The Slowest Champion -Revisited-

[riptoryx]

@mahi Oh, and you mentioned that you would sometimes search for "role reversal" on DeviantArt? Like, as a search term? Interesting. Maybe I should start adding that as a hashtag (or at least "role-reveral" or "rolereversal" since DeviantArt only allows single-word tags). 

 

[KarmaMel]

Podracer2 had an excellent point on the fact that there were no real people trying to get Kara to gain.  Sure, Delilah provided a lot of temptation, but I think she does so just out of a friendly care-free nature.  It's obvious she doesn't put much stock into worrying about one's weight.

There's a special place for characters that either mean well or are just oblivious as they can really hammer home some humiliating scenes.  I almost just put one down that is a real whammo! but riptoryx has inadvertently (Or advertantly? )  gotten me energized enough to begin writing a story and I think I'll bring it out there instead!  Other well-meaning jabs can be someone offering diet advice out of the blue and certainly uninvited!  Having someone automatically bringing you a diet cola (And ONLY you) while the rest got regular is a real hit, especially if they single it out and verbally advertise the fact.  "Oh, and here, I got you a DIET Coke"  

I remember a story set in high school where the main character had always been so athletic and competitive.  She was always picked first.  As time went by, other people began to get chosen, more and more so before her.

Kara's grandmother delivered a nice innocent jab too! 

[KarmaMel]

I'm not trying to force the release forward another half hour earlier... really I'm not.

I forgot to mention a fun side effect this story has apparently caused.  For months I bounce from one site to another.  On Curvage here, there has been hardly any activity on the story forum.  Usually I just glance here, go over to the celebs section ogle and dream over Juicy Lucy, then move on.

But lately there has been a flurry of new story activity.  I think riptoryx's efforts to get some steam built up in this story has worked for the WHOLE forum!  WTG!

Funny how it takes just a small catalyst sometimes.

KarmaMel

PS  Just had fun reading Massachusetts Pounds!  While I usually prefer slow inevitable gains, there is something about a woman suddenly finding herself about 20 pounds heavier instantly quite amazing.  "Surely its something I can hide until I work it off right?"

PPS  If this does move the next release a half hour forward then... (Cue EVIL Chortle)    "B'wah hah hah ha!"

[riptoryx]

13 hours ago, KarmaMel said:

Podracer2 had an excellent point on the fact that there were no real people trying to get Kara to gain.  Sure, Delilah provided a lot of temptation, but I think she does so just out of a friendly care-free nature.  It's obvious she doesn't put much stock into worrying about one's weight.

Yep. This is a weight gain story, but it's not really a feeder story. I think there are actually quite a number of sub-genre variations within the larger realm of weight gain fiction. Analyzing that might make for an interesting topic of group discussion!

13 hours ago, KarmaMel said:

There's a special place for characters that either mean well or are just oblivious as they can really hammer home some humiliating scenes.  I almost just put one down that is a real whammo! but riptoryx has inadvertently (Or advertantly? )  gotten me energized enough to begin writing a story and I think I'll bring it out there instead!  Other well-meaning jabs can be someone offering diet advice out of the blue and certainly uninvited!  Having someone automatically bringing you a diet cola (And ONLY you) while the rest got regular is a real hit, especially if they single it out and verbally advertise the fact.  "Oh, and here, I got you a DIET Coke"  

I remember a story set in high school where the main character had always been so athletic and competitive.  She was always picked first.  As time went by, other people began to get chosen, more and more so before her.

Kara's grandmother delivered a nice innocent jab too! 

I agree. It's another example of how implication, of how leaving some stuff unsaid, can intensify impact. I think this kind of thing functions in erotica very much the same way it does in thrillers. Like, think "Jaws" or "Alien," except instead of a rarely-glimpsed murderous monster it's unintentional weight gain doing the stalking. 

As for spurring your own creative writing, I'll gladly claim "advertently" on that! It sounds like you've got some very similar tastes to my own, so you know I'll be eager to see what you have in store!

12 hours ago, KarmaMel said:

I forgot to mention a fun side effect this story has apparently caused.  For months I bounce from one site to another.  On Curvage here, there has been hardly any activity on the story forum.  Usually I just glance here, go over to the celebs section ogle and dream over Juicy Lucy, then move on.

But lately there has been a flurry of new story activity.  I think riptoryx's efforts to get some steam built up in this story has worked for the WHOLE forum!  WTG!

Funny how it takes just a small catalyst sometimes.

Is that so? Well, that's awesome! I freely admit to being something of a cheerleader for the "Arts" section of Curvage. Like you, I've found it disappointingly under-utilized, as a general matter. Not everything fun about feedism and weight gain necessarily revolves around photographs, videos, and models, and there are a lot of talented folks out with other stuff to contribute in our "community." Within the last year, @SJ707 did very kindly and very promptly implement several of my suggestions for improving the "Arts" section.  (Check out this thread if you're curious.)  But still I'd love to see Curvage's "Arts" section improve further and get even more attention. To that end, one low-hanging-fruit suggestion I have would be to bump the "Arts" section up from its current position at the very bottom of the forums order. Even the "Abyss," wasteland of discarded off-topic posts, sits above the "Arts" section. What's up with that?  

13 hours ago, KarmaMel said:

I'm not trying to force the release forward another half hour earlier... really I'm not.

PPS  If this does move the next release a half hour forward then... (Cue EVIL Chortle)    "B'wah hah hah ha!"

Your enthusiasm is noted.   You've already single-handedly boosted the release 2 hours earlier--that's the full 1.5 hour compliment allowed under the "terms" of my offer (1 hour for first Curvage post, 1/2 hour for second Curvage post) PLUS the special bonus 1/2 hour for being the first person to act upon that offer. 

Buuuuuuuut...I'll think about it. It's not like the lurkers are exactly beating down the door to get in on this, anyway. 

[riptoryx]

Here it is: an extra-early, member-driven, Curvage-exclusive release of the next installment!

Special thanks to those newly-active newbies and lurkers whose ice-breaking effort made this happen.

 

 

Kara hunkered on the bench in her team alcove, absently gnawing her fingernails. She remained largely oblivious to the bustle around her as swimmers rotated out from one event to the next. Her left leg jittered in a nervous rhythm. This isn’t how it was supposed to go.

The coaches had placed her exclusively in freestyle events. It was a move calculated to lend her an advantage. She was always at her best when allowed to exploit her front crawl.

Initially, things had gone great. She tore through her first event, the 50-yard freestyle, winning her heat and placing a close second overall. The performance earned her several high fives back on the team bench. Even Alissa had favored her with an approving nod and what might have been the hint of a smile. She was pretty sure she could hear Sean cheering for her out in the audience, too.

Her fire lit, by the time her turn came for the 200-yard freestyle, Kara’s confidence had swollen near to bursting. A bit too near, it turned out. Hungry for speed, she took to the water at full force. But holding back next to nothing at the outset left her precious little to draw upon in reserves. It was a simple mistake, but a costly one at this level of competition. After sprinting to an early lead on the first few laps, Kara’s overeagerness soon caught up with her—as did the rest of the swimmers. She finished dead last. No high fives awaited her at the bench that time.

And now here she was, trying to settle her shaken nerves before her final event: swimming first leg in the 400-yard freestyle relay. So far, it wasn’t working.

