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swahilimonkfish

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  1. Thanks
    swahilimonkfish reacted to Seraph in Bluebell's 2019   
    Wow! This is one of the best WG stories I've ever read! I love how it mirrors the current world -- it almost makes them feel like real people. I'm so glad you decided to continue, especially when we all need some comfort right now. Thank you! 💛
  2. Hot
    swahilimonkfish got a reaction from Seraph in Bluebell's 2019   
    May 2020***
     
     
    “Hey, don’t judge me, I’m on a diet!” Bluebell said down the barrel of her laptop’s camera as she lay on her bed looking up at it.
    “What diet? The nicotine diet? Smoke Yourself Skinny? That’s not a diet, Blue” Bosh smiled back via the Facebook chat that they had going on.
    “It’s a thing! You smoke more when you would otherwise snack. Like, you know when you’re not really thinking about it and then you look up and all of a sudden, you’re halfway through a pack of doughnuts…?” Bluebell explained, stubbing her cigarette out on her precariously balanced ashtray.
    “Not as well as you do...”
    “Well, it’s like that. But instead of doughnuts, it’s cancer sticks. Which is an improvement, apparently” Bluebell giggled, pulling another cigarette out and lighting it.
    “And… does it work? Have you been snacking less?”
    Bluebell looked around, checking that her bedroom door was closed. Then she lowered and quietened her voice, as if she feared her room was bugged.
    “No, not really”
    Bosh burst into laughter at this confession, a snorting laugh that Bluebell hadn’t heard in a long time. It used to annoy her, Bosh’s snorting laugh. It didn’t any more, now it was gone.
    “Oh Blue! How? I thought you swore to your parents that you would?”
    “Promise not to judge?”
    “No. No I do not. I do not promise not to judge. You are going to tell me and I am gonna judge you soooo much for it” Bosh felt the wideness of her smile stretch her mouth. It had been a long time since she had smiled so much.
    “Fiiine. But you cannot tell a soul. If my parents find out, they will kill me. Literally. And if they do kill me, I’ll be forced to haunt you. And I’ll spend the rest of my ghostly days pushing books of your bookshelf or whatever it is ghosts do” Bluebell was smiling too, even if she was trying to be a bit more serious.
    “Fine. I’ll not tell anyone”
    “Look, my plan was to… Smoke Myself Skinny. Is that what you called it? Yeah, that. And my mum and dad have been so supportive and I’ve been eating loads more vegetables. Like, I had okra the other day. I’ve never even heard of okra. I thought okra was a colour?”
    “Fucking hell Blue” Bosh giggled.
    “It’s not. It’s a vegetable. And it tastes like licking out the arsehole of Satan, it’s horrible. But… I tried it. So that counts. But, after a week or so, I just started to let my standards slip...” Bluebell confessed sheepishly.
    “You had standards?”
    “Fuck you!” Bluebell laughed. “My mistake? I didn’t tell the people at work I was dieting. So when I started cheating on it, they didn’t nag me about it. So work became my safe place, and I started eating bits and pieces again and… look, I don’t know how it happened. I’d think to myself ‘well it’s okay to eat like that at work...’ and I’d eat more and more. You know, try to cram it in while I was there because I knew that I couldn’t eat at home. It was stupid but you start thinking in those terms. Get your timesworth. I started looking forward to work because I was looking forward to bingeing. And now, I’m back to sneaking stuff home and bingeing in my room on the sly again. And I can’t admit it to my dad, because I’m betraying everything he has said and done. I mean, he’s quit smoking for fuck sake. And I can’t even quite fucking Cadbury’s!”
    Bluebell took a deep sigh after that, her mood completely turned.
    “Well, look. If it’s any consolation, with you lying on your bed like that, I can see right down your top and it’s a flattering perspective Blue. The weight has gone to all of the right places” Bosh teased, trying to keep things light. Or, at least, lighter than Blue was.
    “Yeah, it’s some consolation” Bluebell giggled.
    “But seriously, you should tell him. He’ll understand. He’s probably smoking and afraid to tell you he’s not quit. So tell him”
    “Thanks Bosh. You always did know how to cut through an issue”.
    “So, changing subject… what did you think about that Dominic Cummings fucker? Up and down the country like a whore’s drawers” Bosh asked, conspiratorially.
    “He’s an absolute… wait a minute. Since when did you care about politics?” Bluebell asked, cottoning on to what Bosh had just said.
    “Well, it’s not really politics is it? And it’s not like there’s been much on the TV apart from Corona News 24. And… sometimes people change Blue. Not that you’d know” Bosh smirked back.
    “Oh ha ha. I just never thought I’d hear you talk about anything current affairs based unless the person involved was hot” Bluebell jibed back.
    “That doesn’t sound like me” Bosh joked. “Fine. It does sound like me. But I’ve changed a lot this past year too. I really have. You’d be impressed”.
    “Would I?” Blue shuffled on her bed covers to get herself comfortable.
    “Yeah, I’m sober. I know how to do the worm...”
    “The worm?”
    “Yeah watch” and Bosh stepped back from the camera and performed a rudimentary intepretation of the 90s dance move. “See? How do you like them apples?”
    “I like them a lot. That was awesome”
    “You probably noticed another change too...”
    Bluebell paused, and squinted at the laptop monitor to know avail.
    “No, sorry. Your hair’s a bit longer I guess...”
    “Look, I’ll tell you but… you have to promise not to judge me” Bosh said, tentatively.
    “No chance. I am so gonna judge you, after you judged me”
    “Yeah, but that was joking. This is actually serious” Bosh asserted.
    “Oh, and mine was joking was it? And yours is...”
    “Seriously, Blue. Please”
    Bluebell paused a second, gathering herself after the constant titter of laughter that talking with Bosh these days provided.
    “Fine. I’m sorry, Bosh. What is it that you wanted to tell me? I promise not to judge” Bluebell said, offering a friendly smile.
    Bosh paused, fidgeting as she sat and not looking at the screen for a bit.
    “Well then… what is it?” Bluebell prodded.
    “I’ve gained weight”
    “What? Bosh? Gained weight? Oh my god, that is the funniest thing I’ve heard all day. You? You’ve actually gained weight. Oh, that is hilarious!” Bluebell hooted with laughter, rolling around on her bed as she did.
    “Fuck off. Not a lot of weight. Less than you for sure” Bosh said, trying to keep things light again, but only to hide the fact that it hurt.
    “I’ve been on a diet remember. I haven’t gained weight” Bluebell retorted with a tongue stuck out in riposte.
    “Yeah, a shit diet. So you’re saying I’ve gained more weight than you this month?”
    “Probably not. I’m still up another 6lbs. Which is actually quite good for me. I’m starting to flatten the curve, I think” Bluebell admitted. “I’m a slight thing of just 265lbs”.
    Bluebell rested the laptop on her bed and stood back into the centre of her room, so Bosh could see everything that Bluebell had going for her. She could say her face in full. The longer, dark hair untreated by a hairdresser for several months now, drifting down along her spine. Her eyes behind round glasses, her chin melting into her neck and widening at her jaw. Below that, Bosh could see her entire body, concealed in nighttime pjs that were not purchased with flattery in mind. The second roll of her stomach swung underneath the lower hem of her top, and over the tassels of her bottoms. Her legs seemed to bulge out of her leg holes. Bosh’s eyes danced up and down her body.
    “Like what you see?”
    Bosh blushed.
    “Well that’s actually cheered me up a bit. But only a bit. I’ve gained 11lbs since lockdown started. Well onto gaining the ‘Covid 19’. Can’t wait for all this to be over. Look Blue. Look. These used to be abs” Bosh pulled back from the camera and pulled up her shirt. Her midriff was still thin, but the sculpture of it had dissipated.
    “Awww, I liked your abs as well” Bluebell whined, mockingly.
    “Fuck you. Wait til I push my stomach out. Look” and Bosh pushed it out as far as she could. It stuck out slightly further, but little more than that. “I’m fat.”
    “If that’s fat, then what am I?” Bluebell commented.
    “Oh, come on, don’t be like that. You know, I’ve kinda gotten used to you being chonky. It’s become part of your charm” Bosh argued.
    “It really is, isn’t it? So, what does your girlfriend think about you blimping up? Whatever her name was, the pretty thing. Rose? Petunia? Tulip? Rhododendron?” Bluebell asked.
    “Her name was Lily and… yeah, we’re not together any more. It just… it didn’t work out” Bosh said, sorrowfully.
    “Well, doesn’t look like you’ve been working out either” Bluebell joked, before realising Bosh wasn’t in such a playful mood. “Oh, I’m sorry Bosh. I really am. Did you really like her then?”
    “Honestly, no. I mean, I knew I was supposed to. But my heart wasn’t in it. So I’m kinda pissed off with myself for being upset. But here I fucking am. It makes no sense” Bosh sighed, her face petrified still.
    “Well, there’s plenty more fish in the sea. And whales too, if you’re interested?” Bluebell joked, but Bosh just looked up, eyes wide.
    “You know I love you, don’t you Blue?”
    “Yeah. I do. And I love you too Bosh. Even though you are getting a bit big for my tastes” Bluebell cracked a smile and, begrudgingly, Bosh did too.
    “Fuck you”
    “I mean, you’ve just let yourself go Bosh. 11lbs? I mean, how do you even fit through doors?” Bluebell continued to tease.
    “Alright, enough teasing. And is the door thing even a thing that happens?”
    “I mean, dunno. I don’t think so. God, imagine being so big that you can’t even fit through doors” Bluebell laughed.
    “You’ll get there eventually” Bosh sassed back.
    “Oh, it’s like that, is it? I’m flattening my curve, remember?”
    “There’s nothing flat about you”
    “Says the woman who’s gained 11lbs”
    “Says the woman who’s gained 140”
    “Fuck you Bosh”
    “Fuck you Blue”
    “And now we’re coming out of lockdown, maybe we should meet up. It would be nice seeing you in the flesh. I’ve kinda missed you Bosh”
    “Yeah. That actually sounds good. Not a date though. Just old friends. Meeting up”
    “Yeah, exactly. Old friends. Big appetites”
    “Well, let me know when and I’ll see you then. Gotta go, ordering pizza”
    And Bluebell waved goodbye, and closed the ta on her browser. She put her laptop down by the side of her bed and lay on her back. Slowly, her stomach started rippling as she built up to a canter of a giggle, thinking about Bosh gaining weight and responding by ordering pizza. The thought of Bosh being anything other than skinny. Then, her hand fell down the side of her bed, and towards her handbag. She knew that in there was a Crunchie bar multipack. She picked it up and held it, biting her lip as she did. And then she put it back in her bag, and pulled out her cigarettes instead. Maybe she really could smoke herself skinny after all.
  3. Like
    swahilimonkfish got a reaction from xandercroft in Bluebell's 2019   
    Cheers mate, appreciate it. And you stay safe too during these times
  4. Thanks
    swahilimonkfish got a reaction from dania201 in Bluebell's 2019   
    Thanks for the kind words, your support through writing all this has been immense
  5. Thanks
    swahilimonkfish reacted to xandercroft in Bluebell's 2019   
    You are a great writer monkfish. You deserve the support. Stay safe and be well. 
     
  6. Hot
    swahilimonkfish got a reaction from Pietro in Bluebell's 2019   
    May 2020***
     
     
    “Hey, don’t judge me, I’m on a diet!” Bluebell said down the barrel of her laptop’s camera as she lay on her bed looking up at it.
    “What diet? The nicotine diet? Smoke Yourself Skinny? That’s not a diet, Blue” Bosh smiled back via the Facebook chat that they had going on.
    “It’s a thing! You smoke more when you would otherwise snack. Like, you know when you’re not really thinking about it and then you look up and all of a sudden, you’re halfway through a pack of doughnuts…?” Bluebell explained, stubbing her cigarette out on her precariously balanced ashtray.
    “Not as well as you do...”
    “Well, it’s like that. But instead of doughnuts, it’s cancer sticks. Which is an improvement, apparently” Bluebell giggled, pulling another cigarette out and lighting it.
    “And… does it work? Have you been snacking less?”
    Bluebell looked around, checking that her bedroom door was closed. Then she lowered and quietened her voice, as if she feared her room was bugged.
    “No, not really”
    Bosh burst into laughter at this confession, a snorting laugh that Bluebell hadn’t heard in a long time. It used to annoy her, Bosh’s snorting laugh. It didn’t any more, now it was gone.
    “Oh Blue! How? I thought you swore to your parents that you would?”
    “Promise not to judge?”
    “No. No I do not. I do not promise not to judge. You are going to tell me and I am gonna judge you soooo much for it” Bosh felt the wideness of her smile stretch her mouth. It had been a long time since she had smiled so much.
    “Fiiine. But you cannot tell a soul. If my parents find out, they will kill me. Literally. And if they do kill me, I’ll be forced to haunt you. And I’ll spend the rest of my ghostly days pushing books of your bookshelf or whatever it is ghosts do” Bluebell was smiling too, even if she was trying to be a bit more serious.
    “Fine. I’ll not tell anyone”
    “Look, my plan was to… Smoke Myself Skinny. Is that what you called it? Yeah, that. And my mum and dad have been so supportive and I’ve been eating loads more vegetables. Like, I had okra the other day. I’ve never even heard of okra. I thought okra was a colour?”
    “Fucking hell Blue” Bosh giggled.
    “It’s not. It’s a vegetable. And it tastes like licking out the arsehole of Satan, it’s horrible. But… I tried it. So that counts. But, after a week or so, I just started to let my standards slip...” Bluebell confessed sheepishly.
    “You had standards?”
    “Fuck you!” Bluebell laughed. “My mistake? I didn’t tell the people at work I was dieting. So when I started cheating on it, they didn’t nag me about it. So work became my safe place, and I started eating bits and pieces again and… look, I don’t know how it happened. I’d think to myself ‘well it’s okay to eat like that at work...’ and I’d eat more and more. You know, try to cram it in while I was there because I knew that I couldn’t eat at home. It was stupid but you start thinking in those terms. Get your timesworth. I started looking forward to work because I was looking forward to bingeing. And now, I’m back to sneaking stuff home and bingeing in my room on the sly again. And I can’t admit it to my dad, because I’m betraying everything he has said and done. I mean, he’s quit smoking for fuck sake. And I can’t even quite fucking Cadbury’s!”
    Bluebell took a deep sigh after that, her mood completely turned.
    “Well, look. If it’s any consolation, with you lying on your bed like that, I can see right down your top and it’s a flattering perspective Blue. The weight has gone to all of the right places” Bosh teased, trying to keep things light. Or, at least, lighter than Blue was.
    “Yeah, it’s some consolation” Bluebell giggled.
    “But seriously, you should tell him. He’ll understand. He’s probably smoking and afraid to tell you he’s not quit. So tell him”
    “Thanks Bosh. You always did know how to cut through an issue”.
    “So, changing subject… what did you think about that Dominic Cummings fucker? Up and down the country like a whore’s drawers” Bosh asked, conspiratorially.
    “He’s an absolute… wait a minute. Since when did you care about politics?” Bluebell asked, cottoning on to what Bosh had just said.
    “Well, it’s not really politics is it? And it’s not like there’s been much on the TV apart from Corona News 24. And… sometimes people change Blue. Not that you’d know” Bosh smirked back.
    “Oh ha ha. I just never thought I’d hear you talk about anything current affairs based unless the person involved was hot” Bluebell jibed back.
    “That doesn’t sound like me” Bosh joked. “Fine. It does sound like me. But I’ve changed a lot this past year too. I really have. You’d be impressed”.
    “Would I?” Blue shuffled on her bed covers to get herself comfortable.
    “Yeah, I’m sober. I know how to do the worm...”
    “The worm?”
    “Yeah watch” and Bosh stepped back from the camera and performed a rudimentary intepretation of the 90s dance move. “See? How do you like them apples?”
    “I like them a lot. That was awesome”
    “You probably noticed another change too...”
    Bluebell paused, and squinted at the laptop monitor to know avail.
    “No, sorry. Your hair’s a bit longer I guess...”
    “Look, I’ll tell you but… you have to promise not to judge me” Bosh said, tentatively.
    “No chance. I am so gonna judge you, after you judged me”
    “Yeah, but that was joking. This is actually serious” Bosh asserted.
    “Oh, and mine was joking was it? And yours is...”
    “Seriously, Blue. Please”
    Bluebell paused a second, gathering herself after the constant titter of laughter that talking with Bosh these days provided.
    “Fine. I’m sorry, Bosh. What is it that you wanted to tell me? I promise not to judge” Bluebell said, offering a friendly smile.
    Bosh paused, fidgeting as she sat and not looking at the screen for a bit.
    “Well then… what is it?” Bluebell prodded.
    “I’ve gained weight”
    “What? Bosh? Gained weight? Oh my god, that is the funniest thing I’ve heard all day. You? You’ve actually gained weight. Oh, that is hilarious!” Bluebell hooted with laughter, rolling around on her bed as she did.
    “Fuck off. Not a lot of weight. Less than you for sure” Bosh said, trying to keep things light again, but only to hide the fact that it hurt.
    “I’ve been on a diet remember. I haven’t gained weight” Bluebell retorted with a tongue stuck out in riposte.
    “Yeah, a shit diet. So you’re saying I’ve gained more weight than you this month?”
    “Probably not. I’m still up another 6lbs. Which is actually quite good for me. I’m starting to flatten the curve, I think” Bluebell admitted. “I’m a slight thing of just 265lbs”.
    Bluebell rested the laptop on her bed and stood back into the centre of her room, so Bosh could see everything that Bluebell had going for her. She could say her face in full. The longer, dark hair untreated by a hairdresser for several months now, drifting down along her spine. Her eyes behind round glasses, her chin melting into her neck and widening at her jaw. Below that, Bosh could see her entire body, concealed in nighttime pjs that were not purchased with flattery in mind. The second roll of her stomach swung underneath the lower hem of her top, and over the tassels of her bottoms. Her legs seemed to bulge out of her leg holes. Bosh’s eyes danced up and down her body.
    “Like what you see?”
    Bosh blushed.
    “Well that’s actually cheered me up a bit. But only a bit. I’ve gained 11lbs since lockdown started. Well onto gaining the ‘Covid 19’. Can’t wait for all this to be over. Look Blue. Look. These used to be abs” Bosh pulled back from the camera and pulled up her shirt. Her midriff was still thin, but the sculpture of it had dissipated.
    “Awww, I liked your abs as well” Bluebell whined, mockingly.
    “Fuck you. Wait til I push my stomach out. Look” and Bosh pushed it out as far as she could. It stuck out slightly further, but little more than that. “I’m fat.”
    “If that’s fat, then what am I?” Bluebell commented.
    “Oh, come on, don’t be like that. You know, I’ve kinda gotten used to you being chonky. It’s become part of your charm” Bosh argued.
    “It really is, isn’t it? So, what does your girlfriend think about you blimping up? Whatever her name was, the pretty thing. Rose? Petunia? Tulip? Rhododendron?” Bluebell asked.
    “Her name was Lily and… yeah, we’re not together any more. It just… it didn’t work out” Bosh said, sorrowfully.
    “Well, doesn’t look like you’ve been working out either” Bluebell joked, before realising Bosh wasn’t in such a playful mood. “Oh, I’m sorry Bosh. I really am. Did you really like her then?”
    “Honestly, no. I mean, I knew I was supposed to. But my heart wasn’t in it. So I’m kinda pissed off with myself for being upset. But here I fucking am. It makes no sense” Bosh sighed, her face petrified still.
    “Well, there’s plenty more fish in the sea. And whales too, if you’re interested?” Bluebell joked, but Bosh just looked up, eyes wide.
    “You know I love you, don’t you Blue?”
    “Yeah. I do. And I love you too Bosh. Even though you are getting a bit big for my tastes” Bluebell cracked a smile and, begrudgingly, Bosh did too.
    “Fuck you”
    “I mean, you’ve just let yourself go Bosh. 11lbs? I mean, how do you even fit through doors?” Bluebell continued to tease.
    “Alright, enough teasing. And is the door thing even a thing that happens?”
    “I mean, dunno. I don’t think so. God, imagine being so big that you can’t even fit through doors” Bluebell laughed.
    “You’ll get there eventually” Bosh sassed back.
    “Oh, it’s like that, is it? I’m flattening my curve, remember?”
    “There’s nothing flat about you”
    “Says the woman who’s gained 11lbs”
    “Says the woman who’s gained 140”
    “Fuck you Bosh”
    “Fuck you Blue”
    “And now we’re coming out of lockdown, maybe we should meet up. It would be nice seeing you in the flesh. I’ve kinda missed you Bosh”
    “Yeah. That actually sounds good. Not a date though. Just old friends. Meeting up”
    “Yeah, exactly. Old friends. Big appetites”
    “Well, let me know when and I’ll see you then. Gotta go, ordering pizza”
    And Bluebell waved goodbye, and closed the ta on her browser. She put her laptop down by the side of her bed and lay on her back. Slowly, her stomach started rippling as she built up to a canter of a giggle, thinking about Bosh gaining weight and responding by ordering pizza. The thought of Bosh being anything other than skinny. Then, her hand fell down the side of her bed, and towards her handbag. She knew that in there was a Crunchie bar multipack. She picked it up and held it, biting her lip as she did. And then she put it back in her bag, and pulled out her cigarettes instead. Maybe she really could smoke herself skinny after all.
  7. Like
    swahilimonkfish got a reaction from xandercroft in Bluebell's 2019   
    Thanks for the kind words, your support through writing all this has been immense
  8. Like
    swahilimonkfish got a reaction from ShrubberyLogistic in Bluebell's 2019   
    May 2020***
     
