Xyantha Reborn
- Actually Very Tame!
This is a little something I have been working on while trying to muddle through some of my other works. First attempt at a first person!
A big beautiful woman is not a oxymorn, and sometimes our friends best intentions are not in our own best interests. Sometimes we need to listen to our instincts, even (or especially) if they are telling us to enjoy a good life with good food and good friends.
Chapter 1 – Dance
“You are SUCH a freak,” Ruth sighed, flicking her length of black tresses over her shoulder with a casual flick of the wrist. That wrist was as slender as the rest of her, and shockingly pale against the darkness of her hair. In fact, in the darkness of the club, her ethereal face, arms, and legs were all that was visible. “Smile, for pity’s sake!”
Jaqueline, or ‘Jacks’, as she preferred, grinned and shook her head. She was the dawn to Ruth’s dusk. Blonde hair curled in a gentle halo around her head, and cheery, wide blue eyes rolled expressively at the other woman. “Relax, Beth.”
As always, I did what the others wanted. I bucked up, plastered a closed lip smile on my face, and pulled my shoulders back. At least on the outside. Inside, I curled tighter around that ball of hurt.
I made no bones about it – I was the fat friend. And with that baptism came all the baggage and burdens and duties.
Tilted eyes turned my way. “I just wish you would stop saying you’re fat.”
“I am fat, Ruth.” I would not allow my voice to be anything other than factual. There was no way around it, and no use trying to beat around the bush. And I could not be insensible to the subtle insult – ‘don’t call yourself fat’, not ‘you are not fat’.
“You are not fat. You have fat. You also have fingernails, but you are not fingernails,” The Goth bombshell next to her sighed, raising her cup to her lips. “You seem to think that guys aren’t attracted to you because you are fat – but maybe it’s because you are so depressed all the time. Who wants to hang out with someone they are constantly having to be all like ‘hey, you don’t suck, be happy’?”
Jacks bow mouth parted open as she gasped. “Ruth!” she managed finally, her tone both indignant and scandalized.
Darting eyes turned my way, as if she expected me to punch the speaker in the nose. Nothing I hadn’t heard before, and I gave a closed lipped smile in response.
The thin woman merely cocked a brow at them, easing away from the bar. “Look, someone had to tell her. Sorry, but it’s true.” She crooked a finger at a guy on the dancefloor, and she was almost instantly swaying to the beat.
Twisting my lips into a real sort of smile, I raised a shoulder in a half shrug. “It’s ok. Ruth is just a mean drunk, right?”
“Right!” Jacks sighed, relaxing. She hated drama. “Oh!” She giggled as she turned away, attention captivated. “Hi there!” This overly flirtatious greeting was directed at a tall, handsome man who had swaggered up to her.
Typical, I couldn’t help snorting to myself as I eyed the newcomer. Men always seemed to overdevelop their arms, neglecting their chest and legs…because their guns were all they seemed to see. The disproportionate result always made me shake my head.
Of course, the fat friend was brought for this express purpose; to be the wing woman until the men approached. So when Jacks looked at me like a baby bunny, what else could I do except nod encouragingly…then sigh, turning back to the bar.
Beth, why do you do this to yourself? I moped as I tilted my head up, blinking rapidly to disperse the threatening tears. Every Saturday was devoted to this…idiocy. Hours spent primping and pruning to almost no effect, then bar hopping.
Who doesn’t love free drinks? Her friends would ask her, shocked and confused. Somehow, they always managed to drag her along.
Who doesn’t love free drinks? Probably someone who never gets any. I wasn’t blind to the reason that I always invited, but I never seemed to break from the cycle. Perhaps it was because I served a very valuable, if understated, role in our little circle.
I, dear reader, am the fat friend.
Beside my dumpy and frumpy form, my friends look even more bewitchingly thin and beautiful.
Next to my shy mumbles, they are dazzlingly bright and conversational.