Kara glanced up at the scoreboard. It was tight. Stanford held the lead, but only by a few points. No room for more errors. They couldn’t afford it. She couldn’t afford it.

Swoops reached over and clamped a hand on Kara’s knee, quelling its repetitive bounce.

“Take it easy,” she whispered. “You can do it. We got this.”

Kara swallowed and nodded.

***

Kara’s parents had taken seats towards the back of the bleachers to observe the competition. The former couple sat together, with Sean bouncing excitedly beside his father. Innocently awed by the formal gravitas of the setting, he marveled at all the sights and sounds in the U.C. Berkeley facility..

Down at the pool, another event had concluded. Over the loudspeakers, the announcer proclaimed the results. It was another first place finish for Cal, and a new school record to boot. One of their freshman was really shreding the water this meet. Stanford and Cal split the remaining points fairly evenly.

As swimmers exited the pool, the announcer began introductions for the next event. Joyce trained her smartphone’s camera on the pool to record the occasion.

“AND IN LANE THREE, FOR STANFORD UNIVERSITY, WE HAVE FRESHMAN KARA MILLER IN THE FIRST LEG POSITION, FOLLOWED BY JUNIOR ESPERANZA AYALA, SOPHOMORE LIA NOJIMA, AND IN ANCHOR SENIOR ALISSA LYNN,” boomed the announcer.

“Woo!” Sean cheered.

Michael clapped for his daughter.

Joyce tapped her phone and zoomed in.

***

Kara stood beside the starting block, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Up in the bleachers, the audience looked on, waiting for the event to begin. It seemed to her an uncommonly large draw for a mid-season meet, but she didn’t want to think about that right now. She shook her arms loosely at her sides, trying to work out some of the tension, and took a moment to glance back at her relay team.

Swoops, immediately behind Kara, nodded and flipped Kara an encouraging thumbs-up even as she continued to fiddle with the fit of her swim cap. Lia, next in line, appeared deep in thought, eyes closed, no doubt summoning her inner peace. Kara wished she could do the same. And at the rear was Alissa. She caught Kara’s gaze in her own, then with pointed slowness drew her eyes over to the scoreboard.

She needn’t have. Kara knew full well what it showed. After the previous event, Cal had closed the gap. They were tied.

At the starter’s whistle, Kara lowered her goggles and climbed up onto the block. In the adjacent lanes, her Cal competition did the same. Her hands were trembling. She bent down and gripped the block hard to make it stop.

“What the hell is wrong with me?” she wondered. She had always been so good under pressure. Even at the state sectionals. Everyone had said so. Sure, she had privately wrestled with a little performance anxiety from time to time. Who didn’t? It’s natural. But not like this. This wasn’t just some healthy nervous energy. Why couldn’t she get it together? She was better than this! And yet she couldn’t stop thinking about how much was on the line, riding on her, right here, right now.

Kara pursed her lips and exhaled.

“Take your marks,” ordered the starter.

The crowd hushed. This was it.

Kara cocked back slightly into ready position. Time slowed to a crawl. Her heart pounded. She could hear the pulse of her own blood in her ears. She waited for the buzzer. She waited. Waited.

She leapt.

The world vanished in a surge of chlorinated blue. For an instant, there was calm. Yet even then Kara could sense something was amiss.

“Stand, please.”

She surfaced just in time to hear the starter’s command. A mix of groans and chuckles oozed from audience.

Kara spun herself around and looked to one side, then the other. Panic—viscous and cloying—began welling up within her. She was alone in the pool.

“False start, lane three.”

“No,” Kara thought. “No, no, no, no, no…” She had heard the buzzer. Hadn’t she? She must’ve!

Feverishly, Kara cast a pleading gaze back to her teammates, back to Swoops. Behind the starting block, buckled at the knees like she had just been kicked, Swoops stood with her hands clapped over her mouth. Kara searched for some glimmer of reassurance, but the look of stunned betrayal and despair evident in those eyes made Kara’s throat clench in shame.

The referee motioned her to exit the pool. Her short paddle to the edge felt like miles. By the time Kara climbed out of the water, Swoops was already on her way to the team bench, one arm draped consolingly around the shoulders of a visibly distraught Lia. They hadn’t even bothered waiting for the official ruling. Or waiting for her.

Nearby, Steve and the head coach were clustered around Alissa. She could see the muscles in the team captain’s jaw reflexively clenching and flexing. Despite the whispered tones, Alissa’s snarled lips and stabbing gestures in Kara’s direction left no doubts about the subject of discussion.

Up in the audience, someone began a sing-song cadence.

“Full Ride!” clap-clap “Slow Ride!” clap-clap “So Wide!” clap-clap “No Pride!”

“THAT’S CONFIRMATION OF THE FALSE START ON KARA MILLER. THIS WILL BE A DISQUALIFICATION FOR THE STANFORD TEAM IN LANE THREE.”

The referee said something to her. Whatever it was, Kara failed to comprehend it. She couldn’t comprehend anything right now. She could barely breathe.

The jeer continued, with a few others joining in.

“Full Ride!” clap-clap “Slow Ride!” clap-clap “So Wide!” clap-clap “No Pride!”

The referee spoke again and touched her arm. Kara blinked up at him, dazed. He pointed towards the team bench.

Paralyzed, Kara continued to linger by the starting block. Eventually, the referee took Kara by the elbow and gently led her back to the bench himself.

***

Up in the bleachers, Joyce and Michael’s initial shocked horror had already decayed into hushed but heated bickering. Sean looked on with slack-jawed fascination, his attention bouncing back and forth between the public spectacle around the pool and the private intrigue unfolding next to him.

“You need to set some firmer boundaries, Joyce,” said Michael.

“Don’t use that tone with me.”

 “I’m not using a ‘tone’,” Michael responded.

“Yes you are,” Joyce snapped. “And stop trying to tell me how to raise my daughter.”

“Our daughter,” Michael corrected.

Joyce folded her arms and glowered at her ex-husband.

Around them, the jeer continued as Kara finally took her seat on the bench, placing herself well apart from the other three disqualified Stanford team members.

 “Look,” Michael said, exasperated, “I’m just saying, maybe if you had been around a little bit more, been a little bit more involved and attentive—“

“If I had—excuse me, if I had been a little bit more involved?!” Joyce sputtered.

“I didn’t—“

“No. No,” Joyce stabbed an accusatory finger towards Michael. “You do not get to play that card, Mister. I wasn’t ‘around?’ Where were you?”

“I have a son of my own to raise, in case you hadn’t noticed,” Michael grumbled.

“Don’t you drag Sean into this.”

“All I’m saying is, it just all seems pretty obviously connected to around the same time you started trying to go on all those little dates of yours…”

“Oh, how dare you?!” Joyce hissed.

As the chant started up yet again, Sean let out a laugh, then clapped his hands and gleefully joined the chorus.

…clap-clap “Slow Ride!” clap-clap “So Wide!” clap-clap “No Pride!”

Joyce and Michael shared a long, meaningful look.

“Sean,” Michael elbowed his son while maintaining eye-lock with Joyce, “cut that out. It’s rude.”

***

Hunched over the desk in her dorm room, Kara glumly contemplated the blinking cursor on a blank Word document.