     
    “Hey, don’t judge me, I’m on a diet!” Bluebell said down the barrel of her laptop’s camera as she lay on her bed looking up at it.
    “What diet? The nicotine diet? Smoke Yourself Skinny? That’s not a diet, Blue” Bosh smiled back via the Facebook chat that they had going on.
    “It’s a thing! You smoke more when you would otherwise snack. Like, you know when you’re not really thinking about it and then you look up and all of a sudden, you’re halfway through a pack of doughnuts…?” Bluebell explained, stubbing her cigarette out on her precariously balanced ashtray.
    “Not as well as you do...”
    “Well, it’s like that. But instead of doughnuts, it’s cancer sticks. Which is an improvement, apparently” Bluebell giggled, pulling another cigarette out and lighting it.
    “And… does it work? Have you been snacking less?”
    Bluebell looked around, checking that her bedroom door was closed. Then she lowered and quietened her voice, as if she feared her room was bugged.
    “No, not really”
    Bosh burst into laughter at this confession, a snorting laugh that Bluebell hadn’t heard in a long time. It used to annoy her, Bosh’s snorting laugh. It didn’t any more, now it was gone.
    “Oh Blue! How? I thought you swore to your parents that you would?”
    “Promise not to judge?”
    “No. No I do not. I do not promise not to judge. You are going to tell me and I am gonna judge you soooo much for it” Bosh felt the wideness of her smile stretch her mouth. It had been a long time since she had smiled so much.
    “Fiiine. But you cannot tell a soul. If my parents find out, they will kill me. Literally. And if they do kill me, I’ll be forced to haunt you. And I’ll spend the rest of my ghostly days pushing books of your bookshelf or whatever it is ghosts do” Bluebell was smiling too, even if she was trying to be a bit more serious.
    “Fine. I’ll not tell anyone”
    “Look, my plan was to… Smoke Myself Skinny. Is that what you called it? Yeah, that. And my mum and dad have been so supportive and I’ve been eating loads more vegetables. Like, I had okra the other day. I’ve never even heard of okra. I thought okra was a colour?”
    “Fucking hell Blue” Bosh giggled.
    “It’s not. It’s a vegetable. And it tastes like licking out the arsehole of Satan, it’s horrible. But… I tried it. So that counts. But, after a week or so, I just started to let my standards slip...” Bluebell confessed sheepishly.
    “You had standards?”
    “Fuck you!” Bluebell laughed. “My mistake? I didn’t tell the people at work I was dieting. So when I started cheating on it, they didn’t nag me about it. So work became my safe place, and I started eating bits and pieces again and… look, I don’t know how it happened. I’d think to myself ‘well it’s okay to eat like that at work...’ and I’d eat more and more. You know, try to cram it in while I was there because I knew that I couldn’t eat at home. It was stupid but you start thinking in those terms. Get your timesworth. I started looking forward to work because I was looking forward to bingeing. And now, I’m back to sneaking stuff home and bingeing in my room on the sly again. And I can’t admit it to my dad, because I’m betraying everything he has said and done. I mean, he’s quit smoking for fuck sake. And I can’t even quite fucking Cadbury’s!”
    Bluebell took a deep sigh after that, her mood completely turned.
    “Well, look. If it’s any consolation, with you lying on your bed like that, I can see right down your top and it’s a flattering perspective Blue. The weight has gone to all of the right places” Bosh teased, trying to keep things light. Or, at least, lighter than Blue was.
    “Yeah, it’s some consolation” Bluebell giggled.
    “But seriously, you should tell him. He’ll understand. He’s probably smoking and afraid to tell you he’s not quit. So tell him”
    “Thanks Bosh. You always did know how to cut through an issue”.
    “So, changing subject… what did you think about that Dominic Cummings fucker? Up and down the country like a whore’s drawers” Bosh asked, conspiratorially.
    “He’s an absolute… wait a minute. Since when did you care about politics?” Bluebell asked, cottoning on to what Bosh had just said.
    “Well, it’s not really politics is it? And it’s not like there’s been much on the TV apart from Corona News 24. And… sometimes people change Blue. Not that you’d know” Bosh smirked back.
    “Oh ha ha. I just never thought I’d hear you talk about anything current affairs based unless the person involved was hot” Bluebell jibed back.
    “That doesn’t sound like me” Bosh joked. “Fine. It does sound like me. But I’ve changed a lot this past year too. I really have. You’d be impressed”.
    “Would I?” Blue shuffled on her bed covers to get herself comfortable.
    “Yeah, I’m sober. I know how to do the worm...”
    “The worm?”
    “Yeah watch” and Bosh stepped back from the camera and performed a rudimentary intepretation of the 90s dance move. “See? How do you like them apples?”
    “I like them a lot. That was awesome”
    “You probably noticed another change too...”
    Bluebell paused, and squinted at the laptop monitor to know avail.
    “No, sorry. Your hair’s a bit longer I guess...”
    “Look, I’ll tell you but… you have to promise not to judge me” Bosh said, tentatively.
    “No chance. I am so gonna judge you, after you judged me”
    “Yeah, but that was joking. This is actually serious” Bosh asserted.
    “Oh, and mine was joking was it? And yours is...”
    “Seriously, Blue. Please”
    Bluebell paused a second, gathering herself after the constant titter of laughter that talking with Bosh these days provided.
    “Fine. I’m sorry, Bosh. What is it that you wanted to tell me? I promise not to judge” Bluebell said, offering a friendly smile.
    Bosh paused, fidgeting as she sat and not looking at the screen for a bit.
    “Well then… what is it?” Bluebell prodded.
    “I’ve gained weight”
    “What? Bosh? Gained weight? Oh my god, that is the funniest thing I’ve heard all day. You? You’ve actually gained weight. Oh, that is hilarious!” Bluebell hooted with laughter, rolling around on her bed as she did.
    “Fuck off. Not a lot of weight. Less than you for sure” Bosh said, trying to keep things light again, but only to hide the fact that it hurt.
    “I’ve been on a diet remember. I haven’t gained weight” Bluebell retorted with a tongue stuck out in riposte.
    “Yeah, a shit diet. So you’re saying I’ve gained more weight than you this month?”
    “Probably not. I’m still up another 6lbs. Which is actually quite good for me. I’m starting to flatten the curve, I think” Bluebell admitted. “I’m a slight thing of just 265lbs”.
    Bluebell rested the laptop on her bed and stood back into the centre of her room, so Bosh could see everything that Bluebell had going for her. She could say her face in full. The longer, dark hair untreated by a hairdresser for several months now, drifting down along her spine. Her eyes behind round glasses, her chin melting into her neck and widening at her jaw. Below that, Bosh could see her entire body, concealed in nighttime pjs that were not purchased with flattery in mind. The second roll of her stomach swung underneath the lower hem of her top, and over the tassels of her bottoms. Her legs seemed to bulge out of her leg holes. Bosh’s eyes danced up and down her body.
    “Like what you see?”
    Bosh blushed.
    “Well that’s actually cheered me up a bit. But only a bit. I’ve gained 11lbs since lockdown started. Well onto gaining the ‘Covid 19’. Can’t wait for all this to be over. Look Blue. Look. These used to be abs” Bosh pulled back from the camera and pulled up her shirt. Her midriff was still thin, but the sculpture of it had dissipated.
    “Awww, I liked your abs as well” Bluebell whined, mockingly.
    “Fuck you. Wait til I push my stomach out. Look” and Bosh pushed it out as far as she could. It stuck out slightly further, but little more than that. “I’m fat.”
    “If that’s fat, then what am I?” Bluebell commented.
    “Oh, come on, don’t be like that. You know, I’ve kinda gotten used to you being chonky. It’s become part of your charm” Bosh argued.
    “It really is, isn’t it? So, what does your girlfriend think about you blimping up? Whatever her name was, the pretty thing. Rose? Petunia? Tulip? Rhododendron?” Bluebell asked.
    “Her name was Lily and… yeah, we’re not together any more. It just… it didn’t work out” Bosh said, sorrowfully.
    “Well, doesn’t look like you’ve been working out either” Bluebell joked, before realising Bosh wasn’t in such a playful mood. “Oh, I’m sorry Bosh. I really am. Did you really like her then?”
    “Honestly, no. I mean, I knew I was supposed to. But my heart wasn’t in it. So I’m kinda pissed off with myself for being upset. But here I fucking am. It makes no sense” Bosh sighed, her face petrified still.
    “Well, there’s plenty more fish in the sea. And whales too, if you’re interested?” Bluebell joked, but Bosh just looked up, eyes wide.
    “You know I love you, don’t you Blue?”
    “Yeah. I do. And I love you too Bosh. Even though you are getting a bit big for my tastes” Bluebell cracked a smile and, begrudgingly, Bosh did too.
    “Fuck you”
    “I mean, you’ve just let yourself go Bosh. 11lbs? I mean, how do you even fit through doors?” Bluebell continued to tease.
    “Alright, enough teasing. And is the door thing even a thing that happens?”
    “I mean, dunno. I don’t think so. God, imagine being so big that you can’t even fit through doors” Bluebell laughed.
    “You’ll get there eventually” Bosh sassed back.
    “Oh, it’s like that, is it? I’m flattening my curve, remember?”
    “There’s nothing flat about you”
    “Says the woman who’s gained 11lbs”
    “Says the woman who’s gained 140”
    “Fuck you Bosh”
    “Fuck you Blue”
    “And now we’re coming out of lockdown, maybe we should meet up. It would be nice seeing you in the flesh. I’ve kinda missed you Bosh”
    “Yeah. That actually sounds good. Not a date though. Just old friends. Meeting up”
    “Yeah, exactly. Old friends. Big appetites”
    “Well, let me know when and I’ll see you then. Gotta go, ordering pizza”
    And Bluebell waved goodbye, and closed the ta on her browser. She put her laptop down by the side of her bed and lay on her back. Slowly, her stomach started rippling as she built up to a canter of a giggle, thinking about Bosh gaining weight and responding by ordering pizza. The thought of Bosh being anything other than skinny. Then, her hand fell down the side of her bed, and towards her handbag. She knew that in there was a Crunchie bar multipack. She picked it up and held it, biting her lip as she did. And then she put it back in her bag, and pulled out her cigarettes instead. Maybe she really could smoke herself skinny after all.
  9. Thanks
    swahilimonkfish reacted to dania201 in Bluebell's 2019   
    🥰 Cute! 🥰
  10. Hot
    swahilimonkfish got a reaction from dania201 in Bluebell's 2019   
    May 2020***
     
