~BBW, Stuffing, Romance, ~MWG A rejected girl does what she must to get a guys attention
Chapter One - When Julie Met Herbert...
Julie, tottering on 3 inch high stilettos, halted and consulted her watch, discovering that, without some sort of miracle, she would have no hope of arriving in time for the fashion show - where she was expected to model at least 20 outfits before the night was through.
"Oh no," she groaned, glancing every which way around the deserted suburban street. It was dusking, and she thought of all the nasty killers and rapists who'd jump out at any opportunity (she'd watched a lot of horror movies).
Just as she was about to despair, a van pulled up beside her; Julie, feeling very uneasy indeed, watched as the driver's window rolled down and a man stared out at her.
He had long dark hair, glasses, and a vaguely dodgy look about him - though, at the moment, Julie was in the mood for thinking just about everybody looked dodgy.
Are you lost?" he asked quietly.
"Yes. I need directions to the fashion show at the city centre," answered Julie, defensively. There was something peculiar about the young man, something oddly captivating.
"Oh yes, you look like model material," he laughed. "Well, I'm afraid it's quite a walk from here..."
Julie was so certain that he was about to ask her to get into the van, that when he instead remarked, nonchalantly: "You'll probably need some food for the journey, or you might keel over and die," she almost felt offended.
"Here." The man passed a Subway sandwich through the open window; Julie took it, feeling highly affronted.
"Thanks, but this isn't gonna help me get there," she said huffily, feeling her empty stomach grumble at the smell of the food. She ignored it.
"Well..." he rolled his eyes in a lazy sort of way, and consulted a watch upon his wrist. "I suppose I COULD take you."
"How do I know you're not some sort or deranged psychopath?" challenged Julie.
"Oh," he laughed again, "I could be, but you've nothing to worry about. You're really not my type."
Julie felt distinctly annoyed by his blasé' manner; what did he mean 'not my type?' She was every man's type! He must be gay then, concluded Julie.
"What's your name?" she demanded.
"Herbert," replied the other. "And you?"
"Julie."
Julie mildly wondered whether 'Herbert' was the sort of name a serial killer was likely to have. She thought it was a dorky kind of a name, and she imagined the young man killing his mother for giving it to him in the first place. Nah, not very likely, really.
Finally, Julie had no choice but to climb into the passenger seat of the van, clutching her can of pepper spray just in case.
The van was very messy inside, the back of it clustered with various food wrappers and soda cans, although Herbert did not seem embarrassed about that in the least.
"Don't try any funny stuff," Julie warned, as they began to drive.
"That's too bad; most people love my delightful sense of humor," returned Herbert, with affected melancholy.
Julie laughed, and relaxed somewhat.
They arrived within twenty minutes at the fashion show, and Herbert had not yet displayed any obvious homicidal tendencies.
Julie got out of the car safe and sound, purposefully struggling with her seatbelt so as to give him a view down the top of her dress. Her way of saying thanks.
She felt rather peeved, however, when he paid her little mind, instead muttering, "Lemme get that for you," and unclasping her seatbelt for her.
"There. Free as a bird and all in one piece," said Herbert, with a polite smile.
Huffily, Julie thrust out the sandwich that she was still holding. "Here, I won't be needing this. I have to fit into my dresses."
"No, please keep it," Herbert said mildly, "it'll probably be enough to feed all the models in the vicinity for several months... well, cheerio."
He stared the van, and then was gone, leaving Julie fuming on the sidewalk.
Glancing downward, she then noticed that a card had fallen out of Herbert's van; stooping, she picked it up.
It was a business card, and it taught her quite a lot about her mysterious ferrier. He was an entrepreneur of sorts; a painter.
"Definitely gay," Julie decided out loud, feeling vaguely disappointed. He'd been rather cute, underneath that whole dodgy serial killer look.
She made her way into the building, still carrying the card and the sandwich, both of which she then deposited in the change room.
The fashion show was a success, but all the while Julie was thinking about Herbert. It was past midnight when she was finally dismissed; she seized the card and the sandwich and went outside to await the scheduled cab that would convey her back to her apartment. She read the card again, and, barely even realizing that she was doing it, began munching on the sandwich.
Chapter Two The Plot Thickens...
