Squish

[jarlewski]

Ethan opened his eyes - the apartment was painted with colored streaks of light, tinted by Fiona's art supplies by the window. Outside, a dog barked as a mail truck puttered down the hill. He nudged his left arm off the couch and felt around on the rug for his phone. The black rectangle responded to his touch, and Ethan shifted into an upright position. He took a deep breath and unmuted the call.

A voice erupted from the phone, "People love North Korea. I'm telling you, Daniel. They absolutely fucking love North Korea."

Another equally obnoxious voice responded, "These kids can't even point out North Korea on a map, Nathan. You're going to run a bunch of listicles about a place people can't even find, just because it was trending on Twitter a month ago."

"There was a movie about it, you elitist dick. The Sony hacks? Our audience knows North Korea, and it is hot."

"And you want to run content on my site promoting North Korea?"

"That's only ostensibly what I'm saying."

"Well, you can ostensibly go fuck yourself with that commie bullshit. "

Another afternoon conference call, another argument about what Ethan would end up writing in two weeks after everyone else told the editor to get bent. It might almost be impressive how two voices emanating from piece of plastic could make his apartment feel like a prison, if only it weren't so depressing. Ethan mindlessly poked the coffee table in front of him, pretending it was covered by invisible bubble wrap.

"Listen, it's what's trending on Twitter and tumblr. This is what you asked me to do."

"I never said buy me a bunch of those marble dictator statues."

Sometimes, the invisible bubble wrap helped.

"Yes, that's what we're doing here, Daniel. I'm going to spend all of your ad revenue on North Korean statues."

Ethan interrupted, "Americans can't import directly from North Korea. You gotta find an exporter in Europe to get around the law, but it's doable. African autocrats have been buying from them for decades."

The call went silent. It would happen like this, every few days, when Ethan would offer some new information or a correction that hinted at his actual talent. He assumed that, eventually, the awkward moment could lead to something better than writing top ten lists or live-blogging product announcements.

"That's great, Ethan. Maybe we'll work that into a listicle."

"I think it's time to shift into discussing how we can work in more Game of Thrones references into our Uber coverage."

He always assumed wrong.

-

Fiona slumped down in her seat and held her thighs until the tears came. At first, she felt like it was her fault, another instance of weakness in a long history of dealing with her insufferable parents. But before long, she was pounding on the sides of the steering wheel. Her anger grew suddenly, as it always did, while she recalled bits and blips of the afternoon.

The criticism. Her mother told her that she spent too much time with her patients. That no one would ever care about the extra effort she put in. That anyone could be trained to hand out pills and fill out paperwork.

The insults. Whenever it got quiet, it would begin with her mother, but before long, all of the other nurses would start to make comments about her hair or her accessories. Accessories, god. She hated that word. They could go on all day about how Fiona refused to buy expensive shoes or a new purse for work.

The ignorance. And if it wasn't about materialism, the chatter would turn into the typical vindictive bullshit that kept them from being better at their jobs. A particular administrator that never thanked anyone. Someone that didn't order enough pizza to share. A family member that wouldn't stop calling. Kim Kardashian. Always Kim Kardashian.

The receptionist. The second worst part of Fiona's day. Walking past that nauseatingly fake bitch. That rancid dick holster. Today, she waited until Fiona was nearly out the door before putting down her stupid tabloid magazine and opening her malicious, superficial mouth. 

"You look nice today, Fiona."

"Thanks, Carol."

"You have such a pretty face."

"Thank you."

"I wish I had a pretty face like you."

"You're pretty too, Carol. I'll see you tomorrow."

"You should try gluten-free."

"I know. Have a good night. I've got to meet Mom in the car."

Fiona walked out into the parking lot and swallowed her rage, knowing that she was about to face the absolute worst part of the day in a few steps. She opened the driver's side door, slid into the seat and was met by the same three words she heard every afternoon after work.

"You are late."

"I was cleaning up after everyone else, Mom. You knew that."

"You took too long. I had to talk to your father on the phone."

Fiona's tiny hands gripped the wheel until her knuckles turned white.

-

The apartment door flew open, and Fiona trudged across the living room to the couch. Ethan looked up from his laptop, not quite ready to begin their nightly routine.

"Bad day?" he asked.

She slammed her head into the futon and let out a ten second groan.

Ethan continued, "She loves you."

Fiona flipped over and kicked the coffee table. "I know." She knocked the back of her flats against the couch until they came off, and the two sat in silence for a minute.

Ethan closed his laptop, dropped from his chair and walked on his knees across the room to be next to his distraught girlfriend. "Everything's going to be okay, I promise." Up close, he could tell that she had been crying, again.

"Babe, you don't understand. You're so white, your name is Ethan. Your people can stick your parents in a home, and nobody cares. But I'm supposed to take care of my mom, and it doesn't matter if she's being a stubborn douchebag or not, that's how it is. And I get upset, and that makes me feel like I wish I had done so much better and gone so much further, and I feel so weak all of the time. I could be doing anything else, literally anything else with my life, but I let all of this unhealthy bullshit get to me all of the time."

"I know, babe. And I might not understand, but I'm listening and I'm here. And I love you lots."

"I love you too. I don't mean to be like this all of the time."

"You're doing your best, right?"

She sighed. "I don't know. I feel so anxious and vulnerable all of the time."

He kissed her. "Hey, you are doing your best. And I love you for it."

She whined and thumped her arms against the couch. The movement shook her whole body, reminding her of how tight her scrubs were. And Carol.

"Babe, do you think I have a pretty face?"

"I think you have a pretty everything. Why?"

"When I was a kid, the other girls would call me Jackie Lantern, because they said my face was round like a pumpkin."

Ethan stifled a laugh. "Really?"

Fiona scowled and stuck out her lip. "Yes, really."

"Well, those girls were stupid and probably pretty racist."

"But you like me, right?"

Ethan rolled across the carpet and crawled up the side of the couch to her. He paused for a second as her expression softened. "I don't just like you. I love you." He grabbed her sides and pulled her in tight for a kiss. She smiled as they touched. It was the feeling of warmth she craved, a moment of connection that pulled her out of the solitude of her days. When Ethan tried to slip back down to the floor, Fiona wrenched him over onto her thighs, holding his wrist to keep his hand on her belly.

Her smile faded. "I'm fat."

"And hot."

"Not really."

He smirked. She laughed and put her fingers over his mouth. He licked her fingers, and she pulled them away to wipe them on the couch. Unhindered, he responded, "Babe, do you remember what I said on our second date?"

"That you like fat girls."

He rolled his eyes. "Do you actually remember, you butt?"

"Yes. You said that I was the most beautiful girl in the world and that you wished I didn't take pictures using Myspace angles. And I said I was too young to be on Myspace."

"Yeah, I know. I'm old. But you're beautiful, and everyone can see that."

She began to lift herself to kiss him, but he leaned forward before she felt any strain. He squeezed her upper arms and brushed the hair away from her face. "Thank you," she said, for all of it.

"You're welcome," he responded. "And you know I tell you the truth. My memory's not good enough to lie to you."

She smiled. "I know. I never have to worry about you. And I guess I have better things to stress out about besides my weight anyway."

"Yeah, robots are taking our jobs. The ice caps are melting. And there's a measles outbreak. But here you are, worrying about being under 190 pounds."

"Two pounds under 190 pounds."

"See, two pounds under 190 pounds. That might make you the skinniest girl I've ever dated, you know."

She laughed and pushed him off her. "Jerk."

"Everything is going to be okay, I promise. You don't have to worry."

"Okay, babe."

Fiona slid her legs to the floor, and Ethan helped her into a sitting position as he plopped down on the couch next to her. "I'll make dinner, and you can set up the TV for Game of Thrones?" he asked.

She squinted and tapped her cheek playfully, "Hmm. Maybe."

"You want to eat chips while I give you a butt massage first?"

"Aww, babe. It's like you read my mind."

He laughed. It was the nightly routine.

[jarlewski]

Fiona slammed the car door behind her and popped down the vanity mirror. One twenty minute drive with her mother, and she was so furious that her hands shook as she ran them through her hair. It was supposed to be her day off. It was supposed to be her day with Ethan. But no, she couldn't enjoy the one day she had for herself, because she had to pick her mother up from work and drop her off at the mall, because, for some reason, her mother needed another expensive handbag.

And it would have been okay, if only her mother could have turned on the radio and sat in silence. Fiona squeezed her cheeks as she watched her face in the mirror. Puffy. She said I looked tired and puffy, Fiona thought. If it isn't telling me how to do my job the other six days of the week, she has to demand that I take her shopping on my day, so she can tell me I look worn out and ugly.

Fiona opened her mouth and dangled out her tongue. She groaned like a zombie for a few seconds before snapping her mouth shut and whacking the mirror closed. "Ugh. Not everyone can be a beauty queen like you, Mom."

The anger built up in her again. She felt her face turn red as her pulse quickened. Her mind raced with thoughts of screaming back at her mother, driving off without the ungrateful wretch and how nobody should ever be allowed to make her feel this way. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. Fiona punched the side of her steering wheel. This is not what she wanted.

But what did she want? The answer to that was almost always Ethan, to the point of where she wondered if she was smothering him with her problems. He was always there, waiting, whenever she needed him to listen. But there had to be more to life than Ethan. She loved painting. She loved walking in the woods. She loved dogs. She loved helping people. Why couldn't her mother see that she had grown up to be a creative, independent woman with a strong heart?

Her stomach gurgled. Fiona looked down to assess her body, her puffy body, if her mother was to believed.

She didn't feel puffy. She didn't think she had a face like a pumpkin. On her better days, she even agreed with Ethan and thought she was beautiful. Curvy. Sexy. Soft. But not puffy.

She ran her fingers down her jeans, examining her squishy thighs. Like most of her pants, these jeans were a few years old, bought back before she went to nursing school. They began fraying and ripping down her inner thighs right before she stuck them in the back of her closet, and nothing much had changed since then. She poked the flesh popping out of the holes. Fiona liked her squish.

Fuck them, she thought. Within minutes, she was walking down an aisle in a 7-11, grabbing the treats she had denied herself while eating lunch under her mother's watchful eye. Twix. Kit Kats. Beef jerky. Nutella. And two bottles of orange soda.

Fiona dropped all of her goodies on the counter and paused for a moment.

"Is this all?" asked the clerk.

She bit her lip. "No, this and two hot dogs with chili, please."

-

Ethan returned from his run to find three e-mails waiting in his inbox. "Fucking dick-biting imbeciles." It was always something.

He grabbed his phone off his desk and scrolled through his contact list to dial up his simpleminded editor. Ethan sucked in a large breath of apartment air and made the call. Such an intervention was a typical thing at this point, but that never made him feel any better about it.

"Nathan on the line."

"Hey, Nathan. It's Ethan."

"Oh, man. What's up, Ethan? Hey, bro, you sound like you just ran a marathon."

"Uh, yeah. Just only, uh, 4 miles. I was out when you e-mailed me."

"Yeah, about that, you know that's not me, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I know it's the company, but it's not like corporate cares what I write as long as the site gets hits. And I've got to put my name and picture on these while everyone making those decisions stays anonymous."

A pause. "Yeah, bud. Bro. I know." Another pause. "Listen, dude, make the changes, and at the next meeting, I will totally bring this up to Daniel."

Ethan could say something. He could tell Nathan to shove his corrections. He could tell them that he was sick of rehashing press releases and crapping out link-bait disguised as high-minded editorials so that someone at their parent company could toss around hundreds at a strip club whenever engagement ticked up. He could tell them lots. And as of late, more of Ethan's time had been spent dreaming up what he could say instead doing anything about it.

He snapped back to reality, "Yeah, that's cool. I'll make the changes, and we'll talk about it."

"Cool, cool. Yeah, so... I'm going to go and we'll see those go live once you e-mail me back."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll talk to you later."

"Yeah. Later."

Ethan stabbed the phone with his thumb and walked down the hall to a dark bedroom. He grabbed a pillow off the bed and thought about putting it over his face to muffle a scream. Instead, he gave it a good squeeze and tossed it into a pile of Fiona's stuff.  He thought about calling her and venting, until he remembered that she was driving her mother somewhere. Those trips never ended well. The last thing she needed right now was her boyfriend complaining about how much of a pussy he was with his editor. A pussy. Ethan ruminated on the thought until he decided he was being needlessly critical of women's reproductive organs and how he certainly wasn't living up to the reputation of a vagina. He was a coward. A coward that needed to get back to work.