     
    “Hey, don’t judge me, I’m on a diet!” Bluebell said down the barrel of her laptop’s camera as she lay on her bed looking up at it.
    “What diet? The nicotine diet? Smoke Yourself Skinny? That’s not a diet, Blue” Bosh smiled back via the Facebook chat that they had going on.
    “It’s a thing! You smoke more when you would otherwise snack. Like, you know when you’re not really thinking about it and then you look up and all of a sudden, you’re halfway through a pack of doughnuts…?” Bluebell explained, stubbing her cigarette out on her precariously balanced ashtray.
    “Not as well as you do...”
    “Well, it’s like that. But instead of doughnuts, it’s cancer sticks. Which is an improvement, apparently” Bluebell giggled, pulling another cigarette out and lighting it.
    “And… does it work? Have you been snacking less?”
    Bluebell looked around, checking that her bedroom door was closed. Then she lowered and quietened her voice, as if she feared her room was bugged.
    “No, not really”
    Bosh burst into laughter at this confession, a snorting laugh that Bluebell hadn’t heard in a long time. It used to annoy her, Bosh’s snorting laugh. It didn’t any more, now it was gone.
    “Oh Blue! How? I thought you swore to your parents that you would?”
    “Promise not to judge?”
    “No. No I do not. I do not promise not to judge. You are going to tell me and I am gonna judge you soooo much for it” Bosh felt the wideness of her smile stretch her mouth. It had been a long time since she had smiled so much.
    “Fiiine. But you cannot tell a soul. If my parents find out, they will kill me. Literally. And if they do kill me, I’ll be forced to haunt you. And I’ll spend the rest of my ghostly days pushing books of your bookshelf or whatever it is ghosts do” Bluebell was smiling too, even if she was trying to be a bit more serious.
    “Fine. I’ll not tell anyone”
    “Look, my plan was to… Smoke Myself Skinny. Is that what you called it? Yeah, that. And my mum and dad have been so supportive and I’ve been eating loads more vegetables. Like, I had okra the other day. I’ve never even heard of okra. I thought okra was a colour?”
    “Fucking hell Blue” Bosh giggled.
    “It’s not. It’s a vegetable. And it tastes like licking out the arsehole of Satan, it’s horrible. But… I tried it. So that counts. But, after a week or so, I just started to let my standards slip...” Bluebell confessed sheepishly.
    “You had standards?”
    “Fuck you!” Bluebell laughed. “My mistake? I didn’t tell the people at work I was dieting. So when I started cheating on it, they didn’t nag me about it. So work became my safe place, and I started eating bits and pieces again and… look, I don’t know how it happened. I’d think to myself ‘well it’s okay to eat like that at work...’ and I’d eat more and more. You know, try to cram it in while I was there because I knew that I couldn’t eat at home. It was stupid but you start thinking in those terms. Get your timesworth. I started looking forward to work because I was looking forward to bingeing. And now, I’m back to sneaking stuff home and bingeing in my room on the sly again. And I can’t admit it to my dad, because I’m betraying everything he has said and done. I mean, he’s quit smoking for fuck sake. And I can’t even quite fucking Cadbury’s!”
    Bluebell took a deep sigh after that, her mood completely turned.
    “Well, look. If it’s any consolation, with you lying on your bed like that, I can see right down your top and it’s a flattering perspective Blue. The weight has gone to all of the right places” Bosh teased, trying to keep things light. Or, at least, lighter than Blue was.
    “Yeah, it’s some consolation” Bluebell giggled.
    “But seriously, you should tell him. He’ll understand. He’s probably smoking and afraid to tell you he’s not quit. So tell him”
    “Thanks Bosh. You always did know how to cut through an issue”.
    “So, changing subject… what did you think about that Dominic Cummings fucker? Up and down the country like a whore’s drawers” Bosh asked, conspiratorially.
    “He’s an absolute… wait a minute. Since when did you care about politics?” Bluebell asked, cottoning on to what Bosh had just said.
    “Well, it’s not really politics is it? And it’s not like there’s been much on the TV apart from Corona News 24. And… sometimes people change Blue. Not that you’d know” Bosh smirked back.
    “Oh ha ha. I just never thought I’d hear you talk about anything current affairs based unless the person involved was hot” Bluebell jibed back.
    “That doesn’t sound like me” Bosh joked. “Fine. It does sound like me. But I’ve changed a lot this past year too. I really have. You’d be impressed”.
    “Would I?” Blue shuffled on her bed covers to get herself comfortable.
    “Yeah, I’m sober. I know how to do the worm...”
    “The worm?”
    “Yeah watch” and Bosh stepped back from the camera and performed a rudimentary intepretation of the 90s dance move. “See? How do you like them apples?”
    “I like them a lot. That was awesome”
    “You probably noticed another change too...”
    Bluebell paused, and squinted at the laptop monitor to know avail.
    “No, sorry. Your hair’s a bit longer I guess...”
    “Look, I’ll tell you but… you have to promise not to judge me” Bosh said, tentatively.
    “No chance. I am so gonna judge you, after you judged me”
    “Yeah, but that was joking. This is actually serious” Bosh asserted.
    “Oh, and mine was joking was it? And yours is...”
    “Seriously, Blue. Please”
    Bluebell paused a second, gathering herself after the constant titter of laughter that talking with Bosh these days provided.
    “Fine. I’m sorry, Bosh. What is it that you wanted to tell me? I promise not to judge” Bluebell said, offering a friendly smile.
    Bosh paused, fidgeting as she sat and not looking at the screen for a bit.
    “Well then… what is it?” Bluebell prodded.
    “I’ve gained weight”
    “What? Bosh? Gained weight? Oh my god, that is the funniest thing I’ve heard all day. You? You’ve actually gained weight. Oh, that is hilarious!” Bluebell hooted with laughter, rolling around on her bed as she did.
    “Fuck off. Not a lot of weight. Less than you for sure” Bosh said, trying to keep things light again, but only to hide the fact that it hurt.
    “I’ve been on a diet remember. I haven’t gained weight” Bluebell retorted with a tongue stuck out in riposte.
    “Yeah, a shit diet. So you’re saying I’ve gained more weight than you this month?”
    “Probably not. I’m still up another 6lbs. Which is actually quite good for me. I’m starting to flatten the curve, I think” Bluebell admitted. “I’m a slight thing of just 265lbs”.
    Bluebell rested the laptop on her bed and stood back into the centre of her room, so Bosh could see everything that Bluebell had going for her. She could say her face in full. The longer, dark hair untreated by a hairdresser for several months now, drifting down along her spine. Her eyes behind round glasses, her chin melting into her neck and widening at her jaw. Below that, Bosh could see her entire body, concealed in nighttime pjs that were not purchased with flattery in mind. The second roll of her stomach swung underneath the lower hem of her top, and over the tassels of her bottoms. Her legs seemed to bulge out of her leg holes. Bosh’s eyes danced up and down her body.
    “Like what you see?”
    Bosh blushed.
    “Well that’s actually cheered me up a bit. But only a bit. I’ve gained 11lbs since lockdown started. Well onto gaining the ‘Covid 19’. Can’t wait for all this to be over. Look Blue. Look. These used to be abs” Bosh pulled back from the camera and pulled up her shirt. Her midriff was still thin, but the sculpture of it had dissipated.
    “Awww, I liked your abs as well” Bluebell whined, mockingly.
    “Fuck you. Wait til I push my stomach out. Look” and Bosh pushed it out as far as she could. It stuck out slightly further, but little more than that. “I’m fat.”
    “If that’s fat, then what am I?” Bluebell commented.
    “Oh, come on, don’t be like that. You know, I’ve kinda gotten used to you being chonky. It’s become part of your charm” Bosh argued.
    “It really is, isn’t it? So, what does your girlfriend think about you blimping up? Whatever her name was, the pretty thing. Rose? Petunia? Tulip? Rhododendron?” Bluebell asked.
    “Her name was Lily and… yeah, we’re not together any more. It just… it didn’t work out” Bosh said, sorrowfully.
    “Well, doesn’t look like you’ve been working out either” Bluebell joked, before realising Bosh wasn’t in such a playful mood. “Oh, I’m sorry Bosh. I really am. Did you really like her then?”
    “Honestly, no. I mean, I knew I was supposed to. But my heart wasn’t in it. So I’m kinda pissed off with myself for being upset. But here I fucking am. It makes no sense” Bosh sighed, her face petrified still.
    “Well, there’s plenty more fish in the sea. And whales too, if you’re interested?” Bluebell joked, but Bosh just looked up, eyes wide.
    “You know I love you, don’t you Blue?”
    “Yeah. I do. And I love you too Bosh. Even though you are getting a bit big for my tastes” Bluebell cracked a smile and, begrudgingly, Bosh did too.
    “Fuck you”
    “I mean, you’ve just let yourself go Bosh. 11lbs? I mean, how do you even fit through doors?” Bluebell continued to tease.
    “Alright, enough teasing. And is the door thing even a thing that happens?”
    “I mean, dunno. I don’t think so. God, imagine being so big that you can’t even fit through doors” Bluebell laughed.
    “You’ll get there eventually” Bosh sassed back.
    “Oh, it’s like that, is it? I’m flattening my curve, remember?”
    “There’s nothing flat about you”
    “Says the woman who’s gained 11lbs”
    “Says the woman who’s gained 140”
    “Fuck you Bosh”
    “Fuck you Blue”
    “And now we’re coming out of lockdown, maybe we should meet up. It would be nice seeing you in the flesh. I’ve kinda missed you Bosh”
    “Yeah. That actually sounds good. Not a date though. Just old friends. Meeting up”
    “Yeah, exactly. Old friends. Big appetites”
    “Well, let me know when and I’ll see you then. Gotta go, ordering pizza”
    And Bluebell waved goodbye, and closed the ta on her browser. She put her laptop down by the side of her bed and lay on her back. Slowly, her stomach started rippling as she built up to a canter of a giggle, thinking about Bosh gaining weight and responding by ordering pizza. The thought of Bosh being anything other than skinny. Then, her hand fell down the side of her bed, and towards her handbag. She knew that in there was a Crunchie bar multipack. She picked it up and held it, biting her lip as she did. And then she put it back in her bag, and pulled out her cigarettes instead. Maybe she really could smoke herself skinny after all.
  11. Like
    swahilimonkfish got a reaction from xandercroft in Bluebell's 2019   
    May 2020***
     
     
    “Hey, don’t judge me, I’m on a diet!” Bluebell said down the barrel of her laptop’s camera as she lay on her bed looking up at it.
    “What diet? The nicotine diet? Smoke Yourself Skinny? That’s not a diet, Blue” Bosh smiled back via the Facebook chat that they had going on.
    “It’s a thing! You smoke more when you would otherwise snack. Like, you know when you’re not really thinking about it and then you look up and all of a sudden, you’re halfway through a pack of doughnuts…?” Bluebell explained, stubbing her cigarette out on her precariously balanced ashtray.
    “Not as well as you do...”
    “Well, it’s like that. But instead of doughnuts, it’s cancer sticks. Which is an improvement, apparently” Bluebell giggled, pulling another cigarette out and lighting it.
    “And… does it work? Have you been snacking less?”
    Bluebell looked around, checking that her bedroom door was closed. Then she lowered and quietened her voice, as if she feared her room was bugged.
    “No, not really”
    Bosh burst into laughter at this confession, a snorting laugh that Bluebell hadn’t heard in a long time. It used to annoy her, Bosh’s snorting laugh. It didn’t any more, now it was gone.
    “Oh Blue! How? I thought you swore to your parents that you would?”
    “Promise not to judge?”
    “No. No I do not. I do not promise not to judge. You are going to tell me and I am gonna judge you soooo much for it” Bosh felt the wideness of her smile stretch her mouth. It had been a long time since she had smiled so much.
    “Fiiine. But you cannot tell a soul. If my parents find out, they will kill me. Literally. And if they do kill me, I’ll be forced to haunt you. And I’ll spend the rest of my ghostly days pushing books of your bookshelf or whatever it is ghosts do” Bluebell was smiling too, even if she was trying to be a bit more serious.
    “Fine. I’ll not tell anyone”
    “Look, my plan was to… Smoke Myself Skinny. Is that what you called it? Yeah, that. And my mum and dad have been so supportive and I’ve been eating loads more vegetables. Like, I had okra the other day. I’ve never even heard of okra. I thought okra was a colour?”
    “Fucking hell Blue” Bosh giggled.
    “It’s not. It’s a vegetable. And it tastes like licking out the arsehole of Satan, it’s horrible. But… I tried it. So that counts. But, after a week or so, I just started to let my standards slip...” Bluebell confessed sheepishly.
    “You had standards?”
    “Fuck you!” Bluebell laughed. “My mistake? I didn’t tell the people at work I was dieting. So when I started cheating on it, they didn’t nag me about it. So work became my safe place, and I started eating bits and pieces again and… look, I don’t know how it happened. I’d think to myself ‘well it’s okay to eat like that at work...’ and I’d eat more and more. You know, try to cram it in while I was there because I knew that I couldn’t eat at home. It was stupid but you start thinking in those terms. Get your timesworth. I started looking forward to work because I was looking forward to bingeing. And now, I’m back to sneaking stuff home and bingeing in my room on the sly again. And I can’t admit it to my dad, because I’m betraying everything he has said and done. I mean, he’s quit smoking for fuck sake. And I can’t even quite fucking Cadbury’s!”
    Bluebell took a deep sigh after that, her mood completely turned.
    “Well, look. If it’s any consolation, with you lying on your bed like that, I can see right down your top and it’s a flattering perspective Blue. The weight has gone to all of the right places” Bosh teased, trying to keep things light. Or, at least, lighter than Blue was.
    “Yeah, it’s some consolation” Bluebell giggled.
    “But seriously, you should tell him. He’ll understand. He’s probably smoking and afraid to tell you he’s not quit. So tell him”
    “Thanks Bosh. You always did know how to cut through an issue”.
    “So, changing subject… what did you think about that Dominic Cummings fucker? Up and down the country like a whore’s drawers” Bosh asked, conspiratorially.
    “He’s an absolute… wait a minute. Since when did you care about politics?” Bluebell asked, cottoning on to what Bosh had just said.
    “Well, it’s not really politics is it? And it’s not like there’s been much on the TV apart from Corona News 24. And… sometimes people change Blue. Not that you’d know” Bosh smirked back.
    “Oh ha ha. I just never thought I’d hear you talk about anything current affairs based unless the person involved was hot” Bluebell jibed back.
    “That doesn’t sound like me” Bosh joked. “Fine. It does sound like me. But I’ve changed a lot this past year too. I really have. You’d be impressed”.
    “Would I?” Blue shuffled on her bed covers to get herself comfortable.
    “Yeah, I’m sober. I know how to do the worm...”
    “The worm?”
    “Yeah watch” and Bosh stepped back from the camera and performed a rudimentary intepretation of the 90s dance move. “See? How do you like them apples?”
    “I like them a lot. That was awesome”
    “You probably noticed another change too...”
    Bluebell paused, and squinted at the laptop monitor to know avail.
    “No, sorry. Your hair’s a bit longer I guess...”
    “Look, I’ll tell you but… you have to promise not to judge me” Bosh said, tentatively.
    “No chance. I am so gonna judge you, after you judged me”
    “Yeah, but that was joking. This is actually serious” Bosh asserted.
    “Oh, and mine was joking was it? And yours is...”
    “Seriously, Blue. Please”
    Bluebell paused a second, gathering herself after the constant titter of laughter that talking with Bosh these days provided.
    “Fine. I’m sorry, Bosh. What is it that you wanted to tell me? I promise not to judge” Bluebell said, offering a friendly smile.
    Bosh paused, fidgeting as she sat and not looking at the screen for a bit.
    “Well then… what is it?” Bluebell prodded.
    “I’ve gained weight”
    “What? Bosh? Gained weight? Oh my god, that is the funniest thing I’ve heard all day. You? You’ve actually gained weight. Oh, that is hilarious!” Bluebell hooted with laughter, rolling around on her bed as she did.
    “Fuck off. Not a lot of weight. Less than you for sure” Bosh said, trying to keep things light again, but only to hide the fact that it hurt.
    “I’ve been on a diet remember. I haven’t gained weight” Bluebell retorted with a tongue stuck out in riposte.
    “Yeah, a shit diet. So you’re saying I’ve gained more weight than you this month?”
    “Probably not. I’m still up another 6lbs. Which is actually quite good for me. I’m starting to flatten the curve, I think” Bluebell admitted. “I’m a slight thing of just 265lbs”.
    Bluebell rested the laptop on her bed and stood back into the centre of her room, so Bosh could see everything that Bluebell had going for her. She could say her face in full. The longer, dark hair untreated by a hairdresser for several months now, drifting down along her spine. Her eyes behind round glasses, her chin melting into her neck and widening at her jaw. Below that, Bosh could see her entire body, concealed in nighttime pjs that were not purchased with flattery in mind. The second roll of her stomach swung underneath the lower hem of her top, and over the tassels of her bottoms. Her legs seemed to bulge out of her leg holes. Bosh’s eyes danced up and down her body.
    “Like what you see?”
    Bosh blushed.
    “Well that’s actually cheered me up a bit. But only a bit. I’ve gained 11lbs since lockdown started. Well onto gaining the ‘Covid 19’. Can’t wait for all this to be over. Look Blue. Look. These used to be abs” Bosh pulled back from the camera and pulled up her shirt. Her midriff was still thin, but the sculpture of it had dissipated.
    “Awww, I liked your abs as well” Bluebell whined, mockingly.
    “Fuck you. Wait til I push my stomach out. Look” and Bosh pushed it out as far as she could. It stuck out slightly further, but little more than that. “I’m fat.”
    “If that’s fat, then what am I?” Bluebell commented.
    “Oh, come on, don’t be like that. You know, I’ve kinda gotten used to you being chonky. It’s become part of your charm” Bosh argued.
    “It really is, isn’t it? So, what does your girlfriend think about you blimping up? Whatever her name was, the pretty thing. Rose? Petunia? Tulip? Rhododendron?” Bluebell asked.
    “Her name was Lily and… yeah, we’re not together any more. It just… it didn’t work out” Bosh said, sorrowfully.
    “Well, doesn’t look like you’ve been working out either” Bluebell joked, before realising Bosh wasn’t in such a playful mood. “Oh, I’m sorry Bosh. I really am. Did you really like her then?”
    “Honestly, no. I mean, I knew I was supposed to. But my heart wasn’t in it. So I’m kinda pissed off with myself for being upset. But here I fucking am. It makes no sense” Bosh sighed, her face petrified still.
    “Well, there’s plenty more fish in the sea. And whales too, if you’re interested?” Bluebell joked, but Bosh just looked up, eyes wide.
    “You know I love you, don’t you Blue?”
    “Yeah. I do. And I love you too Bosh. Even though you are getting a bit big for my tastes” Bluebell cracked a smile and, begrudgingly, Bosh did too.
    “Fuck you”
    “I mean, you’ve just let yourself go Bosh. 11lbs? I mean, how do you even fit through doors?” Bluebell continued to tease.
    “Alright, enough teasing. And is the door thing even a thing that happens?”
    “I mean, dunno. I don’t think so. God, imagine being so big that you can’t even fit through doors” Bluebell laughed.
    “You’ll get there eventually” Bosh sassed back.
    “Oh, it’s like that, is it? I’m flattening my curve, remember?”
    “There’s nothing flat about you”
    “Says the woman who’s gained 11lbs”
    “Says the woman who’s gained 140”
    “Fuck you Bosh”
    “Fuck you Blue”
    “And now we’re coming out of lockdown, maybe we should meet up. It would be nice seeing you in the flesh. I’ve kinda missed you Bosh”
    “Yeah. That actually sounds good. Not a date though. Just old friends. Meeting up”
    “Yeah, exactly. Old friends. Big appetites”
    “Well, let me know when and I’ll see you then. Gotta go, ordering pizza”
    And Bluebell waved goodbye, and closed the ta on her browser. She put her laptop down by the side of her bed and lay on her back. Slowly, her stomach started rippling as she built up to a canter of a giggle, thinking about Bosh gaining weight and responding by ordering pizza. The thought of Bosh being anything other than skinny. Then, her hand fell down the side of her bed, and towards her handbag. She knew that in there was a Crunchie bar multipack. She picked it up and held it, biting her lip as she did. And then she put it back in her bag, and pulled out her cigarettes instead. Maybe she really could smoke herself skinny after all.
  12. Like
    swahilimonkfish got a reaction from xandercroft in Bluebell's 2019   
    Just want to thank Dania201 for advice and guidance on this story and, in particular, this chapter. It's a bit longer than I would have liked, but it covers ground with much more insight than I could have mustered on my own - so thank you
     