Stanford wound up narrowly losing the meet versus Cal. The immediate fallout was predictable: Kara got punted to the sidelines yet again.

There were also other repercussions, less proximate but no less important. In the wake of the loss to the Cal, Kara’s already dysfunctional relationship with her teammates sunk to new depths. Hardly shy about teasing her throughout the season, Twinkle and Laces promptly incorporated the Cal-crowd’s nicknames into their repertoire of torments for Kara. During her routines, Kara frequently saw them sniggering amongst themselves and with other teammates. Indeed, rather than rallying around the wounded Kara, if anything, it seemed like more of her teammates were joining in on the “fun” now than before. Whether the coaches noticed or cared was anyone’s guess, but they did nothing to intervene.

Even peppy Swoops—the nearest Kara had to a friend and ally on the team—seemed to have abandoned her. Whereas previously Swoops had been a fount of encouragement, always rooting for Kara to boost her times back up to par, ever since that horrendous false start gaffe she mostly avoided eye contact with Kara, and went out of her way to keep a distance between them at practice. Only after it had been so suddenly taken away did Kara begin to appreciate how much she had come to rely upon Swoop’s support.

And then there was Alissa. If the other girls were quietly mocking her more often, with Alissa it was the exact opposite. Following the Cal meet, her constant criticism of Kara’s performance at practice came to an abrupt halt. Fast or slow, smooth or awkward, good or bad—it didn’t matter. Regardless of how she swam, Alissa no longer showed much interest in anything Kara did. That utter indifference stung worse than had any lash of her “tough love” leadership.

Last week, without much hope, Kara had asked the head coach when she might expect to get back on the competition roster. His depressingly noncommittal answer: “When you’re ready.” She had already been forced to sit out the last two meets of the season. The PAC-12 championships were right around the corner. She supposed they had a nice bench-warming spot waiting for her there, too.

Out of the pool, things weren’t much better. First quarter grades were in, and hers were not pretty. After struggling throughout the fall term to balance coursework with her sport, she had made a strategic decision to focus on swimming in the weeks leading up to final exams. It showed. Kara had been a straight-A student in high school. If you wanted an admission to Stanford, you pretty much had to be. She wasn’t accustomed to getting Bs, let alone Cs. She had drifted into uncharted waters here.

Now several weeks into the winter quarter, her exhausting efforts prepping for the Cal meet had already left her entire modules and chapters behind in all her new classes, too. But how could she hope to catch up when she still—still!—had a backlog of work from the last quarter hanging over her head? The term paper for Sustainability and Collapse, for example—which presently sat in front of her, blank as ever.

Kara snagged a Red Vine from the half-empty tub beside her desk and tore off a big chunk with her teeth. She let out a frustrated sigh through her nose as she chewed.

Over the past three hours she must have written, deleted, rewritten, and re-deleted the same introductory paragraph two dozen times. It just never seemed to come out right. It wasn’t getting any easier, either. During the most recent hour she hadn’t written a single word, and though she certainly would not admit it, she knew she had probably spent at least as much time distracting herself with Instagram as she had staring fruitlessly at the empty document.

“When you’re ready,” he’d said. Kara felt ready, alright. Ready to chuck her computer through the damn window and cry. College was supposed to be the best time of your life. Everybody said so. So why the hell did she have to be so miserable? It wasn’t fair. It seemed like she hadn’t done anything fun in ages. Hell, she hadn’t even been to a proper party since the summer.

Joylessly, she chomped another bite of Red Vine.

When the door banged open moments later, Kara looked up but did not flinch. She had long since grown accustomed to her roommate’s sudden entrances.

“Avast ye!” declared Delilah. She wore black-and-white striped leggings and a black t-shirt with the words “One Hot Piece of Eight” Bedazzled across on the front in red and white rhinestones. On her head was a cheap novelty pirate hat and in each hand she wielded an equally cheap-looking plastic cutlass. Several heavily-laden grocery bags hung from her arms.

“You did not seriously go out shopping like that…” Kara queried.

“Yarr!” Delilah answered as she kicked the door closed behind her.

“I know I shouldn’t even ask, but wh—“

“Because!” Delilah leveled a cutlass at Kara, then telegraphed her intent to chuck it.

Kara raised her arms in defense and swatted away the inbound projectile.

“It’s the Pirate Booty Night Party, Kara,” Delilah explained. “And I,” she pointed her remaining sword at the sacks looped around arms and grinned mischievously, “am making golden Jell-O rum shooters!”

Kara shook her head and rolled her eyes. Delilah’s exploitation of her fake ID grew more brazen with every passing month.

“Arrr, don’t you roll your eyes at me, you barnacled bint!” Delilah scoffed, then hucked the remaining sword at Kara.

“I’m telling you, it’s gonna be mad fun,” Delilah continued as she began offloading her haul of booze and other groceries onto the shelf. “There’s gonna be a Johnny Depp lookalike contest, a planking contest, a scavenger hunt, and, of course, no cover for saucy wenches like yours truly.”

“You should totally go,” she added, probably just out of habit.

“Uh huh,” Kara said. She retrieved one of the swords from where it had landed on her keyboard. Its impact had skittered a short string of gibberish letters across her otherwise blank document. Kara bobbled the plastic cutlass between her fingers, frowning. Across the room, Delilah merrily hummed the tune of “Drunken Sailor” to herself as she unpacked.

“Well…” Kara interjected after a long pause, “can I borrow one of these swords?”

“Yeah, sure—wait, what?!”

Delilah peered over her shoulder, an astonished look on her face. “You mean you’re actually gonna go? For real?”

 

Kara cracked a half-smile and waggled the sword. “Yarr.”

“Ohmigod!” Delilah squealed. She bounded across the room and glomped Kara with an exuberant, bouncing hug. “Yes! Finally! Roomie love! There isn’t much time, but we can totally throw together some kind of costume from what I’ve got lying around. Oh man, just wait, just wait—this is gonna be so awesome, you don’t even know!”

“OK, OK,” Kara laughed as she attempted to wriggle free of Delilah’s embrace. “But only on one condition, though…”

Delilah reluctantly loosened her hold and fixed Kara with a dubious sideways squint.

Kara stood and folded her arms. “First dibs on the rum shooters. I hear that shit is ‘always gone.’”

Delilah sputtered into laughter and hugged Kara again, even harder.

***

[podracer2]

Ah and there is it, working so hard for so little gain. Can't have a false start at that level. She knows she's toast so she might as well start enjoying life a little bit more. No scholarship is worth this.

[Guest bouncybelly]

there it is! dont get me wrong the story has been overall fantastic, but from this point forward, i'm guessing things will REALLY start to fall apart for Kara

[riptoryx]

19 hours ago, podracer2 said:

Ah and there is it, working so hard for so little gain. Can't have a false start at that level. She knows she's toast so she might as well start enjoying life a little bit more. No scholarship is worth this.

"Working so hard for so little gain."  Do you mean that figuratively, literally, or both?

13 hours ago, lrlr1 said:

there it is! dont get me wrong the story has been overall fantastic, but from this point forward, i'm guessing things will REALLY start to fall apart for Kara

The Cal meet was undoubtedly a blow, for Kara and for her whole team. It left some deep wounds to salve, if there's going to be healing. 

