Picturing Perfect

[boss frond]

Wow, when it rains it pours, this is really really great.

[chrissy]

Just in case you needed help keeping score, here’s how things were with Zoey up to this point: looking larger after nearly a full year of lockdown in November (well, not quite a year I guess, but certainly feeling like it); noticeably larger still on the subsequent quarterly update, with C cups on camera and starting to get bolder, starting to send her UberEats; and in late May, larger still, going off cam at the corporate meeting but still sending bolder and bolder DM pictures, leading up to this latest late night apple fritter pic that highly suggested less and less control over her relationship with food, giving into her impulses at all hours. 

I looked at it in the early morning, glancing over at Emily next to me in her king size bed; I hadn’t done anything yet, but I knew what was likely to happen based on our months of flirting. I was genuinely a bit torn, until I realized the right answer was very much either not to think too much of it, or better yet not engage at all (and this didn’t feel realistic), given our workplace relationships. I briefly considered just outright telling Emily, but being as it was simply easier not to, well, I deferred it.

Hours later, Emily somehow looked lovelier still in the morning light over the whirr off grinding coffee beans; she stood in white underwear and a t-shirt by the National that was probably a bit oversize when she first got it, but was now looking decidedly tight. Scrolling through her phone — I noticed she even changed over to the plus sized phones —  and pursing her lips, I thought about how not even 24 hours ago I was privy only to the heavily presented version of herself on camera in a corporate meeting, a world away from this sight and somewhat miraculously looking a solid thirty pounds less than she truly was.

“So uh, a couple things,” Emily started. 

“Yeah,” I said, taking to the couch and looking over.

“One… here’s your coffee. Two… I had fun last night, but I guess to be straightforward and clear, I don’t want to make it weird between us at work. Well, I guess it’s a bit too late. But like, I’m not sure about like, anything like a relationship.” I nodded.

“And three… I AM going to lose weight. And I may or may not invite you back. But I do like you and you are fun, and a great colleague and dare I say, friend,” Emily finished.

“I… yeah, absolutely. Well I had a lot of fun and for whatever it’s worth, and not to be trite or cliche, but you’re beautiful regardless your size,” I said, a little awkwardly. Still true, I thought.

“Yeah, yeah,” Emily laughed. 

As we inched into the afternoon, I reluctantly let her know I would go, due to seeing family in an outdoor visit just out of town. The lies were already piling on, it seemed.

“Oh that sounds lovely.” She hesitated. “Well… don’t be a stranger, huh?” She went in for a hug, and I relished it, being unclear exactly when I might be able to feel her again, with a strange mix of sensuousness and genuine intimacy.

I gathered myself and hopped back in the Tesla, still revelling in the surreality of going from seeing no one in well over a year, to two highly suspect workplace-related encounters in a weekend.  

As the car edged up Polk street I felt my anticipation mount all over again. This time it was a semi-detached on a different but similarly canopied street. I tentatively walked up, and the door proactively opened. 

“Well hi,” Zoey said in the doorway—somehow looking even more out of control than Emily. I tried my hardest to hide my shock, even despite my anticipation, which visibly amused her.

“Would you be okay to come in first for a bit? I haven’t, um, eaten yet…”

[AllContrast]

I'm loving every installment of this story! Please keep going! 

[chrissy]

It was almost immediately obvious that every trick employed by Emily was taken up almost in parallel by Zoey on a long path of self-denial, albeit complicated somewhat by the fact that is was somewhat obvious that she was at least somewhat aware that I was into it. 

Her dark brown locks were done up in an impromptu ponytail; usually she went for a bit shorter, but the haircuts came a bit fewer and further between. Her face was even more penetrating than usual, for three reasons—the way the light of the morning bathed her face, the vivid liveliness of seeing her in person, and perhaps most of all, the tantalising contrast between her defiantly well-defined cheeks and chin and the way her curves had been allowed to swell under the confines of her ever-stretchier, darker wardrobe. 

The Zoey of 2019 would have been fine wearing light-washed Levis and just about any graphic tee. The woman that stood before me either knew better than to attempt that or didn’t yet have the confidence to. To be fair, it was in the end a pretty big change, and I was careful not to mention it or draw any more or less attention than she wanted. That being said—the apple fritter selfie and the little hints here and there in our unique semi-online relationship was kind of telling. 