    April 2020*** Part 2/2
     
     
     
    “Can I come in Bloob?” Martin said, with a gentle rap on the door.
    “No” came the muffled, teary reply from inside.
    “I’ve got rocky road...” Martin added, in an almost sing-song voice.
    He put his ear to the door and heard no second objection. He took that as an invitation to come in.
    He pulled the door open and saw his little girl, tucked under her duvet with streaky mascara down her cheeks and brown stains around her mouth.
    “Hey, Bloob” he said softly.
    She still said nothing, just glared at the window across her room with a crumpled face.
    “Look, I’ll just put this here. Ooo, are those KitKats? God, I haven’t had a KitKat in ages. Didn’t know they still made them” he said, noting the half-eaten packet of them by her bed, and their corresponding emptied wrappers scattered over the floor like calorific confetti.
    “Oh, lay off it dad. You expect me to believe that. And mum’s probably downstairs saying ‘I told you so’, isn’t she? I bet she said I’d be up here stuffing my fat… no, sorry, morbidly obese face” Bluebell sulked, still not making eye contact with her father.
    “Oh, she said nothing of the sort. Don’t worry. And do away with all that KitKat rubbish and treat yourself to a real snack. Remember rocky road? You used to love this stuff” Martin said, with a big grin on his face, waggling the container like he was trying to entice a puppy.
    “When I was 11, maybe” Bluebell grouched grumpily. Martin’s face wavered in its optimism, flickering at the corner of his lips. “But, better than KitKats I suppose”.
    Bluebell turned around and looked at her dad directly in the eyes. There was a tired apathy behind them, like they had just run out of juice. Like she just didn’t have the energy to be angry any more.
    She didn’t say anything, as she opened the packet and began eating. Neither of them said anything. They just sat next to each other, with Martin sat at the end of her bed, and stewed in the quiet, with Bluebell’s chewing and crunkling of the plastic container being the only noises made. Eventually, Martin moved, leaning down towards the floor and picking up a KitKat. A slight smile slipped across Bluebell’s face as he did it.
    “Shhh, don’t tell your mother” he said, smiling back as he opened them. He looked at them with a look of surprise. “Huh, they’re smaller than I remember.”
    “You really didn’t know that they still made KitKats, dad?” Bluebell finally said.
    “Honestly? Yeah, I did. Dunno why I said it, frankly. Not had one in so long though. Always remember them being a big deal, but these are just puny little things” Martin snickered to himself, holding up a waifish wafer as if to inspect its petty size. Bluebell went to open her mouth with a cheap ‘most chocolate bars feel small these days to me, too’ joke about her weight, but thought better of it, in her current mood and in the current climate. God, how long had she been making such jokes? How much had she normalised it? Instead, they just continued eating in silence.
    “Hey… do you have any smokes?” Martin asked.
    “Sure, ashtray’s on the windowsill” she pointed, and he grabbed it for both of them.
    “So then Blue, why are you so… blue?” Martin smiled at his own joke.
    “I mean, I know mum’s already told you so what’s the point?” Bluebell grumped with a handful of side-eye.
    “She may have mentioned something about it all being to do with some diet you agreed to do with her?” Martin exhaled calmly on his cigarette.
    “Did she now? We both agreed to it, did we? Sounds about right” Bluebell muttered.
    “So I take it that you didn’t?”
    “No I fuc… No I didn’t. She suggested it and it should have pissed me off. Treating me like I’m defective, like there’s something wrong with me...”
    “Oh, I’m sure she didn’t mean that Bloob...” Martin interrupted, defending his wife.
    “If she doesn’t think I’m broken, then why’s she trying to fix me? You know, I try. I really try to be a good person, positive person. Someone who makes a positive difference in the world. Who loves themselves and others. But treating me like that, it just… it knocks my confidence, y’know. Like, aren’t your parents supposed to love you unconditionally? So what does it say about me that I’m so fat that I breach even that?” Bluebell started her speech with a roar to her voice, but ended it with a tremulous quiver.
    “Hey, that’s not true. And you know that’s not true” Martin countered, a little curtly.
    “Do I?”
    “Yes. Yes you do. You know she loves you, and when she does stuff that annoys you, it’s not because she doesn’t care… it’s because she does” Martin explained, and Bluebell twitched at the thought of it. “Now tell me, why does your mum think you were involved in some diet pact when you say that you weren’t?”
    “Because… when she asked… I guess I didn’t say yes but I didn’t say no either. And she took that as a yes. Or whatever. And what was I supposed to do? I felt trapped into doing it. ‘Sorry, mum, for the confusing messages but I actually want to continue charting a path beyond morbid obesity’” Bluebell confessed, mocking herself with inflection on the last line.
    “But… didn’t you… don’t you want to diet?” Martin asked, curiously.
    “You too? Really?” Bluebell raged.
    “No. I… I didn’t mean it like that. I just thought that you wanted to. It’s how your mother told it anyway. That you were trying to lose some weight and she wanted to help you. Because she, deep-down, just wanted you to be happy. So, do you want to lose weight?”
    “No! God… yeah? Maybe? I dunno. I think so. Yeah, I do. No, I know I do. I do want to lose weight. I mean, is that shallow or superficial or whatever? Aren’t I supposed to be body positive enough to be okay with my build? Am I a hypocrite?” Bluebell wondered, discarding the now empty box of rocky road that she’d obliterated.
    “You made light work of them. I told you that they were your favourite” Martin smiled victoriously. “Hey, you want the rest of your KitKats back?”
    “Yeah, go on then. Shouldn’t but… I mean I need the calories like I need a whole in the head...”
    “Trepanning?”
    “What?”
    “Trepanning. It’s that thing they used to in early medical times, when they drilled a hole in your head to let the bad spirits out and… this isn’t relevant, is it?” Martin just couldn’t help himself with his history buffery at times. Bluebell didn’t mind, she was back on the KitKats. “And to answer your question, yeah.”
    “Yeah?”
    “Yes, you are a hypocrite”
    “Thanks for the pep talk dad” Bluebell said with a sneer and a healthy dollop of sarcasm.
    “You hold yourself to a different – a higher – standard than others. You’re allowed to be body-positive and thin; you’re allowed to be health-conscious and fat; you’re allowed to be you Bluebell, as long as who you are is good and kind and thoughtful. And it is. And you are. Don’t decide what you want to do based on what others think but what you think” her dad explained, looking sympathetically at his daughter.
    “Thanks dad. You always had the best advice. But… it’s easier said than done. I want to not give a fuck, sorry for swearing, about what other people think. But I can’t help it. I walk past someone, anyone, and I think ‘what if they remember what I used to look like?’. They’d look at me with disgust and horror, and wonder what on Earth I’ve done to myself. How could she let herself go like that. Or, what if they’ve never seen me before? Then the opposite happens and they just presume I’ve always been fat, just born a lost cause and a self-made one, and I want to shake those people and say ‘actually, it’s a really recent thing and just last year, I was thin and beautiful’” Bluebell said, blowing her nose on a tissue after she finished her diatribe.
    “So?”
    “So, I do want to lose weight. And… I tried. I did. I didn’t mean to hide the treats. It just spiralled. I lasted a week. Literally just one week! That was it. And then I was at work and I was tired and I thought, ‘who cares? nobody can see me, so it doesn’t count’. And then it happened again the next day, but nothing bad happened last time and it was only another one-off. And again and again. One-off after one-off, until the one-offs became the norm. I’d sneak the stuff home in my work handbag, and it would be some pathetic rebellion. And then, every time I’d get some alone time, I’d think about eating. Stuffing it in, sneakily, quickly, to avoid getting caught. It was so stupid. And it just got out of hand again. I began spending my day just thinking about the eating and the avoiding getting caught. If I put that much energy into dieting, I’d be Ariana Grande-sized by now...”
    “I have no idea who that is”
    “I know you don’t dad. But she’s basically Tinkerbell in bronzer. Anyway, it just happens. Mum is furious about how much I eat and honestly, she doesn’t know the half of it still. I use work’s bins mainly to get rid of the stuff. It’s a problem. I think I’m addicted to eating dad? Is that a thing? Cos I think I have it?” Bluebell started crying again.
    “No. It’s not… I mean, maybe, but you’re not addicted to eating. You’re just...”
    “Fat. I know. And more and more, that’s what people see when they look at me now. I know they do. And more and more, it’s affecting how I am. Even before the quarantine, I’d go out less, cos I just didn’t fancy the walk. The hassle of it. It just… and now I hoard chocolate like a diabetic squirrel. Like, the Mission Impossible levels of subterfuge because I can’t get enough Battenberg. It’s embarrassing. And now, I’m not only not lighter, I’m heavier. Another month, another half a stone. 259lbs. Cos that’s a sustainable rate(!)”
    “To be fair, Battenberg is good” her dad consoled.
    “Yeah, it is. But it’s the lying. I hate it. I hate it so much. And it scares me because I hate it so much and I do it still. Because I hate the thought of not eating more. I mean, how embarrassing is that. I must do, or I wouldn’t do it. I hate the lying, but not enough to stop. I don’t want to tell you because it’s embarrassing, but not enough to stop doing it. What the fuck is wrong with me dad? What kind of person is this deranged?” Bluebell heaved heavy tears into her duvet.
    “Hey, hey, hey. Don’t cry love. Look, I get it. I get it” Martin hugged her tightly, patting her on the back like he used to when she was a kid.
    “But that’s the thing. You don’t”
    “Oh child. You have no idea. I completely get what you’re talking about. I was exactly the same at your age”
    “N… no you weren’t. Y… were you?” Bluebell pulled back from him to frown with confusion.
    “Maybe not exactly the same, but how you described it sounded really familiar. I was the same when I started smoking”
    “So I am addicted to food? Is that what you’re saying?” Bluebell asked, defensively.
    “No. What I am saying is… I used to lie too. All the time. To my parents. Oh god, now I love your grandma and grandpa. And they were really laid-back parents. They were. Never raised their voice. Never got angry. But, despite that, I would lie to them about my smoking. I mean, it was around the time that smoking was treated as unacceptable. My parents’ – your grandparents’ - generation was different. They smoked because it was the norm. But ours were the first to know better. And yet I did it anyway. Literally behind the bike sheds at school. It wasn’t a cliché back then, it was just ‘cool’” Martin explained.
    “I didn’t know this. I didn’t know any of this” Bluebell said, perplexed.
    “No, well I… I don’t brag about it. I’m ashamed of it to be honest, still. But yeah, I’d lie to my lovely parents, hide it from them. Do all that spy stuff you were talking about. Oh, I thought I was Billy-big-bollocks for my deceit, but I look back and just wince. It wasn’t fear. They never would rage. Well, it was fear, but a different kind. Fear of letting them down. Fear of disappointing them. Fear of that look in their eyes when they realise and life just deflates out of them like a punctured football. So I did all the stuff you talked about. But the daft thing was, they knew. Ha, yeah, they know all along. Of course they knew, the stuff stinks. It’s not like eating, smoke gets on your clothes, your breath. They know and they didn’t tell me they knew. You know why? I didn’t know why at the time, but now I’m a parent, I do”
    “Why?”
    “Fear. Fear of me feeling like I was letting them down. Fear of me feeling like I was disappointing them. Fear of having to be stern and condemnatory when all they want to do is hug you. Your grandma still hasn’t mentioned it. We just never talk about it, still to this day. And I don’t want us to be like that. Secrets. Afraid of each other. So… I’m sorry Bloob. I’m sorry that you felt you had to be like that around us. That’s something we should feel guilty about, not you. Promise me Bloob
    , promise me that you’ll never feel like you have to keep secrets from us. Because it’s our job to ensure that you never do feel like that. Okay, pet?” Martin had a little tear in his eye too at this point.
    “I promise dad. I promise” Bluebell sniffled into the shoulder of his shirt, where her face was tearfully buried.
    “So, what do you want to do, Bluebell? What do you want to do?” her dad said, his face open and supporting.
    “I want to lose weight”
    “Are you sure? This is definitely what you want?”
    “Yes. I want to lose weight” Bluebell said, with more resolve this time.
    “Well, in that case, how about a different type of pact? Look, rather than have your salad-eating mum go calorie counting with you, that’s not what you need. You need somebody who can relate, somebody going through the same thing. So, Bloob, if you give up snacking… I’ll quit smoking” he said, hoping that the words would take.
    “Y...you’d give up smoking? To help me?” Bluebell seemed shocked.
    “It seems only fitting. Smoking is my equivalent of your snacking”
    “Then what’s my smoking? Cos I can’t give up both at the same time, I’d go crazy”
    “Hey, that’s fine. If I feel tempted, I’ll ask you to blow smoke towards me so I can just smell that lovely tobacco air. Plus you can have all my cigarettes” her dad reasoned. “And just stop snacking. Of course, if you do, it’s not a big deal. It would, if anything, be reassuring to me, as someone going through the same thing, to know that you can fall off and get back on again. No secrets, no lies and no snacking, and I’ll give up a habit I’ve had for nearly 35. Deal?” he stuck out a hand to shake.
    “Deal” and Bluebell shook hands with him.
    “And tell your mum I’m not an enabler” he said, with a smile.
    “You are such an enabler” Bluebell said, lighting another cigarette as a preventative measure against eating the remainder of her KitKats. “All you do is enable me”.
  13. Hot
    swahilimonkfish got a reaction from ulvrik in Bluebell's 2019   
    May 2020***
     