It's possible there was an added personal stake in play here re: Kara and the Cal team. As you may recall from earlier in the story, Kara had received a scholarship offer from Cal, but declined it in favor of Stanford. I'm pretty sure Kara still recalls, and there may be enough institutional memory for that slight to have stuck with some Cal folks, too. The little jeer near the end of the meet did seem awfully...calculated.

[Borghen]

Well, I registered a couple of days ago in order to quicken your posting, but it seems that I am too late. I do hope that my post counts to speed up at least the next installment.

That said, I would have commented anyway on DM or DA or wherever you posted the new episode.Since you invited us all to curvage, I jumped at the chance: one more account for fat fetish is not going to hurt, is it?

By the way, is a single false start enough for a disqualification? Man, those are surely strict rules!

As I said elsewhere (i.e. DM) I expecially like stories with complex plots and believable characters, as opposed to simple WG; such was a slight flaw in FH's stories.

[riptoryx]

7 hours ago, Borghen said:

Well, I registered a couple of days ago in order to quicken your posting, but it seems that I am too late. I do hope that my post counts to speed up at least the next installment.

That said, I would have commented anyway on DM or DA or wherever you posted the new episode.Since you invited us all to curvage, I jumped at the chance: one more account for fat fetish is not going to hurt, is it?

By the way, is a single false start enough for a disqualification? Man, those are surely strict rules!

As I said elsewhere (i.e. DM) I expecially like stories with complex plots and believable characters, as opposed to simple WG; such was a slight flaw in FH's stories.

D'awww! Thanks for the support, Borghen! I intended the "early release" thing as a special one-time New Years's themed incentive to drum up a bit more participation amongst Curvage folks, but I'm very glad to hear it's still appealing even past its nominal expiration date. 

I'm a big fan of complex and believable weight gain scenarios--as long as all the complexity "knows its place" and serves the ultimate weight gain focus of the story rather than crowding it aside. Hopefully I'm managing to accomplish the former and not the latter.

And yes, the "one and done" false start rules are brutal! A single false start is a disqualification--no second chances. A false start for a relay team disqualifies the whole team. If you're curious, here are some of the pertinent rules/guides created by USA Swimming, which is the general governing body for competitive swimming in the United States.

What Is A False Start?

Guide To Officiating - Chapter 3 - Starter

See also this Wikipedia entry.

And, just for a laugh, here's a video example that probably kinda resembles Kara's unfortunate mistake: LINK

[JFrost147]

Amazing stuff so far - can't wait to see how Kara's humiliation deepens!

[Guest basil]

Honestly this is the most well written story I have read in a long time. It's enough were I feel empathy to a character and cringe a bit at some of the humiliation. Very well done

[riptoryx]

On 1/8/2017 at 7:43 PM, machodummy said:

Amazing stuff so far - can't wait to see how Kara's humiliation deepens!

Stay tuned--I think the best is still to come!

 

19 hours ago, basil said:

Honestly this is the most well written story I have read in a long time. It's enough were I feel empathy to a character and cringe a bit at some of the humiliation. Very well done

Thanks! Often times in these types of stories, the focal character gets presented as a villain, with weight gain being poetic justice delivered by active revenge or maybe just karmic forces of the cosmos. Either way, an underlying premise tends to be that she "deserves it."  But that wasn't quite how I tried to craft things for this story. 

I'd hoped Kara would come across as an at least somewhat sympathetic character. She has her flaws, but I don't think she's a bad person. She may "deserve" what happens to her in the sense that it's fundamentally her own choices and actions that get her there, but not necessarily in the sense that there is some greater moral good being served. Right, wrong, good, bad--I'll leave those judgments about the various characters for the readers to make. I'm certainly interested to hear such opinions! If you're feeling some empathy for Kara, though, then I feel satisfied that I've done her justice. 

[podracer2]

I do think you've made Kara sympathetic. She's not just a random....person I hate. She may be annoying and not the best person in the world. She was mean to her friends and blew them off but she was never doing anything evil. She was just being a dumb teen. I may not love her but I did feel for her when people started that chant. Mind you she likely would have joined in the chant if positions were reversed with someone else but that just makes her more real. 

[Guest shegotfat]

The story is looking good. So much detail, and everything comes together like clockworck. I totally agree that it works much better when she's pretty much an ordinary girl and not some unidimensional Mean Girl charicature. It adds that delicious element of vulnerability. She's starting to realize who her friends are, and she doesn't seem to have many. Even her own brother is making fun of her. I bet he feels this is payback time after years of not-so-gentle bullying from her.

Can Kara sink any lower after this humiliation? I can't imagine a more rapid fall from grace. Will she have the guts to pick herself up and prove them all wrong or will she crumble under the sheer embarrassment and the collapse of her public image?

[KarmaMel]

I must say I get a lot of joy just thinking about the story in general.  If anything I like to dwell on some events unexplored or undisclosed in the story.  With limited time and resources every author must cherry pick those scenes closest to their hearts.  I usually revisit those a few times after rereading the story.  After that, I imagine other scenes likely to happen. 

I am aided in this by reflecting on other favorite works,  I remember one author made a deal about how the boyfriend's approaches to their dates changed.  At first they were highly planned, and extravagant affairs.  This gradually deteriorated until it was just stopping at a bar or nabbing some pizza.  That same work had fun details given their sex life.  Where as before much went into seduction and foreplay, the boyfriend would just drop by (Or show up after she practically begged) then after he would leave.

Malls are always a great place to track the slender goddess' fall.  Where once they strode tall and proud, they now tried to be in the shadows, often offering up other activities instead.  Oh how they'd shoved their perfect figures in the faces of their friends,  Now they are horrified in the changing rooms with those same friends.  Here is where it is fun having a friend suggest a clothing item.

In The Slowest Champion Revisited I loved the scene, although in private, where Kara got new outfits for Christmas, but couldn't fit into them.  I can almost see her mother give Kara the receipts in the company of others.  "Oh honey!  Here are those receipts for the outfits we got you for Christmas.  Feel free to exchange them for larger sizes.  I' don't mind, really."

Changes in daily activities and abilities are always fun to think about.

 

Thanks again for such interesting material!

[riptoryx]

18 hours ago, podracer2 said:

I do think you've made Kara sympathetic. She's not just a random....person I hate. She may be annoying and not the best person in the world. She was mean to her friends and blew them off but she was never doing anything evil. She was just being a dumb teen. I may not love her but I did feel for her when people started that chant. Mind you she likely would have joined in the chant if positions were reversed with someone else but that just makes her more real. 

...Mayyyyybe? I dunno, to me this seems like an example of the "unfair" things befalling her. I don't imagine Kara ever having been a bully in that sort of way. Competitive, aloof, sometimes arrogant, sometimes unforgiving: yes. But singling out people to pick on in public? Eh... She certainly isn't immune to peer pressure, though. So, if the right group of "everybody else" was doing it, I guess she might join in. *shrug*

 

12 hours ago, shegotfat said:

The story is looking good. So much detail, and everything comes together like clockworck. I totally agree that it works much better when she's pretty much an ordinary girl and not some unidimensional Mean Girl charicature. It adds that delicious element of vulnerability. She's starting to realize who her friends are, and she doesn't seem to have many. Even her own brother is making fun of her. I bet he feels this is payback time after years of not-so-gentle bullying from her.