And if their night didn’t pan out…Beth would always be there, waiting. Because nights like this never panned out for Beth.
Blinking back more tears, I admonished myself for being bitter. Really, I had no one to blame but myself. It wasn’t as if I every exerted my willpower, stood firm and told them no. Despite having the opportunity to do so nearly every week.
I tapped a finger against the sticky bar, catching the bartender’s attention. “Can I have another rum and coke?” I half shouted over the din of deep thumping and higher squeals. Yumyum, nothing like empty calories to bloat my disgusting body even more. Turning my head to the right, I could not help but notice a man looking at me. It wasn’t uncommon for my size to draw attention, so I tried to let my gaze slide past him. Water off of a duck’s back, I reminded myself as I looked out over the floor.
The night was in full swing; ladies were free before midnight, so the last of the cheap bar hoppers were just spilling into the room. They swirled around in drunk, giggling herds, skittering around on their heels and honking. Men followed in their wobbling footsteps like hungry jackals, waiting for a weak or drunken one to wander outside her group.
The deep bass wom-wom-wubwub-womwom from the dancefloor made my ears throb to the beat as the temperature slowly rose. Most of the people couldn’t dance – that was why their inebriated state was so key. My eyes settled on the dark form of Ruth, who was being a complete skank as she grinded to the beat, her mini up so far her that the bottom of her ass was exposed.
The weird thing was, I knew I could dance better than either of my friends. It was, unfortunately, accompanied by the disgusting spectacle of erratic wobbling and jiggling. Having been called cow enough times in my life, I had very little inclination to draw attention to myself.
One of the bar tenders caught my attention by pushing the plastic cup into my hand. That guy was still eyeing me, I noticed. Ignoring him, I counted out the money and tip before taking up the drink, which was barely palatable. Especially because I had to pay for it myself. It should rankle, because I think that women who used men to get free drinks were pathetic. But…it does.
The whole spectacle was pathetic, really. A bunch of people who were too uptight to relax got blasted so that they could meet other people. Not for any purpose except sex. All the pretense was taken away by the darkness and loud music; you could barely see people, let alone have a worthwhile conversation. So they drank, and flirted, and got lucky.
Raising the red and white cup to my lips, I faced away from the bar, trying to retain a little smile as I bobbed my head to the beat of the music.
I wasn’t the fat friend who no one wanted to dance with.
I was just a girl who had so much fun dancing that she was thirsty and was taking a break.
Yeah.
A gentle touch on my left elbow brought her attention back to my immediate surroundings. It was that guy. I stared up at him in confused consternation, drink hanging halfway to my lips. Realization struck. “Sorry!” I bellowed over the music, offering a closed lip smile as I tried to edge out of his way. There was a lot of me to get out of his path.
One corner of his mouth raised, and he leaned into the bar to order something.
He was cute. Not that I was looking. Well, I was, but only in the way that one would admire a painting. The man was of middling height, middling body type, and middling good looks…but he had a sort of mischievous look about his face that I instantly liked.
Jacks was working the floor with her newest conquest attached to her side. The man was glaring at the other men over her shoulder, as it to ward them off. Another light nudge at my shoulder made me turn a little. The part of me that was generally in people’s way wasn’t something I could suck in. Although I was plump overall, my hips are my most obvious and extreme feature. Another touch made me frown, whipping around. It wasn’t as if I could move any more in the tight club. Yeah, I was fat, I got it – but what did they expect me to do?
The man backed up a step at my ferocious expression, the drink held in his extended hand slowly lowering. He appeared startled, eyes sliding to the side before returning to mine.
I stared at him in consternation. For…me?
The man raised his other hand in a placating gesture, putting the cup on the edge of the bar. He flicked a finger from the cup to me and back, then gave a half smile as he backed away, hands raised like I had a gun.
I didn’t mean to stop him. Really, I didn’t. What sort of freak picked girls up at a club anyway? My hand raised on its own though, making that sort of depreciating gesture, an invitation to remain.