     
    “Hey, don’t judge me, I’m on a diet!” Bluebell said down the barrel of her laptop’s camera as she lay on her bed looking up at it.
    “What diet? The nicotine diet? Smoke Yourself Skinny? That’s not a diet, Blue” Bosh smiled back via the Facebook chat that they had going on.
    “It’s a thing! You smoke more when you would otherwise snack. Like, you know when you’re not really thinking about it and then you look up and all of a sudden, you’re halfway through a pack of doughnuts…?” Bluebell explained, stubbing her cigarette out on her precariously balanced ashtray.
    “Not as well as you do...”
    “Well, it’s like that. But instead of doughnuts, it’s cancer sticks. Which is an improvement, apparently” Bluebell giggled, pulling another cigarette out and lighting it.
    “And… does it work? Have you been snacking less?”
    Bluebell looked around, checking that her bedroom door was closed. Then she lowered and quietened her voice, as if she feared her room was bugged.
    “No, not really”
    Bosh burst into laughter at this confession, a snorting laugh that Bluebell hadn’t heard in a long time. It used to annoy her, Bosh’s snorting laugh. It didn’t any more, now it was gone.
    “Oh Blue! How? I thought you swore to your parents that you would?”
    “Promise not to judge?”
    “No. No I do not. I do not promise not to judge. You are going to tell me and I am gonna judge you soooo much for it” Bosh felt the wideness of her smile stretch her mouth. It had been a long time since she had smiled so much.
    “Fiiine. But you cannot tell a soul. If my parents find out, they will kill me. Literally. And if they do kill me, I’ll be forced to haunt you. And I’ll spend the rest of my ghostly days pushing books of your bookshelf or whatever it is ghosts do” Bluebell was smiling too, even if she was trying to be a bit more serious.
    “Fine. I’ll not tell anyone”
    “Look, my plan was to… Smoke Myself Skinny. Is that what you called it? Yeah, that. And my mum and dad have been so supportive and I’ve been eating loads more vegetables. Like, I had okra the other day. I’ve never even heard of okra. I thought okra was a colour?”
    “Fucking hell Blue” Bosh giggled.
    “It’s not. It’s a vegetable. And it tastes like licking out the arsehole of Satan, it’s horrible. But… I tried it. So that counts. But, after a week or so, I just started to let my standards slip...” Bluebell confessed sheepishly.
    “You had standards?”
    “Fuck you!” Bluebell laughed. “My mistake? I didn’t tell the people at work I was dieting. So when I started cheating on it, they didn’t nag me about it. So work became my safe place, and I started eating bits and pieces again and… look, I don’t know how it happened. I’d think to myself ‘well it’s okay to eat like that at work...’ and I’d eat more and more. You know, try to cram it in while I was there because I knew that I couldn’t eat at home. It was stupid but you start thinking in those terms. Get your timesworth. I started looking forward to work because I was looking forward to bingeing. And now, I’m back to sneaking stuff home and bingeing in my room on the sly again. And I can’t admit it to my dad, because I’m betraying everything he has said and done. I mean, he’s quit smoking for fuck sake. And I can’t even quite fucking Cadbury’s!”
    Bluebell took a deep sigh after that, her mood completely turned.
    “Well, look. If it’s any consolation, with you lying on your bed like that, I can see right down your top and it’s a flattering perspective Blue. The weight has gone to all of the right places” Bosh teased, trying to keep things light. Or, at least, lighter than Blue was.
    “Yeah, it’s some consolation” Bluebell giggled.
    “But seriously, you should tell him. He’ll understand. He’s probably smoking and afraid to tell you he’s not quit. So tell him”
    “Thanks Bosh. You always did know how to cut through an issue”.
    “So, changing subject… what did you think about that Dominic Cummings fucker? Up and down the country like a whore’s drawers” Bosh asked, conspiratorially.
    “He’s an absolute… wait a minute. Since when did you care about politics?” Bluebell asked, cottoning on to what Bosh had just said.
    “Well, it’s not really politics is it? And it’s not like there’s been much on the TV apart from Corona News 24. And… sometimes people change Blue. Not that you’d know” Bosh smirked back.
    “Oh ha ha. I just never thought I’d hear you talk about anything current affairs based unless the person involved was hot” Bluebell jibed back.
    “That doesn’t sound like me” Bosh joked. “Fine. It does sound like me. But I’ve changed a lot this past year too. I really have. You’d be impressed”.
    “Would I?” Blue shuffled on her bed covers to get herself comfortable.
    “Yeah, I’m sober. I know how to do the worm...”
    “The worm?”
    “Yeah watch” and Bosh stepped back from the camera and performed a rudimentary intepretation of the 90s dance move. “See? How do you like them apples?”
    “I like them a lot. That was awesome”
    “You probably noticed another change too...”
    Bluebell paused, and squinted at the laptop monitor to know avail.
    “No, sorry. Your hair’s a bit longer I guess...”
    “Look, I’ll tell you but… you have to promise not to judge me” Bosh said, tentatively.
    “No chance. I am so gonna judge you, after you judged me”
    “Yeah, but that was joking. This is actually serious” Bosh asserted.
    “Oh, and mine was joking was it? And yours is...”
    “Seriously, Blue. Please”
    Bluebell paused a second, gathering herself after the constant titter of laughter that talking with Bosh these days provided.
    “Fine. I’m sorry, Bosh. What is it that you wanted to tell me? I promise not to judge” Bluebell said, offering a friendly smile.
    Bosh paused, fidgeting as she sat and not looking at the screen for a bit.
    “Well then… what is it?” Bluebell prodded.
    “I’ve gained weight”
    “What? Bosh? Gained weight? Oh my god, that is the funniest thing I’ve heard all day. You? You’ve actually gained weight. Oh, that is hilarious!” Bluebell hooted with laughter, rolling around on her bed as she did.
    “Fuck off. Not a lot of weight. Less than you for sure” Bosh said, trying to keep things light again, but only to hide the fact that it hurt.
    “I’ve been on a diet remember. I haven’t gained weight” Bluebell retorted with a tongue stuck out in riposte.
    “Yeah, a shit diet. So you’re saying I’ve gained more weight than you this month?”
    “Probably not. I’m still up another 6lbs. Which is actually quite good for me. I’m starting to flatten the curve, I think” Bluebell admitted. “I’m a slight thing of just 265lbs”.
    Bluebell rested the laptop on her bed and stood back into the centre of her room, so Bosh could see everything that Bluebell had going for her. She could say her face in full. The longer, dark hair untreated by a hairdresser for several months now, drifting down along her spine. Her eyes behind round glasses, her chin melting into her neck and widening at her jaw. Below that, Bosh could see her entire body, concealed in nighttime pjs that were not purchased with flattery in mind. The second roll of her stomach swung underneath the lower hem of her top, and over the tassels of her bottoms. Her legs seemed to bulge out of her leg holes. Bosh’s eyes danced up and down her body.
    “Like what you see?”
    Bosh blushed.
    “Well that’s actually cheered me up a bit. But only a bit. I’ve gained 11lbs since lockdown started. Well onto gaining the ‘Covid 19’. Can’t wait for all this to be over. Look Blue. Look. These used to be abs” Bosh pulled back from the camera and pulled up her shirt. Her midriff was still thin, but the sculpture of it had dissipated.
    “Awww, I liked your abs as well” Bluebell whined, mockingly.
    “Fuck you. Wait til I push my stomach out. Look” and Bosh pushed it out as far as she could. It stuck out slightly further, but little more than that. “I’m fat.”
    “If that’s fat, then what am I?” Bluebell commented.
    “Oh, come on, don’t be like that. You know, I’ve kinda gotten used to you being chonky. It’s become part of your charm” Bosh argued.
    “It really is, isn’t it? So, what does your girlfriend think about you blimping up? Whatever her name was, the pretty thing. Rose? Petunia? Tulip? Rhododendron?” Bluebell asked.
    “Her name was Lily and… yeah, we’re not together any more. It just… it didn’t work out” Bosh said, sorrowfully.
    “Well, doesn’t look like you’ve been working out either” Bluebell joked, before realising Bosh wasn’t in such a playful mood. “Oh, I’m sorry Bosh. I really am. Did you really like her then?”
    “Honestly, no. I mean, I knew I was supposed to. But my heart wasn’t in it. So I’m kinda pissed off with myself for being upset. But here I fucking am. It makes no sense” Bosh sighed, her face petrified still.
    “Well, there’s plenty more fish in the sea. And whales too, if you’re interested?” Bluebell joked, but Bosh just looked up, eyes wide.
    “You know I love you, don’t you Blue?”
    “Yeah. I do. And I love you too Bosh. Even though you are getting a bit big for my tastes” Bluebell cracked a smile and, begrudgingly, Bosh did too.
    “Fuck you”
    “I mean, you’ve just let yourself go Bosh. 11lbs? I mean, how do you even fit through doors?” Bluebell continued to tease.
    “Alright, enough teasing. And is the door thing even a thing that happens?”
    “I mean, dunno. I don’t think so. God, imagine being so big that you can’t even fit through doors” Bluebell laughed.
    “You’ll get there eventually” Bosh sassed back.
    “Oh, it’s like that, is it? I’m flattening my curve, remember?”
    “There’s nothing flat about you”
    “Says the woman who’s gained 11lbs”
    “Says the woman who’s gained 140”
    “Fuck you Bosh”
    “Fuck you Blue”
    “And now we’re coming out of lockdown, maybe we should meet up. It would be nice seeing you in the flesh. I’ve kinda missed you Bosh”
    “Yeah. That actually sounds good. Not a date though. Just old friends. Meeting up”
    “Yeah, exactly. Old friends. Big appetites”
    “Well, let me know when and I’ll see you then. Gotta go, ordering pizza”
    And Bluebell waved goodbye, and closed the ta on her browser. She put her laptop down by the side of her bed and lay on her back. Slowly, her stomach started rippling as she built up to a canter of a giggle, thinking about Bosh gaining weight and responding by ordering pizza. The thought of Bosh being anything other than skinny. Then, her hand fell down the side of her bed, and towards her handbag. She knew that in there was a Crunchie bar multipack. She picked it up and held it, biting her lip as she did. And then she put it back in her bag, and pulled out her cigarettes instead. Maybe she really could smoke herself skinny after all.
  14. Thanks
    swahilimonkfish reacted to Tastic1 in No Gut No Glory - Very hot and curvy   
    This is a really good one. @swahilimonkfish creates wg fiction that is recalled fleshed out and interesting to read.
    Yes, please do 😀
  15. Love
    swahilimonkfish reacted to AdiposeAdorer in Anne and the Lodger   
    Anne Connor stopped a moment at the top of the stairs to steady herself and gather her strength. This wasn’t going to go like last time, she told herself, or the time before that. This time, she wasn’t going to let sweet talk and sweet treats stand in her way. No, this time she was going to march straight up to Mr. Mackay’s room and demand that he pay her every last nickel and dime that she was owed. If he refused, she’d have him out on his ass, no matter how scrumptious those pastries of his were. She had a lodging house to run, and she could hardly do that if her lodgers refused to pay their rent, now could she?

    22 Abertwaith Rd. was an old Victorian house with a bright, yellow façade and rows of vast bay windows that let plenty of sunlight through. Anne had taken the place over a couple of years ago, when she was only nineteen. Running it all on her own had been no easy task, but she was determined to make it work. And, when Anne Connor set her mind on something, you’d better believe she’d get it done.

    With her slight, supple frame, delicate features, and wavy, strawberry hair – which she kept tied back in a tight braid – the willowy waif of a girl had caught quite a few eyes over the years. But, she wasn’t the kind to care much about things like that. Her work kept her far too busy to bother with empty pleasures of any sort. Or, at least, so she’d thought, until Mr. Mackay had moved in.

    Anne frowned and pulled at her dress – a sky blue garment with long sleeves and a straight skirt. She’d bought the thing only a few months ago, and it was already starting to feel snug on her, as were most of her old clothes. Putting a hand to her once flat stomach she felt her fingers sink into a layer of plush pudge.

    For as long as she could remember, Anne had never had to worry much about her weight. All her life, people had used to tell her that: if she wasn’t careful, she might well just waste away one of these days. Then, Mr. Mackay had come along. He was a pastry chef in training, apparently, and always working on some new recipe or other. Once he’d moved in, it hadn’t been long before Anne’s clothes had started to shrink and people had started to say that she was growing some ‘nice curves’ on her. Anne hadn’t known what to say to that, and before she’d had the chance to give it much thought, she’d already gone up another size or two. Her pert buttocks had grown ripe and round, and her sleek thighs had turned squishy and soft, to the point that her flab had started to spread across her seat whenever she sat. Her face had filled out, her tapered waist had vanished under a ring of soft flesh, and people had moved on to telling her that she might want to watch what she put in her mouth. Anne wasn’t sure what to say to that either. One thing she was sure about, though, was that if she wanted to get this whole thing under control, she would have to put Mr. Mackay in his place.

    Curling her fingers into fists, Anne strode the last couple of steps up to her spacious garret, where her troublesome lodger had made his home.

    “Excuse me?” she said, tapping her knuckles against the door.

    “It’s open,” came a casual reply from the other side.

    Anne turned the knob and was immediately overwhelmed by the mouth-watering aroma of freshly baked goods. The whole flat was piled top to bottom with plates and platters covered in kitchen towels. Not a single chair, table, or countertop had been left clear. Mr Mackay himself was over by the oven at the other end of the room, pulling another batch of home-made cupcakes out of the heat. He was a stocky, powerfully built young man – only a year or two older than Anne herself – with broad shoulders, strong hands, and a bit of a belly on him. His face was boyishly handsome, with wide, almond eyes and a square, stubbled chin. A mop of dark hair sat in a spiky, unruly mess atop his head.

    “Hey there,” he turned to look at her over his shoulder, “care for a bite?”

    “Not right now, thanks, Mr. Mackay.” Anne crossed her arms and drew her lips tight. “I’m afraid we need to have a little talk, you and I.”

    “Oh, William, please,” he smiled, a gleam in his eye, “Mr. Mackay makes me sound like an old man. Are you sure I can’t tempt you? I’m working on this new recipe, you see, and I’d love to hear your thoughts.” He held his plate out towards her, and Anne felt her posture soften in spite of herself. It was all she could do to stop from sighing as the fumes of the freshly made things wafted into her nostrils.

    “Well, just the one, then,” she relented.

    “Right. Well, why don’t you go ahead and make yourself at home?” William gestured to his bed, the only unoccupied piece of furniture in the entire flat.

    Anne hesitated a moment, before planting her well-cushioned butt on his bedspread. Any hint of hesitation on her part, however, was washed away the moment she bit into her freshly made treat. The thing was so succulent and sweet, so rich, ripe and rare, that she had to struggle not to shiver at the sheer taste of it.

    Having swallowed the whole thing down, Anne felt her cheeks flush as she noticed the way William was studying her.

    “So, be honest, what do you think?”

    “Well,” Anne clasped her hands on her lap and tried to act casual, “it was pretty good, I guess…”

    "Pretty good?" William frowned. "You don't think it could've used more butter, do you?"

    “No…” Anne stopped to consider the question, before catching herself. “Or, yes, maybe. Look, I don’t know, but—”

    Before she could get another word out, William popped another pastry from another plate past her lips. Anne was about to object, but, somehow, all her thoughts seemed to fade as the sheer flavour of the thing suffused her very being.

    “So, better or worse?” asked William once she was done eating.

    “Better,” Anne blurted, unable to stop herself, “definitely better.”

    “I see, figured as much.” He thoughtfully scratched his chin. “How much better, would you say?”

    “Well,” Anne hesitated, “a bit sweeter, I guess, and more filling.”

    “Right,” William nodded. “So, it was good, then?”

    “Yeah, sure,” Anne agreed. “Now, if you don’t mind—” she continued, clearing her throat.

    “In a moment, please.” He raised a finger to silence her. “First, would you mind trying just one more?”

    Anne frowned, scrunching her snub nose as she looked first up at William – at his warm smile and amused almond eyes – and then down at the delicious cupcakes he was holding out towards her. She knew she probably shouldn’t, but…

    “Oh alright,” she sighed. “Just one more, though.”

    “Of course,” William agreed, a wry smile on his face as he handed her third and final cupcake over to her.

    The moment she bit into the scrumptious-looking thing, Anne felt her fleshy, freckled face flush a bright red. Her whole mind seemed, simply, to melt away as the pastry melted in her mouth, and she couldn’t stop a shivering sigh escaping from somewhere deep within her.

    “So, guessing that one was a success?” William grinned, cocking his head and crossing his arms.

    “Well, maybe…” Anne answered, not looking all the way up at him.

    “Maybe?”

    “I think I might have to try one more, just to be sure.”

    “Is that so?” William raised a single eyebrow. “You know, I think it might be time the two of us got back on topic.”

    “What?” Anne scrunched up her nose.

    “There was something you wanted to talk about, right?”

    “Oh, yes,” Anne blinked, recalling why she’d stormed up there in the first place. “Well, it’s about the rent, actually…”

    “Right, that,” said William, as though the matter had completely slipped his mind. “Sorry, I’m a bit short at the moment. Been spending a lot on ingredients lately, you see. You wouldn’t mind waiting another couple of weeks, would you? I promise I’ll have it all by then.”

    “That’s what you said a couple of weeks ago,” Anne scowled, “and a couple of weeks before that.”

    “Is it?”

    “Yes,” she narrowed her eyes, “it is?”

    “Right,” William stroked his chin, sucking in a breath between his teeth. “Well, sorry about that. I was just so close to getting these right, you know?” He gestured at the many plates and platters of fragrant treats spread across Anne’s attic. “I guess I got a bit carried away.”

    “That’s one way to put it,” Anne said, sharply

    “Still, they turned out pretty good, right?”