Ethan went back to his laptop and sifted through the e-mails. For all of his bluster, he hadn't missed a deadline in four years and wasn't about to start now, even if that meant removing language critical of his company's various sponsors. And so, a few thousand tweets about ethics in journalism would scroll down his feed before the next meeting when Nathan would inevitably forget to mention any of Ethan's concerns. Fuck it, he thought. If the people who comment on my articles can't be bothered to read them before they spew bile, I can't give myself a heart attack over three articles.

He sent off his corrections and stared out the window for a moment. Soon, Fiona would be home, and he could focus on whatever was bothering her. Another day of work comes to a close. Hooray. Still, he felt like a poltroon and a sanctimonious shit. The answer was obvious - a shower beer would cheer him up. He grabbed a towel, a cold bottle of HopDevil and his iPod, all without noticing the text from Fiona that popped up on his phone.

-

Ethan put a wet foot onto the tile floor and turned off the shower stereo. "Babe, is that you?" A few seconds passed, but no answer. Great, he thought. Bandits probably figured they could steal his laptop while he was letting the hot water run out. He wrapped a towel around his waist and grabbed the plunger for good measure. Local wuss beats burglar to death with plumbing tool, news at eleven.

Ethan stepped out of the bathroom into the hallway to see Fiona on the couch. "Babe?"

She groaned in response. He dropped the plunger and let his acute stress response subside as he tried to figure out what the hell was going on.

Fiona was laying right side up on the couch, opposed to her usual face down in a pillow position, and it wasn't hard to see why - her stomach looked like she had swallowed a throw pillow. While her belly hadn't exactly been flat before, Ethan had never seen her little tummy puffed out like that. It was still smaller than her sizable breasts, but the expansion was enough to cause her t-shirt to ride up.

She startled him by regaining consciousness. "Are you naked?"

"In a towel. From the shower. You didn't... answer."

He noticed that she had unbuttoned her pants. "Are you okay?"

She groaned again, but it was almost more of a pleasurable moan. "Yeah, babe."

"Did... everything go okay with your mom?"

Fiona grumbled and put her hands on her belly. "Don't want to talk about it."

"Okay," Ethan replied. "That's okay." He let a moment pass. "Do you want to talk about anything else?"

For the first time in the conversation, she looked over at him. "Come here."

Ethan sat down next to her, in between the couch and the coffee table. He didn't know what was going on, but it wasn't like he was at all unhappy with the situation.

Fiona waved him closer until Ethan could feel her hot breath on his face. It smelled like hot dogs and something sweet. "I want you to fuck me," she said. "But I can't, or I'll be sick. So, here's the deal: if you give me a belly rub, I'll reward you for being such a great boyfriend."

"Reward me how?" he whispered back.

She smiled and pointed at her swollen stomach. He got the hint and put both hands on the sides of her belly. It was taut but not entirely solid, a mixture of fat and what would soon be fat. He got a little adventurous and gave it a shake, but Fiona grumbled at him. "No. Gentle." Instead, he started to alternate rubbing and kissing. She gestured to him to take her pants off, and he wrestled them off as she groaned. He worked his way back up to her belly by kissing her leg and inner thigh, feeling her shift each time lips met flesh. Ethan knew what that meant.

With one hand on her stomach, Ethan let his other hand drift down to her panties. Fiona grabbed his wrist weakly. "Babe." She never wanted him to fuss over her. He shook off her grip and slipped his fingers underneath her underwear. Within moments, she was trying to stop herself from writhing off the couch. She wanted more, but this was new and scary. The last thing any girl wants is to puke on her boyfriend as he's going down on her. Still, she gave him the look and hoped he would take the hint.

He did, and all the while, he clutched the sides of her bloated belly in a way that intensified the tingling sensation deep inside of her. The feeling shot back out to her skin, and it felt like she was going to burst. A warmth. A rumbling. She felt a spasm and kicked against his thigh, but he didn't stop. If anything, it was like he was holding her tighter. She tensed up and let out moan of pleasure followed by a short whine. Her left thigh clapped against the side of his head, and she shuddered into him.

Ethan relaxed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Are you okay?"

Fiona nodded in response.

He laughed. "Was that in the top ten?"

Fiona nodded again.

Ethan smiled. "Good." He sat down on the floor and went back to rubbing her belly. "Was that my reward?"

She shook her head and smiled. "Can you get my bag?"

Ethan clambered around to find her bag, only to find it discarded by the door with a pile of wrappers and an empty soda bottle. He reached in to find a half-eaten bag of potato chips, folded in half, and a jar of Nutella. The jar was still sealed, so he dropped it back into the bag and grabbed the chips.

"No," she said from behind him.

He turned around. "What, babe?"

"The jar," she said.

"The jar of Nutella?"

"Yes, please."

"Babe, no. You're going to be sick."

"Half," she replied.

"Half?" He picked up the jar and looked at the label. "That's a thousand calories."

"So?" She grinned.

Ethan dropped her bag and brought the jar over to her. "Okay. You want me to get a spoon?"

She licked her lips and shook her head playfully.

He smiled and shrugged. "Okay."

"Not here though. In the bedroom."

"Yeah?"

"I want to eat it off of you."

Ethan let the towel drop from around his waist. If this was the new nightly routine, he was so on board.

[jarlewski]

Fiona walked into the ladies' room and checked the stalls to see if she was alone. One, two, three empty stalls, and the east wing bathroom was officially hers again. She locked the door, took off her scrubs and leaned against one of the sinks, trying to get the right angle with her phone's camera. She snapped the first picture since lunch, and sure enough, her hair looked terrible. It always took her four or five tries before she liked one enough to send it to Ethan. Today, it was a four picture day.

Within seconds, her phone buzzed. Fiona pressed her finger to the screen to reveal Ethan with a goofy smirk on his face. She struggled out of her tight bra and took another five pictures. The winner, taken from a low angle, made her boobs look huge. She typed out a caption that said, "38D = TOO CRAMPED!!!11" She laughed, gave her girls a shake and hit send.

But it wasn't so much teasing him as it was true. Fiona had grown thicker in the weeks since her convenience store stuffing, and it was getting to the point of where she needed a wardrobe upgrade. She gave her belly fat a gentle wobble before spinning around to check out her expanding ass. Her phone buzzed. She poked her butt with the black rectangle, wishing it would swell a little from the meal digesting in her stomach. Not that she ever let Ethan know it, but Fiona loved her juicy backside. Guys always liked her boobs; her mother always hated her belly; Fiona adored her surprisingly firm buns. She wriggled her hips to see how it would respond today. Still solid, but undeniably substantial.

Ethan's next picture was his face covered with the heart-eyed emoji. She responded with a snap of her puffing out her belly, with the caption, "You please." Whenever she wanted a picture of his cock, she would always text him those two words. The next snap came back within seconds, a blurry image with a weird filter accompanied by the words, "Sorry, babe. Working." Fiona sighed. He wasn't in the mood to play. His shit-stained teratoma of a boss must be making him feel like a loser again.

Fiona stretched out her neck and prepared for the final picture of the afternoon. Maybe she couldn't make Ethan feel like a man, but at least she could compromise in one of their long-standing arguments. She set the timer and held the phone out at an arm's length. The countdown completed, and there it was - the picture Ethan had been asking her to take.

All in one photo, Fiona had managed to capture what annoyed her about her fatter figure. Her face was round and puffy, a bit red with a noticeable double chin. Her tiny neck had pudged out into a roll where it met her chest. Her upper arms had lost all definition and were now soft sausages of flab. Her belly developed a layer of lard that squeezed out between her tits and stomach, giving her an actual, undeniable roll of fat in her midsection. And even her boobs, the once perky objects of high school boys' affections, sagged a bit with their newfound weight. Nothing bothered her about a giant ass or massive thighs, but she seemed doomed to a body that distributed its fat everywhere equally.

She wanted to delete the photo. She wanted to delete the fat until it went to the right places. But instead, she sent the picture along to Ethan, with the caption, "Fat goes to wrong places." With a grumble, she flicked over to Facebook and cleared all of her notifications. The phone buzzed, a sustained buzz.

"Hello?" she answered.

"Babe, hey. Listen, I know I'm not supposed to call you on your breaks, but I wanted to tell you that you looked amazing in that snap. Your fat goes to all of the right places, because it goes on you."

She felt a tightness in her throat, but gulped it down. "Promise?"

"I promise. You are, and always will be, the most beautiful girl in the world."

"To you."

"Does anybody else matter besides you and me?"

She grinned. That was an easy answer for once. "No. Just you and me."

Fiona could hear him chuckle a little. "Good. Because I love you."

"I love you too."

"Okay, I'm sorry for calling."

"It's okay. I needed that," she replied before pausing for a moment. "Hey, babe?"

"Yeah, babe?"

"Hey, can you clean out my bottom desk drawer for me? I'm going to bring home some art supplies tonight, and I need the room. Please, please, please. For your Fiona Bee?"

"Yeah, of course."

The phone buzzed in her hand. Alarm. "Awesome. Thanks, babe. Gotta go! Love you, bye!"

Fiona crammed herself back into her bra and scrubs, took a look in the mirror and unlocked the bathroom door. Across the hall, her mother was waiting.

"Eh! I could not find you."

Fiona replied, "I know, Mom. I was in the bathroom."

"Doing what in the bathroom?"

Fiona contorted her face in disgust. "I was in the bathroom, jeez."

"You need to be working," her mother said as she poked Fiona in the chin. "And I need a ride today. And you need to make me lunch for tomorrow. And you look tired again. And fat."

Fiona snarled and exhaled. "Yeah, Mom. I know. I have to get back to work now."

Before her mother could say anything else, Fiona ducked into the physical therapy room. Her face grew hot. Her hands balled into fists. She was ready to grind her back teeth into dust.

"Fiona?"

Fiona yelped. She turned to see a tiny blonde woman in scrubs. Deirdre. Her name was Deirdre.

"Hey. Hi, Deirdre. Sorry. You startled me," said Fiona.

"It's okay, lamb. Everyone else is out at lunch," said the petite woman. "Not me though. I hang back so I can catch up on my reading before afternoon yoga."

"Oh. Well, yeah, I get that. I read in my car during lunch sometimes."

"Fiona, are you okay?"

Fiona shook her head. "Yeah, I'll be fine."

"That's good to hear." Deirdre picked up her book. "You know, in this book I'm reading, it says that the mind is like a garden. We choose what to plant, whether to cultivate or neglect it, and if we plant good things, we get beautiful flowers. But that doesn't always work well for our guests here at the facility. Sometimes, it's not so much about positive thinking as it is letting go of the pain and anger. Getting rid of the weeds, as it were, because the empty dirt would be better."

Fiona coughed, almost unable to process what was going on. She was still angry, but this little yogi had interrupted her desire to smash everything in her path. "Do you think I could use that with my patients?"

Deirdre smiled. "I think everyone could use that with everybody. By understanding our suffering, we gain acceptance and love."

Fiona took a deep breath. "Deirdre, do you think I could be a good PT?"

"Of course. All of the other nurses are always talking about how good you are working one on one with the patients."

"They are?"

"You're adored here, Fiona. I would love it if you spent some time talking about PT with me."

A sense of relief settled in Fiona's gut. "Okay, cool. Um, do you mind if I come by tomorrow during lunch to talk to you again?"

"I would absolutely love that."

Fiona smiled. "Okay, great. Great. I will see you tomorrow."

Fiona stepped out into the hallway and realized that she had stopped clenching her fists. The gibberish about the garden didn't interest her much, but maybe getting away from her mother and the rest of the nurses during lunch wouldn't be such a bad idea.

-

The apartment's air had turned to a cloudy mix of dust and art supplies, as Ethan moved around boxes to get to the contents of the bottom desk drawer. Fiona had managed to pack two semesters of paint, paper and whatever the hell else someone uses with those things into a five by five area in the corner of the bedroom, with the overflow ending up in the living room by the front windows. It had only been fifteen minutes of work to safely clear a path, and Ethan was already bored. What did she want with this desk anyway?

Ethan took a moment to mentally regroup, to remind himself that his darling girlfriend supported him in all of his stupid hobbies, none of which produced anything nearly as striking as Fiona's art. Okay, new plan of attack, he thought. He pulled out his phone and put some Bad Religion on the living room stereo. Music. Boxes. Desk. "I got this."

