Non Serviam
Active Member
~BBW, ~BHM, , Eating, Romance, Intrigue ~MWG - Saskia comes to university and adjusts to life there
[Author's Note: This is by way of being a sort of sequel to my earlier story, "A Visit of Discovery", but it works on its own as well, so - enjoy! I have taken the liberty of putting WG and Intrigue up there because the plot will thicken along with our heroine.]
“Uh, look at this,” said Natalie.
I looked up from where I sat opposite her on the train. She was reading a glossy magazine, and it being September, the theme, splashed in pink across yellow, was, ‘Going On Up: Are U Ready For Uni?’
“It says that when people go to uni, there’s a really big risk of gaining weight. They call it Fat Fresher’s Syndrome.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard of that,” I said. “You know, like in American sitcoms where they talk about ‘the freshman fifteen’. I don’t know if it really happens, though.”
“I think if I put on fifteen pounds,” said Natalie, “I’ll probably kill myself.”
There wasn’t much danger of that, to be perfectly honest. Natalie was thin as a rake, and had been ever since we’d met, on the first day of school. She’d been Miss Perfect – lovely little skirts and dresses, blonde hair, blue eyes, unhealthy obsession with the colour pink, the lot. As we grew up and parallel research on the part of both boys and girls revealed that the other gender was not, in fact, toxic, they began to grow more and more interested in her.
I wasn’t quite so blessed, being short and, while not fat, as I matured I found that my weight had a tendency to gather in my hips and rear, with a little left over for a soft belly, but none to spare for where it might actually have done me some good. Which left me, naturally, to take up the role of “the smart one”, and did so quite well, if I do say so myself. When Natalie began to slip to Bs and then, in some subjects, to Cs and below, I managed to maintain straight As.
I thought, therefore, that I might have managed to get rid of Natalie when I got accepted to Kentigern, but the very day my letter arrived she bounded up to me at school, screaming, “I got in! I got in! Oh, isn’t this great, Saskia – we can go together!”
So, on our first say we arrived at Kentigern Station and took the shuttlebus to the university. We were dragging our suitcases through the campus, as were hundred of other students. I took out my map and consulted it. “Hmm… I’m in Rutherford Hall, that’s just up there. Where are you?”
Natalie consulted her letter.
“Aw, I’m in West. That’s all the way down there.”
She pointed.
“Oh, well. See you later!”
She distributed her customary air kisses and wandered off, taking a record twelve seconds to find a muscular guy to take her bags. I could hear her giggle through the noise of the rest of the crowd.
Having found my room on the second floor, I was about to put my key in the lock when a plump hand reached over from the opposite direction and using its own key, opened the door. I looked up.
“Hi!” said the hand’s owner. “I’m Julie.”
I was momentarily taken aback. Only momentarily, mind you. I’ve nothing against fat people. I’m not exactly a stick myself. But Julie was very big, and she didn’t try to hide it. She wore a pink halter top, which despite is voluminous size was still tight enough to showcase her every bulge. It also showed off a smooth expanse of back fat and was unable to contain the large stomach that forced down her jeans waistband – and they were under strain enough as it was. They never had village fetes when I was growing up, so I didn’t try to guess her weight, I just said, “Hi, Julie. My name’s Saskia.”
The room was not large, and with both of us inside it seemed even smaller. We started to unpack, but kept getting in each other’s way. There was one wardrobe with a flimsy partition down the middle. Julie crammed her side full of fashionable-looking plus-size clothes and unpacked the rest of her things on the bed, scattering them all about the room. A laptop computer on the desk, photos on her bedside table and books on the shelves – a lot of them. She saw me looking and held up her hands.
“I know, I know, I’m a geek. But I’m doing philosophy here. I think a lot. Not many people really know. Oh, what time is it?” She put her hand to her stomach, which gave a loud rumble.
“I’m starving. It’s nearly two and I haven’t eaten since lunch. Come on, let’s go and find somewhere.”