Can Kara sink any lower after this humiliation? I can't imagine a more rapid fall from grace. Will she have the guts to pick herself up and prove them all wrong or will she crumble under the sheer embarrassment and the collapse of her public image?

Thanks, @shegotfat. I have to quibble a bit with your read on the Sean/Kara dynamic. Sean is about a decade younger than Kara, and grew up living with Michael and Marie (i.e., Michael's second wife and Sean's mother). So, perhaps partly due to the age gap and partly due to the living arrangements, Sean and Kara never really had the kind of abusive sibling rivalry you seem to be envisioning. Indeed, as understand it, and I've tried to depict it in the story, up to this point their relationship has actually been kinda Norman Rockwell level idyllic. Kara has always adored Sean as her cute, charming baby bro, and Sean in turn has grown up idolizing his super mature, super athletic, super successful, super cool big sister. That may not be a sustainable status quo, though; kids don't stay kids forever. But, in any event, I wouldn't say that Sean's mirthful bandwagoning in the jeer against Kara was any kind of "payback" for slights endured. His actions were actually pretty out of character--again, at least judging by their relationship to date.

 

47 minutes ago, KarmaMel said:

I must say I get a lot of joy just thinking about the story in general.  If anything I like to dwell on some events unexplored or undisclosed in the story.  With limited time and resources every author must cherry pick those scenes closest to their hearts.  I usually revisit those a few times after rereading the story.  After that, I imagine other scenes likely to happen. 

I am aided in this by reflecting on other favorite works,  I remember one author made a deal about how the boyfriend's approaches to their dates changed.  At first they were highly planned, and extravagant affairs.  This gradually deteriorated until it was just stopping at a bar or nabbing some pizza.  That same work had fun details given their sex life.  Where as before much went into seduction and foreplay, the boyfriend would just drop by (Or show up after she practically begged) then after he would leave.

Malls are always a great place to track the slender goddess' fall.  Where once they strode tall and proud, they now tried to be in the shadows, often offering up other activities instead.  Oh how they'd shoved their perfect figures in the faces of their friends,  Now they are horrified in the changing rooms with those same friends.  Here is where it is fun having a friend suggest a clothing item.

In The Slowest Champion Revisited I loved the scene, although in private, where Kara got new outfits for Christmas, but couldn't fit into them.  I can almost see her mother give Kara the receipts in the company of others.  "Oh honey!  Here are those receipts for the outfits we got you for Christmas.  Feel free to exchange them for larger sizes.  I' don't mind, really."

Changes in daily activities and abilities are always fun to think about.

 

Thanks again for such interesting material!

Hah! Yeah, some of those Christmas gift outfits were definitely a source of consternation for Kara. I suppose I could've developed that into a detailed scene rather than handling it as more of an expository interlude. One reason I didn't expand upon that situation is focusing on Kara's weight in that way didn't really harmonize with the narrative momentum I wanted to build leading up to the meet versus Cal. I think if the summary disposition of the ill-fitting gifts left you with a sufficiently enticing concept to spin your own imagination, then it served its purpose well.

When it comes to writing about the details of characters' daily lives, I tend to focus on things that I know: either from personal experience, direct observation, or detailed second-hand accounts from other people with personal experience. Failing that, I'll try to get by relying on a healthy dose of research. Malls as a social scene, while perhaps a staple of weight gain fiction and a stereotypical hallmark of teen culture in America, are almost completely outside my personal experience. I don't think I even know anybody who spent a lot of time hanging out in malls. I saw the movie "Mall Rats" once, but I suspect that may not quite qualify as educational material. So, while I'll take your word for it on their value as an observational boon, probably don't expect to see malls featured heavily in my own writing. ...Unless I get all hepped up on the mall thing for some unexpected reason!  

Your idea of what might've happened with those outfits is interesting. I'm inclined to think Joyce has a little more tact and emotional intelligence than that. She has, after all, been kind of a champion for Kara: trying (if without all that much zeal) to ward off the grandmother's well-meaning weight innuendo, and also pushing back against what seemed to be Michael's argument that Joyce has given Kara too much free rein for her level of responsibility/maturity (although there, the heart of Joyce's irritation may have more to do with Michael's criticism of her own parental role than with Kara's fitness for self-governance). But, you never know. Sometimes moms say the darndest things. 

[Matt L.]

Nathanial Hawthorne once wrote, "Easy reading is damned hard writing."   Thus this being said, I all the more admire the work you're putting into this gem of a story.  Brilliant and then some. 

Cheers, Matt

[Guest vslppt1]

On 1/9/2017 at 9:47 AM, basil said:

Honestly this is the most well written story I have read in a long time. It's enough were I feel empathy to a character and cringe a bit at some of the humiliation. Very well done

I agree!

[riptoryx]

20 hours ago, Matt L. said:

Nathanial Hawthorne once wrote, "Easy reading is damned hard writing."   Thus this being said, I all the more admire the work you're putting into this gem of a story.  Brilliant and then some. 

Cheers, Matt

 

7 hours ago, vslppt1 said:

I agree!

Thanks, guys!   There will be more coming this weekend, as usual. 

[riptoryx]

Sliding back into the party scene proved remarkably easy. While perhaps no longer able to so casually command the spotlight in quite the way she had over the summer, with application of a little extra effort Kara found all her favorite delights still readily attainable. Supported by Delilah’s eager encouragement, within a few weeks Kara was indulging like she had back in August.

And why the hell not? The PAC-12 championships came and went, predictably lacking any participatory role for Kara. With swimming season almost over, slogging through yet more hopeless hours in the pool alongside her increasingly disconnected team came to seem like the epitome of pointless masochism. She started skipping practices. Gym time spent honing her endurance evolved into nap time spent recovering from last evening’s debauchery. The absence of any strong complaint from her coaches or teammates only egged her on. While the rest of her team was closing out the season with a third-place finish at the NCAA championships, Kara was squeezed onto a crowed frat house sofa, stuffing herself with pizza and drunkenly lambasting Stanford basketball’s uninspiring March Madness performance. No one talked about swimming. No one talked about grades. And that suited Kara just fine.

***

Kara awoke with a start, to the piercing shriek of a fire alarm. Groaning, she grabbed a pillow and clamped it over her head.

Kara was holed up in the dorm room of her latest beau, Dwight Seward. A skinny, whitebread sophomore from the suburbs of Grand Rapids, Dwight was a gangsta rap aficionado and fancied himself a young Eminem. Dwight DJ’d a borderline-entertaining weekend show for the campus radio station, and dealt a more-than-borderline-entertaining supply of weed to the local campus community.

Under the sheets, Kara’s form writhed in slow agony as the pulsing shriek went on. It was those stupid freshman down the hall again, she’d be willing to bet, screwing around in the kitchenette. In fact, she was pretty sure she could already smell the burnt popcorn. What would that make it—the third time this month? And that was just counting when she was around to hear it. She clenched the pillow in her fists and pulled it tighter around her ears.

Delilah first introduced her to Dwight several weeks ago at a Jammix dance. Right from the start he had been very enthusiastic about Kara’s “ghetto booty.” It was an ambiguous compliment that left Kara feeling uncharacteristically self-conscious. Even now, every time he made that sort of remark she still felt uncertain quite how to take it. Rather than wrestle with the ambiguity, however, Kara generally found it more expedient to drown any doubts in the less equivocal pleasures of his physical attentions and his merchandise—both of which Dwight shared generously.