Ten minutes later, the supplies were organized in piles. Fifteen minutes later, the drawer's contents were spilled out onto the floor. And in a half hour, Ethan had found the pictures. Four pictures, specifically.

Each was creased and bent, but not damaged or ripped. Fiona had hidden these pictures from him, but she hadn't tried to destroy them. The first was Fiona out for drinks with friends. The second was Fiona in a classroom. The third was Fiona in a sexy nurse's outfit, posing for Halloween. And the final photo was Fiona eating a quart of ice cream in her parents' kitchen. They were all taken during her first semester of nursing school. And in every photo, Fiona was fat.

Not just chubby or maybe a bit more than chubby like she was now. No, these were Fat Fiona. It certainly explained why she never posted any Facebook pictures of herself during that year. But why did she hide them? They had been open and honest with each other about their preferences since their second date. Fiona loved tall, lanky guys with pale skin. Ethan loved short, fat girls with pretty hair. It made no sense to him.

Ethan cleaned out the desk drawer and put everything back in a semi-organized state, except, of course, for the pictures. He spread the pictures out on the kitchen table and examined each one, again and again, until his phone interrupted him. It was Fiona. Her text read, "Babe, spaghetti with hot dogs tonight extra meat sauce plz?" Ethan froze up. Should he question her about the pictures? Had she even intended for him to find them? He tapped out a response.

"Okay, can do." He paused. "Hey, you driving?"

She replied, "Nope. Waiting for Mom. Ugh."

"Cleaned out desk like you asked."

"THX babe."

He paused again. She knew the pictures were there. She had to have known. She deliberately sent him into that mess of chalk and brushes to find these old photos. "Hey, found some old pictures of yours in there. Want me to toss them?"

As his finger hit send, he tensed up and let out a sigh. He had no idea why this was freaking him out so much. I mean, sure, he was intensely attracted to Fat Fiona, but he was intensely attracted to every Fiona. A bunch of pictures shouldn't be this much of a big deal.

Oh, god. The dots. She's typing. She's stopped typing. She's typing again. And she stopped again. Five seconds. No typing. Ten seconds. No typing. Fifteen seconds.

"We will talk when I get home."

Ethan put his phone down on the kitchen table. "Holy fuck, what the fuck did you do, you fucking idiot." He walked over to the sink. He walked back to the table. He went back to the sink. "Oh, fuck me. Fucking fuck fucker fuck." Ethan returned to the table and took another look at the photos. Nothing in them was scandalous or shameful. It was Fiona. Fat Fiona, but Fiona none the less. Well, yeah, she would be none the less, because she was quite a bit more in those photos, but it was his girlfriend doing stuff, and there's no reason why it required a talk.

Ethan looked at the oven clock. Four thirty two. It would take Fiona at least a half hour to deal with her mother, and depending on traffic, another thirty minutes to get home from there. His phone buzzed again, and he nearly knocked over the table scrambling for it.

Her text said, "Extra meat sauce and extra buttery plz."

That settled that. Ethan decided to make dinner, because then at least he could watch his chubby girlfriend eat a huge, fattening meal before they got into an huge argument about fattening.

-

Fiona took a moment to absorb the delicious smells emanating from her favorite home-cooked meal. After another one-sided feud with her mother, a quiet night with Ethan was a no-brainer. He had even opened a bottle of red wine and put the fake flowers on the table.

"Babe, I'm home," she said to the empty living room.

On cue, Ethan popped around the corner from the kitchen, wearing a dress shirt and tie. What a goofball, she thought. A goofball that gave her everything she wanted at the end of another crappy day.

He replied, "I'm just frying up the last of the ham from Sunday. Be done in a minute, promise."

"I get wine and hot dogs and ham and butter and extra meat sauce all in one night?"

He laughed. "I thought you'd like it."

"No, I do. I'm just wondering why I can't do this every night."

Ethan grunted. "I'd love to, babe, but we're not double meat and wine rich yet."

Fiona kicked off her shoes and bounded across the living room into the kitchen. She hugged him from behind, squeezing him hard enough to produce a noise. "I love you."

"I love you too, babe."

She kissed behind his ear and down his neck. "Did you clean out the desk like I asked?"

He froze up. She gave him another rough squeeze. "Hey, don't burn my ham," she said.

Ethan snapped back to reality and flipped the ham for a final time. "Yeah, no. I told you I cleaned the desk. You said we'd talk when you got home."

She kissed his neck again. "Well, I'm home."

"What did you want to talk about then? Uh, arms." She gave him back full control of his arms, so he could slip the ham out of the pan and onto the spaghetti.

She patted his butt and grinned. "Did you like them?"

"Of course, babe. I love all pictures of you."

"Come on, don't give me that boyfriend crap. Did you like them?"

He sighed. "Dude, I don't know what we're doing here."

She stuck out her tongue and grabbed his crotch. "How do you always have a boner?"

"Because my girlfriend is super hot. Or priapism."

She bit her lip and leaned closer to him. "So did those pictures give you a four hour boner, and did that cause you to consult your physician or resident full-figured nurse?"

"They did, yes."

"Did you like how I looked? How fat I was?"

"Babe, this has been weirding me out, because you know I love fat women, and you know I love you."

She kissed him. She let him go. She pushed her body against his until they were up against the kitchen counter. "Was it exciting?"

He let out a nervous laugh. "What?"

"Seeing me like that," she said as her eyes lit up. "Plush. Plump. Big. Fat."

"You know it did. How much did you weigh?"

"245."

"How did you never tell me about that?"

"I didn't know what you liked."

"Babe, I love fat girls."

"I figured you knew. You've rubbed the little stretch marks on my boobs before. I figured you knew what that meant."

"That you were fat before? I never guessed."

"So?" she asked.

"What," he replied.

"I wouldn't mind being like that again."

"Fat."

"If that's still your thing."

"You're asking me if you getting fatter is my thing?"

She fidgeted into him, and he felt her belly shake. "I think so."

"Babe, yes. Yes, of course."

"Like 230."

"Like whatever you want."

"What about like in the pictures?"

"245? Hell yeah." He pressed his hips into hers.

She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him closer. "Is that what you want?"

"I want what you want."

She laughed, gently. "Such a boyfriend."

"Come on, what am I supposed to say? If you say 245 and I say 345, you think I'm weird and then you get a complex, or you get all jealous whenever you see me around a fatter girl. You were the one that sent me on a mission to find those pictures."

Fiona loosed her grip and let her arms slide down his back.  "Why would you say that?"

"Babe, I'm not trying to be defensive, but this is a new thing for us."

"It's not a new thing for me. I was fat before."

Ethan looked up at the ceiling. "I'm sorry."

Fiona slammed her belly into him, knocking his gaze back down into her eyes. "Why would you say that?"

"Because I don't want you to feel bad."

"No, you said 345. Why?"

"Because I like fat girls?"

"How fat?"

"As fat as you want to get."

"How fat is that?"

"350."

"How long would that take?"

"I have no idea."

"Have you fantasized about me being that fat before?"

"Yes."

"And it doesn't scare you?"

"Why would it scare me?"

"Feeding me all the time. Belly rubs. Eating me out when I'm ready to pop. Fucking me from behind on the bed while I eat. Indulging my fantasies. Making me your fat girl."

Ethan leaned back into her and brought his lips down to her ear. He kissed her neck and whispered, "I want you to be my good feedee."

Ethan ran his palm up her back and grabbed onto her neck. Fiona shook as his fingers clamped down. He looked into her eyes and told her, "You're going to eat for me now."

She whimpered and nodded. He continued, "I'm not going to stop like we do with the ice cream. You're going to eat until you can't. You're going to eat like a good, fat girl until that belly is so full that I have to carry you into the bedroom. And you're going to gain like you want. You know I would never deny you of what you want. If you want to be a fat girl, you're going to be a very fat girl." She squirmed in his grip. "Good?"

Fiona finally gasped, "Yes." She was breathing heavily. "I want to pile on the pounds. I want to be your squishy fuck toy. I want to be stuffed until I can't take any more."

Ethan took her by the neck to the table and sat her down in front of an empty plate. He pushed it away from her. "You won't be needing that." He took all of what was supposed to be dinner and instead dumped it into large bowl. Ethan poured them both a glass of wine before he thumped the bowl down on the table in front of her. Her eyes snapped open at the sound of it. And Ethan leaned over, patted her belly and whispered in her ear, "Pinch my thigh when you're ready for me to carry you into the bedroom."

Fiona grinned.

[vladimir]

De-lurking to say that this is fantastic. Well written and everything. We need more of this as soon as practicable. Keep it up.

[jarlewski]

De-lurking to say that this is fantastic. Well written and everything. We need more of this as soon as practicable. Keep it up.

Thank you. This is the first time I've written a story like this, so I figured I'd try to do something different. And I write whenever I have the time, so I promise it'll be done as soon as possible. Maybe in a week or two.

[jarlewski]

The bright stairwell wasn't supposed to inspire a sense of dread. As the fire door clicked shut behind her, Fiona rested her backpack on the ground and looked at the two flights of stairs coiling up around her. What began as a daily arrangement to avoid her mother had recently turned into a potential panic attack. It wasn't so much that her opinion of her gain had changed, but that it was only two flights of stairs. She was able to make herself terrified at the sight of two flights of stairs in less than seven weeks.

In her moment of hesitation, Fiona tugged at her pants, an attempt to readjust the fabric so that something, somewhere didn't feel tight against her skin. But the shifting of her scrubs uncovered the underside of her belly, and the cool air swept across her exposed pudge. She pulled down on her top with a grunt and slung her bag back over her shoulder. Time to climb. Hiding in the cold stairwell all day wasn't an option.

Fiona trudged up the concrete stairs, occasionally reaching out to brush her free hand against the railing. On the first landing, she gave her top another tug. Halfway through the next set of steps, she ceased grabbing for the railing and instead clung to the back of her pants. As she got to midpoint of her climb, Fiona ran her hand around her waistband and took three deep breaths. She sped up, wishing she could take the stairs two at a time to get this over with already, and finally made it to the door as someone entered below.

"Holy shit," she said to herself through clenched teeth. Before she met Ethan, Fiona was on track to hike every trail in the state. Now, she was winded after two fucking flights of stairs, and it was obvious why.

Fiona huffed out a gust of hot air and moved her bag to her other shoulder. For a second, she debated dropping the backpack back down the stairwell. The fall would surely destroy what she had planned for lunch and maybe the exercise recovering whatever was left would do her some good. But no, she had come this far. "Fuck this," she muttered to herself.

After the few seconds it took her to breathe normally again, Fiona exited the stairwell and scurried down the hallway to the bathroom. She didn't even bother to check the stalls before locking the door behind her. The only thing that mattered now was the mirror. She examined herself, as she always did on these sorts of days, by sucking in her gut and sticking out her ass.

This is what a 212-pound, out-of-shape manatee looks like, she thought to herself.

With a gasp, she released her belly and dropped her shoulders. Even with all of the extra weight, her stomach hadn't begun to sag, and she thought it made her look ridiculous. Everything, all of her, had become so... puffy, like someone had overfilled a pillowcase with marshmallow fluff. She pulled up her undershirt and pushed down her panties to examine the lines indented on her skin. Two fat fingers traced the line made by her panties, until she became distracted by the appearance of yet another light red stretch-mark. It caused her to tremble slightly, a combination of frustration and dismay.

Fiona slapped the side of her belly and grumbled before tugging her clothes back into place. "Why?" she asked herself. "Why the hell am I doing this?" It was a sense of agitation she hadn't felt in weeks. Weeks filled with what felt like non-stop indulging and hot, dirty sex with Ethan. Ethan. What would she tell Ethan? Would he dump her for some other fat girl willing to go along with his fantasies? Was this all one huge mistake that would ruin their relationship?

Fiona grabbed her backpack, snapped the lock open and darted across the hallway into the empty PT room. It was Deirdre's day off, and the rest of the staff would be out to lunch for at least another twenty minutes. But Fiona figured that ten would be enough.

She slumped against the wall, opened her bag and placed her lunch down on the floor next to her. At a glance, her "lunch" was a 1L bottle of artesian water and a large plastic container. She popped the blue top off the container to reveal seven, hastily packed doughnuts. Today was Ethan's day to plan what she ate. Fiona knew she was going to regret the decision, but after the sweet smell wafted up to her, there didn't seem like any other option.