So it was that I met my new roommate. Julie and I were going to be good friends, I knew, especially when I managed to get through my whole first day without seeing Natasha once. Classes started the day after, though; no slacking. I was in the fast-track Maths program – I know, I know – but I was also taking Physics and, for what I imagined would be some light relief, Film Studies. The best thing about this class was that the lecture theatre was exactly like a cinema, except with a podium to one side of the screen.
I’d thought it would be nice to eat breakfast with Julie, but once I’d begun this I didn’t want to leave without her. As a result, I was almost late for my very first Film Studies lecture. I entered, panting, to see that the room was almost full – clearly, plenty of other people had had the same idea as me – and that the only seat left was in the back row, next to this guy. The first thing I noticed was that he was sitting across two seats, having lifted the armrest of one to allow him to do so, and he needed the room. I could barely take my eyes off him as I sat down.
I should have mentioned before that I have a thing for fat guys. It’s kind of heavily buried most of the time. I mean, it’s ridiculous, but skinny or muscular guys, while I can recognise that they’re attractive, just don’t really do it for me. And him – the sheer size of his belly put the laughing buddha to shame, as did the size of his smile as he turned his chubby face towards me and said, “Morning. I’m Howie.”
“Saskia,” I managed to breathe eventually. “Are you, uh – um – are you, uh – m?” He looked at me, puzzled, but just then the lecture started and everyone else was taking notes. But I knew he wouldn’t be able to leave without going past me. I’d get to talk to him again. I hardly took any notes that lecture, I just kept stealing glances at the mass of Howie that was sat next to me. I was going to fail this class for sure, and it had only just started.
By the end of the fifty-five minutes I was twitching like a maniac. I took a long time putting my things away as Howie did the same and then tried to get up, without a great degree of success. Eventually he said, “Uh – Saskia? Could you give me a hand?”
Wordlessly, my heart pounding, I held out an arm, which Howie pulled on so hard I almost fell over. Steadying myself against the seat in front, I eventually managed to help him totter to a standing position.
He looked at me sheepishly. “Thanks.”
I turned away, red-faced. I had never been so turned on in all my life. I had to go to the bathroom and splash cold water on my face to recover, and, of course, by that time he had gone.
Julie and I were eating dinner in the cafeteria. Her tray was weighed down with two large platefuls of lasagne and a massive bowl of chips. Other people at our table were staring, but she didn’t care. I feared for her jeans – what had they ever done to deserve such treatment.
She must have noticed me staring at her open-mouthed because she said, “Oh, I’m so sorry Saskia. I’ve just been stuffing my face and completely ignoring you.”
She put another overloaded forkful into her mouth, chewed, swallowed, and said, “How was your day?”
“Well,” I said as the fork flew back to the plate and up again, “I went to my first maths lecture, which was pretty interesting. And I had a film studies class, and –“ I stopped short, but Julie had noticed.
She nodded, her cheeks full of lasagne but her eyes saying, “Go on…”
“Well, there was this guy,” I blushed, “sitting next to me. He, I don’t know, I thought he was quite –“
Julie giggled. I thought she was going to choke but clearly she had the best-developed swallowing and gag reflexes of anyone I’d ever met. “Oh? And what’s his name?”
I eyed Julie’s massively distended stomach, which was pushing up against the bottom of her breasts. And I remembered the photo of her boyfriend. If anyone was going to understand this, it was going to be her. Besides, she’d probably never met him. “His name’s Howie.”
This time she did almost choke, on a chip (she’d finished both portions of lasagne before I was even halfway through my salad), but she coughed it back up onto her plate and took a sip from her milkshake, saying, “You don’t mean Howie MacLeod?”
“Uh… I don’t know,” I said nervously.
“Oh, you’d know. Brown hair. Big smile. About the size of a Volkswagen Beetle?” she said, unconsciously rubbing her bulging stomach.
“Oh. Yeah, that’s him.” I went even redder as Julie beamed.