“Fuck it,” Kara grumbled, surrendering at last to the incessant alarm. She threw the pillow aside and started to get up, kicking petulantly at the sheets tangled around her feet. No sooner had she hoisted herself upright in bed than the shrieking overhead suddenly stopped.

“Ugh!” Kara whimpered. She flopped heavily back onto the mattress, sending a wobbling tremor through her naked breasts, and an only slightly lesser one across the soft curve of her abdomen.

For a long while, Kara lay on the bed, eyes closed, waiting for sleep to reclaim her. It proved to be slow going. Groggy yet restless, Kara’s impatience eventually overcame her exhaustion.

With a sigh, Kara cracked open her eyes, squinting at the late morning light leaking through the blinds. “Actually,” Kara observed, “make that ‘early afternoon light.’” Or at least so claimed the alarm clock atop the empty packing box that served as Dwight’s bedside table.

1:57 PM. Dwight would be in class for a few hours yet.

Taking a more deliberate approach this time, Kara successfully extricated her feet from the tangled sheets. She then tossed back the bedding and, languorously, rolled upright on the edge of the bed. As Kara rose, the plump belly that had taken up residence around her middle pooched onto her lap, its lower curve gently kissing her upper thighs. Her thighs themselves in turn spread perceptibly wider under her weight than they had last quarter—or, to the careful observer, even just weeks prior.

Kara poked a bare foot exploratorily at the nearest pile of clothes on the floor. After nudging aside a few articles, she spied one of Dwight’s oversized t-shirts. She snagged the shirt with her toes and half-carried, half-kicked it up to her hands.

Kara stood, and slipped the rumpled garment over her nude body. It hung like a loose tunic, falling just short enough to leave a tantalizing glimpse of booty peeping out from beneath the hem. Gathering her hair, Kara drew it free from the collar, then scooped up her phone from the makeshift table-box.

No missed calls. A few uninteresting tweets. A couple texts about upcoming weekend parties—probably worth checking out, but nothing urgent. Swiping over to her calendar alerts, Kara paused, her brow furrowing.

Back in January, before the Cal meet, Kara had half-heartedly agreed to attend Sarah’s “blg” spring break party. Shortly after they hung up, Sarah forwarded a calendar invite. Kara had clicked “accept,” and then promptly forgotten all about it.

That party would be happening today, her phone now reminded her. In less than three hours.

Kara ruffled a hand through her hair and bit her lip, pensively. She felt conflicted.

On the one hand, she had promised Sarah she would be there. On the other hand, this was basically just another lame high school party. More likely than not, she would be stuck milling around with a bunch of Sarah’s junior-class cohorts that she neither knew nor had any interest in getting to know. It was not at all how she would prefer to spend a Friday evening. Even so, disappointing her old friend again so soon didn’t feel right.

She recalled how Sarah had boasted having Tom around meant there would be booze, clearly hoping that might appeal to Kara. Really, though, Kara felt that merely showed how naïve and far behind her Sarah was. As if a few cases of cheap beer could impress her now. The Friday night festivities at Stanford that she would be passing up were doubtlessly far superior.

But, Kara mused, having Tom there—and perhaps a few of his college friends, as well, though Sarah hadn’t been clear on that detail—meant that there might be at least the potential for real entertainment, and a hook up. In some ways, after being exposed to the Stanford social scene, Kara couldn’t help but feel that Tom and his friends were a bit…beneath her. He only went to a second-tier state college, after all. Plus, whatever mystique Tom’s age afforded him in the eyes of high-school-era Kara had long since sloughed off. Still, he was reasonably cute, and good with his hands…

She set her phone back down on the bedside box. Ultimately, Kara concluded she did owe Sarah at least this one token appearance—for old times’ sake, if nothing else. Perhaps it was even more a matter of atonement than camaraderie.

With a resigned sigh, she navigated through the clothes, papers, books, and general detritus strewn about the floor, over to the corner where Dwight had hung his mirror. As she moved, a toneless quiver jostled her bottom with every shift of her weight. Unsubtle hints of cellulite had already settled in amid the fleshy contours where her naked buns folded into her upper thighs, just beneath the shirt’s hem.

“Three-ish hours—plenty enough time to grab some breakfast, drive down, and hit the party,” Kara figured.

She blinked at her reflection in the mirror. Bloodshot, dark-ringed eyes gazed back her, set in a face left flushed and puffy from too much alcohol and too little sleep. A zit marred her forehead, and the ominous reddening on her chin suggested it had already invited a friend. Frowning, Kara leaned close to the mirror. She pinched the tender welt on her forehead between the nails of her index fingers, and squeezed. After a brief, wincing moment, it popped, splurting waxy goo onto her fingers and launching a few stray flecks into the mirror.

“Eghh,” Kara grimaced, and wiped her hands on Dwight’s shirt.

“Better make that drive home, get cleaned up, and then hit the party,” Kara amended.

***

After a long, hot shower, some Visine, 1000 milligrams of Tylenol, and twenty patient minutes applying an assortment of cosmetics, Kara felt she had rectified the worst of the issues. Rifling through the wardrobe options she’d left at home when heading off to college, Kara eventually settled on a slinky, strappy black dress and matching heels. It occurred to her the outfit was probably overkill for one of Sarah’s little low-rent parties. However, given the circumstances, that struck her as a perk, not a flaw. Deep-necked, tight, and cut well above the knee, she liked how the dress flaunted her cleavage and hugged her curves—perhaps with bit more “hugging” than she would have preferred around her admittedly softer tummy, but whatever. Underneath, she was poured into a strapless bra and one of her skimpiest thongs. By the time she made her fashionably-late entrance, Kara was ready to rock this charity event.

Winding between clusters of guests, she soon spied Sarah through a brief gap in the crowd, hovering protectively near the fish tank. As Kara drew closer, she saw Sarah nod and gesture animatedly, thoroughly engrossed in a conversation with—Kara stopped short.

“Jessie? Oh—oh my god!” she exclaimed, mouth agape. “You’ve lost so much weight!”

Sarah and Jessie turned to face Kara, their own eyebrows raised nearly as high as Kara’s. An awkward moment lapsed as the trio silently surveyed one another.

“Uhh…” Jessie finally uttered, clearing her throat and blushing. “Thanks.”

“No, I mean it. You look…fabulous,” Kara continued, her tone equal parts praise and alarm.

It was true. Over the many months since Kara had last laid eyes on her, Jessie had shed a remarkable amount of bulk, particularly around the middle. Equally stunning, Jessie’s choice of attire seemed calculated to highlight that fact: a black dress, similar to Kara’s if a bit more modest in cut, accented with a narrow, white leather belt cinched around the waist.

“Holy shit,” Kara realized, dumbfounded, “Jessie actually has a waist!”

Indeed, the hefty belly that had once defined Jessie’s shape had all but vanished, revealing a waistline that appeared surprisingly well-defined in proportion to her hips. Up top, her breasts, though clearly reduced, still prominently filled out the front of her dress, and with pertness they had never shown before. Once merely “rotund,” Jessie’s re-sculpted contours now afforded her an only-slightly-husky hourglass silhouette.