Julie awoke the following morning in her cramped, one-bedroom apartment, and resumed fuming at that obnoxious Herbert guy. No man had ever treated her like that before, not even the gay ones. They at least had the civility to tell her that she looked 'divine', 'gorgeous' or 'stunning', which which she'd be perfectly satisfied. But Herbert? Nothing! Not even a pervy look down her cleavage.
As Julie had no events scheduled for the day, she decided to undertake a project of a different nature. With a naughty smirk, she picked up Herbert's card from her bedside table, exited her bedroom in her nightdress and reached the telephone in her cramped living room. She dialed his number, and waited impatiently for him to pick up.
"Yes?" His annoying voice presently sounded in her ear.
"Yes, this is Julie. The model from last night," said Julie in her most seductive voice.
"Ah. So I take it everything was a roaring success then?" Herbert asked casually, sounding as though he had more important obligations; that her call had come at an inopportune time.
"Yes. But I wanted to thank you..." began Julie, disguising her irritation with him. "Maybe we could go someplace later?" To spend time in her company would be thanks enough.
"Hmm... well, I SUPPOSE we could go out for lunch or something," muttered Herbert, almost as though he thought he was doing HER a favour.
"MAYBE I'll swing by around noon. At least I know it'll be cheap. I hate to splash my cash," he added dryly, laughing.
"OK, noon then," agreed Julie, prickling. She gave him the address, slammed down the phone, and hurried back to her room, where she changed into a tiny mini skirt and an equally tiny boob tube. No man stood a chance when Julie donned THAT outfit...
* * *
Herbert arrived punctually, dressed in a long black coat and a red baseball cap; and he took Julie to MacDonalds, of all places! She felt even angrier.
He gave no acknowledgement whatsoever to her sexy outfit, and, when they sat down -he with a Big Mac, milkshake and a large order of fries; she with only a salad- he proceeded to extract a pen and note pad from his coat pocket and set about compiling a shopping list.
"Gee, you really know how to treat a girl," Julie thought furiously.
But, not wanting to seem TOO rude, she instead said: "How can you eat all that crap? You'll probably be really fat by the time you're forty."
"Well. So be it, then. We don't call them 'love handles' for nothing," answered Herbert, not looking up from his shopping list.
"Are you gay?" asked Julie bluntly, munching on lettuce, even though she disliked the taste of it.
"What? Oh my word no," laughed Herbert, glancing up at last. "I'm just... you know, metrosexual. Or... whatever else is 'in' these days."
"You're not fashionable enough to be metrosexual," retorted Julie, watching with disgust as an obese young woman waddled up to the counter, rolls of flesh spilling over the vast waistband of her pants, her sweater low-cut and at least three sizes too small, barely containing her voluptuous breasts.
"Oh, look at that," scoffed Julie. "How gross."
But Herbert, in fact, was already looking; he wet his lips, his expression one that Julie had seen many times before. It finally struck her (took long enough, lol): Oh, so THAT'S what you like, is it?
Herbert's eyes followed the fat girl as she waddled to a nearby table, carrying an enormous tray of food, and ponderously sat down on a chair. She took a huge bite of a Big Mac, and then looked across at Herbert.
"Hi," she grinned. "How've you been, Herb?"
"Oh, quite wonderful," he sidled along the bench, closer to her, forgetting about Julie entirely. "And you're looking lovelier than ever. Maybe, if I'm extra sweet, I can coerce you into modeling for me again?"
"Love to," the girl replied kindly, giggling as Herbert playfully twiddled his fingers over her enormous belly.
By the time Herbert finally saw fit to look back at Julie, she demanded: "So, who's your FRIEND?"
"Oh, just an acquaintance really," muttered Herbert, still staring across at the girl's overhanging belly, and enormous breasts.
"I'm a painter, actually. She inspires my brushstrokes to brilliance. So..." he smiled slightly, and began eating his fries in conclusion.
Julie could hardly believe it. How could anyone pay more attention to that fat cow, than to HER? She was going to make Herbert take notice of her, if it was the last thing she did. She seized his tray of food right from under him, and drew it to her side of the table instead, stuffing a handful of fries into her mouth.
"Are you sure you can eat all that?" Herbert asked, still unimpressed, his attention returning to his shopping list.