“Hey, relax. Coffee?” 

I smiled, putting up my spring jacket. “I want to see all this barista gear you’ve been raving about,” I offered, doing my utmost not to glance at her inconspicuously. 

“There’s a Eames replica over there. Relax.” She paused a looked at me. “I’m a little worried we’re doing this but I know we both got tested recently and I guess it’s too late now.”

I grimaced a little. “I can put on my mask.”

“But then I can’t see your cute face.” I raised my eyebrows.

“Well then uh, here I am,” I laughed, raising my hands as if giving up.

“Indeed. So.” She paused, smiling at me. “Did you have breakfast? I can make omelettes.”

“Too kind—um, you know me well; I have once again skipped breakfast thus far.”

“Bad boy. Okay… feel free to throw something on as I go.”

“Well I mean, I can help, if you want.” She paused, looking at me.

“We can forget that you’re my boss, right?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” I pretended.

“Uhuh. We’ll figure it out. Here, grind these beans.”

As I got up and approached her, I found myself once again beside myself. What exactly was she thinking? Was she going to make a move? Did she care about her weight gain—either way? As I brushed by her, she grabbed my hands and turned me towards her.

“Hey,” she said. I hesitated, making pains again not to glance at her chest, which I guessed may just have reached the D-range. I placed my hands on her hips subconsciously; they felt like memory foam—pliable. There was definitely one or two layers underneath deftly holding her midriff in. I found myself suddenly very much alert, experiencing in my fingers what I once only imagined in a screenshot. She looked at me, smiling, knowing she had me right where she wanted me.

“I said grind the beans, silly,” she said as she let me go, and in a semi-daze I attempted to gather my senses enough to comply with the order. 

[EmilyIsCurvy]

So um... Just wanted to say I am pretty sure I am in this story? I'm DMing you.

[EmilyIsCurvy]

Apparently I can’t send DMs yet. Well my Kik is emilyiscurvy. I’m not necessarily mad just intrigued. 

[Guest Centurion]

12 hours ago, EmilyIsCurvy said:

So um... Just wanted to say I am pretty sure I am in this story? I'm DMing you.

Tell us more... this is an incredible revelation... I thought this was mere fiction

[EmilyIsCurvy]

4 hours ago, Centurion said:

Tell us more... this is an incredible revelation... I thought this was mere fiction

DM me or Kik me at emilyiscurvy. Not 100% comfortable here 

[chrissy]

“So,” I started, sitting in the Eames. Zoey sat across from me; both with coffees, post-omelettes and bacon. “Been a while since I’d actually, like, seen you.”

“You mean besides our quarterly meetings...” There was an awkward pause as she tried to casually flip her hair a bit; her arms momentarily succumbed to gravity as her newly acquired upper arm heft made a sneak appearance out of her otherwise demure, chastened sleeves of her flowy blouse.

“Can I see the famous camera?”

“Oh... yeah of course! It’s over there,” her eyes and a gentle head tilt gestured to a bookcase near the TV. “A Leica Q2... yeah, I went for it, haha.”

“Did you ever.” I got up. “May I?”

“Of course... be careful... of course you will. Haha, I guess I’m just not used to having people over, handling my stuff... I’ll get used to it...”

I inspected the camera duly and looked up, smiling. “Looks awesome. I bet you haven’t had much of a chance for anyone to take a picture of you?”

“Not with that camera anyway, haha...”

“Right, right. Well I think a photoshoot is long overdue.”

I fumbled at first with the controls, but quickly caught wind of the auto settings and went with that. I used the viewfinder anyway. 

“Bet we can have a lot of fun with this,” I offered. 

“... What did you have in mind?” Zoey said, an intriguing lilt and rise in her voice.

I paused. “Well... in photoshoots people often change outfits and whatnot, is that right?”

“Okay... right...” Zoey was smiling, slightly incredulous.

“So yeah, that would be fun. Choose whatever you want and you can make fun of me for my terrible photography instincts. Maybe there’ll even be a couple of keepers for you. Win-win.”