It was hard to see the details of his features and his expression in the dim light, but he seemed to be smiling in a friendly sort of way. The man took a step closer, moving a hand back and forth between us, then towards the dance floor.
I was so taken aback I didn’t know at first what I was doing – but I must have stepped towards him, because suddenly my hand was carefully clasped between his and I was ever so gently guided to the floor.
Self-consciousness rose as I felt one of his hands settle on one of my love handles, his forearm pressing lightly into my back. There was no way that he could fool himself about how round I was. My eyes rose and met his, ready to make my escape when he released me in disgust.
He didn’t seem too disgusted. Then again, he was probably so drunk that even a fatty like me looked attractive. Or maybe he just wanted to go whale riding.
Screw it. He wanted to dance? I was going to show him what it was like to dance with a real woman.
The next song began, and I began slowly shifting my hips, swaying lightly. The stranger began the typical shuffle alongside ne – the ‘man dance’ as our little group termed it. I upped the ante, rocking my substantial hips and shimmying.
His eyes widened, and his hands settled more firmly on my sides as he held on for dear life. There was a lot more moving than just my hips. As I let loose for the first time in a long time, I felt my upper arms jiggle, my belly bounce, thighs quake, and breasts shimmy. All in all, it made me way more out of breath than it used to, and instantly dampened my buzz. Why? Because I was even fatter than the last time I had danced, ok? Probably like twenty friends had joined the Beth cruise since then.
Space cleared around us as I made a spectacle, but the gent in front of me didn’t seem to notice. His eyes were as wide as saucers, and half way through he was sporting quite a boner. When the next song came on I shook my head, gasping for air and sweating like a pig.
Instead of abandoning me on the floor, he only relinquished his hold on my hips with one arm, leaning in to be heard over the thrumming of the next song. “What’s your name?” He asked.
He was so close that his lips and breath rustled my hair. I shivered, feeling nervous as his hand slid from my hip to a bulging love handle. A peek up into his eyes showed his big grin. “Beth…”
A big beautiful woman is not a oxymorn, and sometimes our friends best intentions are not in our own best interests. Sometimes we need to listen to our instincts, even (or especially) if they are telling us to enjoy a good life with good food and good friends.
Chapter 1 – Dance
“You are SUCH a freak,” Ruth sighed, flicking her length of black tresses over her shoulder with a casual flick of the wrist. That wrist was as slender as the rest of her, and shockingly pale against the darkness of her hair. In fact, in the darkness of the club, her ethereal face, arms, and legs were all that was visible. “Smile, for pity’s sake!”
Jaqueline, or ‘Jacks’, as she preferred, grinned and shook her head. She was the dawn to Ruth’s dusk. Blonde hair curled in a gentle halo around her head, and cheery, wide blue eyes rolled expressively at the other woman. “Relax, Beth.”
As always, I did what the others wanted. I bucked up, plastered a closed lip smile on my face, and pulled my shoulders back. At least on the outside. Inside, I curled tighter around that ball of hurt.
I made no bones about it – I was the fat friend. And with that baptism came all the baggage and burdens and duties.
Tilted eyes turned my way. “I just wish you would stop saying you’re fat.”
“I am fat, Ruth.” I would not allow my voice to be anything other than factual. There was no way around it, and no use trying to beat around the bush. And I could not be insensible to the subtle insult – ‘don’t call yourself fat’, not ‘you are not fat’.
“You are not fat. You have fat. You also have fingernails, but you are not fingernails,” The Goth bombshell next to her sighed, raising her cup to her lips. “You seem to think that guys aren’t attracted to you because you are fat – but maybe it’s because you are so depressed all the time. Who wants to hang out with someone they are constantly having to be all like ‘hey, you don’t suck, be happy’?”
Jacks bow mouth parted open as she gasped. “Ruth!” she managed finally, her tone both indignant and scandalized.