“I know him too! I went to school with him. That’s how I met Roy – they’re cousins. He’s such a sweetheart, but I don’t know how far you’ll get. He’s a bit shy with girls sometimes. Don’t really know why.”
She ate the last chip and said, “I’m going up to get some dessert."
I must have loooked totally bewuildered or something.
"D’you want me to fetch you something?” she asked, looking at my half-finished salad. “You don’t have much of an appetite. Don’t worry, I’ll get you some real food. You won’t be able to resist this.”
She came back with six plates, three for each of us – sticky-toffee pudding, chocolate sponge cake with ice cream, and half a jam roly-poly.
I looked at her.
“How?” was all I could say.
She smiled guiltily.
“That guy on the end,” she said, waving at one of the cafeteria workers, a tall, thin young man, probably an older student strapped for cash, who waved back, blushing. “I think he’s got a thing for me. All I have to do is say,” (she pouted and leaned forward, exposing even more of her already abundant cleavage) “’Oh! I’m so hungry, I don’t think just one of these little portions is going to fill me up.’ Simone de Beauvoir might not have approved, but I’m just being empowered.”
As she’d been explaining, I had, almost without noticing, taken a forkful of the sticky-toffee pudding, and another. And another. Howie was shy, I mused as I munched absently. That might work to my advantage, if it meant no-one else would be chasing after him.
"But," I thought as I polished off that pudding and moved onto the sponge cake, "who are these people, that delight and luxuriate in their fatness?"
I thought that Julie was probably the nicest person I had ever met, and that fact that her chair creaked every time she moved didn’t detract from that in the least. I had almost kept pace with her, and she was just finishing her double vanilla milkshake as I ate the last bite of my massive portion of roly-poly, and looked down at my stomach. The feeling of satiety and warmth I had momentarily experienced curdled instantly into worry, and it remained in the pit of my stomach all evening, and some hours into the night, until finally I fell asleep.
Story continued in post 4
[Author's Note: This is by way of being a sort of sequel to my earlier story, "A Visit of Discovery", but it works on its own as well, so - enjoy! I have taken the liberty of putting WG and Intrigue up there because the plot will thicken along with our heroine.]
Fat Fresher's Syndrome
By Non Serviam
By Non Serviam
CHAPTER I
The reader meets me, and also Natalie, unfortunately
– I meet my roommate
– I meet a boy, and help him out of a jam
– I learn that it’s a small world after all
– Simone de Beauvoir does not approve
The reader meets me, and also Natalie, unfortunately
– I meet my roommate
– I meet a boy, and help him out of a jam
– I learn that it’s a small world after all
– Simone de Beauvoir does not approve
“Uh, look at this,” said Natalie.
I looked up from where I sat opposite her on the train. She was reading a glossy magazine, and it being September, the theme, splashed in pink across yellow, was, ‘Going On Up: Are U Ready For Uni?’
“It says that when people go to uni, there’s a really big risk of gaining weight. They call it Fat Fresher’s Syndrome.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard of that,” I said. “You know, like in American sitcoms where they talk about ‘the freshman fifteen’. I don’t know if it really happens, though.”
“I think if I put on fifteen pounds,” said Natalie, “I’ll probably kill myself.”
There wasn’t much danger of that, to be perfectly honest. Natalie was thin as a rake, and had been ever since we’d met, on the first day of school. She’d been Miss Perfect – lovely little skirts and dresses, blonde hair, blue eyes, unhealthy obsession with the colour pink, the lot. As we grew up and parallel research on the part of both boys and girls revealed that the other gender was not, in fact, toxic, they began to grow more and more interested in her.
I wasn’t quite so blessed, being short and, while not fat, as I matured I found that my weight had a tendency to gather in my hips and rear, with a little left over for a soft belly, but none to spare for where it might actually have done me some good. Which left me, naturally, to take up the role of “the smart one”, and did so quite well, if I do say so myself. When Natalie began to slip to Bs and then, in some subjects, to Cs and below, I managed to maintain straight As.
