Britt Reid
Library Editor
~BBW, Stuffing, Romance, ~MWG – emancipated stuffette escapes emaciation her way
Chapter One
Nicole wasn't average, in terms of looks. She was drop-dead gorgeous. She was pale, and never bothered tanning, but it didn't matter. Her hair was dark brown, almost shoulder length, very straight, and everyone seemed to love it. It framed her face wonderfully, and she was often complimented on things that seemed odd to her: how perfect her nose was, how wonderfully exquisite her cheekbones were, how wonderful her lips were. And she never understood why. She never wore makeup, but people loved her face just the same.
Her body received just as much attention. She was always skinny because she was never allowed anything other than basic grains and vegetables in her household. At school she always brought a packed lunch, and by high school every guy that met her hit on her.
Nicole was constantly asked out. She suspected it was because of her perfect waist, her modestly sized breasts (30C, they hadn't changed since 9th grade), or her toned ass. She always turned them down. It seemed so insincere to her, to approach someone because of their physical shape. She wasn't a dumb girl; in fact she was astoundingly smart. But she was never complimented for that, only for her body.
On her 22nd birthday, she decided to move out from her parents,. She had opted to go to a community college near her house so she didn't have to pay rent, and as such she had maintained the same figure. But now she had reason to leave, and the means to as well: she had been hired by a very large pharmaceutical corp. as an "Upper Level Lab Management and Supervisor."
She was flattered, and despite never meeting anyone from the company in person, she had received the job just the same. The offer had stood as follows: "a 67k salary a year, a 3k a month living and accommodation wage, and a company car, all in exchange for moving to Santa Barbara, California. Nicole was thrilled, and eagerly accepted.
Within the first week she had found an absolutely wonderful apartment to rent, fully furnished, for $1,700 a month. She moved in that day, and was thrilled. The beach was within walking distance, she had a wonderful job in her field, and most importantly of all, she was finally free to do whatever she wanted!
The people she worked with were all younger interns, fully set on maintaining a sincere level of professional courtesy, never hitting on her. Furthermore, they all were required to wear rather unflattering lab coats, which meant nobody could lust over her "perfect" figure anymore. And lab goggles were certainly not at the top of the list of "Sexy things for ladies to wear". And so, Nicole was happy.
Sitting on her plush couch, she sipped at a glass of wine she had bought while out enjoying the sites in her new hometown. She had also stopped in an assortment of stores and bought a plethora of goodies that she had never tried before, and a few she had never even heard of. Drinking a little faster, she set down her now empty wine glass and opened the first bag, pulling out a rather large pastry the baker had called a Profiterole, or a cream puff. It was massive, big enough that she had to use two hands to take it out of it's paper prison.
Giggling as she realized the wine had already gone to her head, she raised the pastry up to her mouth, unsure of how to eat it. Realizing she was alone and completely free of judgment, she mashed the puff into her mouth, biting off a massive chunk, her cheeks bulging comically as she attempted to chew the mass of dough and custard within her mouth. After a few moments of chewing, she was able to take another bite, this time maintaining a semblance of dignity.
Five minutes later the huge pastry was gone, crumbs littering the table and the lap of Nicole's pajama pants. Standing up and stretching her arms above her head, she grabbed her wine glass and waltzed into her kitchen, pouring herself another bottle of wine. After enjoying another sip, she opened her fridge, pulling out another treat she had picked up today: a massive serving of authentic Italian fettuccine Alfredo.
Rubbing light circles on her stomach, she smiled in anticipation, placing the Styrofoam package, weighty with pasta and thick sauce, into her microwave. Her smile turned into a frown as she recalled the last (and only) time she had the delicious pasta.
As a young girl Nicole only had one friend. His name was Howard, but she always called him Wardy because she thought it was funny. They would play together every day at recess, and one day Wardy's mother invited Nicole over to play after school. Nicole's mother had said yes, under one condition: Nicole was to swear to not eat any junk food whatsoever.
After a firm lecture on the dangers of getting fat ("No one will ever love you! They'll think you're a disgusting girl who has no self control!"), Nicole's mother hesitantly agreed to let her play at Wardy's house. For dinner, Wardy's mother had made the very dish she was about to eat: fettuccine Alfredo. Nicole was served a large bowl, complete with a massive piece of garlic bread. At first, she was afraid, remembering her mother's words, but the smell of the food was so incredible, she just couldn't resist.
After the first bite, she was like a little girl unleashed: she shoveled spoonful after spoonful of the thick, delicious pasta into her mouth, eating like she hadn't eaten in months. She devoured the entire bowl in less than five minutes, and politely asked for seconds, which Wardy's mother politely gave her. Afterwards she had felt so sick she had to lie on the couch, and when her mother picked her up, she knew she was in trouble by the look on her face. The entire car ride home had been nothing but screaming, as Nicole cowered in her seat, the tears rolling down her face...