"I'll have to ask for a takeaway bag, I suppose..."
"I can eat it!" snapped Julie, munching furiously. In truth, the fries tasted wonderful after months of surviving on salads and tofu, but there was no way she was going to allow herself to get fat like the other girl. But she was prepared to gain a pound or two - or however many
Chapter Three - Julie Makes a Discovery...
During the days succeeding, Julie ate more than she had probably ever eaten before; she had hitherto never realized how wonderful food really was; how everything had different tastes and textures, all awaiting her salivating palate.
Herbert took her to a number of restaurants (Julie insisted on visiting fancy ones), where she ate her first crème caramel, her first chicken risotto, her first slice of cheesecake.
Fortunately, she didn't have to worry about appearing on the catwalk for another ten weeks, and thusly thought nothing of the consequences of her indulgence. She could lose the weight in a jiffy, anyway. By the end of the week, she stepped onto her bathroom scale and discovered that she had already gained ten pounds! Her breasts were now slightly larger, and her skirts were beginning to feel a little snug. But Herbert, that infuriating jackass, still acted as aloof as ever!
On Saturday, the pair of them attended an art exposition, where there was a free buffet. Julie loaded a plastic plate with fingerfood -sandwiches, slices, cakes- and joined Herbert looking at the paintings.
"Hmm... there's quite a few I like here," he mused, ignoring Julie's sexy physique as always.
"If I had the money, I'd bedeck my abode with the likes of these." He swept grandly away to assess the rest of the exhibit, leaving Julie to irritatedly munch on her food.
She could hardly believe how wonderful it tasted. She sampled a bit of everything, and, by the time Herbert returned, she had had to unbutton the top of her skirt, for she had grown so full. She pulled her shirt down over her belly, hoping that nobody would notice - nobody, that is, except Herbert.
On Sunday, Julie invited Herbert to dinner at her apartment for the first time; having cleaned everything in advance, for SHE was not a messy slob like he was, and wanted to set a good example.
Julie had concluded that the bathroom scale was broken, for it had read 135 pounds when she stepped on it minutes ago. How ridiculous, thought Julie, as she busied herself about the kitchen, cooking an elaborate three-course meal, and hoping that it would turn out well (as she had hardly ever cooked anything before).
When everything was ready, Julie returned to her bedroom, but discovered, to her alarm, that hardly any of her clothes fit! She crossly changed into her baggiest pair of jeans (which were not baggy on her at all anymore), and a low-cut blouse that had once belonged to her mother. She left the top three buttons undone, grumbling: "You'd better come on to me tonight, so I can reject you..."
Julie assessed her girth in the mirror. Oddly, she liked the way that her belly had acquired a rounded shape, her B cup bra barely containing her breasts, her face filling out...
She was distracted by the chime of the doorbell, and she hurried to answer it, undoing another button of her blouse.
"Good evening, Julie," Herbert said politely when he entered, presenting Julie with a large box of chocolates.
"Something smells great. Oh hang on, that's just my cologne." He laughed in his annoying way, and strode into the dining room, dressed in his usual coat and cap.
"Gees, don't you ever change your clothes?" complained Julie, following him, tossing the chocolates down onto the couch.
"I do. I've just got ten pairs of everything," Herbert replied mildly, sitting down.
Despite her vexing companion, Julie enjoyed the dinner very much indeed. She never realized that she was such a good cook. She ate third helpings of everything, except for dessert (chocolate cake) of which she only ate two helpings, as she was growing rather full.
"You eat like a bird, Julie m'dear," muttered Herbert nonchalantly, as Julie slumped back in her chair, massaging her aching stomach, which felt as though it had almost doubled in size since the beginning of the night.
"Birds eat heaps, relative to their body size," retorted Julie, gazing back at her unfinished slice of cake.
"Oh, you're so PADANTIC," groaned Herbert, who, in actuality, had not eaten half as much as she had. "You probably can't even finish that cake."
"Oh yeah? Watch me!" She seized the plate, and jammed the remaining forkfuls into her mouth, swallowed painfully, and slumped back in her seat once more. She repressed a belch, and undid the top button on her jeans, knowing that she would have to buy a whole new wardrobe in the morning.