The first two were easy to put down after hours of walking around the facility. Her hunger helped her to power through the third as well, before she needed to take a break to wash the sticky, sweet sensation from her throat. She tore the fourth doughnut into pieces, gobbling each chunk individually. The fifth was a chore, a process of alternating between small gulps of water and big bites of crunchy apple pastry. Overwhelmed by how full she felt, Fiona stared down at her nearly-empty bottle and the remaining two doughnuts.

They were both glazed, but like her hands, they were covered in the leftover frosting and jam from their consumed brethren. Fiona took a tiny swig of water, smashed the two doughnuts together and began to chomp on the sticky glob like an apple. She took a gulp of air. She took a bite. A deep exhalation. Another bite. Deep inhale. And at last, she shoved the final wad of dough into her mouth and smushed her full weight against the wall behind her. Fiona swallowed and gasped for air. Too much. It was definitely too much.

She didn't move for what felt like an hour. It was hard enough to breathe and stay calm. Like any of this is going to help me get up those stairs tomorrow, she thought.

Fiona shifted toward her bag and removed a package of hand wipes to clean up. She ran the cloth against her face, her hands, the package and down the front of her shirt. Her shirt. Fiona took a second look at her shirt, and it was obvious she would need to improvise a new uniform for the afternoon. Her taut belly that refused to sag had popped out from under both layers of cloth, and she doubted it would ever return to a size that might be contained by her scrubs. Fiona began to panic.

Ethan. The cause of and solution to this problem. He had rolled up one of his sweaters and jammed it underneath all of her stuff in the backpack. She yanked it out the bag and unfurled it before her. It was an XL, two sizes too big for Ethan, but it would do.

Or it would do up until the inevitable argument with her mother after work.

-

"Actually, humans using wearable technology isn't really a new concept. Everyone is basically aware of Sigmund Freud, and he was writing about how 'auxiliary organs' would allow us to transform ourselves into magnificent, prosthetic gods like ninety years ago, and that was back when his contemporaries were sterilizing the intellectually disabled and crowing about the wonders of eugenics. I mean, instead, we could be conveying to our readers that a shiny bracelet with caller ID is bullshit when compared to how we can utilize this technology to solve problems like ego depletion or hyperbolic discounting. We could be genuinely helping people with that information."

The black rectangle remained silent. In response, Ethan let the phone drop from his hand onto the couch. He rubbed the side of his forehead, mussing up the front bit of his hair. Fiona told him that was his nervous tic, that he did it whenever he got anxious.

Finally, Daniel acknowledged his existence. "Yeah. That's good feedback, Ethan. Thank you for contributing, as always. But I don't know how well that's going to play on social media. Nathan?"

"Yeah. And we're talking about more than half of all of our readers, so I don't know either, man, but yeah, I'm glad we have somebody around that knows about that stuff with Apple about to drop some crazy cool stuff in the next year."

And before Ethan could add anything else, Daniel said, "Which is good to hear. That's all good to hear. So, let's stick to the calendar as is, and from now on, all pitches will be in my inbox a full 24 hours before the following meeting. I appreciate all of your input, and have a great afternoon, everybody!"

Click. Another afternoon conference call, another delightful ordeal ending with Ethan making an ass out of himself. And not only that, but Nathan didn't even attempt to mention his concerns about corporate pushing them to shill for advertisers. Ethan flopped onto the carpet and howled at the floor. A full eight seconds later, he thumped his fists into his thighs before concluding the tantrum with thirty push-ups.

Ethan stood up, did a lap around the coffee table and walked into the bathroom. He lifted up his shirt and examined himself in the mirror, as he always did, by leaning back and flexing his abs. His stomach was almost flat, but he never had anything close to a six-pack. Skinny. Lanky. Almost in great shape. Total wuss. Possibly autistic. Probably a recluse. What an asshole.

At least he had Fiona. As corny as it sounded, she was his best friend. He loved her, and that wasn't typical for him.

Back in college, he dated a different girl every semester, driven by desperation and a need to be considered cool. Each girlfriend felt like a new experience, but they were all damaged, skinny and unavailable, the sort of girl that looked great acting melodramatic at a frat party. It wasn't until his senior year that a very drunk Ethan told his friends that he preferred dating nerdy fat girls. He expected the proclamation to have an impact similar to when their gay housemate finally brought his boyfriend around to meet the group, but nobody cared. If anything, the one thing that changed was that his friends were happier to team up with him at the bar, because Ethan would gladly chat up the girls they weren't interested in.

After graduation, Ethan took the first job that offered him a salary and jumped right into a long-term relationship with a cheerleader-turned-chemist. Years of late night studying and snacking had padded her fit body with enough fat to catch Ethan's eye, but she wasn't at all happy about her appearance. Every meal began with an explanation of her newest fad diet and a dig at Ethan for "somehow having the time to exercise." Once, she let him feed her a whole cheesecake, but that night was never spoken of again after she weighed herself the following morning.

A year and three months later, she dumped Ethan for a financial analyst.

But now, Ethan was with Fiona, a short and stunning lady that had never once told him about a diet. In his opinion, they complimented each other perfectly. He was a romantic pessimist; she was a rational optimist. He loved words; she loved math. He read books; she curled up next to him and played video games. He was skinny; she was fat.

He was skinny. She was fat.

That contrast pleased Ethan the most. It played right into his shortcomings and desires. Fiona was bigger than him, heavier than him, but never faster, stronger or more active than him. Even when they first met, Fiona wasn't capable of outpacing him in any physical activity. Almost by default, their sex life fell into a routine of Fiona asking and Ethan doing. She made the requests, but he always got to be in control. And it came as no surprise that Fiona's recent gain only reinforced their existing dynamic.

Ethan left the bathroom and walked into the bedroom. Fiona had taped up her fat photos on her closet door, next to a chart keeping track of her current weight. Ethan tapped the number - 212. If she kept up this pace, she would be well over 300 pounds in a year. Or almost 420 pounds in two years. Is that what he wanted? Sure, before he met Fiona, he would pound one out to a girl that size maybe once, twice a week, but he had a hard time imagining what 420 pounds would look like on his girlfriend's 5'4" frame. Her neck would probably disappear completely, he thought.

His phone buzzed. It was an e-mail from Daniel.

It said, "Don't ever do that shit again. - D"

Ethan tossed his phone on the bed, grabbed his running shoes and did his best not to freak the fuck out.

[jarlewski]

Had to break this from the previous post, due to character limit.

-

Ethan carried Fiona into the bedroom and placed her gently on the bed. He walked back into the kitchen to grab himself a glass of water and paused to admire his work as he re-entered the room.

Earlier that night, Fiona had asked him to pick out two pieces of clothing from her high school duffel bag. Ethan selected a button-down shirt, size medium, and a pair of old yoga pants that looked like they could be tights. Now, two hours later, her round face was covered in ketchup and mustard, and the clothes, well, Fiona wouldn't be wearing them again.

It took four minutes and a substantial amount of help from Ethan to get the yoga pants up over Fiona's bulbous ass, but only a few seconds until they burst against her massive thighs. Conversely, the button-down had survived through dinner, if you assumed the absolute bare minimum of survival. She had popped the top button by forcing the shirt down over her boobs, ripped the sleeves to make room for her chubby arms and split the side of the shirt by leaning into it with her stuffed gut. At the moment, her tits pressed against the remaining buttons, creating a series of gaps down the front of the shirt, with her belly resting underneath, uncovered.

"And here I was, thinking I was going to be stuck with a 180-pound princess. But at this rate, you'll be my 300-pound queen in another few weeks," said Ethan.

Fiona laughed. "Babe."

Ethan wiped her face with a towel and sat on the edge of the bed. "Is my good feedee ready for dessert?"

She shook her head no.

He put his hand on her belly and rubbed it. "What about now?"

She laughed and shook her head again.

"What if I wasn't asking?"

"What do you mean?" she responded.

"What if I just fed you anyway?"

Fiona struggled to sit up. She eventually wiggled into a position where she was close enough to his face to kiss him. "You wouldn't," she said with a grin.

He grabbed her thigh and gave it a squeeze. She kissed him. He sucked on her lip. She went to kiss his neck, but he pushed her back onto the bed.

"How would you even stop me?" he asked. "You're getting too fat to fight back. Most nights you're so stuffed you can't even move off the bed. All you want is food and cock, you tubby slut. I'm shocked you haven't asked me to fuck you while I feed you dinner."

She grabbed his wrist and put his hand against her chest. "You're making my heart race."

"That's what you want, isn't it? You're going to eat and fuck until you can't leave this bed, aren't you?"

Fiona bit her lip. "Please."

"Please what?"

"Please fuck my chubby pussy."

Ethan pulled open a hole in the crotch of her yoga pants. "Yeah?" He ran his fingers across her lower lips.

She begged. "Yes, please. Please, I want your thick cock in my chubby pussy."

Ethan took off his pants and climbed on top of her. She would want it slow, with him leaning back to keep the pressure off her stomach. He kissed her and rubbed the tip of his cock against her, teasing. She grabbed at him and tried to put him inside of her, but he batted her hands away. "No," he said as he moved off of her.

Fiona whimpered, hoping to end the foreplay as quickly as possible. Ethan slid onto his feet and grabbed a box from under the bed. Fiona's eyes grew wide. It was the other five doughnuts. She started to say something, but Ethan covered her mouth. "Try and stop me," he said.

Ethan lowered his hand and replaced it with a doughnut. Fiona took a bite. "Good girl." He let her finish chewing and pushed the doughnut up against her lips again. She took another bite. "Bigger bites." She glared at him. "Eat it." Fiona nipped at his fingers. He retaliated by grabbing her arm and shoving the rest of the doughnut in her mouth. "I said eat."

Fiona kicked the box of doughnuts off the bed and slapped Ethan across the face.

"What the fuck?" he yelled back at her.

"I said I didn't want it!"

"When?"

She started to cry. "I don't want the god damn doughnuts."

Ethan put his hand on her thigh. "Babe, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."

"Yes, yes, you fucking did," she replied. "You want to fatten me up until I'm wider than this bed."

"I thought we were playing."

She screamed at him, "I'm not fucking playing! This is me!" Fiona ripped open her shirt and sobbed.

Ethan froze up, unsure of what to do or say next. He kept his hand on her thigh, but he couldn't tell if she wanted a hug or if he should keep his distance. He opted for what gave her the choice - he held out his arms and let Fiona pull him into her. She put her face against his shoulder, and he felt her warm tears run down onto his chest.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"I'm fucking disgusting."

"What?"

"I can't even get up the stairs at work anymore. I was supposed to come home tonight and tell you that I didn't want to eat. That I needed to stop. But I didn't stop. I didn't say anything, because I just wanted to keep going because then I could spend the night in bed with you and you wouldn't hate me for not wanting to be your fat girl. I don't want to be your fat girl anymore. I'm so disgusting and I can't stop. I was going to throw your doughnuts away and I ate them anyway and I had to wear your sweater to hide my disgusting body. And I just don't want you to hate me."

Ethan put his hands on Fiona's arms. "Babe, no - I don't hate you. I love you."

"I love you too."

"I love you, Fiona Bee."

"Even like this?"

"Yeah. However you are, that's how I love you."

"I wasn't sure."

"Wasn't sure of what?" he asked.

"That you loved me. We haven't been talking. Or we talk, but it feels like every conversation is about me getting fatter. You're pushing me, or I'm pushing you, or we're planning for it, or whatever, but it feels like this is everything now. And tonight, you were mean. You were mean."

Ethan replied, "Babe, I'm sorry. I didn't... I wasn't trying to be mean to you. It's not an excuse, but I had a really fucked up day today, and lately, I feel like you're all I've got going for me. And I swear I wasn't trying to hurt you. I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me."

"It's not an excuse."

"No, it's not. I know. But do you know what it's like to have this after being a complete loser all day?"

She laughed. "That's how I feel."

"But you're not a loser."

"My mom thinks I am."

"Your mom is so mean they literally voted her off the island and she had to move here. You're not a loser. You're my wonderful, amazing Fiona Bee."

Fiona rubbed her face and smiled. "And you're my handsome white devil."

They kissed.

"Can we talk more?" she asked.

"Of course."

"Okay." She paused. "Do you want me to be 300 pounds in a few weeks?"

He laughed. "I don't think that's physically possible. But even if it was, no. If this doesn't feel right to you, I can stop."

Fiona jiggled her belly. "Do you think I'm disgusting?"

"No, you're the most beautiful girl in the world."

"What if I don't gain any more?"