The microwave beeped loudly, waking her from her memories. Pulling out the steaming pasta, she forgot how heavy it was, almost spilling it all over the floor. Luckily, she only spilled a handful of noodles onto the counter. Placing the container down, she went to grab a towel, before her eyes were drawn back to the noodles. She was safe, now. She could do whatever she wanted.
Giggling, she scooped the noodles off the clean counter and dropped them into her mouth, her giggles turning to a moan of pleasure and surprise at how delicious the pasta dish was: it was better than she remembered, and then some.
Grabbing a fork and her wine glass (which she finished off and refilled for the third time that night), she sauntered out to the living room once again, flicking on the television. Some film from when she was a child (once again recalling her mother's ban on "any of that Hollywood drivel”), she settled into the couch and began to eat. Her stomach reacted happily to the pasta, and she began a very simple rhythm: spool up as much pasta as possible onto her fork, cram it into her mouth, and repeat the spooling process while she chewed.
It took her about a half hour, but the near-two pound container of pasta was eventually inside her stomach. Moaning less out of pleasure and more out of pain, she began to push her hands into her stomach gently, trying to relieve the massive pressure within. She knew she had overeaten, despite only feeling truly stuffed once or twice in her life.
As she attempted to soothe her aching stomach, she felt a new sensation; one unfamiliar to her. It almost felt like her stomach was bubbling, and it rose within her chest until, with a startled jump, she belched for the first time in her life. Of course, to call it a true belch would be like calling a canary a hawk: it was more of a petite burp, almost a hiccup. Still, it was a new sensation to Nicole.
Despite her initial shock, she realized that it had eased her stomach, and so, she repeated her stomach rubbing process until she was able to produce another, and then another, and yet another. Finally, she felt less sick, although she was still painfully full. Despite her yearning to eat more of the delicious feast she had purchased for herself, she knew it would have to wait for another night.
Pushing herself off the couch, she felt yet another foreign sensation. Looking down past her breasts, she saw that her stomach was actually bloated, forming a rather small convex dome outwards, due to the massive amount of food she had ingested. She gave it an experimental poke, feeling the relative firmness of her stuffed tummy. Although she wasn't sure why, Nicole enjoyed it; like some sort of wild pleasure that she had never gotten to experience before.
Chapter One
Nicole wasn't average, in terms of looks. She was drop-dead gorgeous. She was pale, and never bothered tanning, but it didn't matter. Her hair was dark brown, almost shoulder length, very straight, and everyone seemed to love it. It framed her face wonderfully, and she was often complimented on things that seemed odd to her: how perfect her nose was, how wonderfully exquisite her cheekbones were, how wonderful her lips were. And she never understood why. She never wore makeup, but people loved her face just the same.
Her body received just as much attention. She was always skinny because she was never allowed anything other than basic grains and vegetables in her household. At school she always brought a packed lunch, and by high school every guy that met her hit on her.
Nicole was constantly asked out. She suspected it was because of her perfect waist, her modestly sized breasts (30C, they hadn't changed since 9th grade), or her toned ass. She always turned them down. It seemed so insincere to her, to approach someone because of their physical shape. She wasn't a dumb girl; in fact she was astoundingly smart. But she was never complimented for that, only for her body.
On her 22nd birthday, she decided to move out from her parents,. She had opted to go to a community college near her house so she didn't have to pay rent, and as such she had maintained the same figure. But now she had reason to leave, and the means to as well: she had been hired by a very large pharmaceutical corp. as an "Upper Level Lab Management and Supervisor."
She was flattered, and despite never meeting anyone from the company in person, she had received the job just the same. The offer had stood as follows: "a 67k salary a year, a 3k a month living and accommodation wage, and a company car, all in exchange for moving to Santa Barbara, California. Nicole was thrilled, and eagerly accepted.
Within the first week she had found an absolutely wonderful apartment to rent, fully furnished, for $1,700 a month. She moved in that day, and was thrilled. The beach was within walking distance, she had a wonderful job in her field, and most importantly of all, she was finally free to do whatever she wanted!
The people she worked with were all younger interns, fully set on maintaining a sincere level of professional courtesy, never hitting on her. Furthermore, they all were required to wear rather unflattering lab coats, which meant nobody could lust over her "perfect" figure anymore. And lab goggles were certainly not at the top of the list of "Sexy things for ladies to wear". And so, Nicole was happy.