Jessie’s formerly cherubic face had also thinned considerably, revealing a strong jaw and the suggestion of elegant cheekbones. This sharpening of her facial features made her ice-blue eyes appear subtly larger, and thus that much more striking. Her legs, arms, shoulders, neck—all had slimmed, their flabby texture replaced with a firmness that, if not exactly “lean,” was certainly nearing it.

Soaking in all the changes, Kara began to think Jessie somehow even looked taller than before, until she noticed that Jessie was wearing heels. This was yet another new development. She had never seen Jessie in anything but flats, and usually sneakers. At the moment, the footwear made Jessie stand an inch or so above her, Kara noted. For some reason, that made her uncomfortable. She wasn’t sure why she felt uncomfortable, and that uncertainty only made it even worse.

“Damn right, she does!” Sarah agreed, and jabbed a playful elbow into Jessie’s ribs.

“You know, Sis, for once, I think you might actually be right,” Tom interjected, coming up from behind Sarah and ruffling her hair.

“Ack!” Sarah screeched, swatting at his hand. “Fucker! Get the fuck off!” She slugged him hard, aiming for a kidney.

Tom winced, but otherwise laughed away his sibling’s reprisal.

Kara folded her arms and cocked her hips. “Hey there, Tom,” she cooed.

“Uh…” Tom fumbled, “hey…Kara…” Brow raised, he scanned her up and down, appraising her looks as if seeing her for the first time.

Shaking it off, Tom held up a six-pack of beer. “So, who wants a brew?”

“Goddammit, I told you to keep that shit downstairs!” Sarah snarled, and made a grab for the cans. Tom shoved Sarah aside and lifted the beers higher, out of her reach.

Kara peered at the cans, then wrinkled her nose. “Oh my god,” she laughed, “Coors? That is so slummy.”

“Wow, listen to the big connoisseur here,” Tom quipped. Kara’s smile faltered just a bit.

“How about you?” Tom asked, looking over at Jessie. “Are you too good for my suds, too, Ms.…?”

Jessie cleared her throat. “Oh, no, no thanks,” she held up her hands and waved away the offer. “I have to drive. And, uh, it’s Jessie.”

“Hey,” Kara interjected, “I said your stuff sucks, not that I don’t want some.”

“Jessie, huh?” Tom repeated, ignoring entirely Kara’s coquettish attempt at double entendre. Kara’s nostrils flared.

“You’ve met her before, Idiot.” Sarah grumbled.

Just then, the music changed. Over the living room speakers, the jangling intro to “Footloose” filled the house.

Seizing the moment, Kara pressed herself up against Tom’s chest. “Ooo,” she purred, “Tom, wanna dance?”

Tom looked down at her with a grimace, then gently prized free of Kara’s embrace.

“Actually, I think I do,” Tom answered. He extended a hand to Jessie. “Would you care to join me?”

Jessie flinched, wide-eyed. “Uh—ummmmm…”

Kara’s eyes had gone just as wide.

“He’s asking her to dance?” Kara thought, her mind reeling. “Instead of me? That…that frumpy up-jumped JV transplant cow…!? “ Even in her own head, those words rang hollow.

Jessie’s hesitation lasted only a moment. She took Tom’s hand in her own. “As a matter of fact,” she said, “I would.”

“Here,” Tom said, and unceremoniously dumped the six-pack into Kara’s arms before heading off with Jessie. In silence, Kara watched them go, flummoxed.

Sidling up next to her still-stunned friend, Sarah tore free one of the cans in Kara’s arms and cracked it open. She took a long sip, then rolled her eyes and blew a puff of air through her mussed bangs.

“Well,” Sarah said, eventually, shrugging her shoulders, “want some Cheetos?”

***

After Jessie and Tom went their own way, Sarah attempted to engage Kara in conversation. Unfortunately, the chasm that grown between them over the past year proved difficult to bridge.

Sarah gushed about how well swimming was going this season, about how much Jessie had improved, about how they would probably have a shot at winning the sectionals again if only Karice hadn’t gotten injured. Despite what were probably well-intended attempts, Sarah quickly realized none of this held any interest for Kara. Seeking common ground, she tried to get Kara talking about swimming at Stanford, about her training, about her teammates and coaches, about how it felt to compete on such a big stage. But Kara hedged at every turn, offering little more than a conclusory: “It’s good.” Drinking and boys seemed to be the only subjects on which Kara had much to say. And although Sarah still managed to do most of the talking—as usual—she, too, could not deny a similar struggle to feign enthusiasm for Kara’s aloof summaries of her own recent social escapades. In the absence of assumed knowledge, inside jokes fell flat, juicy gossip became irrelevant, and personal anecdotes lacked context. Neither said it, but the reality was plain: a dearth of recent shared experiences had eroded the once effortless familiarity of their friendship.

It was an unexpectedly awkward experience for both of them. After perhaps fifteen minutes of good faith effort, Sarah excused herself to resume her hostly duties.

For Sarah, this was a relief. It had taken a Herculean effort for the normally unfiltered teen to avoid immediately bringing up Kara’s now obviously substantial weight gain. Much of that newfound circumspection could be attributed to Jessie’s influence. Over the past year, her thoughtful explanations had inculcated in Sarah a more nuanced appreciation for the difference between “honest” and “honestly quite insulting.” Even so, face to face for the first time in so long, Sarah hadn’t been able to resist sneaking glances at Kara’s body as they spoke, cataloging the changes with perverse fascination.

All fashion lore about “slimming” colors notwithstanding, Kara’s black dress did little to downplay the damage. Ill-fitting despite its stretchy material, the dress strained against the cargo of a rounded, pudgy belly and softened hips straddled by plump love handles. Remarkably, the latter appeared to be the primary feature preserving a vestige of feminine contour to Kara’s shape. Sometime over the past many months, the concave slopes of her formerly tapered waist had almost completely filled in, leaving in their wake the hint of a developing roll on either side. Indeed, Sarah noted, Kara now had less waist definition than Jessie—and decidedly more belly.

The situation in back fared little better, as the clingy material outlined in unflattering detail the form of Kara’s no-longer-perfect but frankly rather chunky ass. The sculpted buns that had been among Kara’s most alluring features appeared not merely larger, but less shapely, as well—their former exquisite roundness melting beneath the heat of overindulgent indolence.

Pulled taut, the fabric puckered as it stretched across the gaps of Kara’s rounded shape—between her love handles and lower belly, between her thighs at the crotch, beneath her breasts, at the small of her back, and even ever so slightly around the indentation of her navel.

As unflattering as Kara’s dress was, what she had on beneath it managed to be even worse.

Kara was wearing a G-string thong. While Sarah could have reached this conclusion by reasoned inference—it would be the natural choice to avoid visible panty lines across her behind in the slinky outfit—in this case, such inferences were entirely unnecessary. Sausage-like bulges, dug deep into her hips by the narrow waist cords, made readily apparent the exact position and style of Kara’s panties—as well as they fact they were far too tight. Hugged by the dress’ snug fabric, in better lighting Sarah supposed these unsubtle details would have been visible not just from her vantage, but probably from across a room.

The fit of Kara’s bra was hardly any better. Although it did squeeze her breasts into an eye-catchingly ripe surge of cleavage, its single strap also dug a scarcely less eye-catching ridge across the soft flesh of her back. Clearly, Sarah deduced, Kara was still cramming into the same underwear that she had worn last year.