He poked her belly. "I want whatever you want."

She pouted. "That sounds like you're just waiting for me to gain anyway."

"No, I mean it. I won't feed you. We can go on walks. We can do whatever you want to feel better. You're in charge."

"Okay," she said. Fiona squished her boobs together. "I would ask if you'd still love me if I was skinny, but I don't think that's going to happen."

"Do you want to be skinny?"

Fiona took a deep breath. "I don't know. I don't think so."

"What's wrong?"

"I've always been chubby. Or fat. And I love food. I mean, I really, really love food. But all my life, I've been using it to make myself feel better whenever my mom treated me like crap. I would hide snacks and stuff myself when she told me to grow up or that she was sick of dealing with me or that I wasn't helping her enough. I, like, exploded to 245 when I was in school, because all I ever did was eat to deal with her shit.  And I only lost that weight because I wanted a boyfriend because she told me I'd never find anyone that would love me like that."

Ethan interrupted, "Wow, she was fucking wrong."

Fiona laughed. "Yeah, but now she's not here. I don't live with her. I don't have to put up with her comments. I don't have to come home every day frustrated and sad and angry and hurt, because she's not in control of me. I'm in control of me. But I still want to eat."

"You can eat and not be fat."

"I don't know. I don't know if I want that. I like having a belly. I love my boobs. I wish my butt was bigger, like a lot bigger, with giant, powerful thunder thighs to match. And I'm saying, like... a lot bigger. Like if I never left this room and it was only me and you, I would want to be as fat as I could be and still move. I would wear one of those grandma moo moos all day and sexy underwear all night. I would be huge. But that's in here. Out there, I don't want people laughing at me. I don't want bitches at work making comments about me. I want to shrink down so that no one will notice me, so that I don't have to deal with any of their bullshit. But I can't."

"Because you love food."

"Because I really love food."

Ethan hugged Fiona and kissed her on the forehead. "We'll figure it out. Everything's going to be okay. I promise," he said.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

They enjoyed the silence of the moment, holding each other tight.

"Wait, how big is a lot bigger?"

"Like, a lot bigger," she replied.

[jarlewski]

Fiona bounced down the hallway to the PT room, her backpack slung over one shoulder. Inside the room, Deirdre was humming along to Taylor Swift as she unpacked her lunch. It was the same thing her husband made her every day - grilled chicken with rice and assorted vegetables. She looked up and smiled as she saw Fiona enter the room.

"Hey, girl."

Fiona beamed back at her, "Hey!"

"Are we rice buddies again today?"

Fiona took her warm lunch container out of her backpack and shook it. "You know it!" She dropped her backpack to the floor and plopped down across from Deirdre at the table. "The girls on my side thought that I made fried rice to share with everyone. They had no idea that my white boyfriend does all of the cooking, because I would burn water."

Deirdre laughed. "Let him cook for you, honey. There's no reason for working women like us to worry about what goes on in the kitchen."

Fiona blushed. She had never thought of herself as a working woman, or at least not like most of the staff. She felt as if she was still a precocious kid following her mother around, even though she was now responsible for fixing most of what wrong around her. A working woman. That was how someone saw her. And for once, it was an unqualified compliment that didn't include a fashion tip.

"Hey, did you finish your book?" Fiona asked.

Deirdre smiled, covered her mouth and finished chewing. "Yes, I did. It was phenomenal. I'm going to request a murder mystery or something trashy next, because I want to coast on that one for a while."

"Who got you into stuff like that?"

"Oh, my mom. She was a big time hippie that absolutely had this deep, deep love for science and medicine. When she passed, my sisters gave me all of her books, and Simon built me this little library area in our spare bedroom so I could have a quiet, relaxed place to meditate away from him and our dogs."

"That was really sweet of him."

"He's such a treasure when he's not slinging crystal meth."

Fiona choked on a bit of rice. Deirdre laughed. "Are you okay?" she asked. "Take some water, please."

Fiona gulped down some of her orange soda. She put her hand on her collarbone and coughed. "Crystal meth?"

"I'm joking, obviously," Deirdre replied. "Sometimes, I get sick of being the Zen Lady. Everyone can be so callous around here, and nobody expects that I am fully capable of keeping up with their gallows humor. There's no universal law that says someone can't be spiritual and loving and also a little George Carlin sometimes."

"I never thought that about you," replied Fiona.

Deirdre smiled and tapped her tupperware with her fork. "I know, dear. You're too compassionate for that."

Fiona scrunched her face up in response to the sentiment.  "I don't know about that."

"Do you know what the word maitrī means?"

"No."

"It is the heart of compassion, a kindness and unconditional friendship with ourselves. And through that compassion, you cultivate benevolence towards the universe. First, within yourself, then with a friend, a stranger and a difficult person, until you wish for the happiness of all others. You are kind to yourself. You're kind to Ethan. And you've been kind to me. Soon you'll find your difficult person and make me look like Steven Seagal by comparison."

Fiona looked down at her meal. "I already found my difficult person."

"Is she that bad?"

"Sometimes, yeah. I mean, I love her so much, but she can be, like, nefarious. She only treats me like her daughter when she feels like it, or when she needs something, and the rest of the time, I'm the one that has to look after her. It's not fair."

"Life isn't fair, Fiona. We all suffer. Your mother too."

"I know. I know that. She's had a hard life, and nobody gave her anything, and that can make somebody see the world in a different way. But I'm not like that."

"No one will ever demand that you be like that. We see you as you are and we really do love you for who you are."

Fiona started to cry, but she blotted away the tears with the side of each hand.

Deirdre got up and hugged her. "It's okay."

Fiona sniffled and replied, "Ethan tells me this stuff all of the time, but I only want to hear it from my mom."

Deirdre rubbed Fiona's back. "I know, dear. But I don't believe that anyone ever told these things to your mother, and now, she's a grown woman with other things on her mind."

"What am I supposed to do?"

"You can love and care for yourself. You can live your life. You can go out and have fun. You can meet other people like you. You can do whatever you want, Fiona."

"How?"

"Make a wish. Break it down. Take it piece by piece, thought by thought. And if you can be kind to yourself, you can reduce any obstacle to its tiniest parts and find a way through. Or so says my husband. I think life is a little more rough than that, but I'm sure you're tough enough to take it on."

Fiona hugged Deirdre. She could be kind to herself.

-

Ethan pushed the shopping cart through the produce section, up until the front left wheel let out a terrible whine. "Fucking what." Something wedged in there had managed to catch and halt the cart, or at least the front left part of it. Ethan sighed and transferred his asparagus, tomatoes, oranges and shopping list to another cart.  His phone buzzed. It was a text from Fiona.

It said, "Get lots of ice cream on sale." Ice cream. Can do.

Getting out and running errands was the best non-Fiona part of Ethan's week. He allowed himself lots of extra time, so he could walk up and down every aisle in the store, examining all of the packaging and displays designed to catch the average shopper's attention. Why was milk always in the back of the store? Ethan knew, and he prided himself on being able to point out the loss leaders. Why did the supermarket order that thing that nobody ever buys? Ethan knew, and he noted each likely automated ordering error as he spotted any markdown signs. Why would anyone care about these things? Ethan knew that too, and it was because he was a massive fucking dork that spent way too much time alone.

His phone buzzed again. It was Fiona, again. "Cinnamon buns and extra hot dogs."

He replied, "Are you going to try to cook?"

The dots. "Mac n cheese."

"Thank you for placing your order."

"Make sure you get enough this week. I'll pay you back."

Enough? What did she mean by enough? Ethan scrolled through his calendar and e-mail apps, looking for information about a party or a dinner thing that he must have missed. Buzz.

"And ham and bacon and cheese for grilled cheese."

He texted back, "Are we having people over?"

Her reply was simply, "Hungry."

Ethan moved his cart towards the end of an aisle and stood there. Hungry? It had been weeks since Fiona decided that she was going to stop gaining weight, and for the most part, she was doing great with it. They went for walks. The stairs didn't bother her anymore. The last update to the chart on the closet door was 216, and that number had gone unchanged for the last two weeks. They even went shopping to get her new scrubs and a few outfits that didn't look quite like sausage casings.

He tapped out a reply. "? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?"

"Cupcakes with sprinkles."

"Babe wtf"

"Can you make cupcakes with sprinkles?"

"Yes, I can, but why are you texting me food?"

"I told you - hungry. I'll pay you back for all of it."

"Okay, fine."

"Don't forget hot dogs. Extra hot dogs."

Ethan scrolled up through the conversation to compile a mental list. In addition to their usual groceries, her suggestions were distinctively excessive. Why couldn't he get half of it this week and half next week? Did she think she was going to eat all of it in one week? Was such a thing even possible? Yes, yes it is, but not unless she wanted to get back to gaining and quick. His phone buzzed.

"Butter."

So Fiona was officially back to gaining again. Ethan smirked, took a deep breath to hide his excitement and pushed his cart towards the pasta section.

-

"So, she said you were a tough working woman, and that translates to this how, exactly?" Ethan asked.

With a mouth full of cheesesteak, Fiona replied, "No, you don't get it. She told me that I could wish for things, and it would happen once I got over my obstacles."

"You know this lady is a physical therapist, right? Like not an actual therapist?"

"I know who she is, you butt," she paused. "Hold on. Just hold on."

Forty minutes earlier, Fiona returned home to Ethan preparing dinner, and since then, she hadn't managed to stop eating or talking for longer than a few seconds. But now, she ceased both activities as she stood up and took off her shirt and pants. "Can you unhook my bra?" Ethan pinched the hooks and released her from her lingerie. Fiona grabbed her boobs and gave them a wobble. She sat back down on the couch, nearly naked, and continued, "Now I can focus on what matters."

"Which is?" Ethan replied.

As a response, Fiona drank melted ice cream out of its carton. She tipped the cardboard pint slowly, gulping down a succession of mouthfuls, until it was empty. She slammed the container down onto the coffee table with a force that sent a ripple up her plush arm. Fiona savored the moment in silence before letting out a burp that shook her whole body. She clapped her hands over her mouth and blushed.

Ethan looked on in disbelief.

"Holy shit," she said, finally. "Excuse me. Wow."

"Are you okay?"

"I am getting over my obstacles."

"What does that mean?"

Fiona squirted more ketchup on her cheesesteak and took another bite. "Mmfm, like, um, doing what I want."

"And that means eating all of our groceries right now?"

She shot him a look. "I thought you would love this. You said you were going to be supportive."

"I do love this. I do. But I don't understand it, and that scares me, because I don't want to say or do the wrong thing."

"It's like this - you know that lady in the office on Parks? The big girl."

Ethan corrected her, "Donna."

"Yeah, her. She's amazingly beautiful. Like, so hot. And that's what I want."

"You want to be her size?"

"And there's this stunning Brazilian woman that's a liaison, and she's, easily, three hundred pounds. Like, girl is wide. But she has this huge, juicy butt and she dresses so well, and I want that. I want it so bad. I want to be that confident." Fiona concluded by stuffing a handful of chips into her mouth.

Ethan shrugged. "Hey, okay. You get whatever you want."

She kissed him on the cheek, leaving an imprint of oil and salt. "What about other stuff?"

"Babe, you can have whatever you want."

Fiona slid closer to Ethan with a grunt. "I want to do different stuff in bed."

"Like what?"

"You know, different things. We've been having normal sex since I stopped gaining."

"You want to have not-normal sex?"

"Yes." She licked something off the side of her hand and gave her belly a squeeze. "Rub."

Ethan moved only his arm, giving her a belly rub, as he kept eye contact. "What is not-normal sex?"

"I want you to feed me a cake. Like a birthday cake. Or brownies. Or cookie dough. But instead of doing it out here, I want to do it in there while we're, you know, doing it."

"Okay, sure."

"And I want you to spank me more. Like not enough to leave a mark, but you aren't touching my butt enough. I've been looking it up, and there's stories on the Internet about girls' butts getting huge."

"Yeah, there's lots of stories about lots of things on the Internet."

"No, like, people role play. I've been reading about it. It'll be fun. And I'll be growing my butt anyway. Fantasy becoming reality for real."

"Yeah, I can do all of that. Gladly."

"Can you suck on my tits?"

"Now?"

"If you want."

Ethan was confused. "Okay."

Fiona pouted. "Sometimes, I want to come home and eat while you suck on my nipples and go down on me. It's weird, but I love it. My boobs are all big and heavy, and I've got to carry them around all day, and they're going to get so swollen and smushed soon."