Herbert, smiling slightly, rose from the table and cleared the plates, returning them to Julie's kitchen; she did not bother to thank him for his helpfulness, but rather heaved herself from her chair and crossed to the couch, where she sat, waiting for the pain in her stomach to subside.
She was feeling much better some twenty minutes later, when Herbert returned from the kitchen, having obligingly washed all the dishes.
"Well, I guess I'd better be on my way," said he, buttoning his coat, tossing back his long hair, and not sparing Julie a glance.
Knowing that the only way to detain him would be to open the chocolate box, Julie said loudly: "It's only nine-thirty! Here, have one of these. They're probably real cheap, knowing your taste."
Herbert paused, smiled, and then came back, sitting down beside Julie.
"There's nothing wrong with my taste. Here, you try." He selected a chocolate and held in to her lips; momentarily, she opened them, and he slipped the chocolate inside. Surprisingly, Julie felt her appetite roused again at the delicious taste.
"Mmm..." she said, closing her eyes with pleasure, no longer angry. "Those ARE good. I guess your taste isn't THAT bad..."
She opened her mouth again, and Herbert fed her another chocolate, setting the box down upon her lap. His arm brushed against her distended belly whenever he reached down for the chocolates; and, before Julie knew it, she had eaten them all.
"See, that wasn't so bad," whispered Herbert, unaware of how aroused Julie had become. Suddenly, she seized a handful of his hair, and attempted to pull him into her embrace, only to have him draw back, and struggle free.
"I hope you didn't just try to rape me, Julie," he said indignantly. "It wouldn't be very lady-like, you know."
"As if!" retorted Julie, furious once more. "No one'd wanna rape YOU! Now, get lost, I'm missing my favorite show!"
Herbert smirked, crossed to the door, but then hesitated upon the threshold. "I suppose I'd better return your favour. Maybe I'll cook dinner for you next weekend?"
Julie glanced upwards at him.
"But, I should warn you," continued Herbert, "I don't mess around, so you'd better bring your appetite. Cheerio." And then he was gone, closing the door behind him.
"Grr!" said Julie, clenching her fist with fury. "Stupid idiot. I'll show him!"
Herbert: Portrait of a Cereal Feeder
by Sweettreat
(reposted by arrangement with fantasyfeeder.com)
by Sweettreat
(reposted by arrangement with fantasyfeeder.com)
Chapter One - When Julie Met Herbert...
Julie, tottering on 3 inch high stilettos, halted and consulted her watch, discovering that, without some sort of miracle, she would have no hope of arriving in time for the fashion show - where she was expected to model at least 20 outfits before the night was through.
"Oh no," she groaned, glancing every which way around the deserted suburban street. It was dusking, and she thought of all the nasty killers and rapists who'd jump out at any opportunity (she'd watched a lot of horror movies).
Just as she was about to despair, a van pulled up beside her; Julie, feeling very uneasy indeed, watched as the driver's window rolled down and a man stared out at her.
He had long dark hair, glasses, and a vaguely dodgy look about him - though, at the moment, Julie was in the mood for thinking just about everybody looked dodgy.
Are you lost?" he asked quietly.
"Yes. I need directions to the fashion show at the city centre," answered Julie, defensively. There was something peculiar about the young man, something oddly captivating.
"Oh yes, you look like model material," he laughed. "Well, I'm afraid it's quite a walk from here..."
Julie was so certain that he was about to ask her to get into the van, that when he instead remarked, nonchalantly: "You'll probably need some food for the journey, or you might keel over and die," she almost felt offended.
"Here." The man passed a Subway sandwich through the open window; Julie took it, feeling highly affronted.
"Thanks, but this isn't gonna help me get there," she said huffily, feeling her empty stomach grumble at the smell of the food. She ignored it.
"Well..." he rolled his eyes in a lazy sort of way, and consulted a watch upon his wrist. "I suppose I COULD take you."
"How do I know you're not some sort or deranged psychopath?" challenged Julie.
"Oh," he laughed again, "I could be, but you've nothing to worry about. You're really not my type."
Julie felt distinctly annoyed by his blasé' manner; what did he mean 'not my type?' She was every man's type! He must be gay then, concluded Julie.
"What's your name?" she demanded.
"Herbert," replied the other. "And you?"
"Julie."