    “I guess,” Anne sighed, breathing in another lungful of the freshly baked things. “But I still need that money, or I’ll have to throw you out, no matter how good those cupcakes of yours are.”

    “Right,” William stopped to think, his eyes darting absently around the room. “Well, you can have these, if you like?” he grabbed a plate of the tasty things and held them out towards Anne.

    “Are you serious?” she tightened her lips.

    “Yeah, sure,” William shrugged, “why not? I mean, they’re good, right? And there should be enough here to cover the two of us for a few weeks, at least, don’t you think?”

    “I don’t know…” Anne said, her eyes locked on all those delicious, golden brown treats.

    “Come on,” William pushed the platter closer towards her. “I’ll throw in anything else I happen to make as well, of course. So, what do you say?”

    “Oh, alright,” Anne rolled her eyes, her face breaking into a greedy little grin. “But just this once, you hear me?”

    “Of course,” William agreed, smiling ever so slightly, “just this once.”
    * “So, that sure didn’t go as planned,” Anne mumbled to herself, her mouth hanging half open as she took in the mountain of sugary sweets piled on her kitchen table. Some part of her wanted to storm back upstairs and tell William what for. But, what was done was done, and she was nothing if not a woman of her word. Anyway, this was just a temporary thing. She’d have her money soon enough, she was sure. Until then, it could hardly hurt to have a little treat from time to time, so long as she didn’t let herself get carried away.

    Breathing in the scent of the still warm things, Anne sighed and licked her lips. Before long, she was munching away – her broadening backside sticking out behind her as she gobbled up one buttery goodie after another. The damn things were just too damn tasty!
    * Months later, Anne shifted her feet as she waited, once more, for William to open his door.

    “Hi,” she said, stroking her arm, once he’d made his appearance, “you wouldn’t happen to be working on another batch of those cupcakes, or anything like that, would you? I’ve kind of run out again, you see…”

    “Already?” he pursed his lips, raising a bushy eyebrow. “You sure did take a shine to those things.”

    “I guess,” Anne shrugged, glancing away. “So, got anymore?”

    William stopped a moment to study Anne, who felt her cheeks flush as his gaze drifted along all the bumps and bulges of her burgeoning body. Over the last few months, all those pastries of his had piled a good thirty pounds on her already rapidly swelling frame. Her freckled face had grown full and fat, her subtle chin resting on a chubby cushion of soft flab. The spare tire around her waist had continued to spread, until her doughy belly was peeking out past her boobs and her drooping love-handles had started to spill over her well-padded hips. Her once shapely and delicate figure had turned into a whopping collection of rippling rolls and folds. All of which, she knew, were only too visible through the strained fabric of the hopelessly tight dress she’d insisted on squeezing herself into that morning.

    “Sure thing,” he said, at last, smiling ever so slightly. “Why don’t you come on in? As it happens, I’ve got this new recipe I’m working on.”

    “Well," Anne licked her lips, "if you insist."
  16. Love
    swahilimonkfish got a reaction from AdiposeAdorer in Future Me Hates Me   
    This is the first chapter of an interactive story I'm doing on my DA page. There, people have been choosing which path they want to take at various crossroads, informing what type of story it is. I'm afraid you guys can't interact with it here because I can't edit stories a week later on Curvage to reveal the results. So I have to post it here after the results have been finalised. But chapter 2 has just been put up on there now, so you can interact with that installment
     
    Chapter 1
     
    10th May 2017
     
     
    “I hate Yesterday me” Beth sighed, waking up and hearing the unmistakable breathing of a last night hook-up next to her. Deep, laboured breathing occasionally catching and landing in a snore. “Seriously, fuck Yesterday me”
    She looked around the room and realised it was worse than she thought. It wasn’t her room. She’d not brought a boy back. A boy had brought her back. And just look. Walls dotted with vintage WWII posters. I mean, just what? What kind of monster has Britain Needs You on their wall? Had she accidentally hooked-up with Nigel Farage? That would have been awkward.
    She turned around, gently so as not to disturb, and looked back to make sure it wasn’t some grey-haired, middle-aged xenophobe deep-sleeping next to her. Thankfully, the dark skin and shaved head implied otherwise. He actually looked handsome, or as handsome as somebody can look when their face is quick-sanding into their pillow and they sleep with their mouth open. She’d done surprisingly well.
    She slowly pulled herself up, pausing and wincing every time the sheets rustled. Eventually she found herself up, and began the hunt for her clothes. Standing naked, she felt self-conscious. Nudity in front of a stranger never felt good, even if the stranger is sleeping and even if the body was Instagrammably curvy. It hadn’t always been that way. Beth Tupuola had been bone thin when she had first left school and joined Rolls-Royce on one of their engineering apprenticeships, in a way that felt zeitgeisty at the time but was more just a consequence of her love of dancing. Now, as she put on her underwear that had been lying on the floor, she could not have looked more different. She had what the magazines would call ‘curves’, and what they would describe as ‘generous’. It was all euphemistic, condescending bollocks, but they would have been right in saying that Beth looked good. The wavy black hair from her dad’s Samoan ancestry, her mum’s wide eyes and a body that was all her own. Hips that swung out like they were designed for jeans, served with a complementary arse worthy of the peach emoji. She felt this sway against her flattering dark purple dress. Her stomach may not have clung to her abdominal muscles like they used to in her dancing days, but its softness belied its flatness. And this left her in a place where every mirror that she looked at told her compliments about her 139lb 5ft2 frame. No wonder Mr Snoring-WWII-Enthusiast was so dishy. It was all that she deserved.
    It wasn’t all that Ollie deserved though.
    Beth picked up her phone and tip-toed downstairs where she could call her best friend without waking Mr Snoring-WWII-Enthusiast up. Fortunately, she was in a two-story property. One of them old terraced properties you associate with, come to think of it, World War II. Oh god, had she really slept with somebody so creepily obsessed with that era that it affected the house he lived in?
    “Come on… please pick up Klara” Beth whispered to herself, bouncing on the spot with pent-up anxiety. Eventually she heard the ringing stop and the phone answer.
    “Oh my god Beth, last night was mental. Where did you even go?” Klara answered down the phone.
    “I have no idea Klar. Why did you let me drink last night? You know I can’t take my drink. And now I’ve...” and Beth lowered her tone to a whisper. “...woken up next to some rando”.
    “Male or female? Wait, it wasn’t the hot, black guy was it? No hair?” Klara asked, clearly remembering the night better than Beth could.
    “Yeah, that’s the one!”
    “Oh my god girl. You picked yourself up a hottie! Wait, aren’t you still dating that dippy hippy chap? Roland or something ridiculous?” Klara asked.
    “Yeah, Ronald. I’m… technically still with Ronald. But, like, is that bad that I cheated on him? Cos I weirdly don’t feel guilty so maybe it’s the universe telling me to pull myself together and ditch Ronald. I think so. And it would be rude not to do what the universe says. Like, the universe knows what’s up” Beth whispered into her phone.
    “Oh, but I liked Roland...”
    “Ronald” Beth corrected.
    “Whatever, I liked him. He was cute. And he had no brains, which was nice. Plus, he dotes on you like a puppy” Klara argued.
    “Yeah, he’s cute and adorable. But he was even cuter and more adorable 40lbs ago. Now he’s as soft in the body as he is in the head. He just doesn’t do anything. Last time I mentioned maybe we should go to the gym, he thought I was suggesting we have a threesome with someone called Jim” Beth said back, trying not to raise her voice and disturb the man upstairs.
    “Fine, dump him. I’ll have him. You know I like a lover with an appetite” Klara said, winding her friend up.
    “Fuck you Klara. How does your German arse stay so fucking scrawny when all you do is feed men until their stomach becomes a dick shield anyway? And, who even is this guy I hooked up with?” Beth raged as quietly as she could.
    “I don’t know, but when I was watching you to dance...”
    “You make that sound weirdly creepy”
    “He seemed seriously into you. And he was magazine hot. But you might want to get out of there if you want to get to work in time. You know Rupa has got to make cuts in the department and your attendance is patchy these days” Klara reminded. Ever since the Brexit vote the year before, Rolls-Royce had been looking to reduce their workforce.
    “Ahh fuck! I was hoping to get to dance practice before work. But Rupa loves me, she won’t mind if I’m late...”
    “Again?”
    “Rupa really loves me. I’m her absolute favourite. You know, we hang out sometimes after work you know. She really likes me. Her brother owns this nice Bengali restaurant, you know the one on Leadmore Street, opposite where that new nightclub – Marmaris – is? Yeah, we just go there and hang out and chat shit about you apprentices. She is so fun and naughty, and it’s so inspiring for a woman still in her 30s to run the whole department. She’d never fire me” Beth argued.
    “She might not have a choice, babe”
    “Maybe. Oh, I don’t know. I really need to go to dance though. If I don’t, they’ll probably kick me off the team. God, all these dilemmas, off the back of accidentally shagging a hottie. I’m so unlucky at times” Beth joked with feigned self-pity.
    “You make your own luck. You tell your own story. You shape its every detail. And nobody can decide anything on your behalf. Beth, is it?” a voice came from behind
    “Sorry, I gotta go, the hottie is awake and talking to me” Beth whispered down the phone before hanging up. She turned around and smiled as if she hadn’t been talking about him behind his back.
    “So, you think I’m a ‘hottie’ do you?” Mr Snoring-WWII-Enthusiast smiled at her charmingly.
    “You heard that?”
    “I heard all of it. The walls in these old properties are really thin. I bet Madge next door heard that, even without her hearing aid. My name, because by the sounds of it you do not remember, is Deon. I’m a graphic designer specialising in WWII memorabilia. And I did not know you had a boyfriend, or I would not have made a move on you. Now… do you want a ham and cheese toastie for breakfast?” Deon asked with effortless chill.
    “Well, least that explains the creepy WWII posters. I mean, I’d love to but… I’m vegetarian so that’s probably the universe saying that I should go...” Beth gulped.
    “Did you not hear what I said about you telling your own story? And besides, one cheese and ham toastie for breakfast isn’t going to send you off the rails, is it? Come on… stay. You have anywhere else you need to be?” he smiled.
     
    1) Beth agrees to stay and eat a cheese and ham toastie with Deon.
    2) Beth leaves for dance class instead.
    3) Beth heads straight to work to get there on time
     
     
     
    *-*-*-*-*-*-*
     
     
     
    10th May 2019
     
     
    “Future me is going to hate me for this” Beth smiled as she downed her shot. The talking to herself might have looked weird, but the loud, pulsing beats pumping its soundwaves through the sticky-floored dancefloor of Marmaris drowned out her words and most all else. “Seriously, fuck Future me!”
    She looked around the room and realised it was worse than she thought when it started listing like a rolling ship to one side. It wasn’t even 11pm and already her feet felt uneasy on the ground, despite the stickiness beneath theoretically ameliorating that. She saw the side-door where she could hang out with the vapers and the smokers, and breathe some fresh air to make things feel a little easier for her.
    It was harder than she hoped for, just getting there. She was uneasy on her heels at the best of times, and these were far sloshier times than the best of times. That, and the usual crowds filling the place with their waving arms and jabby elbows, all conspiring to stand between Beth and where she needed to go. Finally, she bundled past the last of them and reached the outdoor area where things just felt a bit better. The freshness of the mid-May air and the door closing behind her to dampen the sound of bass-vibrating dance music.
    “Ugh” Beth sighed, grateful for a wall to lean against as she pulled out her phone. Tonight had been a mistake, and she knew she was going to regret it in the morning. She was already teetering on regret as it was.
    First, her dress was not as flattering on her as she had envisaged it. It wrapped around her like it was trying to mummify her, giving barely her pores space to breathe. It should have been fine. It fit her when she wore it out a couple of weeks back, albeit not loosely, but it seemed as though any air between her and the dress had been suctioned out. It pulled up shorter than she’d have liked on her legs, revealing the duffled texture of her lower thighs as they brushed together against one another. And, being as pear-shaped as her evening was going, the dress heaved out to accommodate her prestigious hips and arse, wide and deep. Above that sat her stomach, leaning against the lining of her dress like she was leaning on the dirty wall. Her breasts were pushed up to the point where it was affecting her posture and her arms felt jumpered. How had she gotten to this size? What had she done to the universe to deserve this? It felt like only two years ago that she looked beautiful and curvy. It had been a tough old two years, that was for sure.
    And, to make matters worse, more creepy messages from her ex, who had refused to move on and let Beth go. On one hand, it was flattering that she could still have that effect on people, but the sheer clinginess of someone she was no longer seeing made her feel deeply uneasy and conspicuous as she stood outside. Messages, inappropriately flirtatious messages sent from an ex to a girl in a loving relationship; it all sounded like the sort of thing that the police investigation of a murdered young woman reveals. God, everything was the worst.
    And then it started raining. Now everything truly was the worst.
    So Beth trudged home, head slung low to protect her eyes from getting sore from the rainwater, but also as a consequence of her Eyeorian mood. Carrying her shoes in her hands, her bare feet on the cold, wet pavement, her dress soddening itself to her bulbous form. There was nothing for it, she ran across the road to Flavours Of India, the Bengali restaurant and takeaway. Standing in front of the door where there was shelter, she shivered as she scrolled through her phone’s contacts, looking for the local taxi firm.
    “Beth? Beth Tupuola?” was heard by her, and she jumped and turned in fear.
    “Who the fuc… oh, Bipin. You scared the piss out of me there” Beth said, her entire body shaking with cold and fear, to Rupa’s brother.
    “Oh, I am sorry girl. But I saw you coming from across the street. Come, sit down, let us get something for you to eat” Bipin said kindly, inviting her inside where it was lovely and warm.
    “Cheers Bipin. Been a bit distracted of late”
    “Oh relax Beth. God, you look soaked. Let my cousin get you a towel from the closet” he said kindly, before turning and barking aggressively in Bangla to what was presumably his cousin. From the back of the restaurant came a man with a towel, which Beth wrapped around herself. “And I know exactly what to get you. Chicken biriyani? Poppadoms? Garlic naans? Am I right?”
    “Yeah, that’s the one. That’s my usual. And, thanks Bipin” Beth said, smiling kindly.
    Beth waited while the wind and rain lashed on the sides of the quiet restaurant, with very few people entering and leaving. It was a Thursday, so it was perhaps predictable that it was quiet. Slowly warming up and lessening her shiver, a cold hand went into her handbag again and pulled out her phone. She flicked through and chose to ring her partner instead of a taxi. And here was the real reason that she had been in a bad mood. She was suffering from severe relationship troubles. It felt like all they did was argue these days. Sometimes the word ‘weight’ would be mentioned, but always would the arguments be full throttle and vitriolic. But Beth couldn’t hide forever. She clicked on the contact and sent a message, requesting to be picked up.
    “Here you go Beth. Chicken biriyani, poppadoms and garlic naans. I have no idea why you would eat naan bread with a biriyani but you do you” Bipin smiled as he served the steaming dish and sides.
    “Because it tastes nice. You do the best garlic naans, Bipin” she smiled as she tucked into it, her fork a shovel as she loaded it off the plate and then unloaded it into her mouth. The biriyani was surprisingly moist, the poppadoms were crisp, the naans tasted of oil and garlic. It wasn’t highbrow cuisine, but it served as comfort food to a girl who could do with some comfort. And she ate it with vigour of a starved animal.
    However, halfway through the meal, she heard the bell over the door ring to indicate somebody had walked through it.
    “Hey Beth, you text me for a taxi ride back?”
    “Hey, my lover, let me just finish this and I’ll be right with you” she replied, turning with a greasy smile to see her partner…
     
    A) Rupa
    Deon
    C) Ollie
    D) Klara
  17. Like
    swahilimonkfish got a reaction from berserker1 in Future Me Hates Me   
    This is an honest-to-god honour and privilege. Thank you so much Berserker!
    And to those who don't know, check out their other contributions - The Comfort Zone, Paul's Dilemma etc. with Polaris. Game changer with Kowlooner/MaximumSpyder. The Sculpting of Kate by Woodsmont. Check out their stuff on their dA page, from the link in their comment - it's awesome
  18. Hot
    swahilimonkfish reacted to berserker1 in Future Me Hates Me   
    Made a cover for this fantastic story. Hope you all enjoy it!
     