"Babe, it's not weird. I love you. I love your huge boobs. I love your butt. I love all of you. Can we go into the bedroom now?"

"One second."

Fiona wrapped up the chips before gobbling down the rest of the food in front of her on the coffee table. She fell back on the couch, let her arms out to her sides and let out a deep moan. That was Ethan's sign to go ahead. He picked her up and carried her into the bedroom.

[berserker1]

One of the best storys I've ever read!! Hope you continue it!! Amazing work, very well written  :thumbsup:

[jarlewski]

One of the best storys I've ever read!! Hope you continue it!! Amazing work, very well written  :thumbsup:

Thank you. I'm going to keep going - maybe another chapter tomorrow, probably 11 chapters (posts) in total. I know it's a lot, but I've never done this before and I wanted to write something that reflected what I know about fat admiration, weight gain and feedism.

[jarlewski]

The alarm beeped, and Ethan forced himself back from his desk. He had lost his cool with work before lunch, and the only thing that got him through the early afternoon was some productivity tip about setting 25 minute alarms. Productivity tip. Everyone else called them "hacks," but Ethan called them tips. Yet another change Nathan would request of him at least twice a week. It could be worse, he thought. You could be breaking rocks in the hot sun. No sense fighting the law on this one.

Ethan stood up and kicked a pair of Fiona's panties across the living room. In the last two weeks, her rock and roll sloth lifestyle hadn't been meshing well with Ethan's depressive overachiever behavior. He surveyed the mess around him and decided it was time to take a break to clean up after his growing girlfriend. She had allowed him a three foot radius around his desk to roll his chair around, but beyond that, the rest of the apartment looked like a food fight broke out inside of Torrid.

First up was the heap of wrappers, bottles and tinfoil that surrounded the couch. On the days when Ethan was busy with work, Fiona would plop down in front of the television, turn on the Playstation and demolish whatever she requested from him. Two months prior, she was entertaining the idea of joining Ethan on his daily jog, and now, she refused to move unless Ethan was too busy to get her something from the kitchen. Too many burnt calories, she said. The concept didn't gel with her desires.

But her undertaking to become more gelatinous wasn't without causalities. Ethan pulled an old bra out from under the couch that Fiona had broken while playing Grand Theft Auto. Not that anything about the game was too strenuous - she had leaned back to chug a 2L bottle of Fanta, and the underwire snapped in half. Fiona spilled some orange soda down her top, unleashed a torrent of foul language and stomped into the bedroom. She came back moments later, wearing only a pair of Ethan's old gym shorts, and whipped the offending lace lingerie under the couch.

In the hallway, Ethan found a pair of pajama bottoms that Fiona had ripped on her way to the bathroom after sex. She insisted on eating an entire hazelnut tart that Ethan had baked for her, and it puffed out her belly beyond what the size medium pants could handle. With her third upward tug, the elastic band tore out of the side of the pants. Fiona gasped and held her pajamas in place as she wobbled out of Ethan's sight, and when she returned, she was completely naked.

Not that all of her outgrown clothes had met their end due to Fiona's carelessness. There was the old flannel shirt that she destroyed in anger after her arms wouldn't fit into the sleeves. The dress pants that wouldn't stay zipped up no matter how many times Fiona forced the zipper back up. In a huff, she forced those black slacks up over her gut and snapped the buttons off. There were the boots that she threw behind Ethan's dresser when they wouldn't encase her swollen calves. And the stretch pants she cleaved into fours when it was clear her thighs had finished rubbing apart the fabric. As soon as any article of clothing drew her ire, Fiona was sure to let her displeasure get the best of her.

Conversely, there was the growing pile of discarded panties in front of her full body mirror. Three weeks ago, Fiona had collected all of her ill-fitting underwear on the bed and since then, she had been dispatching each pair whenever she had the time alone for an occasional post-work routine. She would take off her clothes, slip on the panties marked for destruction and pose in front of the mirror until she managed to burst through them. Ethan figured outside of all of the walking at work, it was the most exercise Fiona got.

And then there were her old scrubs. Two nights prior, Fiona had decided to retire them in typical Fiona fashion - she had come home with a meat lover's pizza, garlic knots and hot wings. Before Ethan could finish his second slice, she had already put enough strain on her top to tear a gash up the side. Then, Fiona packed away two more slices of pizza, the order of garlic knots and all of the hot wings. When Ethan finally helped Fiona to her feet, she was covered in buffalo sauce and pizza grease. She wiped her hands on her now-ruined pants and whispered in his ear.

"Lick me."

The phone buzzed. Ethan snapped back to reality and returned to cleaning. There was no doubt about it - his girlfriend was getting over her obstacles. But he wasn't sure how long it could last.

-

Ding. The elevator door opened to reveal a 238-pound Fiona in her new, larger scrubs. For once, she had left her backpack in her car, as today was an employee appreciation day. That meant, of course, that could help herself to all she could eat at the nurse's station, as the administrators flooded the area with sandwiches, cookies, cupcakes and her favorite, chips. Which, in turn, meant that Fiona only needed to duck out once to eat a few breakfast snacks in her car before joining her coworkers for their midday meal.

Fiona rounded the corner just in time to hear her mother announce that the facility staff was thankful for all of the hard work that the nurses had been putting in lately. Something was said about a big family, and Fiona took that as her cue to load up a plate. As she munched happily on her meatball parm and sour cream & onion chips, the crowd of women dispersed to do the same. It was time to speed things up if she wanted to sneak away unnoticed.

Fiona folded her plate in half and funneled the rest of her chips into her mouth before grabbing a piece of turkey sandwich and a few cookies. Her mother was still a few meters away, talking with one of the older nurses, so she figured she had at least another five minutes to indulge in peace.

"Good, huh, girl?"

Fiona looked up from her feast to see Brittany, a Puerto Rican CNA with a bit of a belly of her own. "Yuh," replied Fiona, as she chewed an oatmeal raisin cookie.

"I wish they did this every day."

Fiona smushed two chocolate chip cookies together and shoved them in her mouth. "Yuh."

Brittany patted the side of her stomach. "But ay, maybe not. I would be the size of a house."

"Might as well."

Fiona sidestepped Brittany and made for the cupcakes. She tore the plastic wrap off of the top of the cardboard box and placed two of them on a plate. For a moment, Fiona hesitated before squeezing in a third. She maneuvered back through the crowd of nurses and stood on the other side of Brittany, putting the chubby Latina between her and her mother.

"You got one for me too?"

Fiona looked at Brittany. "Huh?"

"I love chocolate cupcakes. They're my favorite."

Fiona glanced down at her plate. "Yeah, I figured you'd like one of these." She handed Brittany the chocolate cupcake and smiled. "Hey, wait. You need a napkin."

Before the girl could answer, Fiona took off towards the box of cupcakes. She put two more of the chocolate ones on a plate, grabbed a handful of paper napkins and returned to her dessert.

Fiona slammed the napkins down on the counter next to Brittany. "Oh, thank you," the girl replied. Then, Brittany saw the extra cupcakes. "Oh, oh."

"In case we want seconds," Fiona replied. She tore one of the vanilla cupcakes in half, rearranged it as a sandwich, with the frosting inside two bits of cake, and shoved it in her mouth.

"Uh, well, my tía says that I should be cutting back on carbs anyway. Because the other day I bought these really cute jeans like Kim K wears, and I was hoping to fit into them for when I'm going down the shore next month, because I'm not really feeling the bikini thing this year, um, which is played out anyway, but tía says that all you need is the right curves and the jeans that show 'em off."

Fiona split her second cupcake down the middle and devoured the first half.

Brittany continued, "And I'm going to try that juice cleanse next week, and hopefully that'll get me down..." She trailed off as she watched Fiona mush the second half of the cupcake into her mouth. Fiona realized that Brittany was staring at her and covered her mouth as she chewed and swallowed.

The two of them shared an awkward moment until Brittany snapped out of it and directed her eyes elsewhere. Brittany said, "Because I'm going to get a man this summer."

Fiona laughed. "My boyfriend is why I'm like this."

Before Brittany could reply, Fiona's mother jabbed a finger into Fiona's back fat. "You were late." Fiona turned around with a jolt, slamming her rotund butt into the counter as she did. "And you've got, mmm." Her mother gestured to Fiona's mouth.

Fiona licked the frosting from the corners of her lips. "It was nice what you said about the nursing staff."

Her mother tugged at the front of Fiona's shirt. "When I was your age, I wore the same uniform all through until I finished school."

"I'm a grown woman," Fiona grumbled as her face grew hot and red.

"Yes, you sure are," said her mother.

Fiona snatched her last cupcake off the shared plate and walked away. That was the end of it. She would hear more about it the car later, but for now, her mother had to keep things quiet in front of the rest of the staff.

Unbeknownst to Fiona, as soon as she turned the corner, her mother took the remaining cupcake from Brittany, discarded the wrapper with Fiona's trash and wolfed it down in only three bites. Not that Fiona would ever know about such things. She was too busy polishing off her cupcake while she trudged back down the hall to the elevator.

As she chewed on her dessert, Fiona ran through a series of statements in her head. Mom shouldn't talk to me like that. Mom doesn't understand. My mother has no right. I need what I want, and that's none of her business. It's my body. She is never going to care.

The new weight had added to Fiona's considerable hip sway as she walked, and her growing anger did nothing to calm her walking wobble. She halted her thoughts for a moment to focus on the sensation of her covered thighs rubbing together. Fiona smiled, passed the elevator and sped up her pace a little. Her belly had finally begun to sag a the smallest little bit, and she felt it swish against the fabric of her t-shirt as she moved. It was enough to take her mind away from rumination.

Fiona balled up the cupcake wrapper in her pudgy fingers, entered the bathroom and snapped the lock shut behind her.

-

With the clean-up effort complete, Ethan went back to his post-writing routine. But peaceful as he was away from his work, Fiona was never far from his mind. His theory was that she would get into another argument with her mother, become frustrated that she had to buy new scrubs and return home to talk to him about losing some weight. It would be a cycle like that, with her never really committing to her desires but never really giving up on them either. Or at least that kind of made sense, he thought. Fiona couldn't go on like she was for much longer.

Ethan stepped out the shower, toweled off and went into the bedroom to change. He checked the clock. 6:10. Yeah, Fiona should have been home by now. Definitely an argument with her mother.

Ethan put on his usual dark jeans and black socks, but as he went to the closet to get a t-shirt, he paused by Fiona's chart and photos. She hadn't logged anything for the past week either. Maybe that was the sign. She had been pilling on the weight lately from what seemed like non-stop eating, and now, it was time to have that conversation.

The living room door slammed shut, and what sounded like Fiona whumped down on the couch. "Babe?" Ethan yelled. No reply. He threw on his t-shirt and went into the hallway. Sure enough, it was Fiona, but it didn't look like she was about to talk to him about anything but her plans for the night. "You got dinner?" he asked.

Startled, Fiona clutched at the Taco Bell bag in front of her. "Wow, woah. What?" she replied.

Ethan laughed. "You okay, babe?"

She organized the food in front of her and turned out the bag to empty the sauce packets onto the coffee table. "Yeah. I'm okay." Fiona opened a taco, sprayed fire sauce into it and chowed down. As she chewed, she continued, "I got a taco box and a chicken quesadilla and cinnamon twists."

There were no cinnamon twists on the table. "What cinnamon twists?"

"Oh, I ate them and, like, two, er, three tacos in the car."

Ethan reached for a crunchy taco, and Fiona slapped his hand. "Mine," she said, with a mouth full of beef-bean-and-horse paste. He gave her an incredulous look and grabbed the taco anyway. She grabbed his wrist and swallowed. "I said this is all mine."

"And what am I eating for dinner?" he replied.

"You have leftover salad."

"I have leftover salad?"

Fiona chomped on the quesadilla. "Yuh."

Ethan figured it was time to bring up the obvious. "You can't spare one taco?"

"I got them. They're mine."

"Isn't this going to make the stairs at work a little hard tomorrow?"

She huffed at him. "I stopped taking the stairs."

"Ass can't fit between the railings?"

Fiona's jaw dropped and she looked up at Ethan. "What?"

"I inquired about the size of your ass compared to the distance between the hand rails in the stairwell."

She narrowed her eyes at him, and Ethan bolted for the taco. Fiona got up, shoved him playfully and pinned Ethan up against the bookcase. "Drop the taco," she said.

"Or what?"