Sitting on her plush couch, she sipped at a glass of wine she had bought while out enjoying the sites in her new hometown. She had also stopped in an assortment of stores and bought a plethora of goodies that she had never tried before, and a few she had never even heard of. Drinking a little faster, she set down her now empty wine glass and opened the first bag, pulling out a rather large pastry the baker had called a Profiterole, or a cream puff. It was massive, big enough that she had to use two hands to take it out of it's paper prison.
Giggling as she realized the wine had already gone to her head, she raised the pastry up to her mouth, unsure of how to eat it. Realizing she was alone and completely free of judgment, she mashed the puff into her mouth, biting off a massive chunk, her cheeks bulging comically as she attempted to chew the mass of dough and custard within her mouth. After a few moments of chewing, she was able to take another bite, this time maintaining a semblance of dignity.
Five minutes later the huge pastry was gone, crumbs littering the table and the lap of Nicole's pajama pants. Standing up and stretching her arms above her head, she grabbed her wine glass and waltzed into her kitchen, pouring herself another bottle of wine. After enjoying another sip, she opened her fridge, pulling out another treat she had picked up today: a massive serving of authentic Italian fettuccine Alfredo.
Rubbing light circles on her stomach, she smiled in anticipation, placing the Styrofoam package, weighty with pasta and thick sauce, into her microwave. Her smile turned into a frown as she recalled the last (and only) time she had the delicious pasta.
As a young girl Nicole only had one friend. His name was Howard, but she always called him Wardy because she thought it was funny. They would play together every day at recess, and one day Wardy's mother invited Nicole over to play after school. Nicole's mother had said yes, under one condition: Nicole was to swear to not eat any junk food whatsoever.
After a firm lecture on the dangers of getting fat ("No one will ever love you! They'll think you're a disgusting girl who has no self control!"), Nicole's mother hesitantly agreed to let her play at Wardy's house. For dinner, Wardy's mother had made the very dish she was about to eat: fettuccine Alfredo. Nicole was served a large bowl, complete with a massive piece of garlic bread. At first, she was afraid, remembering her mother's words, but the smell of the food was so incredible, she just couldn't resist.
After the first bite, she was like a little girl unleashed: she shoveled spoonful after spoonful of the thick, delicious pasta into her mouth, eating like she hadn't eaten in months. She devoured the entire bowl in less than five minutes, and politely asked for seconds, which Wardy's mother politely gave her. Afterwards she had felt so sick she had to lie on the couch, and when her mother picked her up, she knew she was in trouble by the look on her face. The entire car ride home had been nothing but screaming, as Nicole cowered in her seat, the tears rolling down her face...
The microwave beeped loudly, waking her from her memories. Pulling out the steaming pasta, she forgot how heavy it was, almost spilling it all over the floor. Luckily, she only spilled a handful of noodles onto the counter. Placing the container down, she went to grab a towel, before her eyes were drawn back to the noodles. She was safe, now. She could do whatever she wanted.
Giggling, she scooped the noodles off the clean counter and dropped them into her mouth, her giggles turning to a moan of pleasure and surprise at how delicious the pasta dish was: it was better than she remembered, and then some.
Grabbing a fork and her wine glass (which she finished off and refilled for the third time that night), she sauntered out to the living room once again, flicking on the television. Some film from when she was a child (once again recalling her mother's ban on "any of that Hollywood drivel”), she settled into the couch and began to eat. Her stomach reacted happily to the pasta, and she began a very simple rhythm: spool up as much pasta as possible onto her fork, cram it into her mouth, and repeat the spooling process while she chewed.
It took her about a half hour, but the near-two pound container of pasta was eventually inside her stomach. Moaning less out of pleasure and more out of pain, she began to push her hands into her stomach gently, trying to relieve the massive pressure within. She knew she had overeaten, despite only feeling truly stuffed once or twice in her life.
As she attempted to soothe her aching stomach, she felt a new sensation; one unfamiliar to her. It almost felt like her stomach was bubbling, and it rose within her chest until, with a startled jump, she belched for the first time in her life. Of course, to call it a true belch would be like calling a canary a hawk: it was more of a petite burp, almost a hiccup. Still, it was a new sensation to Nicole.
Despite her initial shock, she realized that it had eased her stomach, and so, she repeated her stomach rubbing process until she was able to produce another, and then another, and yet another. Finally, she felt less sick, although she was still painfully full. Despite her yearning to eat more of the delicious feast she had purchased for herself, she knew it would have to wait for another night.
Pushing herself off the couch, she felt yet another foreign sensation. Looking down past her breasts, she saw that her stomach was actually bloated, forming a rather small convex dome outwards, due to the massive amount of food she had ingested. She gave it an experimental poke, feeling the relative firmness of her stuffed tummy. Although she wasn't sure why, Nicole enjoyed it; like some sort of wild pleasure that she had never gotten to experience before.
