No Mistake- by Growing Girl (~BBW(Multiple), ~BHM, Eating, ~SWG)

[Growing Girl]

~BBW(Multiple), ~BHM, Eating, ~SWG - a cooking class lkearns by indulging

No Mistake
by Growing Girl​

Taking cookery had seemed like such a good idea - surely it couldn’t be a mistake?

“How can we improve our cooking?”

Nobody answered.

Nobody ever answers when a new teacher - a very prim and proper new teacher, to boot - asks an open question.

Finally, Sarah, a tall, thin black girl with glasses and long hair who never misses a chance to suck up, gave it a go.

“Miss, miss - we could improve our cooking with better presentation.”

That wasn’t the right answer.

Miss Terr glowered at her.

“Now - what did you say your name was - - Sarah? - I was told you were one of the brightest students in this class. But good cooking takes more than brains. And it takes more than presentation. How often have you bought something which looked wonderful in the shop, only to take it home and be thoroughly disappointed? No, there’s something much more fundamental than presentation. Who will be my star pupil? Who else will have a guess?”

I exchanged a glance with my best friend Sandra. Miss Terr wasn’t playing nice. Like most cookery teachers, she was a bit plump. She must have been in her early thirties, but her very formal skirt and jacket was the style of someone twenty years older. I got the idea that she didn’t smile a lot, and she probably didn’t enjoy her job.

Finally, Desiree had a shot. Desiree and her twin sister Flo are two of the biggest girls in the class, but not the brightest. Still, Desiree is keen to make a good impression, and she obviously remembered something from last year’s lessons.

“Miss - is it good hygiene?”

Miss Terr was unimpressed.

“Hygiene? Hygiene?! Really, I wouldn’t have thought this was a class of seventeen-year-olds. If you’re serious about your cookery, you should be doing better than this. If I teach you anything this year, it will be that good cooking is about the taste. So, to improve your cooking, you’ll have to really taste lots of food. So, for today’s session, we’ll be tasting some food I’ve brought in.”

A murmur of appreciation went around the class.

“Don’t forget to really taste it. Have as much as you need to get a real impression of it.”

She walked over to a desk behind her and removed a tablecloth from it. Underneath were around twenty different cakes.

“Now, for today’s lesson, I want you to try a bit of each of these cakes. Write down what flavours you get from it, and whether you think I made it, or whether I bought it at the shop earlier today. Don’t forget, eat as much as you need in order to really get a good taste of it.”

With only seven of us in the class, we each took a cake from the table and cut ourselves a slice. Over the next couple of hours, we swapped around until most of us had tried a bit of each. The tastier cakes were all gone, and my belly was stuffed! I found the cakes pretty easy to write about; there were several chocolate ones, a couple of coffee cakes, some fruit cakes and some sponges with cream and jam or with treacle. Some of them were obviously shop-bought, while Miss Terr’s own really were richer and tastier.

We handed in our work, before Miss Terr had some words for us.

“I’m going to look over these carefully and will be handing them back next week. I do hope that you really paid attention to the food - remember, it’s the only way to improve your own cooking. Right, next week, I’d like you to each bring in ingredients to make a cake of your own. Oh - and do help yourselves to the remainder of those cakes.”

I couldn’t have eaten anything more, but I noticed several of my classmates tucking in to the remains: Desiree and Flo, little Melanie, and Jose, the only boy taking cookery.

I can’t say that Miss Terr was my favourite teacher, but you have to give people a chance. Desiree and Flo, the plump twins, couldn’t stop talking about her wonderful class. Presumably this was down to the cakes - Desiree seemingly having forgotten her initial embarrassment.

For the second week, I made a carrot cake; most other people in the class made something chocolaty. Miss Terr wasn’t impressed by my choice, telling me that cakes should be rich, an indulgence. I bit my tongue and asked about the results of the previous week’s work.

“Well, actually” - she raised her voice - “Gather round, I’ve checked through your work from last week. Sarah - not bad, Desiree - that was actually very good. Flo - well, at least we know you weren’t copying from your sister. Melanie - can’t you recognise a cherry when you see one? Jose - you don’t seem to have gotten finished; Sandra - you really need to work on this…”

Sandra glanced at me and raised her eyebrows.

“…Finally - and there’s no need to raise your eyebrows, thank you Sandra - your friend Kate” - Miss Terr pointed at me - “came top of the class. Kate, I can tell that you really like to eat. I think we may have a star pupil.”