Fiona slipped her plump hands under his shirt and clung to his ribs. "Mine."

Ethan removed the wrapper from the taco and raised it to his mouth. "Yes, and?"

"You don't think I'm big enough to stop you?" She pressed her ample breasts and round belly against him. The top shelf of the bookcase dug into his shoulders.

"You want to play?" Ethan asked.

Fiona grinned. "Unhook my bra first."

Ethan ran his hand up under her shirt, over each roll of flab and snapped open her bra clasp. He gripped the side of her belly and gave it a shake. It wobbled against him, full from food but not yet taut. He held out the taco for her. She took a bite.

"I'm saving you from yourself," she said before another bite.

"Is that so?"

"Yuh." She pushed against him harder. Her boobs mushed against him and popped out of their cups.

"I lost a pound since you gained twenty."

"Twenty-two," she corrected him.

"Twenty-two," he repeated.

She finished the taco and ran her left hand down to his crotch. "I thought you liked the contrast between us."

Ethan kissed her lips, her neck and her ear lobe. "I love it," he whispered to her.

Fiona froze up for a second, as a rush of blood pounded against her, and she shoved him into the bookcase again. "Good, because I don't know if I can stop. I might just envelope you with all my chub."

Ethan put his head down on her shoulder. "Press against me as hard as you can."

Fiona obeyed, and the bookcase slammed against the wall. Ethan felt her warm flesh through their clothing, and it turned him on. But enough was enough. He grabbed her arm and spun her around until he had his arm across her chest, his other arm wrapped around her belly and her ass against the front of his thighs. He held her tightly and kissed behind her ears. "Don't ever think you're in control," he said to her.

Ethan released her and as she stumbled away from him, he slapped her ass. "Bedroom, now."

She whimpered. "My taco box."

"Bring it with you," he commanded. She stuck out her lower lip. He gave her belly a squeeze and swept all of the remaining food into the box. She walked into the bedroom, and he followed. They both took off their shirts, and Fiona flopped down onto the bed.

"Help me," she said. Ethan pulled the bottoms of her pants as she wriggled out of them. He dropped the taco box on the bed next to her before slipping out of his jeans and boxer briefs. Ethan stood there, naked, watching his girlfriend, on all fours, as she ate her dinner out of a cardboard box, her bulbous ass and thick thighs up in the air behind her.

As he crawled onto the bed to get up against her, Fiona turned. "I want to be on top." Ethan nodded. They shuffled around on the bed and started making out, with Fiona spread out on top of him. He jiggled her sides and sucked on her tits. She ran her fingers over his chest and shook her butt. The tingling sensation built up as she rubbed against him, and Fiona pressed Ethan inside of her. She worked back and forth slowly, as Ethan helped as best as he could from underneath his pudgy love.

Fiona moaned. Ethan closed his eyes to focus on the sensation of her rocking back and forth against him. She put her hand on his shoulder. "Babe, can you make more spicy pork pad thai this week?"

His eyes snapped back open, "Fucking what?"

Fiona laughed and went a bit harder. She went like that for a minute, before leaning back and grabbing another taco out of the box. It was what she had wanted - stuffing herself silly while Ethan was inside of her. She crunched on the taco and gave her body a shake.

"How fat are you going to make me?" she asked.

"260," Ethan replied.

"Umph. Um, more. Want more than that."

"270."

"Bigger. More."

"275."

Fiona dropped her taco, smooshed up against Ethan and grabbed the sides of his head. "No. This time next year, I need to be way over 300. I want to be so fucking huge my fat..."

Ethan started to cry.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" she asked.

"Yeah," he replied, blinking. "You got Dorito dust in my eye. Ah, fuck."

Fiona stopped grinding. "Is it bad? Are you okay? Do you want to go wash it out?"

Ethan wiped his face with the back of his hand. "Aah, that hurts. No," he said. "No, I'll be okay." He brushed the rest of the dust and tears away with the corner of a blanket. Fiona started to laugh. "You're perilous."

"You wanted to date an insatiable fat girl," she responded.

He kissed her. "Apparently," he said. "But way over 300?"

Fiona bit her lip and smiled. "I want it."

Ethan pulled her down onto him. So much for his cycle theory, he thought.

[vladimir]

Tremendous... I hope that Fiona's appetite really starts to take over. Can't wait for the next installment.

[dj2k1357]

great story! I've only read the first few entries, but I can't seem to find any mention of Fiona's race. Is she supposed to be black  or something else. I know she's not white based on some of the dialogue between her and Ethan.

[jarlewski]

Tremendous... I hope that Fiona's appetite really starts to take over. Can't wait for the next installment.

Thanks again.

I probably won't have time to write in the next couple of days, but I promise that Fiona's appetite will be, in a word, healthy.

[jarlewski]

great story! I've only read the first few entries, but I can't seem to find any mention of Fiona's race. Is she supposed to be black  or something else. I know she's not white based on some of the dialogue between her and Ethan.

Thank you. Fiona is of Southeast Asian descent. I didn't include her race or specific details about her looks, as I figured the reader would fill in whatever they liked best. But she's chubby all over with an hourglass figure, 5'4" and begins the story at 186 pounds.

[berserker1]

Simply amazing. Can't wait for the next episode!

[xandercroft]

and we have a new interesting writer!

[jarlewski]

and we have a new interesting writer!

Thanks. I don't know if I'll write anything after this story is complete, but I'm happy with the way my first attempt is going so far.

[Guest high]

You're quite talented, and you'd be depriving the world of some great stories if you stopped after this one.

But hey, it's up to you. Thanks for this awesome story

[jarlewski]

You're quite talented, and you'd be depriving the world of some great stories if you stopped after this one.

But hey, it's up to you. Thanks for this awesome story

Thanks, again. This was more or less my way of working through some stuff in my head, which is why Ethan features prominently in each chapter instead of it being just Fiona alone and them together. So, if this concludes and I still feel like I have more to say about sex, fat and the universe, I'll write another story. If not, I'll wait until I start dating again, find more to say and then write another story.

So, yeah, maybe another story is inevitable, but I don't know when. (Certainly doesn't help that it takes me four hours to sit down and write a chapter of this story, since I can never seem to stay focused.)

[jarlewski]

"Two Venti salted caramel mochas, extra whip, extra caramel?"

Fiona stepped forward and met the barista's gaze. "Here," she answered, before holding out her tray for the waifish young girl in the green apron. The barista paused for a moment to process a mix of confusion and disdain, while Fiona responded with a look of pride. It had been happening a lot lately - the looks - but Fiona chose to meet them with self-love and confidence, instead of, say, jumping over the counter and smacking the shit out of the skinny bitch teenager. Though the thought did make Fiona flash a toothy smirk.

The barista pushed aside the two blueberry scones on the tray and situated the drinks next to them. "Have a nice day."

"Thank you," Fiona replied. She turned to walk back to her table, but before her brain could summon up any feelings of indignation, Fiona remembered to be present in the moment. She was surrounded by a busy bookstore, about to enjoy a delicious snack, and there was also Vanessa.

Vanessa. The two girls had known each since high school, but it wasn't until after graduation that they became close friends. Vanessa, the surly former goth with a love for cult cinema, got a job as a receptionist at a pediatrician's office in the same building that Fiona worked before she got hired at the facility. Within a week, they had bumped into each other in the hallway, traded a few stories and made plans to meet up for lunch. One meal turned into a routine, and two years later, Vanessa had asked Fiona to be her maid of honor.

After the wedding, the pair began a cycle of drifting apart, reconnecting, getting busy and drifting apart again. They usually never went more than few weeks without getting together for a lunch or a movie, but this time, it had been two months since the girls saw each other.

And what a sight it was, Fiona thought. Married life had been good to Vanessa, especially since their last outing. As Fiona approached the table, she leaned back a little to admire her friend's growing figure. Small calves that ballooned upward into meaty thighs. Round hips and a wide ass that pudged out against the chair. An over-inflated oval of a gut that pressed against the bottom of her shirt. Plump breasts that barely made it past the belly, even though they were prominently displayed and slammed together by Vanessa's bra. And her face - her once slender face - had rounded out with squishy cheeks and a softened jawline.

"What did you get now?" Vanessa asked.

Fiona answered, "I said I was getting us a snack."

"No, you said you were getting you a snack."

"Hey, you bought us lunch." Fiona put the tray down on the table between them.

Vanessa replied, "Yeah, because I told you I was going to pick, because I hate that Chinese buffet place." She picked up a cup and took a sip. "And I put it on Bill's card anyway."

"You still have different cards?" Fiona pushed the second scone towards Vanessa.

Vanessa laughed at the gesture. "Nuh uh."

"What?"

"I'm not eating that thing."

Fiona bit into her scone. "It's good."

"I'm sure it's good. I just haven't forgotten Burrito Tuesdays and Italian Fridays."

During Fiona's previous fat phase, she had devised a plan to make her feel a bit better about herself and her daily intake. Twice a week, she would double her usual lunch order and offer the extra food to Vanessa. The unsuspecting girl gladly accepted at first, but once she realized that Fiona expected her to eat it all, she tried declining the offer. Undeterred, Fiona kept suggesting lunch for two on Tuesdays and Fridays, until the one day when Vanessa forgot her wallet and caved. Two buffalo chicken burritos with extra chips and guacamole later, the pair splayed out in Fiona's car and rubbed their bloated bellies.

The daunting, decadent meal turned into an unremarkable habit within a month.

Fiona responded, "You know you loved it."

Vanessa grabbed the scone off the plate and bit into it. "Mmph. I still do. I get those burritos for me and Bill after work on Thursdays."

"Really? Shit. I should bring Ethan there."

"I thought Ethan was some sort of health nut?"

Fiona giggled. "Compared to us, yeah."

Vanessa stopped munching and shot Fiona a look. The two shared an awkward silence for a moment before Fiona apologized. "Sorry, Ness. I just meant that, like... I don't know. I don't know what I meant."

"You mean that we're a couple of fatties."

"Well, I was already fat."

"No, you lost the weight. You were doing so good."

Fiona chuckled nervously. "Uh, no. Not really. I only lost the weight because I thought it was making me depressed and lonely. And then I met Ethan. And after dating him, it's been different."

"Because he likes fat girls?" The two girls laughed together.

"Yeah, but with me too."

"Mmm. I pretty much figured you were going to get fat again once he told you that on the third date."

"Uh, more like second date."

"Second date!" Vanessa held out her chubby arm and Fiona gave her a high-five.

"Hey, at least he told me. Unlike pizza boy."

The two giggled. "Oh, you bitch. How do you even remember that?"

"Because he was super creepy and kept taking you to the place in town after you agreed to go to the prom with him?"

"Okay, well, for one, he was not creepy."

"He carried those Anne Rice books around with him everywhere!"

"I love those books! You have no idea. Like, no idea."

"Oh, god, and every time we went to get pizza in town, you were, like, in the corner with him and he was feeding you, like, a calzone or whatever."

"Okay, come on. He worked there, and I would meet him after school. You were the one that kept going there over and over for no reason."

"Not no reason - they had dollar slice and soda after school."

"Yeah, well, I thought he was all brooding and dangerous and shit. And I was seventeen, so whatever."

Fiona let out a nasal chortle. "Dangerous and shit for your cholesterol, maybe."

"Come on, he was the only guy that asked me to prom."

"Because he loved your ghetto booty."

Vanessa waved her finger at Fiona. "Hey, no, that's not what he said. Let's get that straight - he said he wanted to help me... expand my ghetto booty."

"Yeah, like we need any help with that." Fiona punctuated the statement by finishing her scone and slurping up the rest of her drink.

Vanessa took a short sip and offered the obvious question. "So, none of that is Ethan's work?"

Fiona looked away and brushed some crumbs off her shirt. "I don't know if Ethan likes me this fat, actually." She looked up at Vanessa. "Sometimes, I feel like he was happier with me before, but I almost, kinda... don't care. I'm back at the size I was in school, and it's not like I'm going to get any skinnier as I get older. As it is, I'm so exhausted after work that I don't even paint or go hiking anymore. I just want to veg out on the couch and watch something or play Playstation or whatever while Ethan makes dinner and waits on me."

"He waits on you?"

Fiona cracked a smile. "What, Bill doesn't?"

Vanessa cackled. "Are you fucking kidding me? He tells me to get off my fat ass and get it myself. He's too busy working on the house or whatever shit he's doing to his cars."

"Has he said anything?"