“Ha... not necessarily what I expected but I have to admit it sounds alright. Certainly a change of pace...”

“That’s the spirit. I’ll be here, maybe I’ll do a bit of work as you get changed.”

“Ugh, don’t work. Read up on cameras instead.” 

“Roger that.”

As Zoey left for her bedroom, I felt the excitement building in me. The tension was thick. Anything she showed up in other than what she already had was probably only going to show even more of her pandemic gain, I thought; watching her impressively sized-up derriere moving down the short hall to her room was just the beginning.

[chrissy]

“Okay… you ready?” Zoey shouted from her bedroom. 

The door opened. 

It was immediately apparent that, contrary to even what she met me in, most of Zoey’s outfits didn’t really fit anymore. Practically all of them from 2019, no doubt. The dark denim she had on was clinging for dear life around her hips, saved only by the black of what I assumed were Spanx or something like this; all her indulgences of the past year and half were held up and encased in a way that might have served to flatter her, say last fall, but now was getting less than discreet. 

I know this because, for whatever reason, she chose a shirt from work I knew and admired from fall 2019—the shirt she would often wear on Fridays, and often put away a doughnut in. It was somewhat loose then, with an orange pastel hue and buttoned, with semi-loose, short sleeves. 

None of that was the case anymore. Zoey’s boobs tightened the fabric to its limit; I was sure some kind of tape must have been used to keep it buttoned and shut at the top. Her upper arms looked uncomfortable, softness exploding out of the packed tubes. It was even easy to make out the upper midriff area above her Spanx—an extra, mini spare tire, the latest detail and maybe the greatest indication yet that Zoey was this close to spiralling completely out of control with her weight.

“Remember this one?” She broke me out of my reverie, gesturing to her shirt, understating the painfully obvious.

“I do. Even better than I remember.” I got up.

“Woah there buddy, weren’t you going to… take some pictures?” She smiled knowingly.

I nodded in attempt to be sage, but just ended up looking eager.

“I think I’m going to grind press some more beans. Want to document it? Could be fun.” She casually wandered back over to the grinder  set up near the kitchen island, and I casually wondered just how those jeans were able to take so much strain and stress. 

I obliged, doing my best to emulate a studied photographer, posing a bit dramatically to increased flair. 

“Oh my god, photographers are supposed to be discreet, not distracting!” Zoey laughed, shaking her head.

“Not as distracting as you might be at Starbucks, I’m sure,” I let out.

“Hmmm… that IS possible. Hey, you know what goes pretty darn well with coffee?”

“What’s that?”

“Hmmm… I’m almost ashamed to ask for it, but… doughnuts?” She dragged that last word with a hint of shyness. 

“I mean, they are a staple on a photoshoot set, am I right?”

“Right, right. Of course. Doing our duty…”

“Well then I guess you can call me patriotic, hahaha,” Zoey laughed, her constricted curves doing what they could in response.

“Well I’m not complaining,” I said, moving a little closer. Zoey looked me in the eyes.

“So…. Are you going to enjoy… watching me have them?”

“Always have.”

“Good… Keeping shooting, I’ll grind.”

This was going somewhere… 

[chrissy]

Wondering where this should go next — here is a poll 

 

http://www.strawpoll.me/45242793

 

can also DM me 😆

[chrissy]

We turned to keep chatting; I tried my utmost to forget the utter beauty laid out before eyes, as even if Zoey wanted to do something about it, it was just as clear that she was interested in toying with me a little. And whatever she wanted, I was game. 

“How many more months of lockdown do you think? Are we going to have a summer?” I said.

“Well… it’s all relative. The news says it’ll be a slow reopen, which makes sense. No one really knows what might happen…”

“Okay, fine, too serious. So how about future photography ambitions? Summer project? Ever wanted to shoot film?”

Zoey’s eyes lit up. “Oh my god, that’s brilliant. I think it would be super fun to see wha tit would be like to have to work with film, you know? Isn’t Fuji discontinuing the 400 film this year? I should stock up.”

“Where you you go?”

“I mean… if I could travel in the future that’s another thing, but you know, something simple. Mission District. I’m glad you’re genuinely into it, too… or at least did some research for me, haha.”