I wasn’t sure where to look. As bad as it is to be singled out for criticism by a teacher, I hadn’t been prepared for unbridled praise. Particularly being told that I ‘really liked to eat’. I could imagine not living this down for a long while.

“We’re going to be doing a taste test each week from now on, so for those of you who did less well” - she looked meaningfully at Sandra - “there’s time to improve by the end of the year. But if you want to pass my class, you’ll really have to work on this. And for those of you who did do well - there’s still plenty of room for improvement.”

This week’s test was on chocolate bars. Miss Terr poured a pile of different brands and different flavours on to each desk. Some - the richest, most unhealthy ones - looked to have been home-made by Miss Terr. I tried to hold back, mindful of being told that I ‘really liked to eat’, but everyone else was tucking in, presumably either trying to make up for poor grades or to stay in favour with our teacher. Aware that Miss Terr was looking disapprovingly at my slow progress, I joined them in stuffing down chocolate at top speed. At the end of the lesson, Miss Terr took our papers in, and told us that next week we’d be making pizza.

A few days later, I went back to Sandra’s. She told me that she was worried about her grade in the cookery class.

“It’s not just that it’s really unfair, or that she’s a bitch, but I really have to do well, or I’ll never get a job as a chef. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.” She looked like she might cry. Tears welled in her blue eyes, ready to roll down her pudgy cheeks - not that I’d tell her they were pudgy, I am her best friend, after all - framed by blonde hair in bangs.

Luckily, I had a bright idea.

“She said we had to really taste food to do well, didn’t she? Well, we should order in a few pizzas in different flavours. That way, you can tell her we’ve done some homework as prep for making a pizza next week.”

Sandra was instantly convinced. I think at that moment, any idea I’d come up with - anything at all - would have convinced her.

“Yeah, that’s it! I’ve got some pizza menus here. Let’s order a couple from each, then we can compare them - we could even make notes.”

She seemed a bit overly keen, but right now, I was so pleased to have cheered her up that I didn’t even argue with the note-taking idea.

In the end, we ordered two pizzas from each of four companies: a margarita, and one with all the toppings. The first turned up ten minutes later, and we’d had a couple of slices before the second arrived. We then got a chance to eat a few more slices of all of them before the last two turned up together. I think the delivery guys thought they’d been set up, but Sandra found some cash for them, and we tucked in.

Two hours later, we’d had a substantial amount of each pizza, and I could feel my stomach jutting out. Maybe it was just my imagination, but it looked like Sandra’s top had risen up over her fairly rounded stomach, exposing her navel.

Sandra saw me looking and started a different conversation.

“Do you think I should get it pierced? Then maybe you could get yours done at the same time, and that’d show off how we’re best friends?”

I probably should’ve said no, but I told her it was a great idea, thinking she’d forget about it by the morning. Anyway, it was time for me to go home.

At class the next week, even though in the pizza eating frenzy we’d forgotten to take any notes, Sandra told Miss Terr about our research. Fortunately, she was delighted, and stopped the class to tell them of the great example we’d set.

Desiree put her hand up.

“Miss, I’m gonna do some research this week, I’m gonna eat a whole load of cakes with Flo, and then we can make better cakes.”

She smiled, as if she’d come out with something profound.

Miss Terr was evidently in a good mood, as she smiled at Desiree. “Yes, I think that would be a great project. From now on, I’ll be expecting all of you to do some homework each week, and report back on what you’ve done.”

This week’s taste test was of donuts, although with fifteen flavours each, it was quite a challenge to get through. Some jam out of my donut squirted on to Melanie’s top. She glowered at me, and put her hand up.

“Yes, Melanie?”

“Miss, I need to go to the bathroom to wipe off this jam that clumsy Kate squirted on me.”

“Uh-oh”, I thought. I was going to be in trouble. But Miss Terr surprised me.

“Really, Melanie, you need to focus. You mustn’t let a little thing like that put you off your food.”

Melanie rather shamefacedly went back to eating, although I don’t think it was a coincidence that some jam out of her next donut ended up squirted on my face.

October, November and December went by. For the first class in January, Miss Terr was dressed a little more casually, in a skirt and tight jumper. Tight on her, anyhow, as she seemed to have put some more weight on. Her curly brown hair tumbled down her cheeks, to finish by what was clearly now a double chin.