Julie mildly wondered whether 'Herbert' was the sort of name a serial killer was likely to have. She thought it was a dorky kind of a name, and she imagined the young man killing his mother for giving it to him in the first place. Nah, not very likely, really.
Finally, Julie had no choice but to climb into the passenger seat of the van, clutching her can of pepper spray just in case.
The van was very messy inside, the back of it clustered with various food wrappers and soda cans, although Herbert did not seem embarrassed about that in the least.
"Don't try any funny stuff," Julie warned, as they began to drive.
"That's too bad; most people love my delightful sense of humor," returned Herbert, with affected melancholy.
Julie laughed, and relaxed somewhat.
They arrived within twenty minutes at the fashion show, and Herbert had not yet displayed any obvious homicidal tendencies.
Julie got out of the car safe and sound, purposefully struggling with her seatbelt so as to give him a view down the top of her dress. Her way of saying thanks.
She felt rather peeved, however, when he paid her little mind, instead muttering, "Lemme get that for you," and unclasping her seatbelt for her.
"There. Free as a bird and all in one piece," said Herbert, with a polite smile.
Huffily, Julie thrust out the sandwich that she was still holding. "Here, I won't be needing this. I have to fit into my dresses."
"No, please keep it," Herbert said mildly, "it'll probably be enough to feed all the models in the vicinity for several months... well, cheerio."
He stared the van, and then was gone, leaving Julie fuming on the sidewalk.
Glancing downward, she then noticed that a card had fallen out of Herbert's van; stooping, she picked it up.
It was a business card, and it taught her quite a lot about her mysterious ferrier. He was an entrepreneur of sorts; a painter.
"Definitely gay," Julie decided out loud, feeling vaguely disappointed. He'd been rather cute, underneath that whole dodgy serial killer look.
She made her way into the building, still carrying the card and the sandwich, both of which she then deposited in the change room.
The fashion show was a success, but all the while Julie was thinking about Herbert. It was past midnight when she was finally dismissed; she seized the card and the sandwich and went outside to await the scheduled cab that would convey her back to her apartment. She read the card again, and, barely even realizing that she was doing it, began munching on the sandwich.
Chapter Two The Plot Thickens...
Julie awoke the following morning in her cramped, one-bedroom apartment, and resumed fuming at that obnoxious Herbert guy. No man had ever treated her like that before, not even the gay ones. They at least had the civility to tell her that she looked 'divine', 'gorgeous' or 'stunning', which which she'd be perfectly satisfied. But Herbert? Nothing! Not even a pervy look down her cleavage.
As Julie had no events scheduled for the day, she decided to undertake a project of a different nature. With a naughty smirk, she picked up Herbert's card from her bedside table, exited her bedroom in her nightdress and reached the telephone in her cramped living room. She dialed his number, and waited impatiently for him to pick up.
"Yes?" His annoying voice presently sounded in her ear.
"Yes, this is Julie. The model from last night," said Julie in her most seductive voice.
"Ah. So I take it everything was a roaring success then?" Herbert asked casually, sounding as though he had more important obligations; that her call had come at an inopportune time.
"Yes. But I wanted to thank you..." began Julie, disguising her irritation with him. "Maybe we could go someplace later?" To spend time in her company would be thanks enough.
"Hmm... well, I SUPPOSE we could go out for lunch or something," muttered Herbert, almost as though he thought he was doing HER a favour.
"MAYBE I'll swing by around noon. At least I know it'll be cheap. I hate to splash my cash," he added dryly, laughing.
"OK, noon then," agreed Julie, prickling. She gave him the address, slammed down the phone, and hurried back to her room, where she changed into a tiny mini skirt and an equally tiny boob tube. No man stood a chance when Julie donned THAT outfit...
* * *
Herbert arrived punctually, dressed in a long black coat and a red baseball cap; and he took Julie to MacDonalds, of all places! She felt even angrier.
He gave no acknowledgement whatsoever to her sexy outfit, and, when they sat down -he with a Big Mac, milkshake and a large order of fries; she with only a salad- he proceeded to extract a pen and note pad from his coat pocket and set about compiling a shopping list.
"Gee, you really know how to treat a girl," Julie thought furiously.
But, not wanting to seem TOO rude, she instead said: "How can you eat all that crap? You'll probably be really fat by the time you're forty."
