgy midsection. You know, I remember when she had like, six pack abs back in high school, hard, flat stomach. Now you squeeze her middle, you're not going to be feeling any muscle tone these days, just a thick padding of flab. A thick padding of flab that is a tad bit thicker because of the rest of the night.

I know what you're thinking, AS HER FRIEND, I should totally have jumped into action by this point, stopped her from embarrassing herself in front of all these new people, who at this point, may or may not show up. Come on. Seriously, you think I'd do that? I'm a man. You can't expect that kind of self-sacrifice from me.

Things got better about 8:50; she calmed down, anyway. Which was a slight disappointment to me since it meant she slowed down the gorging. She'd finished that slice of cheesecake and had just opened up a box of Krispy Kremes. Plus it was sad that she was still crammed into that dress, but it wasn't ALL bad, since the reason she calmed down is because Jose and Jasmine came in about then, and yay, yay, finally getting to meet the neighbors.

It was more or less the same sort of exchange as it was when Jen and I met them, the whole "HI I'm Jose, this is Jasmine; nice to meet you; we brought you this, and also this pint of Ben & Jerry's; "OH LOOK THEY HAVE CHEESECAKE!" 

That wasn't all they said, of course, there was more interaction as the night went on, but that was their opening routine. Say hi, give names and present, head for the food. Courtnee was more than a little afraid standing up would be the last straw for her dress, so instead of getting up and walking, she just motioned Jasmine over to her. As if Jasmine wasn't already jiggling along at a surprisingly quick pace to the refreshments table.

I think Jasmine went kinda easy on the food, since she was the first person to get any, and she was being considerate and making sure there was going to be enough for everybody. Just an educated guess on that. A woman as big as her, holding back is to her is what a woman of a healthy weight would call, 'OH MY WORD SO MUCH FOOD!' 

I mean, we had eight different flavors of cheesecake, one piece of each, that's not like, being GREEDY, is it? No, she ate a LOT, you don't get a body like THAT eating cauliflower and corn dogs, that takes SERIOUS eating. Like, as a mindset, not just a one-time, occasional thing. And when you get a girl set in a SERIOUS eating mindset, eating a lot doesn't seem like that much. I've managed to spur a girl to that kind of point exactly ONE time, with. . . actually, I don't think I mentioned her yet.

|-RANDOM TANGENT THING-|

Two girlfriends ago, I met this girl in my Calc 1 class, and to start, I am HOPELESS when it comes to math, so I went to the girl who had the best grade for help. That was Laura. I wasn't interested in her at first, though. She wasn't really a twig, but she didn't (AT FIRST) really have BIG boobs, or a BIG ass, but wasn't tiny either. So she was small for my tastes, but I get a rush from changing that fact. 

Thing about her that caught my attention, she was a freshman, and like magic, the dreaded 'FRESHMAN FIFTEEN' started showing up on her frame, and when that happened, I saw a bit of potential in her, decided to go for it. Laura, I didn't take to restaurants at first. This, I think is the way to do it, if you cook the food, they feel like if they refuse, it's an insult, so they always eat a BIT more than they feel comfortable eating. You build up and up and up, increase how much food they can eat, and sooner or later, you're dating a bottomless pit. In Laura's case, a very SEXY bottomless pit with a 58" ass, 42" gut and an F-cup. 

|-END RANDOM TANGENT THING-|

Okay anyway, back to Jasmine, so she's a serious eater, and she ate LOADS of the food, but still, she held back a bit. What I mean by that; is that she wasn't eating like a pig to put on a show for Jose, she was eating like a pig, just listening to her huge belly. This is what all I was thinking while I was watching her shovel hundreds and hundreds of calories down into her stomach, where they will add to the fat belly bulging out over her waistband, looking soft and jiggling slightly at her every movement. Her gut was hanging ever so subtly down, peeping out shyly from under her t-shirt.

I watched, enjoying the sight; then decided to try, start up a conversation with Jose. The guy had said all of nine words in my presence, "Heck of a woman you got there." 

Immediately I had second thoughts on saying that, it kind of sounded like I was insulting her for being fat. 

He didn't seem to take it like that, though. Looking back, don't know why I was so worried. That's not exactly an insult when THAT'S the goal. Just like, 'oh hey, you're doing that thing you're doing very successfully!' 

That's how he took it, "Yup. Knows what I like, happy to oblige me." 

Okaaay, that's a bit more information than I really needed, but I definitely got what he was saying. I knew that expression on his face while he stared at Jasmine filling her face, there have been plenty of times I looked the same exact way. Yeah, no question about it, my first impression of him, exactly right; this dude was a grade-A feeder. I've thought of myself as being one of the better of my kind, but this guy. . . This guy just blew me out of the water.

I had to respond, "Best you can hope for in a woman, am I right?" 

"Yup." AND THAT was the end of the whole thing. Jose was definitely a man of few words, and I. . . Well, I'm not. Which isn't news to you, I know. But I have to have something to work with and Jose. . . Jose just wasn't giving me anything.