But as I looked around the class, I realised that we’d all put some weight on. Sarah was no longer stick-thin, but was developing breasts and hips. Jose was less lean and muscular and getting a bit of a paunch. Melanie was putting weight on quickly to her small frame, and her top looked tight around her upper arms and belly. Desiree and Flo seemed to be gaining more weight together, just as they did everything, and their skirts could no longer hide their big thighs and asses. Sandra was taking her homework seriously, and I’d have found it much harder to lie about her pudgy cheeks. In fact, she now had a double chin and a big belly. Finally, I looked down at myself. My curly red hair had always sat on a thin body, but now I looked down and saw the outline of my breasts and my stomach covered only by the strained fabric of my top.

“Right, class, last term we saw some real improvements. Some of you may yet pass this class. But in order to do so, you will need to redouble your efforts. I will be expecting more homework from you, and I will also be trying to fit in some larger taste tests during classes. Starting this week, I will put out a selection of food for you to snack on while you are cooking, and I will join in with you on some larger catering projects. I will also be expecting you to share out the food you make in class, in order that we can better judge each other’s efforts.”

Miss Terr was softening, and she was becoming more popular in the class. Each week of the term, we snacked while we cooked, we stuffed ourselves during a big taste test, and then we had a big meal, trying each other’s food. All the time, we were really savouring the flavours. Miss Terr’s aim of getting us to really love and understand food was coming together. Meanwhile, she was encouraging us to make richer, more filling food, adding extra butter, cheese, sugar and cream to dishes. This extra intake was mirrored as we each took on more and more homework, eating three or four meals an evening in order to better sample a range of flavours.

During the Easter break, I went over to Sandra’s house again. Her parents were pretty lax, and would often leave her home alone with plenty of cash for food and movies. Sat together on her bed, we were sharing our seventh deep-pan pizza of the evening when she started a new topic of conversation.

“Y’know, Kate, I’ve started to really love Miss Terr’s lessons. I mean, I thought she was a bitch, didn’t you? But she really got me eating well.”

“Yeah, I reckon she knows what she’s doing. But I’m a bit worried about how much weight we’re putting on.”

“Oh, I thought that was just part of appreciating our food? I mean, it’s a small price to pay, and I think we look good with a few more curves.”

I looked a Sandra. She certainly had a few more curves. She was starting on a triple chin, her breasts were now pretty pendulous, and her stomach was massive. She’d taken to wandering around the house wearing just a big t-shirt, and I think that was because most of her clothes didn’t fit. Her thighs even rubbed together when she walked!

“But, Sandra, don’t you think you’re - I mean, we’re - just taking this a bit too far? Isn’t this our seventh pizza this evening?”

“Um - I’ve just opened the eighth one.”

“And most of your clothes don’t fit you any more. You’re even busting out of those ones with the elastic waist, and you know they don’t look good on you.”

“Yeah? Well, you couldn’t fit into most of my old clothes, anyway. You’ve put on as much weight as me, you just started off really skinny.”

“Right. I’ll prove that I’ve not put that much on. Sure, we’ve been eating too much. But I’m still no bigger than you were six months ago.”

I went to Sandra’s closed and found a dress she’d worn to our prom the previous summer. In a rage, I told her that I could easily fit in to it. After all, even back then, she’d been a fair bit bigger than me.

I put the dress over my head and tried to wriggle it down. Sure, it was a bit tight, but that was because I was already wearing an outfit under it. I took it back off again and stripped down to my underwear. Catching myself in a mirror, I really noticed just how fat I’d become. And how I had a string of pizza cheese on my chin. Not bothering with it right now, I put the dress back over my head and started pulling it down. Then really trying to yank it down over my hips.

R-r-rip!

Sandra started laughing. You might have thought that I’d have blown up at her, but we’d been best friends for so long, all I could do was join in.

“Uhhhhh..." I stammered, "I guess I really am fat!”

“Yeah, but I’m still fatter than you!”

We laughed, and we finished off the last pizza before tucking in to a couple of tubs of ice cream.

Newly comfortable with each other’s fatness, Sandra repeated her navel piercing idea. And, somehow, I found myself accompanying her to the tattoo parlour to get both of our navels pierced.

We were really proud of going through with. I never would have done on my own, and I don’t think Sandra would’ve, either. We celebrated by buying crop tops to show off our new piercing, exposing our growing bellies, and going for cookies and ice cream.