“A bit of column A…” I pulled out my phone.

“They’re at the door,” I said. 

I went over and brought them in. “So…” I laughed nervously.

“So… you sure you want to do this?” Zoey smiled.

“Do what? We’re just having a doughnut, right?” My heart rate quickened a little.

“Yeah. But can you handle it?” Zoey went closer to me and took my hand. Without thinking I reached out and touched her orange pastel shirt around her upper midriff. 

“So soft…” Zoey whispered as I felt myself rapidly stiffen. Even this relatively innocuous area of her body was plush and eminently pliable to the touch; I traced downwards and felt the seam of her Spanx.

“So you like it huh… bad boy, you’ve been enabling me for months now…” She smiled.

“I can’t deny, on top of being a wonderful person, your curves are looking amazing.”

“Ha… this is a little more than curves, hon.” The air of the apartment was full of coffee grinds and fresh doughnuts, but I was ** most by the boldness of Zoey’s self-admission and leading me right along. 

“So… how about a photoshoot in the bedroom? I think —“

I began to kiss her, moving my arms around her taut shirt and feeling even all the softness that had accumulated around her back. She kissed me deeper and pulled me in; my hands fumbled for the buttons of her shirt, methodically moving from one button to another, unwrapping her. I felt her begin to expand a little as the shirt relaxed its grip; her Spanx cut deep into her midriff, with a soft roll escaping it; the black material was the only thing stopping her from spilling over her undersized jeans even more. 

I took a Boston Cream and held it to her face. She ravenously took a bite as I moved to unbutton her jeans. I looked at the heaving mass of black fabric before me and look at her, biting my lip. She began to laboriously pull down her Spanx, revealing where most of the weight had gone over the past year and a half. Unbeknownst to me, Zoey’s belly and hips had always been the “problem area” for her; she was just ridiculously good at camouflaging it. Standing up, her stomach flowed in mesmerising, undulating lines, with her lower belly jutting out, and perilously close to hanging, sitting about even with her impressive DD chest. 

“Is it weird that I kinda like it?” Zoey said, wincing a little as if in response to her own question.

“No weirder than me, Zo. I’m having fun… thank you. You’re gorgeous.”

She looked at me then stared at the entertainment console for a second.

“Well, the bulge don’t lie.”

“You more than kinda like it.”

“Fine. I kinda really like it.”

“I’m sure there’s limits—”

“Stop talking.” She started walking to the bedroom, looking back at me.

[Zappy]

Well... this is getting good. Dayumn.
 

Nice one, @chrissy !

[chrissy]

“Do you have the camera… and doughnuts?” Zoey asked, now on all fours on her queen size bed, down to her undersized underwear. 

“Give me the chocolate glaze, babe.” 

I obliged, continuing to shoot photos on autofocus, my eye taking in every detail. I could hardly believe what I was doing and seeing — it was a long way even from the experience with Emily, whose hesitation was much more easily anticipated. I knew people like Zoey existed; I sensed some concern about letting it get too out of control — she wore Spanx, after all — and yet, at least this afternoon, she was completely and unrepentantly indulging with me. 

“What a dirty little secret we have here,” Zoey said, getting back up after her third doughnut and moving a hand to my pants, which had held stiff for a good twenty minutes at this point. “You’ve shown remarkably self control with me. Well, I guess you always have, haven’t you?”

I nodded, still kind of beside myself.

“Need some help, babe?”

She began to work her fingers into my belt, pulling my jeans down. 

“Hmmm… might be tasty if I put a doughnut on it. Shower after of course, haha.” She began to work her way into it, chewing and licking carefully.

“Mmmmm… damn you’re delicious. Why did I ever say no before? To you, to doughnuts…. to all these… mmm… curves…” Her voice lingered on the last word. Her tongue and mouth were now completely focused on me; I gripped her plush upper arms as I braced myself after months of fantasising and hours of foreplay. 

“I’ve been absolutely a terrible influence at work too, you know…” Zoey casually and slyly mentioned between her sucking. 