By this time, more people were showing up, and hot as Jasmine was, her body type, even though she does wear it well. . . not my cup of tea. I say 'people,' 'person' might be more accurate, it was just Ellen. I was a little hesitant to do this after what had happened earlier that day, but I was already feeling a little uncomfortable standing by Jose and checking out his girlfriend. One uncomfortable situation right into another. Frying pan into the fire. Well, no, more like frying pan into other, more annoying and overly flirty frying pan. At this point, I was seriously was being super optimistic, maybe she wasn't REALLY so irritating? At least I hoped so. 

So, I awkwardly walked over to where Ellen was standing. "Hey, what's been happening with you lately?" 

I felt a bit stupid saying that, it's a cliché conversation starter, and if there's ONE thing I absolutely DESPISE, it's a cliché.

But there's a reason it's a cliché; it's because it works. "Ah, Tim, not a blasted thing, I'm bored out of my frickin skull laying around here."

NOPE. ONE MORE pet peeve of mine she's on the wrong side of. SERIOUSLY IS THERE ANYTHING ABOUT THIS WOMAN THAT DOESN'T ANNOY ME?! Oh, right. Boobs. To explain, I cannot STAND people complaining about boredom, "Why don't you just get a job or something? Start a hobby, maybe? Maybe get a job out of that hobby, even!" At that last one, she gave me this weird look that basically was a non-verbal way of saying 'what the fuck are you talking about?'

I realized I was just about screaming here, so I pulled myself together, lowered my voice and went into the story of how I got started designing tattoos, I just love drawing. Only ever had the one actual class, before I started designing, and I learned more about drawing in History class. I'm definitely a doodler, but the thing is, when I 'doodle,' it's pretty much only that in a technical sense. 

I get seriously INTO whatever my doodle is, like making the whole page full of super complicated designs, intricate patterns, all of that shit. Senior year, one of the guys I played football with (YES, I know, I'm a freak of nature, hardcore geek, AND a starting football player) came up and asked me to design him a tattoo. Offered to pay me and everything. My first thought, get paid for a doodle? WELL, SURE, YES! That happened again first semester of Freshman year, then like five times during second semester, and after that, I just said screw it, I'm designing all of these personalized tattoos, I might as well get a job at a parlor, do it for a living. 

To be honest, the only reason I held off to that point was because I don't have any tattoos myself, didn't think people would take me seriously. Never getting a tattoo, either, can't STAND needles. I mean that, I was in a car accident put me in a coma for a while, when I was coming out of it, I started ripping out the IV needles that were KEEPING ME ALIVE. They had to put these massive mitten like gloves on my hands to stop me from killing myself because I hated needles THAT MUCH.

She listened to all that, or pretended to politely (I think it was the second one) not saying a word, which was the longest, I think I've ever seen her keep quiet. Then again, this was only the second time I'd talked to her, but I consider myself a good judge of personality, and she seemed like one of those girls who never. Shuts. Up. There is empirical evidence for this.

Then she started defending herself, "Well I'm not GOOD at anything like that, I can't even draw a freaking STICK FIGURE!" No kidding you can't, straight lines, circles, near IMPOSSIBLE unless you sketch first. I can't draw a high quality stick figure without taking a minute or two to sketch it out and it's kinda my freaking JOB. I have ridiculous standards for my work, as you've must have gathered. 

I didn't SAY any of that, correcting someone has a way of ending conversations. I kept on trying to give her ideas of stuff to fill time with, asked if she'd tried anything else, like cooking, computer stuff, maybe playing music, anything like that. I kinda felt I was overstepping my bounds here, I mean, I talked to this woman TWICE, now I'm telling her how to live her life. Yeah, putting it like that, DEFINITELY overstepping, just, this is just one of those things that just. . . UGGGH!

She kept on going, "You don't seem to understand, I'm USELESS at anything artistic, I can barely figure out how to match an outfit so it looks good." 

Yeah, that IS a bit sad, but NOT GOING TO AGREE WITH THAT. Insulting a brand new acquaintance, even one I don't particularly enjoy TALKING TO, is not a good thing to do. Besides, it would totally end the conversation, and I was enjoying it. Not because of the conversation ITSELF, like I said, I'm against complaining as a rule, especially about something as easy to fix as boredom. Ellen was definitely getting on my nerves, but the view. . . 

She had on an old tank top, I know it was old because it was skin tight, and kind of slightly ratty looking. Plus, I'm PRETTY SURE it wasn't made with the intention of being a belly shirt. She had on yoga pants too, but with an upper body like Ellen's, no one's looking that far down. It wasn't 'low-cut' in the strictest sense, but with tits like them, near anything leaves a ton of cleavage out there. A METRIC ton, which you know, assuming you are familiar with the comparative quantities of an imperial ton and the metric ton, is much bigger.

