Crysta - BBW, Feeding, Sex, Force-feeding) - College-age guy 'with standards' gets with a girl who re-defines those standards
Crysta
by Cyclon_bob
pt.1
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We'll start with Crysta Harris. She came to my high school Junior year, 18 years old and blessed three times over by the goddesses of beauty and puberty. Everybody noticed her, she was impossible to ignore.
She tried out to be a cheerleader senior year. I showed up to those try-outs. So did most of the straight guys in the school. She killed it in the audition, we all thought. Nobody bounced like she did, no one else's shorts left their round, voluptuous cheeks exposed.
She didn't make the team; she was 'too short,' they said, and 'too busty for our uniforms.' Riots nearly ensued on behalf of every male student desperate to see that inevitable Crysta Harris' nip slip on the sideline, but she didn't seem to mind. A couple guys followed as she got the news, reported back that her appetite wasn't spoiled.
The cheerleaders tore into her as soon as she left. "Oh my god, can you believe her?" One of them asked, shaking her generic blonde hair and plastic face, "She's not even that pretty!"
The girl next to her clearly disagreed, but didn't argue. She held up the information sheet Crysta had provided, "Look at this, though, she's like, super short."
A third chimed in, "And kinda big, right? Like, all over!"
Back to stick-thin barbie number one, "Totally. I mean, she say here she's 135? I mean, at her height, all I got to say is that bitch better drop ten pounds."
They weren't lying, Crysta was definitely a tiny bit fluffy. She could have been a model with her red-brown hair, blue eyes and high cheekbones, facially, she was flawless, but she liked food too much, it seemed. Most teachers had rules against snacking in class. The male teachers made an exception in her case.
She didn't try and pretend she wasn't a soft, squishy sort of girl. She wore her shirts tight; if you looked, you'd see those ten pounds of fluff, but she was curvy as all hell. Nobody cared about ten pounds. Her tits were huge, perky, her hips were wide, and she still had most of a waistline.
Notice how I'm using past tense. This was true through high school.
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College, though...
Okay, lots of girls gain weight their first year of college. The Freshman fifteen's a famous thing, and as much as senior girls tell themselves it's a myth, it's more a fact around here. Trust me, my sex life for most of Freshman year was based on the low self-esteem of former prom queens with muffin tops and thunder thighs, and I had a damn good year.
My angle worked because I'm decent-looking and good at comforting when someone feels down. It worked when a newly-chubby girl was broken up with, or ripped her pants, or felt unloved. This wasn't about wanting fat girls. It was about how skinny chicks gain weight, get upset, feel undesired, and, basically, how they don't turn me away the second I start talking. I have standards, I always have, I've never been the kind of guy who'll sleep with anything on two legs, but...
Thing about 'standards' is, they vary. I've always taken 'no fat chicks' with a grain of salt. Maybe a These girls called themselves fat, their ex-boyfriends had called them fat, but they weren't really.
'Fat' is when a girl's waistline looks like a stack of tires, all rolls, no hourglass. 'Fat' is when her gut sticks out further than her tits. A fat girl takes up two seats on an airplane. The girls I was with, yeah, they had a few extra pounds, yeah, they weren't so toned, but God no, they weren't fat. They were a tiny bit fluffier, a bit softer, some cellulite, bunch of muffin tops, but never anything major, no huge rolls of fat or anything.
I didn't get with Crysta. I never had an opening. She was comfortable with how she looked, and had loads of admirers, even as the weight piled on, which it did. Let's start there.
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She came to orientation looking like she'd had a restful summer, laid by the pool, ate ice cream. She definitely hadn't been exercising, and she wasn't losing weight. Every time I went to the food court, there she was, stuffing her face.
We didn't talk until Halloween. She was trick-or-treating dressed like Elektra. Her eyes lit up, "Jason!" She squealed, "Oh my god, I didn't know we were in the same building!" She moved in for a hug, and I tried to hurry it along. I was, let's just say, interested in the view she was giving me. That outfit was... Well, mostly a cut-short tank top, red panties, and a couple strips of cloth tied a bit too tight. There wasn't much to hide the fact that she'd been taking it easy.
I laughed, "Crysta! I... Heh, how've you been?" I asked, feeling like an idiot, trying to hide my arousal, "What's up?"
Crysta laughed, pulled out a plastic sai, threatened me, "What's up is you're gonna give me a fuck-ton of candy, or I'm gonna force it out of you!" She wrinkled her nose, pretending rage, "Come on, I'm waiting!" I chuckled, pouring a few Hershey's minis into her trash bag. Crysta groaned, "Are you serious?"
"Wha- what?"
Crysta narrowed her eyes, "I said a fuck-ton. This is like, three tiny ass bars." She pursed her lips, raised an eyebrow, "What are you trying to say right now?" She asked, "You trying to say I'm getting fat?!" She bellowed, poking me in the chest with her toy weapon.
It's funny how intimidating a five foot chubby girl can be when she's hot as hell and dressed like a superhero, "What? I... No!"
"You sure about that?" Crysta pressed, stepping closer, "You're sure? 'Cause let me tell you, I sure feel fatter!"
I calmed down, this was a conversation I knew. I shook my head, told her "Don't be ridiculous. You're as skinny as you were at graduation." I left out that she wasn't skinny then, either.
Crysta grinned, "Yeah, totally." She snatched the bag of candy from out of my hands, moved for the door, talking fast, "So I can have this? Awesome, thanks! Later!"
I watched her chubby butt jog off. She wasn't the only squishy co-ed in the hall, but she was definitely easiest on the eyes. Some girls had cellulite I could see through their leggings, but Crysta's thick, padded legs were smooth and sexy as hell, jiggles rippling through them as she stepped down the hall. College was doing, at that point, just the most beautiful things to her bountiful body.
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Halloween fattened her up good, though, I'll tell you what.
She'd broken fifteen pounds by Thanksgiving, and I mean before she left for a week of unbridled piggishness.
Spring semester came around, and I swear, by Mardi Gras, Crysta was up thirty pounds. I got a good idea, her outfit was pretty revealing, short shorts and a belly shirt, every fluffy pound was right there for the world to see.
I saw her sitting on a tall guy's shoulders, probably her boyfriend's, to see the parade. Her belly bent around his head. He didn't look too pleased. A little later, he was gone, and she had king cake. It likely wasn't her first slice. She had a sprinkling of green, yellow and purple sugars across that poochy, pudgy, jelly belly she'd grown.
This is where I'd normally make a move; she'd gained twice as much as she was 'supposed' to, and it showed. Only, Crysta seemed a different kind of girl. Spring is when most Freshman girls get their overeating, oversleeping, lazy asses in line, preparing for the summer, losing weight because their fat ass couldn't possibly fit back into that bikini.
They did that.
Diets happened, and the gym filled up.
Girls all around campus lost weight. Crysta found it. They dropped pounds, Crysta picked them back up. And guys still loved her.