“Ugh…. Yeah?” was all I managed to get out. I focused on the way Zoey’s stomach folded and bulged out over her underwear as she sat one her knees on the bed, so far beyond what I had even imagined, her complementary cleavage jiggling inside her bra as she moved. 

“Mmmph… you know, back channel discussions… telling people we have time to lose it, body positivity, being kind to ourselves…”

“Why are you telling me this…”

“Well, I just think it’s kinda hot,” Zoey said, clearly enjoying her dominance over me.

“Haven’t you noticed anyone else… losing control?”

That shook me a bit out of my reverie. Did she know? “Um… maybe Emily, from advertising?” My heart was pounding.

“… Mmm, not who I had in mind, but now that you mention it those jacket sleeves were looking suspiciously full, and she did have that super subtle double chin going…” 

“Do you…. like that… too?” I managed, still in the thrall of Zoey giving me head. 

“Well, let me put it this way; I would look forward to seeing her back at the office…” 

This new revelation ratcheted things up to another level. 

“You and your friends out at the pub, post pandemic… so many new curves to keep under wraps, and unwrap…” I came.

“I must agree that is a sexy thought, haha,” Zoey laughed, falling on the bed with me. 

“You are a silly corporate higher up, mister. At least we both know how to have fun in our rather unique way.”

“At least,” I mustered, completely chilled. I glared over a Zoey, laying on her back with her stomach curving gently in and out with a hill just before her panty line and her upper arms holding that tell-tale juiciness and heft that women around thirty attempting to conceal recent weight and mostly fairly succeeding might belie at the bar, and wondered where things might be going from here, knowing just how unabashed she seemed to be about it all. 

[AllContrast]

Holy shit please post more! This is getting amazing 

[chrissy]

Just as soon as this had all happened, however—two encounters in one weekend like this was simply crazy—the other proverbial shoe dropped on Monday. 

The CEO announced a return to work plan. September, people would begin returning, with a full return by the end of October or sooner, if vaccinations permitted. Emily, I knew, already had such a return at the back of her head, at least intending a course for herself to get herself back down to at least a relatively minor difference from her pre-pandemic self. Zoey, it turned out, reacted after hearing the news, texting me.

“Hey. So.. I was thinking we should take a break from the takeout. And, I dunno... maybe a break. Maybe not. It’s just... really bad that you’re basically my boss. And... I’m not going to lie, I just don’t feel like buying a whole new wardrobe for September, hahaha.”

I sighed, nodding to myself. 

“You’re way more than right. This is what’s best for us, and you. Not to be hypocritical, but for your health. But, hey, I’d be open to a photo walk—not code for anything, haha.”

“Okay, I can deal with that.” 

A moment passed; I felt some tension.

“Guess it’s going to always be a little weird with our little secret, huh.”

I hesitated.

“I can roll with weird.”

“:)“

I decided to check in with Emily too. Just a simple “hey”. Somewhat oddly, there was no response—But I told myself not to think too much of it either way. None of that weekend was supposed to have happened, and her decisions were made under undue influence, I reasoned—not to mention the impending opening reinforcing and reminding us both of our professional boundaries, and how we look to others... the usual social pressures, which admittedly we would all need to adjust back to. 

I threw myself back into work and other daily life, catching up with friends and family and trying to begin to imagine a plan for the summer as more and more of us entered the other side of this crazy pandemic. I got my shot in mid-June, with another set for mid-July. A deep part of my was anxiously curious to see both Zoey and Emily again in August at what could be our last Zoom-based quarterly meeting; would we have gotten over what happened? Would it feel still too weird? Would it have felt more like a fever dream in some unspecified past? It already did, really.

Maybe as some kind of corrective to that weekend, I never did end up seeing either of them over the summer; seeing as that should have rightly been what happened given our relationships as colleagues, it wasn’t something to be disappointed by. Still, obviously, given a single encounter with the forbidden... I couldn’t help but imagine more from time to time.

The summer passed like nothing. More and more people filled the streets, restaurants, bars; I decided to bunk myself in an old favourite in a corner with an old fashioned and my laptop, ostensibly to work a little, but mostly to browse. Some reading, a few scheduled catch-up emails. I observed the bar, wishfully half-hoping Zoey or Emily might just so happen to appear there. It was a problem. 