     

  19. Hot
    swahilimonkfish got a reaction from Howarddonaldson3 in Future Me Hates Me   
    This is the first chapter of an interactive story I'm doing on my DA page. There, people have been choosing which path they want to take at various crossroads, informing what type of story it is. I'm afraid you guys can't interact with it here because I can't edit stories a week later on Curvage to reveal the results. So I have to post it here after the results have been finalised. But chapter 2 has just been put up on there now, so you can interact with that installment
     
    Chapter 1
     
    10th May 2017
     
     
    “I hate Yesterday me” Beth sighed, waking up and hearing the unmistakable breathing of a last night hook-up next to her. Deep, laboured breathing occasionally catching and landing in a snore. “Seriously, fuck Yesterday me”
    She looked around the room and realised it was worse than she thought. It wasn’t her room. She’d not brought a boy back. A boy had brought her back. And just look. Walls dotted with vintage WWII posters. I mean, just what? What kind of monster has Britain Needs You on their wall? Had she accidentally hooked-up with Nigel Farage? That would have been awkward.
    She turned around, gently so as not to disturb, and looked back to make sure it wasn’t some grey-haired, middle-aged xenophobe deep-sleeping next to her. Thankfully, the dark skin and shaved head implied otherwise. He actually looked handsome, or as handsome as somebody can look when their face is quick-sanding into their pillow and they sleep with their mouth open. She’d done surprisingly well.
    She slowly pulled herself up, pausing and wincing every time the sheets rustled. Eventually she found herself up, and began the hunt for her clothes. Standing naked, she felt self-conscious. Nudity in front of a stranger never felt good, even if the stranger is sleeping and even if the body was Instagrammably curvy. It hadn’t always been that way. Beth Tupuola had been bone thin when she had first left school and joined Rolls-Royce on one of their engineering apprenticeships, in a way that felt zeitgeisty at the time but was more just a consequence of her love of dancing. Now, as she put on her underwear that had been lying on the floor, she could not have looked more different. She had what the magazines would call ‘curves’, and what they would describe as ‘generous’. It was all euphemistic, condescending bollocks, but they would have been right in saying that Beth looked good. The wavy black hair from her dad’s Samoan ancestry, her mum’s wide eyes and a body that was all her own. Hips that swung out like they were designed for jeans, served with a complementary arse worthy of the peach emoji. She felt this sway against her flattering dark purple dress. Her stomach may not have clung to her abdominal muscles like they used to in her dancing days, but its softness belied its flatness. And this left her in a place where every mirror that she looked at told her compliments about her 139lb 5ft2 frame. No wonder Mr Snoring-WWII-Enthusiast was so dishy. It was all that she deserved.
    It wasn’t all that Ollie deserved though.
    Beth picked up her phone and tip-toed downstairs where she could call her best friend without waking Mr Snoring-WWII-Enthusiast up. Fortunately, she was in a two-story property. One of them old terraced properties you associate with, come to think of it, World War II. Oh god, had she really slept with somebody so creepily obsessed with that era that it affected the house he lived in?
    “Come on… please pick up Klara” Beth whispered to herself, bouncing on the spot with pent-up anxiety. Eventually she heard the ringing stop and the phone answer.
    “Oh my god Beth, last night was mental. Where did you even go?” Klara answered down the phone.
    “I have no idea Klar. Why did you let me drink last night? You know I can’t take my drink. And now I’ve...” and Beth lowered her tone to a whisper. “...woken up next to some rando”.
    “Male or female? Wait, it wasn’t the hot, black guy was it? No hair?” Klara asked, clearly remembering the night better than Beth could.
    “Yeah, that’s the one!”
    “Oh my god girl. You picked yourself up a hottie! Wait, aren’t you still dating that dippy hippy chap? Roland or something ridiculous?” Klara asked.
    “Yeah, Ronald. I’m… technically still with Ronald. But, like, is that bad that I cheated on him? Cos I weirdly don’t feel guilty so maybe it’s the universe telling me to pull myself together and ditch Ronald. I think so. And it would be rude not to do what the universe says. Like, the universe knows what’s up” Beth whispered into her phone.
    “Oh, but I liked Roland...”
    “Ronald” Beth corrected.
    “Whatever, I liked him. He was cute. And he had no brains, which was nice. Plus, he dotes on you like a puppy” Klara argued.
    “Yeah, he’s cute and adorable. But he was even cuter and more adorable 40lbs ago. Now he’s as soft in the body as he is in the head. He just doesn’t do anything. Last time I mentioned maybe we should go to the gym, he thought I was suggesting we have a threesome with someone called Jim” Beth said back, trying not to raise her voice and disturb the man upstairs.
    “Fine, dump him. I’ll have him. You know I like a lover with an appetite” Klara said, winding her friend up.
    “Fuck you Klara. How does your German arse stay so fucking scrawny when all you do is feed men until their stomach becomes a dick shield anyway? And, who even is this guy I hooked up with?” Beth raged as quietly as she could.
    “I don’t know, but when I was watching you to dance...”
    “You make that sound weirdly creepy”
    “He seemed seriously into you. And he was magazine hot. But you might want to get out of there if you want to get to work in time. You know Rupa has got to make cuts in the department and your attendance is patchy these days” Klara reminded. Ever since the Brexit vote the year before, Rolls-Royce had been looking to reduce their workforce.
    “Ahh fuck! I was hoping to get to dance practice before work. But Rupa loves me, she won’t mind if I’m late...”
    “Again?”
    “Rupa really loves me. I’m her absolute favourite. You know, we hang out sometimes after work you know. She really likes me. Her brother owns this nice Bengali restaurant, you know the one on Leadmore Street, opposite where that new nightclub – Marmaris – is? Yeah, we just go there and hang out and chat shit about you apprentices. She is so fun and naughty, and it’s so inspiring for a woman still in her 30s to run the whole department. She’d never fire me” Beth argued.
    “She might not have a choice, babe”
    “Maybe. Oh, I don’t know. I really need to go to dance though. If I don’t, they’ll probably kick me off the team. God, all these dilemmas, off the back of accidentally shagging a hottie. I’m so unlucky at times” Beth joked with feigned self-pity.
    “You make your own luck. You tell your own story. You shape its every detail. And nobody can decide anything on your behalf. Beth, is it?” a voice came from behind
    “Sorry, I gotta go, the hottie is awake and talking to me” Beth whispered down the phone before hanging up. She turned around and smiled as if she hadn’t been talking about him behind his back.
    “So, you think I’m a ‘hottie’ do you?” Mr Snoring-WWII-Enthusiast smiled at her charmingly.
    “You heard that?”
    “I heard all of it. The walls in these old properties are really thin. I bet Madge next door heard that, even without her hearing aid. My name, because by the sounds of it you do not remember, is Deon. I’m a graphic designer specialising in WWII memorabilia. And I did not know you had a boyfriend, or I would not have made a move on you. Now… do you want a ham and cheese toastie for breakfast?” Deon asked with effortless chill.
    “Well, least that explains the creepy WWII posters. I mean, I’d love to but… I’m vegetarian so that’s probably the universe saying that I should go...” Beth gulped.
    “Did you not hear what I said about you telling your own story? And besides, one cheese and ham toastie for breakfast isn’t going to send you off the rails, is it? Come on… stay. You have anywhere else you need to be?” he smiled.
     
    1) Beth agrees to stay and eat a cheese and ham toastie with Deon.
    2) Beth leaves for dance class instead.
    3) Beth heads straight to work to get there on time
     
     
     
    *-*-*-*-*-*-*
     
     
     
    10th May 2019
     
     
    “Future me is going to hate me for this” Beth smiled as she downed her shot. The talking to herself might have looked weird, but the loud, pulsing beats pumping its soundwaves through the sticky-floored dancefloor of Marmaris drowned out her words and most all else. “Seriously, fuck Future me!”
    She looked around the room and realised it was worse than she thought when it started listing like a rolling ship to one side. It wasn’t even 11pm and already her feet felt uneasy on the ground, despite the stickiness beneath theoretically ameliorating that. She saw the side-door where she could hang out with the vapers and the smokers, and breathe some fresh air to make things feel a little easier for her.
    It was harder than she hoped for, just getting there. She was uneasy on her heels at the best of times, and these were far sloshier times than the best of times. That, and the usual crowds filling the place with their waving arms and jabby elbows, all conspiring to stand between Beth and where she needed to go. Finally, she bundled past the last of them and reached the outdoor area where things just felt a bit better. The freshness of the mid-May air and the door closing behind her to dampen the sound of bass-vibrating dance music.
    “Ugh” Beth sighed, grateful for a wall to lean against as she pulled out her phone. Tonight had been a mistake, and she knew she was going to regret it in the morning. She was already teetering on regret as it was.
    First, her dress was not as flattering on her as she had envisaged it. It wrapped around her like it was trying to mummify her, giving barely her pores space to breathe. It should have been fine. It fit her when she wore it out a couple of weeks back, albeit not loosely, but it seemed as though any air between her and the dress had been suctioned out. It pulled up shorter than she’d have liked on her legs, revealing the duffled texture of her lower thighs as they brushed together against one another. And, being as pear-shaped as her evening was going, the dress heaved out to accommodate her prestigious hips and arse, wide and deep. Above that sat her stomach, leaning against the lining of her dress like she was leaning on the dirty wall. Her breasts were pushed up to the point where it was affecting her posture and her arms felt jumpered. How had she gotten to this size? What had she done to the universe to deserve this? It felt like only two years ago that she looked beautiful and curvy. It had been a tough old two years, that was for sure.
    And, to make matters worse, more creepy messages from her ex, who had refused to move on and let Beth go. On one hand, it was flattering that she could still have that effect on people, but the sheer clinginess of someone she was no longer seeing made her feel deeply uneasy and conspicuous as she stood outside. Messages, inappropriately flirtatious messages sent from an ex to a girl in a loving relationship; it all sounded like the sort of thing that the police investigation of a murdered young woman reveals. God, everything was the worst.
    And then it started raining. Now everything truly was the worst.
    So Beth trudged home, head slung low to protect her eyes from getting sore from the rainwater, but also as a consequence of her Eyeorian mood. Carrying her shoes in her hands, her bare feet on the cold, wet pavement, her dress soddening itself to her bulbous form. There was nothing for it, she ran across the road to Flavours Of India, the Bengali restaurant and takeaway. Standing in front of the door where there was shelter, she shivered as she scrolled through her phone’s contacts, looking for the local taxi firm.
    “Beth? Beth Tupuola?” was heard by her, and she jumped and turned in fear.
    “Who the fuc… oh, Bipin. You scared the piss out of me there” Beth said, her entire body shaking with cold and fear, to Rupa’s brother.
    “Oh, I am sorry girl. But I saw you coming from across the street. Come, sit down, let us get something for you to eat” Bipin said kindly, inviting her inside where it was lovely and warm.
    “Cheers Bipin. Been a bit distracted of late”
    “Oh relax Beth. God, you look soaked. Let my cousin get you a towel from the closet” he said kindly, before turning and barking aggressively in Bangla to what was presumably his cousin. From the back of the restaurant came a man with a towel, which Beth wrapped around herself. “And I know exactly what to get you. Chicken biriyani? Poppadoms? Garlic naans? Am I right?”
    “Yeah, that’s the one. That’s my usual. And, thanks Bipin” Beth said, smiling kindly.
    Beth waited while the wind and rain lashed on the sides of the quiet restaurant, with very few people entering and leaving. It was a Thursday, so it was perhaps predictable that it was quiet. Slowly warming up and lessening her shiver, a cold hand went into her handbag again and pulled out her phone. She flicked through and chose to ring her partner instead of a taxi. And here was the real reason that she had been in a bad mood. She was suffering from severe relationship troubles. It felt like all they did was argue these days. Sometimes the word ‘weight’ would be mentioned, but always would the arguments be full throttle and vitriolic. But Beth couldn’t hide forever. She clicked on the contact and sent a message, requesting to be picked up.
    “Here you go Beth. Chicken biriyani, poppadoms and garlic naans. I have no idea why you would eat naan bread with a biriyani but you do you” Bipin smiled as he served the steaming dish and sides.
    “Because it tastes nice. You do the best garlic naans, Bipin” she smiled as she tucked into it, her fork a shovel as she loaded it off the plate and then unloaded it into her mouth. The biriyani was surprisingly moist, the poppadoms were crisp, the naans tasted of oil and garlic. It wasn’t highbrow cuisine, but it served as comfort food to a girl who could do with some comfort. And she ate it with vigour of a starved animal.
    However, halfway through the meal, she heard the bell over the door ring to indicate somebody had walked through it.
    “Hey Beth, you text me for a taxi ride back?”
    “Hey, my lover, let me just finish this and I’ll be right with you” she replied, turning with a greasy smile to see her partner…
     
    A) Rupa
    Deon
    C) Ollie
    D) Klara
  20. Love
    swahilimonkfish got a reaction from dania201 in Future Me Hates Me   
    This is the first chapter of an interactive story I'm doing on my DA page. There, people have been choosing which path they want to take at various crossroads, informing what type of story it is. I'm afraid you guys can't interact with it here because I can't edit stories a week later on Curvage to reveal the results. So I have to post it here after the results have been finalised. But chapter 2 has just been put up on there now, so you can interact with that installment
     
    Chapter 1
     
    10th May 2017
     
     
    “I hate Yesterday me” Beth sighed, waking up and hearing the unmistakable breathing of a last night hook-up next to her. Deep, laboured breathing occasionally catching and landing in a snore. “Seriously, fuck Yesterday me”
    She looked around the room and realised it was worse than she thought. It wasn’t her room. She’d not brought a boy back. A boy had brought her back. And just look. Walls dotted with vintage WWII posters. I mean, just what? What kind of monster has Britain Needs You on their wall? Had she accidentally hooked-up with Nigel Farage? That would have been awkward.
    She turned around, gently so as not to disturb, and looked back to make sure it wasn’t some grey-haired, middle-aged xenophobe deep-sleeping next to her. Thankfully, the dark skin and shaved head implied otherwise. He actually looked handsome, or as handsome as somebody can look when their face is quick-sanding into their pillow and they sleep with their mouth open. She’d done surprisingly well.
    She slowly pulled herself up, pausing and wincing every time the sheets rustled. Eventually she found herself up, and began the hunt for her clothes. Standing naked, she felt self-conscious. Nudity in front of a stranger never felt good, even if the stranger is sleeping and even if the body was Instagrammably curvy. It hadn’t always been that way. Beth Tupuola had been bone thin when she had first left school and joined Rolls-Royce on one of their engineering apprenticeships, in a way that felt zeitgeisty at the time but was more just a consequence of her love of dancing. Now, as she put on her underwear that had been lying on the floor, she could not have looked more different. She had what the magazines would call ‘curves’, and what they would describe as ‘generous’. It was all euphemistic, condescending bollocks, but they would have been right in saying that Beth looked good. The wavy black hair from her dad’s Samoan ancestry, her mum’s wide eyes and a body that was all her own. Hips that swung out like they were designed for jeans, served with a complementary arse worthy of the peach emoji. She felt this sway against her flattering dark purple dress. Her stomach may not have clung to her abdominal muscles like they used to in her dancing days, but its softness belied its flatness. And this left her in a place where every mirror that she looked at told her compliments about her 139lb 5ft2 frame. No wonder Mr Snoring-WWII-Enthusiast was so dishy. It was all that she deserved.
    It wasn’t all that Ollie deserved though.
    Beth picked up her phone and tip-toed downstairs where she could call her best friend without waking Mr Snoring-WWII-Enthusiast up. Fortunately, she was in a two-story property. One of them old terraced properties you associate with, come to think of it, World War II. Oh god, had she really slept with somebody so creepily obsessed with that era that it affected the house he lived in?
    “Come on… please pick up Klara” Beth whispered to herself, bouncing on the spot with pent-up anxiety. Eventually she heard the ringing stop and the phone answer.
    “Oh my god Beth, last night was mental. Where did you even go?” Klara answered down the phone.
    “I have no idea Klar. Why did you let me drink last night? You know I can’t take my drink. And now I’ve...” and Beth lowered her tone to a whisper. “...woken up next to some rando”.
    “Male or female? Wait, it wasn’t the hot, black guy was it? No hair?” Klara asked, clearly remembering the night better than Beth could.
    “Yeah, that’s the one!”
    “Oh my god girl. You picked yourself up a hottie! Wait, aren’t you still dating that dippy hippy chap? Roland or something ridiculous?” Klara asked.
    “Yeah, Ronald. I’m… technically still with Ronald. But, like, is that bad that I cheated on him? Cos I weirdly don’t feel guilty so maybe it’s the universe telling me to pull myself together and ditch Ronald. I think so. And it would be rude not to do what the universe says. Like, the universe knows what’s up” Beth whispered into her phone.
    “Oh, but I liked Roland...”
    “Ronald” Beth corrected.
    “Whatever, I liked him. He was cute. And he had no brains, which was nice. Plus, he dotes on you like a puppy” Klara argued.
    “Yeah, he’s cute and adorable. But he was even cuter and more adorable 40lbs ago. Now he’s as soft in the body as he is in the head. He just doesn’t do anything. Last time I mentioned maybe we should go to the gym, he thought I was suggesting we have a threesome with someone called Jim” Beth said back, trying not to raise her voice and disturb the man upstairs.
    “Fine, dump him. I’ll have him. You know I like a lover with an appetite” Klara said, winding her friend up.
    “Fuck you Klara. How does your German arse stay so fucking scrawny when all you do is feed men until their stomach becomes a dick shield anyway? And, who even is this guy I hooked up with?” Beth raged as quietly as she could.
    “I don’t know, but when I was watching you to dance...”
    “You make that sound weirdly creepy”
    “He seemed seriously into you. And he was magazine hot. But you might want to get out of there if you want to get to work in time. You know Rupa has got to make cuts in the department and your attendance is patchy these days” Klara reminded. Ever since the Brexit vote the year before, Rolls-Royce had been looking to reduce their workforce.
    “Ahh fuck! I was hoping to get to dance practice before work. But Rupa loves me, she won’t mind if I’m late...”
    “Again?”
    “Rupa really loves me. I’m her absolute favourite. You know, we hang out sometimes after work you know. She really likes me. Her brother owns this nice Bengali restaurant, you know the one on Leadmore Street, opposite where that new nightclub – Marmaris – is? Yeah, we just go there and hang out and chat shit about you apprentices. She is so fun and naughty, and it’s so inspiring for a woman still in her 30s to run the whole department. She’d never fire me” Beth argued.
    “She might not have a choice, babe”
    “Maybe. Oh, I don’t know. I really need to go to dance though. If I don’t, they’ll probably kick me off the team. God, all these dilemmas, off the back of accidentally shagging a hottie. I’m so unlucky at times” Beth joked with feigned self-pity.
    “You make your own luck. You tell your own story. You shape its every detail. And nobody can decide anything on your behalf. Beth, is it?” a voice came from behind
    “Sorry, I gotta go, the hottie is awake and talking to me” Beth whispered down the phone before hanging up. She turned around and smiled as if she hadn’t been talking about him behind his back.
    “So, you think I’m a ‘hottie’ do you?” Mr Snoring-WWII-Enthusiast smiled at her charmingly.
    “You heard that?”
    “I heard all of it. The walls in these old properties are really thin. I bet Madge next door heard that, even without her hearing aid. My name, because by the sounds of it you do not remember, is Deon. I’m a graphic designer specialising in WWII memorabilia. And I did not know you had a boyfriend, or I would not have made a move on you. Now… do you want a ham and cheese toastie for breakfast?” Deon asked with effortless chill.
    “Well, least that explains the creepy WWII posters. I mean, I’d love to but… I’m vegetarian so that’s probably the universe saying that I should go...” Beth gulped.
    “Did you not hear what I said about you telling your own story? And besides, one cheese and ham toastie for breakfast isn’t going to send you off the rails, is it? Come on… stay. You have anywhere else you need to be?” he smiled.
     