Darting eyes turned my way, as if she expected me to punch the speaker in the nose. Nothing I hadn’t heard before, and I gave a closed lipped smile in response.
The thin woman merely cocked a brow at them, easing away from the bar. “Look, someone had to tell her. Sorry, but it’s true.” She crooked a finger at a guy on the dancefloor, and she was almost instantly swaying to the beat.
Twisting my lips into a real sort of smile, I raised a shoulder in a half shrug. “It’s ok. Ruth is just a mean drunk, right?”
“Right!” Jacks sighed, relaxing. She hated drama. “Oh!” She giggled as she turned away, attention captivated. “Hi there!” This overly flirtatious greeting was directed at a tall, handsome man who had swaggered up to her.
Typical, I couldn’t help snorting to myself as I eyed the newcomer. Men always seemed to overdevelop their arms, neglecting their chest and legs…because their guns were all they seemed to see. The disproportionate result always made me shake my head.
Of course, the fat friend was brought for this express purpose; to be the wing woman until the men approached. So when Jacks looked at me like a baby bunny, what else could I do except nod encouragingly…then sigh, turning back to the bar.
Beth, why do you do this to yourself? I moped as I tilted my head up, blinking rapidly to disperse the threatening tears. Every Saturday was devoted to this…idiocy. Hours spent primping and pruning to almost no effect, then bar hopping.
Who doesn’t love free drinks? Her friends would ask her, shocked and confused. Somehow, they always managed to drag her along.
Who doesn’t love free drinks? Probably someone who never gets any. I wasn’t blind to the reason that I always invited, but I never seemed to break from the cycle. Perhaps it was because I served a very valuable, if understated, role in our little circle.
I, dear reader, am the fat friend.
Beside my dumpy and frumpy form, my friends look even more bewitchingly thin and beautiful.
Next to my shy mumbles, they are dazzlingly bright and conversational.
And if their night didn’t pan out…Beth would always be there, waiting. Because nights like this never panned out for Beth.
Blinking back more tears, I admonished myself for being bitter. Really, I had no one to blame but myself. It wasn’t as if I every exerted my willpower, stood firm and told them no. Despite having the opportunity to do so nearly every week.
I tapped a finger against the sticky bar, catching the bartender’s attention. “Can I have another rum and coke?” I half shouted over the din of deep thumping and higher squeals. Yumyum, nothing like empty calories to bloat my disgusting body even more. Turning my head to the right, I could not help but notice a man looking at me. It wasn’t uncommon for my size to draw attention, so I tried to let my gaze slide past him. Water off of a duck’s back, I reminded myself as I looked out over the floor.
The night was in full swing; ladies were free before midnight, so the last of the cheap bar hoppers were just spilling into the room. They swirled around in drunk, giggling herds, skittering around on their heels and honking. Men followed in their wobbling footsteps like hungry jackals, waiting for a weak or drunken one to wander outside her group.
The deep bass wom-wom-wubwub-womwom from the dancefloor made my ears throb to the beat as the temperature slowly rose. Most of the people couldn’t dance – that was why their inebriated state was so key. My eyes settled on the dark form of Ruth, who was being a complete skank as she grinded to the beat, her mini up so far her that the bottom of her ass was exposed.
The weird thing was, I knew I could dance better than either of my friends. It was, unfortunately, accompanied by the disgusting spectacle of erratic wobbling and jiggling. Having been called cow enough times in my life, I had very little inclination to draw attention to myself.
One of the bar tenders caught my attention by pushing the plastic cup into my hand. That guy was still eyeing me, I noticed. Ignoring him, I counted out the money and tip before taking up the drink, which was barely palatable. Especially because I had to pay for it myself. It should rankle, because I think that women who used men to get free drinks were pathetic. But…it does.
The whole spectacle was pathetic, really. A bunch of people who were too uptight to relax got blasted so that they could meet other people. Not for any purpose except sex. All the pretense was taken away by the darkness and loud music; you could barely see people, let alone have a worthwhile conversation. So they drank, and flirted, and got lucky.