I did notice the women, in general, were less swimsuit-ready (in the general parlance) this summer, and it seemed that Emily’s situation wasn’t so isolated.

One woman in particular I saw at the bar that mid-July bore many of the hallmark traits I saw in Emily at the last video call and upon first meeting her—a sliver, whisper of a double chin, managed by holding her neck slightly high; otherwise fairly well-defined cheeks giving way underneath to noticeably soft shoulders and a hint of cleavage, with the sleeves and the midriff and lower falling into a pointillistic mirage of turquoise ruffles, roughly matching her eyes and giving her lightly tanned, sun-kissed skin a gentle pop. Her auburn hair had a slightly frazzled look, suggesting a longer day out this Friday. The way her dark jeans extruded from the edges of the sturdy square bar stool gave the promise of more.

Needless to say, I was intrigued—not least for the marginally healthy idea of at least focusing my attention in a way that didn’t demand subterfuge regarding my fidelity at work—and wondering how I could possibly introduce myself.

Some fifteen minutes later, in the corner of my vision she got up for the bathroom; the rear view further confirmed my suspicion that she may have been contending with a relatively recent change in weight. 

Thinking I had little or nothing to lose, I moved my laptop setup to the bar and asked the bartender to give her a top up of her old fashioned on me. Casually glancing at my wrist in an effort to calm myself, it was around 9; the evening was youngish, not unlike her—perhaps late 20s or early 30s.

The minutes were long as my calm exterior typed and my insides flared. I kept open my work email.

Finally, she came; sat, glanced at the refill, and over to me, and I pretended not to notice.

“Hey,thanks.”

I glanced over, pausing too long. “Oh, um, that? don’t know how that got there.”

“Hey, you *probably* shouldn’t work while drinking.” Her mellifluous voice occupied a firm soprano register; the intoxicating sweetness further contrasted her face with, well, the rest of her. Her admonishing smile only solidified her charm. Usually, I was a cool person... but this was a lot.

I put my hands up. “You know? Right, what am I doing, it’s Friday and I’m at a bar, I almost forgot.”

“Mhm. You also forgot the fries with this drink,” she said demurely, resting her fingers on her cheek, her elbow to the bar. 

I called over the bartender and got right on it, probably over eager. There were a number of other people around and a fair amount of noise, but not yet pre-pandemic levels; it was enough to feel somewhat anonymous and intimate with her.

“So are you happy to get the jab, stranger?” She said, taking a sip of the new Old Fashioned, her arm visibly thickening as she pulled her glass up.

“Well, I’m here now, what’s not to like? It’s relieving. Some say we shouldn’t get back to normal... in some ways, I mean, yes please.”

She nodded, laughing a little. “It’s crazy, right? I just came here on a whim honestly, just because I can. Maybe meet a new person, who knows.”

“Who knows.” We locked eyes there for a moment, and five seconds turned into ten, turned into twenty. 

“So um, what do you do?” she finally asked, breaking out of the reverie. 

“Oh... gosh, you’ll be disappointed. Yuppie trash. Cloud company stuff. Used to write scripts though. In another life. Not professionally.”

“Write a script about a cloud company. Office 2.0. No. Too easy. Um... Like Superstore, except more Internet. No... or did you mean like artsy, waiting for Godot stuff?”

“Ahaha... Um, yes. I liked exploring.”

“Fair enough. I like exploring too.” She grazed my hand a little. It was electric.

“Um, so I’m in writing. Um, journalism. Freelance. And... I craft. Etsy store. I’m kind of all over the place and I love it, mostly.”

“What I should have done,” I said, smiling a little. 

“Top me up, good sir?” She pointed at her empty Old Fashioned, feigning puppy dog eyes. I noticed she had grazed a lot of fries over the past hour, as well.

“With pleasure, my lady.”

“I think... we’re going to have a lot of fun tonight. This is slightly ** me confessing, but... I can’t believe how cute you are.” 

She moved her delicate fingers and palm underneath the bar to my leg, giving a soft squeeze and sending me shivers.