Thinking back to the first time we met, I mentioned she had this flabby, sloppy beer belly hanging out. Well it was worse now. Not out on display like with the bikini, but there's certain aspects to size that you only see when a girl tries to cover up. Emphasis on tries. Her spare tire was hanging out the bottom of this tank top/belly shirt, squished into a bouncy muffin top, jiggling at the smallest movement. It was kind of hypnotizing, actually. . .

Up a little higher, she had that double-boob action going on, muffin top boobs. I think she had the same size on as back in July, and she was getting close then. She noticed me staring, which is embarrassing a bit, and took the chance to talk about her favorite subject.

"I see you like the ladies! Ha, COURSE you like 'em; you got a penis, you like women, plus they're KIND of fantastic!!" she paused a second to adjust them, push them back into the cups, where they immediately began to make their way back out, "A bit TOO big maybe, like that's even a thing! Oof, but seriously, I gotta get a bigger bra, because you know, they ain't done growin' yet!" 

_And neither is that gut they're resting on._ I thought but didn't actualy say that, but I was definitely tempted to, since she'd made the comment before about how her boobs get bigger every pound she packs on, but at the same time, it might get taken the wrong way. Don't want THAT. Then she'd walk away, never speak to me again, and despite the fun I can have watching her wobble across the room, she doesn't have the kind of ass I'd most enjoy watching walk away. Better we just finish up, not walk directly away from each other; then I could get in a bit of peripheral vision excitement.

While I was thinking about my escape plans, she kept right on, "Pretty sure tits like these would turn Neil Patrick Harris straight in a heartbeat, and let me tell you, THAT would be awesome. Women all over the world would thank me, but they couldn't have him. All mine." 

_Does she EVER stop talking about those things? At least it's something I can enjoy hearing about._ I observed to myself.

Still, kinda repetitive. Courtnee's proud of her tits, and rightfully so, even more rightfully than Ellen, I'd say, since she's got the cantaloupes without the ring of lard bulging up that Ellen has, but she's not as obsessed with bragging about them as Ellen seems to be. She WILL talk about them, but she's not going to just force them into a conversation herself. Oh, just to be clear, the emphasis in that was on the comparison, Courtnee definitely has a decent spare tire, it's just. . . Not as impressive. 

So yeah, the titty-talk/play was definitely a thing I was enjoying, but then Jen and Heather walked through the door, so I took the chance; I agreed with her, told her she had some of the greatest headlights I'd ever seen, but I totally had to go catch up with Jen and Heather. She nodded and shrugged, which was a beautiful, jiggly sight. They may not be THE best tits in the room, but they pose Courtnee some SERIOUS competition. I would say that in a lineup of a hundred randomly selected women, they would rank number one about 99% of the time.

I walked over to Jen and Heather, and started catching up. 

Jen had been applying to jobs all over, but so far no luck. She thought she had a really good chance at the two most recent places she applied to, a daycare and a restaurant that was short like three servers. But yeah, at the moment, she was unemployed. Looked like she'd dropped a pound or seven. Guess that's what not being able to afford indulgences does to a girl.

HEATHER, though, picked up the slack on Jen's progress! That job at Baskin-Robbins was doing her figure a favor! She was crammed into the same clothes she'd been wearing the night we talked; only they looked way better now. Well, I THINK they did, I didn't get that good a look at her that night, a lot of that description was me kind of just assuming she didn't change particularly much in that one night. I DID get a good look at what she was wearing, though, so I knew it was the same outfit. And she sure as hell filled it out well.

We three talked a little bit about random stuff, until Penny walked in and distracted Heather. Not intentionally, just, you know, by her being in the room. The whole room was kinda distracted. Penny looked more or less unchanged since last I'd seen her, no big changes. Well, maybe her jugs had a BIT more bounce than before, but considering how they were already, it wasn't too significant.

I was looking around, and at this point, there was exactly one person who I hadn't seen yet. Maila. Which was a serious disappointment because, well, you read the way I described her, she was the one girl I was most looking forward to being here.

Plus, I'd predicted she'd be gaining like crazy, and before, she'd had on those giant baggy sweatpants and sweatshirt. That's a pretty common problem when you look for the larger women. Curse those clothing designers for blocking a good view of a girl's bloated body! This party though, she was definitely probably going to be in something else, so this was my chance to test the validity of my proposed hypothesis. On a lesser note, I was thinking of the conversation we had when I invited her; and how we'd gotten along when I first met her; we definitely had a lot in common.

So when she walked in, about thirty minutes late, I was really excited/happy. Of course I hid it when I went up to her, played it cool, you know? And things. . . Well to put it lightly, things went well. Very well. 

I'm not telling you exactly HOW well just yet, that's gotta wait until I get done with lunch. It's really crazy how long it takes me to do each entry here, you know? At this rate, I SHOULD get to the end of this particular story by the end of the day, though. I think so. That's my goal.


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## Tad (Mar 25, 2013)

Yay, glad to see a new instalment--I still love the writing style, it is just so much fun


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## Cylon_bob (Mar 25, 2013)

There's another one getting near finished, but life is getting in the way at the moment, so I can't guarantee anything, at least not until May


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