"To me? No. God, no. He made like, one joke, two weeks ago, and I nearly, like literally, nearly ripped off his dick." The girls laughed.

"What did he say?"

"He grabbed my muffin top and said he was glad fat girls gave such great blowjobs."

"No!"

"Yup."

"During?"

"Yup."

"What a fucking moron."

"I turned red, like so red, and I just squeezed the fuck out of his dick and stormed off. By the time I calmed down, he had snuck out of the house and got me a big bag of those chocolate balls that I love, like the Lindt good ones, and got us wine and pizza for dinner and put roses on the kitchen table."

"I think your type is guys with pizza."

Vanessa faked a shocked look. "Fuck off. Like right off. You are so not the one to be talking."

Fiona patted the side of her belly. "Oh, I'm fine being the fat friend. I just didn't expect to have company."

"Yeah, well," Vanessa said as she chomped down the rest of her scone. "I guess you've got it now, because this bitch isn't going back to Zumba class any time soon."

Fiona leaned back in her chair and exhaled deeply. "Fuck Zumba class."

-

Clunk. Ethan placed the scale on the bathroom floor and pressed it with his foot. The little screen flashed blue, and he stepped onto the rounded white square. The scale took a second to do whatever it did before spitting back a number - 165. Down one pound from last week. Down two pounds from last month, and that was after all of the fast food he'd been eating with Fiona.

Ethan turned to look at himself in the mirror. Pale, tall, lanky... scrawny. A little bit of muscle here and there, but it wasn't enough anymore. He was nine days past the point when he could lift his girlfriend. And it wasn't like that was going to change any time soon.

The phone buzzed. Ethan ignored the work e-mail, but opened the snap Fiona had sent ten minutes earlier. It was a picture of her and Vanessa, pressing their chubby faces against each other, with the caption, "#fatfriends." Holy shit, Ethan thought. On any other day, he would have sent back a snarky reply about how Fiona misused hashtags in private messages, but the sight of the now-plump Vanessa set him off on a different mental path.

Was Fiona getting so into being a feedee that it was causing her friends to bulk up too? When was the last time he saw Vanessa? It was at that dinner thing, about four months after her wedding. Maybe her husband might be into it. Or maybe it was just the whole 'getting married' thing. She did lose weight for the wedding, and those pounds never stay off. And it's not like Vanessa was skinny. If anything, she reminded him of a curvier Russian version of that girl from American Beauty.

But now Vanessa was chubby. Vanessa was chubby, and Fiona was fat.

Fiona was fat. Now that she had gained back up to the Fiona in the old photos, Ethan openly referred to his girlfriend as fat. Not plump, plush or chubby, but fat. And though she was never much for teasing, Fiona seemed to enjoy the word. It meant that she was finally big enough for her fat admirer of a boyfriend. But it also seemed to be a sign of acceptance and concession. Fiona was fat, and there was no turning back now.

Ethan sat down at his desk and opened his laptop to reveal a list of his debt card transactions. In the past month, he hadn't charged anything that wasn't food or related to food. It was all late night snacks, fast food dinners, groceries and trips to the liquor store. And each month, the amount he had to spend to keep his expanding girlfriend happy grew as well. Lately, a visit to Taco Bell was costing him over $20, and that was after his "feeder optimization plan" that inspired Fiona to pick only the most fattening of menu items.

Ethan scrolled up to his balance and sighed. Fiona was fat, and Ethan was broke.

He closed the laptop and walked to the bedroom. "I can't lift my girlfriend. I can't feed my girlfriend. I can't even afford this apartment for us. I am such a fucking loser." Ethan jumped onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling.

Did Fiona even want to be fat? Was all of this some sort of stupid plan that he had put into motion to make her his dream girl and fuck up his life in the process? And now that he had forced her into this life of gluttony, was she ever going to stop? Could she even stop?

Ethan felt his pants grow tight at the thought. The idea of Fiona losing control and porking up never failed to get him hard. But it had already happened - Fiona was fat again. She had chomped, gobbled and munched her way back to a rotund figure and a rapacious appetite. And yet, her consumption hadn't slowed down.

If anything, Fiona seemed more dedicated to the jelly-belly lifestyle. As she grew, she brought more of her fantasies into the bedroom to keep them from a boring routine of feeding and fucking. Ethan had willingly played along with everything, especially her pillow talk about immobility. Twice, he even tied her up and fed her until she could convincingly pretend that her fat form was too hard to move. It pleased them both in the moment, but since then, Ethan was left to ponder something she said.

During aftercare, while Ethan was rubbing Fiona's swollen belly, she motioned for him to come closer to her face. He hovered above her breasts and waited for her to do something, but she didn't touch him. Instead, she whispered, "I can't. Closer." Ethan placed his face next to hers. Fiona kissed his neck and nibbled his ear lobe. Her breath felt hot and sticky. In a husky murmur, she continued,  "I never want you stop feeding me. Just make me the size of this bed and feed me and fuck me all day. I need to be your big girl, babe." Ethan kissed her and went back to rubbing her belly. He didn't respond. He didn't know how to respond.

Is that what she really wanted? It's not like Ethan didn't look at SSBBW porn from time to time, and yeah, he was into feeding and watching girls eat, but he wanted a different life with Fiona. He still wanted to go on walks in the woods and afternoon bike rides with her. He still wanted a relationship that wasn't entirely based around pleasing Fiona. After all, it was harder to focus on reading now that she was constantly asking for things while lounging on the couch. What if she kept getting fatter and demanded that he wait on her all day? She wouldn't be wrong to want that from him - Ethan was the one responsible for her sluggishness.

The phone buzzed again. It was a text from Fiona. "We got winded on the escalators going down to cars OMG LOL"

Ethan flicked upward on the screen and set his phone to not disturb him. If he was going to lie in bed feeling sorry for himself, it was going to be dark and quiet.

-

"Babe. Baby. Baby baby baby."

Ethan awoke to Fiona astride him, rocking her wide hips back and forth. The motion was enough to give all of her a good jiggle. "Did you fall asleep?"

He put his hands on her enormous thighs. "Yeah, I must have."

"You know what today is, right?" Fiona dropped down on top of Ethan with a wobble and started to kiss his face. "You know what today is!"

Ethan kissed Fiona and nodded. "I do."

She squeezed him tight, enveloping his upper body in her substantial flab. "TWO HUNDRED AND FORTY SIX POUNDS!" she yelled.

But when Fiona pushed herself off Ethan, he wasn't smiling. She crinkled her face. "What's wrong, sugar bun?"

Ethan cracked a fake smile as a response. "Nothing, babe. I'm just tired."

"You've been tired a lot lately." She placed her chubby fingers over his heart. "You feeling okay today?"

"Worried is all."

"About what?"

"Stuff."

"You know you shouldn't worry about stuff. We are the best at stuff. We got stuff handled. You don't need to worry about stuff."

Ethan let out a nervous laugh. "One of us has to worry, babe."

"Why? What's wrong?" Fiona's mood visibly shifted to concern.

Ethan backed up against the wall and let Fiona off of him. "Money."

"We're good for this month, I checked."

"I don't know if I'm good for this month."

"What? Why? What happened?"

"Well, nothing happened. I mean, we've just been spending a lot lately, and I don't know if I can help out with rent this month as much as I usually do."

Fiona crossed her arms. "That's fine. It doesn't matter. I'll take care of it."

"I'm going to ask Nathan to ask Daniel if they can up my rate. I've been working there for two years, and I've never seen a raise or a bonus from them. And I've been working really hard lately."

"That's good. I told you should do that."

"Yeah, I know. It'll help with us."

"Help with us how?"

"Well, you know. All we've been spending money on is food."

Fiona huffed. "What?"

"Babe, my entire debit card history is food. Like, day after day of food. It adds up."

She angrily grabbed a handful of her belly fat. "Yeah, I fucking know it adds up. I've been a regular garbage disposal lately."

"That's not what I meant."

"Really? Then what the fuck did you mean?"

There's a moment in every argument when one person could simply apologize and cool things down, so that logic and reason might prevail. For a split second, Ethan realized that it was his moment and decided instead to completely ignore it, because he felt that what he had to say was more important. It wasn't, but that didn't stop him.

"I meant that we can't go get you midnight snacks every night simply because you don't feel like eating what's here. We've got to make a budget and stick to a budget, and maybe figure out a way to cut back on grocery bills that are more than I make in a week. I know you want to not worry about things, but I worry. I fucking worry all of the time. I'm here in this apartment, all day, alone, freaking out about how I'm going to pay for all of this stuff and take care of us, and then, I snap out of it and I take care of you all night. And it's just hard sometimes, because you don't seem to care that I'm doing my best."

Fiona stood up and began pointing at Ethan. "Guess what? This isn't about me! This is about how you fucked up on the rent and you're frustrated with your crappy job, and I don't deserve that shit. I don't deserve any of that shit! You make me sound like a fucking monster that burdens you with my presence, you fucking asshole."

"Every day you come home from work upset about something. Every day you want me to make things better. And I don't know if I can take care of you all of the time."

"I'm not asking you to take care of me! I can take care of myself."

"Can you?"

"Fuck you!"

Fiona stormed out of the bedroom. Ethan hopped off the bed and followed her into the living room. "Hey! What the fuck?"

She grabbed her purse and keys. "What the fuck what?"

"Where are you going?"

"Out. I'm going out to get away from your negative bullshit for a while."

"We're talking!"

Her eyes were tearing up. "No, you're talking. And I'm done listening. When you feel like being less of a fucking jerk, text me. Until then, I'm taking my fat ass away from whatever the fuck this bullshit is, because I'm not spending my special night with someone that treats me like a fucking bratty child."

Fiona left and slammed the door behind her.

In response, Ethan punched the side of the bookcase. "Motherfucking fuck! Jesus!" He went into the bathroom and ran his hand under the tap. His wrists burned from the anger and anxiety. It wasn't their first argument, and it wouldn't be their last, but the bad ones always ended with one of them leaving for a few hours. Not that she had to leave for this fight. He had a point, Ethan thought. They needed to cut back on spending.

Ethan went back into the living room, turned on the Playstation and flopped onto the couch. He would calm down by causing a bunch of chaos in San Andreas. And after a few giant explosions and multiple car accidents, he would inevitably write an apology letter to Fiona. His was a predictable life, and he knew he should have seen it all coming. The only mystery left in their relationship these days had to do with what number was going to come up on the scale next.

[dj2k1357]

I really enjoyed the realism of this last chapter. The cost of food being a burden is something that hardly gets brought up in WG stories. From personal experience, I can relate to the character Ethan about the price of food getting in the way of the likeability of the fetish. Fast food adds up fast. Anyone who really wants to become a feeder in real life has to be raking in the dough (pun intended lol) or possibly work some restaurant where they can bring food home every night.

[jarlewski]

I really enjoyed the realism of this last chapter. The cost of food being a burden is something that hardly gets brought up in WG stories. From personal experience, I can relate to the character Ethan about the price of food getting in the way of the likeability of the fetish. Fast food adds up fast. Anyone who really wants to become a feeder in real life has to be raking in the dough (pun intended lol) or possibly work some restaurant where they can bring food home every night.

Yeah, chapter 7 and 8 are a dose of realism to balance out the ending. (I'll be posting eight this week, with nine and ten the week after. Should be eleven chapters in total.)

And yeah, the cost of food is a pretty important thing to feeders and feedees, especially if it's a constant battle to keep the weight on. That's why I think many focus on foods like weight gain shakes or heavy cream, because there's a sort of sexiness to that simplicity. But in reality, variety is appreciated, and late night fast food can add up to be an expensive habit. (Not more expensive than going out to the bar all of the time, but that's a different problem.) Luckily, there's a solution to that problem - big box stores.

[berserker1]

Great episode!! Can't wait for this two to make up their differences. 

BTW, dialogues is one of the hardest thing to write well, and yours are amazing. Great job, man!

[jarlewski]

Great episode!! Can't wait for this two to make up their differences. 

BTW, dialogues is one of the hardest thing to write well, and yours are amazing. Great job, man!

Thanks.

My trick for dialogue is that I go over everything I write and say it in the voice of the character. If I stumble or get confused, I scratch it and write it over. I'm sure I look like a complete psychopath as I'm acting this stuff out, but it helps me get into what Fiona and Ethan are saying and why. And now that I'm writing chapter eight, I feel like I'm able to write thoughts and dialogue a lot quicker than action and movement. So, that's something.

And hey, awesome art!