 

[chrissy]

Taking suggestions on where to go next

http://www.strawpoll.me/45301415

[chrissy]

We chatted for another half hour before I finally realized I didn’t even know her name.

“Haha. Right... Meaghan. And you?”

I decided to take a quick bathroom break a few minutes after that, almost subconsciously diving into Instagram and seeing if any Meaghans might appear in a cursory search. Sure enough, she did... not following, which would be a little premature... I scrolled down her timeline. Sure enough, a thinner and lighter Meaghan dominated the timeline starting a couple of years back. It almost startled me how methodical the pandemic’s effect had been—maybe that, coupled with that initial descent into a 30s metabolism, I thought, playing off each other and giving a mutual, plausible deniability with only enabled women like Meaghan even further. I began to wonder if Emily and Zoey really had the discipline to make a hard 180 degree turn in time for September and beyond. 

I returned, and shortly after that, to my surprise, Meaghan cut me off. 

“Well it was really nice meeting you, and I’d like to do this again... as tempted as I admittedly am, I’m going to be blunt—I haven’t done one night stand type deals or gone to stranger’s homes before and I’m not about to start. I’m sure you understand.”

“I uh... yes, definitely.”

“Good.”

She got up and fixed her bag, reminding me of her mesmerizing ass—if my glances at Emily’s jeans on the floor that morning were any indication, looking like an overstuffed size 14. 

“Well... What’s your number? Or maybe you’ll find me here, same time next Friday. That could be fun.”

“I like it.”

“See you next time, my overworked friend.”

And with that, that dalliance disappeared into the humid mid-July SF night. 

*****

Much to my disappoint, Meaghan didn’t appear the following week—nor the week after. I had to wonder if the connection we experienced was ultimately felt in a decidedly one-sided way. 

As the calendar turned to August, I couldn’t help but feel at least a little shut out by the silence on Zoey and Emily’s end—since May, turning into almost three months, no less. I saw their emails on corporate correspondence form time to time, and again and again I deferred from reaching out. It wasn’t wanted, and it wasn’t needed, and it would probably have only given them grounds for getting me in trouble, and rightly so.

It was around August 21st, about a week before the quarterly meeting—blessedly, our last on Zoom (probably?)—that I, to my great surprise, finally got a reply from Emily—a chasm in timestamps on the chat, from late May to late August.

“Hey you.”

I paused, wondering how to respond. I decided for honesty. 

“Thought you’d never reply.”

“I wasn’t going to”

I watched the three dots indicating typing progress breathlessly.

“But,” she continued,

“I needed to take my mind off of things...”

“And you’re pretty fun”

“So if you wanted to get yourself to the Alchemist in an hour I might be there”

“And yes, I’m high”

“And yes, I might change my mind”

“See you in a bit,” I typed carefully for some reason; my heart was pounding. 

It was about 8pm already; I drove in the light of sunset, feeling pretty confident that if Emily wanted to meet out of nowhere, high, she just might be looking for a repeat of previous events. 

I entered the bar, scanning for where Emily might have sat herself. When I saw her on her phone at a booth, I could immediately tell why she had decided to text me out of the blue.

Not only had Emily’s diet failed—it failed spectacularly.

[Guest Glamour_Models_Getting_Fat]

Superb story

[chrissy]

You might need a reminder at this point at just how much had changed with Emily over the past few years—as I mentioned, maybe 155 on joining the company; 175 by the time we lightly made out in late 2019, and on our more serious tryst a few months ago, I’d estimated she’s added another thirty; COVID had evidently made a serious dent in her routine, and accelerated the already increasingly obvious trend. 

Being on the taller side helped, but not necessarily much. Her sliver of a double chin appeared a little more often as her head moved, and I estimated in stark contrast with her stated intentions to begin to lose it, she had possibly slipped on another ten or even fifteen pounds. It might even have been more my imagination, granted, but she certainly wasn’t getting any smaller, despite (apparently) her best efforts. At a glance, it seemed to mostly just help her cleavage—not that it needed helping—but I knew for a fact that it had done more. These things have a way of happening slowly, bit by bit, and then all at once. 