Raising the red and white cup to my lips, I faced away from the bar, trying to retain a little smile as I bobbed my head to the beat of the music.
I wasn’t the fat friend who no one wanted to dance with.
I was just a girl who had so much fun dancing that she was thirsty and was taking a break.
Yeah.
A gentle touch on my left elbow brought her attention back to my immediate surroundings. It was that guy. I stared up at him in confused consternation, drink hanging halfway to my lips. Realization struck. “Sorry!” I bellowed over the music, offering a closed lip smile as I tried to edge out of his way. There was a lot of me to get out of his path.
One corner of his mouth raised, and he leaned into the bar to order something.
He was cute. Not that I was looking. Well, I was, but only in the way that one would admire a painting. The man was of middling height, middling body type, and middling good looks…but he had a sort of mischievous look about his face that I instantly liked.
Jacks was working the floor with her newest conquest attached to her side. The man was glaring at the other men over her shoulder, as it to ward them off. Another light nudge at my shoulder made me turn a little. The part of me that was generally in people’s way wasn’t something I could suck in. Although I was plump overall, my hips are my most obvious and extreme feature. Another touch made me frown, whipping around. It wasn’t as if I could move any more in the tight club. Yeah, I was fat, I got it – but what did they expect me to do?
The man backed up a step at my ferocious expression, the drink held in his extended hand slowly lowering. He appeared startled, eyes sliding to the side before returning to mine.
I stared at him in consternation. For…me?
The man raised his other hand in a placating gesture, putting the cup on the edge of the bar. He flicked a finger from the cup to me and back, then gave a half smile as he backed away, hands raised like I had a gun.
I didn’t mean to stop him. Really, I didn’t. What sort of freak picked girls up at a club anyway? My hand raised on its own though, making that sort of depreciating gesture, an invitation to remain.
It was hard to see the details of his features and his expression in the dim light, but he seemed to be smiling in a friendly sort of way. The man took a step closer, moving a hand back and forth between us, then towards the dance floor.
I was so taken aback I didn’t know at first what I was doing – but I must have stepped towards him, because suddenly my hand was carefully clasped between his and I was ever so gently guided to the floor.
Self-consciousness rose as I felt one of his hands settle on one of my love handles, his forearm pressing lightly into my back. There was no way that he could fool himself about how round I was. My eyes rose and met his, ready to make my escape when he released me in disgust.
He didn’t seem too disgusted. Then again, he was probably so drunk that even a fatty like me looked attractive. Or maybe he just wanted to go whale riding.
Screw it. He wanted to dance? I was going to show him what it was like to dance with a real woman.
The next song began, and I began slowly shifting my hips, swaying lightly. The stranger began the typical shuffle alongside ne – the ‘man dance’ as our little group termed it. I upped the ante, rocking my substantial hips and shimmying.
His eyes widened, and his hands settled more firmly on my sides as he held on for dear life. There was a lot more moving than just my hips. As I let loose for the first time in a long time, I felt my upper arms jiggle, my belly bounce, thighs quake, and breasts shimmy. All in all, it made me way more out of breath than it used to, and instantly dampened my buzz. Why? Because I was even fatter than the last time I had danced, ok? Probably like twenty friends had joined the Beth cruise since then.
Space cleared around us as I made a spectacle, but the gent in front of me didn’t seem to notice. His eyes were as wide as saucers, and half way through he was sporting quite a boner. When the next song came on I shook my head, gasping for air and sweating like a pig.
Instead of abandoning me on the floor, he only relinquished his hold on my hips with one arm, leaning in to be heard over the thrumming of the next song. “What’s your name?” He asked.
He was so close that his lips and breath rustled my hair. I shivered, feeling nervous as his hand slid from my hip to a bulging love handle. A peek up into his eyes showed his big grin. “Beth…”
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