Fiji
Well-Known Member
New in Town
Small Town Big Appetites
I'm new in town and literally know no one, my employer, a large operator of insurance agencies, having just sent me here to be their local agent. I had been in their Pittsburgh office, but the local office manager there didn't think I projected the right "image" of the company, at least not since I had packed on a hundred pounds while dating the sexiest little feedist ever. He sent me packing to this tiny little burgh in the middle of nowhere in western Pennsylvania, telling me it would be "a better fit" for me, whatever that means.
Unfortunately, my sexy little feedist, all 105 pounds of her, was a more cosmopolitan type and had no intention of joining me here in Nowheresville, so I'm fat and alone in a new town. As I get dressed to head over to the agency, a one-person operation given the size of the town, I step on the scale, a parting gift from my ex-girlfriend, and get instantly depressed, seeing that I weigh 403 pounds. And lament, who will want to buy insurance from a big 400-pound tub of lard?
It gets worse when I start to put on my clothes, since I haven't bought any new ones since I hit 375 pounds. My dress pants won't hitch up over my belly any longer, so I have to tuck them under my overhang and fasten my belt extra tight so they don't slide down. And my sport coat is at least a size or two too small, fitting my shoulders fine, but not coming anywhere close to buttoning around my enormous belly, leaving at least a one foot gap of belly showing. Fortunately, my ex-girlfriend had ordered me a couple of new dress shirts before I left Pittsburgh, so they at least are big enough to cover my lower belly and tuck into my pants. But it all makes for kind of a comical look in the mirror, enough to convince me to head to the closest DXL and buy some new clothes ... of course, the nearest one might be a hundred miles, meaning I probably can't do it before next weekend.
I'm staying in the Motel 6 until I can find an apartment and the agency is a three block walk. I'm a bit winded after about a block, but fortunately am right in front of a quaint-looking little diner with an intriguing name -- Chew the Fat. Must be karma, I think, and walk in. I instantly feel at home as the woman behind the counter who greets me must be at least 400 pounds herself and, despite being at least fifteen years my senior, is perhaps the sexiest woman I've ever seen! And on top of that, it seems like at least half the patrons in the place are at least 300 pounds, with maybe a couple verging on 500 pounds. Definitely a lot of tonnage here. Maybe that's what my old office manager meant when he said this town was a "better fit" for me -- heck, I'm now thinking I'm gonna sell loads of insurance here, I can see the billboard on the outskirts of town now, "See the fat man for all your insurance needs" next to a smiling visage of myself, only maybe another hundred pounds heavier.
"Take a load off sexy," barks the woman behind the counter. As I sit on one of the stools she introduces herself as Dolly, "Dolly Dimples," some of the boys call me, due to this," pointing to her ample figure. "Well, you do have adorable dimples," I tell her and introduce myself, "Wally, although some people call me Wally World ... you know, due to this," pointing to my big belly.
"Don't worry Wally, you're gonna feel right at home here," Dolly said with a laugh, adding, "you're the new insurance agent right?"
"How did you know?"
"Oh word gets around in a small town like this ... everyone is so excited to get a new agent ... that last one, such a skinny little runt, no one trusted him, but YOU, you'll do well here."
"Think so?"
Dolly smiles at me and says, "let me answer that after I see how much breakfast you pack into that belly of yours!"
Small Town Big Appetites
I'm new in town and literally know no one, my employer, a large operator of insurance agencies, having just sent me here to be their local agent. I had been in their Pittsburgh office, but the local office manager there didn't think I projected the right "image" of the company, at least not since I had packed on a hundred pounds while dating the sexiest little feedist ever. He sent me packing to this tiny little burgh in the middle of nowhere in western Pennsylvania, telling me it would be "a better fit" for me, whatever that means.
Unfortunately, my sexy little feedist, all 105 pounds of her, was a more cosmopolitan type and had no intention of joining me here in Nowheresville, so I'm fat and alone in a new town. As I get dressed to head over to the agency, a one-person operation given the size of the town, I step on the scale, a parting gift from my ex-girlfriend, and get instantly depressed, seeing that I weigh 403 pounds. And lament, who will want to buy insurance from a big 400-pound tub of lard?
It gets worse when I start to put on my clothes, since I haven't bought any new ones since I hit 375 pounds. My dress pants won't hitch up over my belly any longer, so I have to tuck them under my overhang and fasten my belt extra tight so they don't slide down. And my sport coat is at least a size or two too small, fitting my shoulders fine, but not coming anywhere close to buttoning around my enormous belly, leaving at least a one foot gap of belly showing. Fortunately, my ex-girlfriend had ordered me a couple of new dress shirts before I left Pittsburgh, so they at least are big enough to cover my lower belly and tuck into my pants. But it all makes for kind of a comical look in the mirror, enough to convince me to head to the closest DXL and buy some new clothes ... of course, the nearest one might be a hundred miles, meaning I probably can't do it before next weekend.
I'm staying in the Motel 6 until I can find an apartment and the agency is a three block walk. I'm a bit winded after about a block, but fortunately am right in front of a quaint-looking little diner with an intriguing name -- Chew the Fat. Must be karma, I think, and walk in. I instantly feel at home as the woman behind the counter who greets me must be at least 400 pounds herself and, despite being at least fifteen years my senior, is perhaps the sexiest woman I've ever seen! And on top of that, it seems like at least half the patrons in the place are at least 300 pounds, with maybe a couple verging on 500 pounds. Definitely a lot of tonnage here. Maybe that's what my old office manager meant when he said this town was a "better fit" for me -- heck, I'm now thinking I'm gonna sell loads of insurance here, I can see the billboard on the outskirts of town now, "See the fat man for all your insurance needs" next to a smiling visage of myself, only maybe another hundred pounds heavier.
"Take a load off sexy," barks the woman behind the counter. As I sit on one of the stools she introduces herself as Dolly, "Dolly Dimples," some of the boys call me, due to this," pointing to her ample figure. "Well, you do have adorable dimples," I tell her and introduce myself, "Wally, although some people call me Wally World ... you know, due to this," pointing to my big belly.
"Don't worry Wally, you're gonna feel right at home here," Dolly said with a laugh, adding, "you're the new insurance agent right?"
"How did you know?"
"Oh word gets around in a small town like this ... everyone is so excited to get a new agent ... that last one, such a skinny little runt, no one trusted him, but YOU, you'll do well here."
"Think so?"
Dolly smiles at me and says, "let me answer that after I see how much breakfast you pack into that belly of yours!"