The same loose, black fabric I previously saw her in decorated her constricted middle—apparently still pretending she was merely remarkably curvy, but firmly in the “normal range”, rather than the clearly bigger girl awakening insider her as she ventured through her early thirties—and the same size 14 jeans looked more strained than ever. 

“So….” Emily started, looking up at me inquisitively, eyebrows raised, “I see you’ve met my friend Meaghan?”

[chrissy]

“I uh… It could be a remarkable a coincidence, but yeah, I happened to meet a Meaghan here a sort while back,” I said, startled. 

“Okay, well I’m just going to tell you. I may have told her you’re my boyfriend.”

“I um… alright.” I was frazzled. Confused. I knew—we knew—that not only wasn’t right, but couldn’t be, and yet I was more amused than angered by Emily’s blatant lie. After all, my own morality was being pushed and stretched by my own decisions to go around the company as I was. And I did find myself enamoured by Emily, maybe as much for her unattainability as the allure of her unexplored curves.

Emily sighed, tapping a finger on the table. “Yeah. And uh… since I’m telling you everything… Zoey told me about you. Not the kinky part. Not sure what’s happening there, but I can hazard a guess… I didn’t tell her about us. I think it’s mostly pretty harmless, you know? I guess I wish I’d found that out another way, but at the same time the whole thing’s a little blurry, huh? And on top of that, I kept thinking about that night. And then Meaghan met you, and… I don’t know. I’m sorry?”

I stared out at the bar, wondering what to say. It may have been better to cut things off right there, seeing as once again Emily was in the company, and nothing good could eventually come of this as long as that fact were true at the very least, and it was both disappointing and an elation to hear her reaction to Meaghan. 

“I… don’t know what this is, and I don’t think you do either. Does that scare you? Thrill you?” I reached out for Emily’s hand and we touched.

“Haha, well… I’m glad I told you that stuff first of all. And no… it’s fun. I say don’t overthink it. Overthinking it leads to getting down on yourself. Diets.”

“Fuck diets,” I said.

“That being said…” Emily continued, “… Going back into the office is going to be SO awk. Ward. Although, like I said, I am by far the only one.”

“You’re going to be just fine.”

“Ugh, that is exactly what you would say. And yet.”

“And yet.”

Emily sighed again. “I should tell Meagan we broke up. But I do want to keep seeing you. Ugh, why does potentially being a mistress have to be so complicated?”

“No, you’re right. I mean. We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“He said, while holding her hand and continuing to eye her up and down.”

“Damn it.”

“I know,” Emily laughed, her body softly shaking in a way that was not helping the situation whatsoever.

“Okay, well. Why don’t we put all that aside and enjoy tonight and go from there? We’re here, we’re adults. Whatever happens next… I’m glad you’re being honest. I’ll try to be more honest too.”

“I mean I get it. This never happened, right? So…”

“Overthinking, Emily.”

“Right, right. Haha. Let’s get some beers and talk about TV, shall we?”

The night continued on like this to more pedestrian topics. It was mostly like I was catching up with a colleague, which I was, but there remained that weird subtext and friction. I wondered just how much she really wanted me, why, and whether or not she might have been seeing me as a person who’d appreciate her body as it was, or if her attitudes about it were truly shifting a little, whether she wanted to admit it or not. And Zoey remained a mystery; I didn’t want to ask. 

[Guest Glamour_Models_Getting_Fat]

This is an incredible story. 

[chrissy]

A couple more polls (sorry not sorry)

Who do you want to see more of: https://strawpoll.com/rdqoqej1p

What's your ideal eventual weight on a girl: https://strawpoll.com/fzabz3drz

Ideal body shape: https://strawpoll.com/hr7b53qrr

[Guest Glamour_Models_Getting_Fat]

I want to see one of the characters try to hide her gain by wearing a girdle, which then bursts when she’s in a meeting. 

[Guest Centurion92]

On 5/28/2021 at 6:40 AM, chrissy said:

A couple more polls (sorry not sorry)

Who do you want to see more of: https://strawpoll.com/rdqoqej1p

What's your ideal eventual weight on a girl: https://strawpoll.com/fzabz3drz

Ideal body shape: https://strawpoll.com/hr7b53qrr

Can we get an update please?