This was clearly more than just wardrobe issue, though. Where they were free from the dress, Kara’s thighs and upper arms appeared distinctly soft. Sarah could scarcely detect any trace of the athletic conditioning they had sported throughout high school.

Kara’s face had not been spared, either. Despite being caked in makeup, she looked tired, puffy, and bloated. Even her neck and shoulders seemed a bit swollen. The hue of her foundation, layered particularly thickly across her cheeks and forehead, contrasted against a complexion that had paled several shades since last summer. It was stunning, really. She’d always regarded as Kara so effortlessly polished. Never had Sarah seen her such a hot mess.

Sarah circled back later and tried a different approach, asking Kara to dance with her. A disinterested stare framed by sarcastically cocked eyebrows were her only rewards. After a few more disappointingly abortive attempts at conversation, Sarah resigned herself to leave Kara in peace. At the least, it spared Sarah from the continued struggle of holding her tongue.

Still, while meandering from group to group amongst her other guests, Sarah continued to check up on Kara from afar. She seemed so bored and isolated. Sarah could only shake her head and wonder why she had even bothered to come at all. Kara eventually parked herself on a chair in a corner of the living room, where she spent most of the evening texting on her phone and pounding down beer and snacks like they were only things making the experience tolerable.

As the night wore on, Kara became quite drunk. Inhibitions and better judgment yielding to inebriated impatience, she finally emerged from her corner and began stalking the house in search of Tom. The search eventually led her upstairs to Tom’s room. His door was closed, but as she approached she could hear the sound of his stereo coming from within.

“Tom!” Kara barked, and shoved open the door. “Get the hell—“

“Woah!” Tom yelped, followed by a feminine squeak. There was a brief flurry of motion in the darkened room before everyone froze like deer in headlights.

“Wh-what the fuck!” Tom protested, raising a hand to shield his eyes against the sudden brightness. Tom lay stretched out on the bed, naked. A curvy feminine shape still straddled him. Twisted away from the door to hide her face, arms folded protectively over her breasts, in the moment Kara could make out little more than the sensuous contours of her back and a spill of red hair over one shoulder.

“Tom!” Kara snapped, again.

“Kara?” Tom asked, squinting at the zaftig silhouette darkening his door.

At the mention of the name, the woman perched atop Tom’s hips whipped her head around.

“...Jessie?!” Kara squawked.

“What the fuck, Kara?” Tom reiterated. “What are you doing?!”

No one was listening to Tom. Kara and Jessie had locked gazes, their expressions mirror images of goggle-eyed, slack-jawed shock. Then, slowly, like sun breaking through clouds, Jessie’s lips curled into a wicked little smirk.

“Hello!” Tom yelled, pointing at the door. “What the hell is wrong with you? Get out, already!”

“Arggh!” Kara choked back a sob of frustration. “Oh my god, fuck you!” she hissed. Fists balled, arms ramrod straight at her sides, she punctuated each explicative with a stomp of her foot. “Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!”

With a final howl, Kara snatched the knob and slammed the door shut. Wiping away a stray tear and smudging her mascara, she marched down the stairs. A few curious onlookers—Sarah among them—watched as Kara barged her way through the living room in a huff. She paid them no mind. Without another word, Kara grabbed her keys and left the party.

***

Upstairs, Tom and Jessie were in each other’s arms, giggling.

“Oh my God,” Tom laughed. “Did you see her face?”

“Mmm hm,” Jessie nodded. “Hee!”

“Man,” Tom cringed. “I’m never gonna live that down. Sarah is gonna kill me.”

“Meh,” Jessie shrugged, and stuck out her tongue.

“Thanks,” Tom said, and rolled his eyes. “Oh, shit—the door…”

Jessie looked over her shoulder. It was slightly ajar, a half-inch gap of light pouring in from the hall. Kara slammed it so hard during her tantrum that it must have shuddered back open.

Tom shifted under Jessie, and started to raise himself up on one elbow. Jessie laid her palm on his chest and pressed him back against the mattress. Tom cocked an eyebrow. Jessie shook her head. He started to speak, but Jessie silenced him with a light touch of her index finger to his lips.

“Shhhh,” she whispered, and ground her hips against his. Her eyes twinkled mischievously. “Leave it.”

***

[Guest basil]

It is rather intetesting that Jessie is more so a villain than the poor protagonist and I think makes it more realistic. Kara was a bit overconfident and self absorbed, but she never enjoyed seeing Jessie large or saying things behind her back or laughing about it. Jessie was just a fat girl who hated a skinny girl and enjoyed watching her get fat. For once the one gaining weight wasnt the biggest asshole of the story

[riptoryx]

4 minutes ago, basil said:

It is rather intetesting that Jessie is more so a villain than the poor protagonist and I think makes it more realistic. Kara was a bit overconfident and self absorbed, but she never enjoyed seeing Jessie large or saying things behind her back or laughing about it. Jessie was just a fat girl who hated a skinny girl and enjoyed watching her get fat. For once the one gaining weight wasnt the biggest asshole of the story

That's definitely one not-unfair way to interpret it.

I think you're right about Kara not really having been a bully to Jessie in any direct way, even though she did sort of cast a long shadow in Jessie's life due to her role as varsity swim team captain and general quasi-celebrity hot-shot athlete. While not everyone may agree, I see Kara as at least somewhat sympathetic, and not a heartless villain.

But, in Jessie's defense, I would also suggest that she probably was bullied, picked on, or otherwise made to feel inadequate and insecure due to her size. Not so much by Kara specifically, but just generally throughout life. We got a glimpse of that during her earlier interactions with Sarah.

So, in this latest installment, we're now seeing Jessie sort of discovering in herself this newfound desirability, and beginning to revel the sense of power that comes with it. Is she kind of rubbing that in Kara's face a bit? Maybe, but it's not like Jessie really went out of her way here to do or say anything cruel to Kara. To the contrary, it seems like she and Sarah both consciously avoided making any potentially rude remarks about Kara's obvious weight gain. Jessie did indulge in a little Kara-related snarking whilst coiled up with Tom, but that was after Kara drunkenly barged in on them in flagrante delicto--arguably, a much bigger faux pas on Kara's part. 

Probably the biggest "tell" into what little cruelties might be going on in Jessie's head was that smirk she cracked when she realized who it was in the doorway, staring at her and Tom. In that moment, she had something that Kara wanted. Jessie won, Kara lost, and they both knew it. And Jessie...well, she kinda enjoyed that. After years of always being the inconsequential "fat girl," especially compared to high school icons like Kara, it was gratifying--a vindication of her hard work and determination. If that satisfaction came at Kara's expense, well...maybe that'll teach her to knock next time. Or at least go easy on the pizza for a while.

Does that make Jessie an "asshole," or more of one than Kara at any rate? I dunno, you tell me! I think it's an open and interesting question, who among these characters is more and less "right" or sympathetic, especially as their relationships evolve.  

(Full disclosure: personally, I do think Tom is a sleazy P.O.S.)

[Matt L.]

I like how your story is evolving, the descriptions and dialogue top notch. 

[riptoryx]

51 minutes ago, Matt L. said:

I like how your story is evolving, the descriptions and dialogue top notch. 

Evolution, one belt notch at a time.

Thanks, Matt!