I thought, therefore, that I might have managed to get rid of Natalie when I got accepted to Kentigern, but the very day my letter arrived she bounded up to me at school, screaming, “I got in! I got in! Oh, isn’t this great, Saskia – we can go together!”
So, on our first say we arrived at Kentigern Station and took the shuttlebus to the university. We were dragging our suitcases through the campus, as were hundred of other students. I took out my map and consulted it. “Hmm… I’m in Rutherford Hall, that’s just up there. Where are you?”
Natalie consulted her letter.
“Aw, I’m in West. That’s all the way down there.”
She pointed.
“Oh, well. See you later!”
She distributed her customary air kisses and wandered off, taking a record twelve seconds to find a muscular guy to take her bags. I could hear her giggle through the noise of the rest of the crowd.
Having found my room on the second floor, I was about to put my key in the lock when a plump hand reached over from the opposite direction and using its own key, opened the door. I looked up.
“Hi!” said the hand’s owner. “I’m Julie.”
I was momentarily taken aback. Only momentarily, mind you. I’ve nothing against fat people. I’m not exactly a stick myself. But Julie was very big, and she didn’t try to hide it. She wore a pink halter top, which despite is voluminous size was still tight enough to showcase her every bulge. It also showed off a smooth expanse of back fat and was unable to contain the large stomach that forced down her jeans waistband – and they were under strain enough as it was. They never had village fetes when I was growing up, so I didn’t try to guess her weight, I just said, “Hi, Julie. My name’s Saskia.”
The room was not large, and with both of us inside it seemed even smaller. We started to unpack, but kept getting in each other’s way. There was one wardrobe with a flimsy partition down the middle. Julie crammed her side full of fashionable-looking plus-size clothes and unpacked the rest of her things on the bed, scattering them all about the room. A laptop computer on the desk, photos on her bedside table and books on the shelves – a lot of them. She saw me looking and held up her hands.
“I know, I know, I’m a geek. But I’m doing philosophy here. I think a lot. Not many people really know. Oh, what time is it?” She put her hand to her stomach, which gave a loud rumble.
“I’m starving. It’s nearly two and I haven’t eaten since lunch. Come on, let’s go and find somewhere.”
So it was that I met my new roommate. Julie and I were going to be good friends, I knew, especially when I managed to get through my whole first day without seeing Natasha once. Classes started the day after, though; no slacking. I was in the fast-track Maths program – I know, I know – but I was also taking Physics and, for what I imagined would be some light relief, Film Studies. The best thing about this class was that the lecture theatre was exactly like a cinema, except with a podium to one side of the screen.
I’d thought it would be nice to eat breakfast with Julie, but once I’d begun this I didn’t want to leave without her. As a result, I was almost late for my very first Film Studies lecture. I entered, panting, to see that the room was almost full – clearly, plenty of other people had had the same idea as me – and that the only seat left was in the back row, next to this guy. The first thing I noticed was that he was sitting across two seats, having lifted the armrest of one to allow him to do so, and he needed the room. I could barely take my eyes off him as I sat down.
I should have mentioned before that I have a thing for fat guys. It’s kind of heavily buried most of the time. I mean, it’s ridiculous, but skinny or muscular guys, while I can recognise that they’re attractive, just don’t really do it for me. And him – the sheer size of his belly put the laughing buddha to shame, as did the size of his smile as he turned his chubby face towards me and said, “Morning. I’m Howie.”
“Saskia,” I managed to breathe eventually. “Are you, uh – um – are you, uh – m?” He looked at me, puzzled, but just then the lecture started and everyone else was taking notes. But I knew he wouldn’t be able to leave without going past me. I’d get to talk to him again. I hardly took any notes that lecture, I just kept stealing glances at the mass of Howie that was sat next to me. I was going to fail this class for sure, and it had only just started.
By the end of the fifty-five minutes I was twitching like a maniac. I took a long time putting my things away as Howie did the same and then tried to get up, without a great degree of success. Eventually he said, “Uh – Saskia? Could you give me a hand?”