"Well. So be it, then. We don't call them 'love handles' for nothing," answered Herbert, not looking up from his shopping list.
"Are you gay?" asked Julie bluntly, munching on lettuce, even though she disliked the taste of it.
"What? Oh my word no," laughed Herbert, glancing up at last. "I'm just... you know, metrosexual. Or... whatever else is 'in' these days."
"You're not fashionable enough to be metrosexual," retorted Julie, watching with disgust as an obese young woman waddled up to the counter, rolls of flesh spilling over the vast waistband of her pants, her sweater low-cut and at least three sizes too small, barely containing her voluptuous breasts.
"Oh, look at that," scoffed Julie. "How gross."
But Herbert, in fact, was already looking; he wet his lips, his expression one that Julie had seen many times before. It finally struck her (took long enough, lol): Oh, so THAT'S what you like, is it?
Herbert's eyes followed the fat girl as she waddled to a nearby table, carrying an enormous tray of food, and ponderously sat down on a chair. She took a huge bite of a Big Mac, and then looked across at Herbert.
"Hi," she grinned. "How've you been, Herb?"
"Oh, quite wonderful," he sidled along the bench, closer to her, forgetting about Julie entirely. "And you're looking lovelier than ever. Maybe, if I'm extra sweet, I can coerce you into modeling for me again?"
"Love to," the girl replied kindly, giggling as Herbert playfully twiddled his fingers over her enormous belly.
By the time Herbert finally saw fit to look back at Julie, she demanded: "So, who's your FRIEND?"
"Oh, just an acquaintance really," muttered Herbert, still staring across at the girl's overhanging belly, and enormous breasts.
"I'm a painter, actually. She inspires my brushstrokes to brilliance. So..." he smiled slightly, and began eating his fries in conclusion.
Julie could hardly believe it. How could anyone pay more attention to that fat cow, than to HER? She was going to make Herbert take notice of her, if it was the last thing she did. She seized his tray of food right from under him, and drew it to her side of the table instead, stuffing a handful of fries into her mouth.
"Are you sure you can eat all that?" Herbert asked, still unimpressed, his attention returning to his shopping list.
"I'll have to ask for a takeaway bag, I suppose..."
"I can eat it!" snapped Julie, munching furiously. In truth, the fries tasted wonderful after months of surviving on salads and tofu, but there was no way she was going to allow herself to get fat like the other girl. But she was prepared to gain a pound or two - or however many
Chapter Three - Julie Makes a Discovery...
During the days succeeding, Julie ate more than she had probably ever eaten before; she had hitherto never realized how wonderful food really was; how everything had different tastes and textures, all awaiting her salivating palate.
Herbert took her to a number of restaurants (Julie insisted on visiting fancy ones), where she ate her first crème caramel, her first chicken risotto, her first slice of cheesecake.
Fortunately, she didn't have to worry about appearing on the catwalk for another ten weeks, and thusly thought nothing of the consequences of her indulgence. She could lose the weight in a jiffy, anyway. By the end of the week, she stepped onto her bathroom scale and discovered that she had already gained ten pounds! Her breasts were now slightly larger, and her skirts were beginning to feel a little snug. But Herbert, that infuriating jackass, still acted as aloof as ever!
On Saturday, the pair of them attended an art exposition, where there was a free buffet. Julie loaded a plastic plate with fingerfood -sandwiches, slices, cakes- and joined Herbert looking at the paintings.
"Hmm... there's quite a few I like here," he mused, ignoring Julie's sexy physique as always.
"If I had the money, I'd bedeck my abode with the likes of these." He swept grandly away to assess the rest of the exhibit, leaving Julie to irritatedly munch on her food.
She could hardly believe how wonderful it tasted. She sampled a bit of everything, and, by the time Herbert returned, she had had to unbutton the top of her skirt, for she had grown so full. She pulled her shirt down over her belly, hoping that nobody would notice - nobody, that is, except Herbert.
On Sunday, Julie invited Herbert to dinner at her apartment for the first time; having cleaned everything in advance, for SHE was not a messy slob like he was, and wanted to set a good example.