Back in class from the Easter break, we weren’t the only ones to have gained weight.

Miss Terr was looking fatter than ever herself, wearing a relaxed t-shirt top and short skirt, showing off her massive upper arms and thighs. She was snacking from a big bowl of chips on her desk. In a thoughtful move, she’d put out chips on everyone else’s desk, too, and she told us to tuck in - and we all did, with gusto.

Sarah had clearly been aiming to become top of the class, and her body showed the effects of cramming - cramming in food! From a bony figure at the start of the year, she was now bulging out all over. But then, Melanie was showing the effects even more clearly. On her small frame, the increase in her breasts was particularly visible, but she was starting to look pretty round all over. She seemed to have hooked up with Jose, who was now wearing a vest top and shorts, presumably to show off his new flab to best effect. Meanwhile, Desiree and Flo remained the fattest in the class. They were wearing matching outfits - black lycra tops and cycling shorts - which clung to every curve, from their large breasts to their huge stomachs and their vast butts.

In between mouthfuls, Miss Terr started the lesson. “I’ve been very pleased with your progress. Your increased interest in what you eat is shown by the way you’ve all fattened up. You should really be very proud of yourselves. However, in order to make sure that you pass at the end of the year, I’ll be expecting an extra effort this term. We’ll be revising lots of the foods we’ve already studied, and I do hope that you’ll take this seriously and spend as much of your spare time as possible tasting as many different foods as possible.”

This sounded an excellent idea. For the whole term, eating became our main preoccupation. I’d eat a big breakfast, eat on my way to college, eat - if I could get away with it - during my other lessons, eat as much as I could for lunch, and eat all evening long. If I couldn’t sleep, I’d get up for a midnight snack. But most of all, we would all stuff ourselves with as much and as fast as we could during cookery class. We’d no longer even think of easing off to clean ourselves off when our clothes, our hands and our fat faces became sticky or greasy from the juices of the foods we were eating. Miss Terr would encourage us every step of the way.

One day, when Desiree and Flo were cooking a casserole, Flo managed to spill the entire dish on the floor. By this point, they couldn’t waste the food. With some effort but without a second thought, the two got down on their hands and knees and began lapping the meal off the floor. Their enormous asses waved in the air as they competed to gulp down the majority of it.

When the final test came, we were all able to prepare our dishes with ease, and our love of food eased us through the written paper. Miss Terr congratulated us all in her end-of-year speech, and reminded me how embarrassed I’d looked the first time she’d told me that I ‘really loved to eat‘.

To celebrate passing the year, Melanie organised a pool party at her house. With Jose, she surrounded the pool with snacks of every conceivable variety. Lying on the grass, eating my fifth large chocolate cake, I looked at my classmates.

Desiree and Flo looked fantastic in their black bikinis. I’d seen them have to turn sideways to get through doorways, and looking at their asses now, it was a surprise that they’d even been able to get through like that.

Sarah, with her single-minded determination to be the best, couldn’t have been much smaller than the twins. She wore a yellow one-piece suit. As she stood up and turned sideways, you could see the large bump of her breasts, the larger one of her stomach, and then her ass not far behind.

Melanie may not have been the heaviest of us, but with her enormous breasts, her bikini top looked in danger of pinging off. Seeing me looking, she waved, then squashed her breasts together to show even more cleavage. This proved the last straw for her top, which fell down. Ever the gentleman, Jose waddled across the pool, with difficulty, to retrieve it, although he didn’t miss the opportunity to glance over at his girlfriend’s enormous naked bust. But then, we looked on in admiration as he bent over to retrieve the top from the bottom of the pool - and his trunks gave in, revealing his mammoth behind to a crowd of girls!

Finally pulling myself away from the spectacle, I looked over at Sandra, laid out sunbathing next to me. She’d been so pleased with her navel piercing that she’d had her lower lip done, too, and as I gazed at her in her extra-extra large bikini, I thought to tell her how beautiful she looked. She was right; becoming fat was a small price to pay for the love of food we now had. Or rather, she was wrong. It wasn’t a price to pay at all, but instead a bonus. I leant over and kissed her on the lips, our stomachs brushing.

This all felt so right -surely it couldn’t be a mistake?

 

[ookamimaster]

 

[Observer]

 

[Koldun]

 

[stillblessed23]