Wordlessly, my heart pounding, I held out an arm, which Howie pulled on so hard I almost fell over. Steadying myself against the seat in front, I eventually managed to help him totter to a standing position.
He looked at me sheepishly. “Thanks.”
I turned away, red-faced. I had never been so turned on in all my life. I had to go to the bathroom and splash cold water on my face to recover, and, of course, by that time he had gone.
Julie and I were eating dinner in the cafeteria. Her tray was weighed down with two large platefuls of lasagne and a massive bowl of chips. Other people at our table were staring, but she didn’t care. I feared for her jeans – what had they ever done to deserve such treatment.
She must have noticed me staring at her open-mouthed because she said, “Oh, I’m so sorry Saskia. I’ve just been stuffing my face and completely ignoring you.”
She put another overloaded forkful into her mouth, chewed, swallowed, and said, “How was your day?”
“Well,” I said as the fork flew back to the plate and up again, “I went to my first maths lecture, which was pretty interesting. And I had a film studies class, and –“ I stopped short, but Julie had noticed.
She nodded, her cheeks full of lasagne but her eyes saying, “Go on…”
“Well, there was this guy,” I blushed, “sitting next to me. He, I don’t know, I thought he was quite –“
Julie giggled. I thought she was going to choke but clearly she had the best-developed swallowing and gag reflexes of anyone I’d ever met. “Oh? And what’s his name?”
I eyed Julie’s massively distended stomach, which was pushing up against the bottom of her breasts. And I remembered the photo of her boyfriend. If anyone was going to understand this, it was going to be her. Besides, she’d probably never met him. “His name’s Howie.”
This time she did almost choke, on a chip (she’d finished both portions of lasagne before I was even halfway through my salad), but she coughed it back up onto her plate and took a sip from her milkshake, saying, “You don’t mean Howie MacLeod?”
“Uh… I don’t know,” I said nervously.
“Oh, you’d know. Brown hair. Big smile. About the size of a Volkswagen Beetle?” she said, unconsciously rubbing her bulging stomach.
“Oh. Yeah, that’s him.” I went even redder as Julie beamed.
“I know him too! I went to school with him. That’s how I met Roy – they’re cousins. He’s such a sweetheart, but I don’t know how far you’ll get. He’s a bit shy with girls sometimes. Don’t really know why.”
She ate the last chip and said, “I’m going up to get some dessert."
I must have loooked totally bewuildered or something.
"D’you want me to fetch you something?” she asked, looking at my half-finished salad. “You don’t have much of an appetite. Don’t worry, I’ll get you some real food. You won’t be able to resist this.”
She came back with six plates, three for each of us – sticky-toffee pudding, chocolate sponge cake with ice cream, and half a jam roly-poly.
I looked at her.
“How?” was all I could say.
She smiled guiltily.
“That guy on the end,” she said, waving at one of the cafeteria workers, a tall, thin young man, probably an older student strapped for cash, who waved back, blushing. “I think he’s got a thing for me. All I have to do is say,” (she pouted and leaned forward, exposing even more of her already abundant cleavage) “’Oh! I’m so hungry, I don’t think just one of these little portions is going to fill me up.’ Simone de Beauvoir might not have approved, but I’m just being empowered.”
As she’d been explaining, I had, almost without noticing, taken a forkful of the sticky-toffee pudding, and another. And another. Howie was shy, I mused as I munched absently. That might work to my advantage, if it meant no-one else would be chasing after him.
"But," I thought as I polished off that pudding and moved onto the sponge cake, "who are these people, that delight and luxuriate in their fatness?"
I thought that Julie was probably the nicest person I had ever met, and that fact that her chair creaked every time she moved didn’t detract from that in the least. I had almost kept pace with her, and she was just finishing her double vanilla milkshake as I ate the last bite of my massive portion of roly-poly, and looked down at my stomach. The feeling of satiety and warmth I had momentarily experienced curdled instantly into worry, and it remained in the pit of my stomach all evening, and some hours into the night, until finally I fell asleep.
Story continued in post 4