Julie had concluded that the bathroom scale was broken, for it had read 135 pounds when she stepped on it minutes ago. How ridiculous, thought Julie, as she busied herself about the kitchen, cooking an elaborate three-course meal, and hoping that it would turn out well (as she had hardly ever cooked anything before).
When everything was ready, Julie returned to her bedroom, but discovered, to her alarm, that hardly any of her clothes fit! She crossly changed into her baggiest pair of jeans (which were not baggy on her at all anymore), and a low-cut blouse that had once belonged to her mother. She left the top three buttons undone, grumbling: "You'd better come on to me tonight, so I can reject you..."
Julie assessed her girth in the mirror. Oddly, she liked the way that her belly had acquired a rounded shape, her B cup bra barely containing her breasts, her face filling out...
She was distracted by the chime of the doorbell, and she hurried to answer it, undoing another button of her blouse.
"Good evening, Julie," Herbert said politely when he entered, presenting Julie with a large box of chocolates.
"Something smells great. Oh hang on, that's just my cologne." He laughed in his annoying way, and strode into the dining room, dressed in his usual coat and cap.
"Gees, don't you ever change your clothes?" complained Julie, following him, tossing the chocolates down onto the couch.
"I do. I've just got ten pairs of everything," Herbert replied mildly, sitting down.
Despite her vexing companion, Julie enjoyed the dinner very much indeed. She never realized that she was such a good cook. She ate third helpings of everything, except for dessert (chocolate cake) of which she only ate two helpings, as she was growing rather full.
"You eat like a bird, Julie m'dear," muttered Herbert nonchalantly, as Julie slumped back in her chair, massaging her aching stomach, which felt as though it had almost doubled in size since the beginning of the night.
"Birds eat heaps, relative to their body size," retorted Julie, gazing back at her unfinished slice of cake.
"Oh, you're so PADANTIC," groaned Herbert, who, in actuality, had not eaten half as much as she had. "You probably can't even finish that cake."
"Oh yeah? Watch me!" She seized the plate, and jammed the remaining forkfuls into her mouth, swallowed painfully, and slumped back in her seat once more. She repressed a belch, and undid the top button on her jeans, knowing that she would have to buy a whole new wardrobe in the morning.
Herbert, smiling slightly, rose from the table and cleared the plates, returning them to Julie's kitchen; she did not bother to thank him for his helpfulness, but rather heaved herself from her chair and crossed to the couch, where she sat, waiting for the pain in her stomach to subside.
She was feeling much better some twenty minutes later, when Herbert returned from the kitchen, having obligingly washed all the dishes.
"Well, I guess I'd better be on my way," said he, buttoning his coat, tossing back his long hair, and not sparing Julie a glance.
Knowing that the only way to detain him would be to open the chocolate box, Julie said loudly: "It's only nine-thirty! Here, have one of these. They're probably real cheap, knowing your taste."
Herbert paused, smiled, and then came back, sitting down beside Julie.
"There's nothing wrong with my taste. Here, you try." He selected a chocolate and held in to her lips; momentarily, she opened them, and he slipped the chocolate inside. Surprisingly, Julie felt her appetite roused again at the delicious taste.
"Mmm..." she said, closing her eyes with pleasure, no longer angry. "Those ARE good. I guess your taste isn't THAT bad..."
She opened her mouth again, and Herbert fed her another chocolate, setting the box down upon her lap. His arm brushed against her distended belly whenever he reached down for the chocolates; and, before Julie knew it, she had eaten them all.
"See, that wasn't so bad," whispered Herbert, unaware of how aroused Julie had become. Suddenly, she seized a handful of his hair, and attempted to pull him into her embrace, only to have him draw back, and struggle free.
"I hope you didn't just try to rape me, Julie," he said indignantly. "It wouldn't be very lady-like, you know."
"As if!" retorted Julie, furious once more. "No one'd wanna rape YOU! Now, get lost, I'm missing my favorite show!"
Herbert smirked, crossed to the door, but then hesitated upon the threshold. "I suppose I'd better return your favour. Maybe I'll cook dinner for you next weekend?"
Julie glanced upwards at him.
"But, I should warn you," continued Herbert, "I don't mess around, so you'd better bring your appetite. Cheerio." And then he was gone, closing the door behind him.
"Grr!" said Julie, clenching her fist with fury. "Stupid idiot. I'll show him!"