    1) Beth agrees to stay and eat a cheese and ham toastie with Deon.
    2) Beth leaves for dance class instead.
    3) Beth heads straight to work to get there on time
     
     
     
    *-*-*-*-*-*-*
     
     
     
    10th May 2019
     
     
    “Future me is going to hate me for this” Beth smiled as she downed her shot. The talking to herself might have looked weird, but the loud, pulsing beats pumping its soundwaves through the sticky-floored dancefloor of Marmaris drowned out her words and most all else. “Seriously, fuck Future me!”
    She looked around the room and realised it was worse than she thought when it started listing like a rolling ship to one side. It wasn’t even 11pm and already her feet felt uneasy on the ground, despite the stickiness beneath theoretically ameliorating that. She saw the side-door where she could hang out with the vapers and the smokers, and breathe some fresh air to make things feel a little easier for her.
    It was harder than she hoped for, just getting there. She was uneasy on her heels at the best of times, and these were far sloshier times than the best of times. That, and the usual crowds filling the place with their waving arms and jabby elbows, all conspiring to stand between Beth and where she needed to go. Finally, she bundled past the last of them and reached the outdoor area where things just felt a bit better. The freshness of the mid-May air and the door closing behind her to dampen the sound of bass-vibrating dance music.
    “Ugh” Beth sighed, grateful for a wall to lean against as she pulled out her phone. Tonight had been a mistake, and she knew she was going to regret it in the morning. She was already teetering on regret as it was.
    First, her dress was not as flattering on her as she had envisaged it. It wrapped around her like it was trying to mummify her, giving barely her pores space to breathe. It should have been fine. It fit her when she wore it out a couple of weeks back, albeit not loosely, but it seemed as though any air between her and the dress had been suctioned out. It pulled up shorter than she’d have liked on her legs, revealing the duffled texture of her lower thighs as they brushed together against one another. And, being as pear-shaped as her evening was going, the dress heaved out to accommodate her prestigious hips and arse, wide and deep. Above that sat her stomach, leaning against the lining of her dress like she was leaning on the dirty wall. Her breasts were pushed up to the point where it was affecting her posture and her arms felt jumpered. How had she gotten to this size? What had she done to the universe to deserve this? It felt like only two years ago that she looked beautiful and curvy. It had been a tough old two years, that was for sure.
    And, to make matters worse, more creepy messages from her ex, who had refused to move on and let Beth go. On one hand, it was flattering that she could still have that effect on people, but the sheer clinginess of someone she was no longer seeing made her feel deeply uneasy and conspicuous as she stood outside. Messages, inappropriately flirtatious messages sent from an ex to a girl in a loving relationship; it all sounded like the sort of thing that the police investigation of a murdered young woman reveals. God, everything was the worst.
    And then it started raining. Now everything truly was the worst.
    So Beth trudged home, head slung low to protect her eyes from getting sore from the rainwater, but also as a consequence of her Eyeorian mood. Carrying her shoes in her hands, her bare feet on the cold, wet pavement, her dress soddening itself to her bulbous form. There was nothing for it, she ran across the road to Flavours Of India, the Bengali restaurant and takeaway. Standing in front of the door where there was shelter, she shivered as she scrolled through her phone’s contacts, looking for the local taxi firm.
    “Beth? Beth Tupuola?” was heard by her, and she jumped and turned in fear.
    “Who the fuc… oh, Bipin. You scared the piss out of me there” Beth said, her entire body shaking with cold and fear, to Rupa’s brother.
    “Oh, I am sorry girl. But I saw you coming from across the street. Come, sit down, let us get something for you to eat” Bipin said kindly, inviting her inside where it was lovely and warm.
    “Cheers Bipin. Been a bit distracted of late”
    “Oh relax Beth. God, you look soaked. Let my cousin get you a towel from the closet” he said kindly, before turning and barking aggressively in Bangla to what was presumably his cousin. From the back of the restaurant came a man with a towel, which Beth wrapped around herself. “And I know exactly what to get you. Chicken biriyani? Poppadoms? Garlic naans? Am I right?”
    “Yeah, that’s the one. That’s my usual. And, thanks Bipin” Beth said, smiling kindly.
    Beth waited while the wind and rain lashed on the sides of the quiet restaurant, with very few people entering and leaving. It was a Thursday, so it was perhaps predictable that it was quiet. Slowly warming up and lessening her shiver, a cold hand went into her handbag again and pulled out her phone. She flicked through and chose to ring her partner instead of a taxi. And here was the real reason that she had been in a bad mood. She was suffering from severe relationship troubles. It felt like all they did was argue these days. Sometimes the word ‘weight’ would be mentioned, but always would the arguments be full throttle and vitriolic. But Beth couldn’t hide forever. She clicked on the contact and sent a message, requesting to be picked up.
    “Here you go Beth. Chicken biriyani, poppadoms and garlic naans. I have no idea why you would eat naan bread with a biriyani but you do you” Bipin smiled as he served the steaming dish and sides.
    “Because it tastes nice. You do the best garlic naans, Bipin” she smiled as she tucked into it, her fork a shovel as she loaded it off the plate and then unloaded it into her mouth. The biriyani was surprisingly moist, the poppadoms were crisp, the naans tasted of oil and garlic. It wasn’t highbrow cuisine, but it served as comfort food to a girl who could do with some comfort. And she ate it with vigour of a starved animal.
    However, halfway through the meal, she heard the bell over the door ring to indicate somebody had walked through it.
    “Hey Beth, you text me for a taxi ride back?”
    “Hey, my lover, let me just finish this and I’ll be right with you” she replied, turning with a greasy smile to see her partner…
     
    A) Rupa
    Deon
    C) Ollie
    D) Klara
  21. Hot
    swahilimonkfish got a reaction from esploratore324 in Future Me Hates Me   
    This is the first chapter of an interactive story I'm doing on my DA page. There, people have been choosing which path they want to take at various crossroads, informing what type of story it is. I'm afraid you guys can't interact with it here because I can't edit stories a week later on Curvage to reveal the results. So I have to post it here after the results have been finalised. But chapter 2 has just been put up on there now, so you can interact with that installment
     
    Chapter 1
     
    10th May 2017
     
     
    “I hate Yesterday me” Beth sighed, waking up and hearing the unmistakable breathing of a last night hook-up next to her. Deep, laboured breathing occasionally catching and landing in a snore. “Seriously, fuck Yesterday me”
    She looked around the room and realised it was worse than she thought. It wasn’t her room. She’d not brought a boy back. A boy had brought her back. And just look. Walls dotted with vintage WWII posters. I mean, just what? What kind of monster has Britain Needs You on their wall? Had she accidentally hooked-up with Nigel Farage? That would have been awkward.
    She turned around, gently so as not to disturb, and looked back to make sure it wasn’t some grey-haired, middle-aged xenophobe deep-sleeping next to her. Thankfully, the dark skin and shaved head implied otherwise. He actually looked handsome, or as handsome as somebody can look when their face is quick-sanding into their pillow and they sleep with their mouth open. She’d done surprisingly well.
    She slowly pulled herself up, pausing and wincing every time the sheets rustled. Eventually she found herself up, and began the hunt for her clothes. Standing naked, she felt self-conscious. Nudity in front of a stranger never felt good, even if the stranger is sleeping and even if the body was Instagrammably curvy. It hadn’t always been that way. Beth Tupuola had been bone thin when she had first left school and joined Rolls-Royce on one of their engineering apprenticeships, in a way that felt zeitgeisty at the time but was more just a consequence of her love of dancing. Now, as she put on her underwear that had been lying on the floor, she could not have looked more different. She had what the magazines would call ‘curves’, and what they would describe as ‘generous’. It was all euphemistic, condescending bollocks, but they would have been right in saying that Beth looked good. The wavy black hair from her dad’s Samoan ancestry, her mum’s wide eyes and a body that was all her own. Hips that swung out like they were designed for jeans, served with a complementary arse worthy of the peach emoji. She felt this sway against her flattering dark purple dress. Her stomach may not have clung to her abdominal muscles like they used to in her dancing days, but its softness belied its flatness. And this left her in a place where every mirror that she looked at told her compliments about her 139lb 5ft2 frame. No wonder Mr Snoring-WWII-Enthusiast was so dishy. It was all that she deserved.
    It wasn’t all that Ollie deserved though.
    Beth picked up her phone and tip-toed downstairs where she could call her best friend without waking Mr Snoring-WWII-Enthusiast up. Fortunately, she was in a two-story property. One of them old terraced properties you associate with, come to think of it, World War II. Oh god, had she really slept with somebody so creepily obsessed with that era that it affected the house he lived in?
    “Come on… please pick up Klara” Beth whispered to herself, bouncing on the spot with pent-up anxiety. Eventually she heard the ringing stop and the phone answer.
    “Oh my god Beth, last night was mental. Where did you even go?” Klara answered down the phone.
    “I have no idea Klar. Why did you let me drink last night? You know I can’t take my drink. And now I’ve...” and Beth lowered her tone to a whisper. “...woken up next to some rando”.
    “Male or female? Wait, it wasn’t the hot, black guy was it? No hair?” Klara asked, clearly remembering the night better than Beth could.
    “Yeah, that’s the one!”
    “Oh my god girl. You picked yourself up a hottie! Wait, aren’t you still dating that dippy hippy chap? Roland or something ridiculous?” Klara asked.
    “Yeah, Ronald. I’m… technically still with Ronald. But, like, is that bad that I cheated on him? Cos I weirdly don’t feel guilty so maybe it’s the universe telling me to pull myself together and ditch Ronald. I think so. And it would be rude not to do what the universe says. Like, the universe knows what’s up” Beth whispered into her phone.
    “Oh, but I liked Roland...”
    “Ronald” Beth corrected.
    “Whatever, I liked him. He was cute. And he had no brains, which was nice. Plus, he dotes on you like a puppy” Klara argued.
    “Yeah, he’s cute and adorable. But he was even cuter and more adorable 40lbs ago. Now he’s as soft in the body as he is in the head. He just doesn’t do anything. Last time I mentioned maybe we should go to the gym, he thought I was suggesting we have a threesome with someone called Jim” Beth said back, trying not to raise her voice and disturb the man upstairs.
    “Fine, dump him. I’ll have him. You know I like a lover with an appetite” Klara said, winding her friend up.
    “Fuck you Klara. How does your German arse stay so fucking scrawny when all you do is feed men until their stomach becomes a dick shield anyway? And, who even is this guy I hooked up with?” Beth raged as quietly as she could.
    “I don’t know, but when I was watching you to dance...”
    “You make that sound weirdly creepy”
    “He seemed seriously into you. And he was magazine hot. But you might want to get out of there if you want to get to work in time. You know Rupa has got to make cuts in the department and your attendance is patchy these days” Klara reminded. Ever since the Brexit vote the year before, Rolls-Royce had been looking to reduce their workforce.
    “Ahh fuck! I was hoping to get to dance practice before work. But Rupa loves me, she won’t mind if I’m late...”
    “Again?”
    “Rupa really loves me. I’m her absolute favourite. You know, we hang out sometimes after work you know. She really likes me. Her brother owns this nice Bengali restaurant, you know the one on Leadmore Street, opposite where that new nightclub – Marmaris – is? Yeah, we just go there and hang out and chat shit about you apprentices. She is so fun and naughty, and it’s so inspiring for a woman still in her 30s to run the whole department. She’d never fire me” Beth argued.
    “She might not have a choice, babe”
    “Maybe. Oh, I don’t know. I really need to go to dance though. If I don’t, they’ll probably kick me off the team. God, all these dilemmas, off the back of accidentally shagging a hottie. I’m so unlucky at times” Beth joked with feigned self-pity.
    “You make your own luck. You tell your own story. You shape its every detail. And nobody can decide anything on your behalf. Beth, is it?” a voice came from behind
    “Sorry, I gotta go, the hottie is awake and talking to me” Beth whispered down the phone before hanging up. She turned around and smiled as if she hadn’t been talking about him behind his back.
    “So, you think I’m a ‘hottie’ do you?” Mr Snoring-WWII-Enthusiast smiled at her charmingly.
    “You heard that?”
    “I heard all of it. The walls in these old properties are really thin. I bet Madge next door heard that, even without her hearing aid. My name, because by the sounds of it you do not remember, is Deon. I’m a graphic designer specialising in WWII memorabilia. And I did not know you had a boyfriend, or I would not have made a move on you. Now… do you want a ham and cheese toastie for breakfast?” Deon asked with effortless chill.
    “Well, least that explains the creepy WWII posters. I mean, I’d love to but… I’m vegetarian so that’s probably the universe saying that I should go...” Beth gulped.
    “Did you not hear what I said about you telling your own story? And besides, one cheese and ham toastie for breakfast isn’t going to send you off the rails, is it? Come on… stay. You have anywhere else you need to be?” he smiled.
     
    1) Beth agrees to stay and eat a cheese and ham toastie with Deon.
    2) Beth leaves for dance class instead.
    3) Beth heads straight to work to get there on time
     
     
     
    *-*-*-*-*-*-*
     
     
     
    10th May 2019
     
     
    “Future me is going to hate me for this” Beth smiled as she downed her shot. The talking to herself might have looked weird, but the loud, pulsing beats pumping its soundwaves through the sticky-floored dancefloor of Marmaris drowned out her words and most all else. “Seriously, fuck Future me!”
    She looked around the room and realised it was worse than she thought when it started listing like a rolling ship to one side. It wasn’t even 11pm and already her feet felt uneasy on the ground, despite the stickiness beneath theoretically ameliorating that. She saw the side-door where she could hang out with the vapers and the smokers, and breathe some fresh air to make things feel a little easier for her.
    It was harder than she hoped for, just getting there. She was uneasy on her heels at the best of times, and these were far sloshier times than the best of times. That, and the usual crowds filling the place with their waving arms and jabby elbows, all conspiring to stand between Beth and where she needed to go. Finally, she bundled past the last of them and reached the outdoor area where things just felt a bit better. The freshness of the mid-May air and the door closing behind her to dampen the sound of bass-vibrating dance music.
    “Ugh” Beth sighed, grateful for a wall to lean against as she pulled out her phone. Tonight had been a mistake, and she knew she was going to regret it in the morning. She was already teetering on regret as it was.
    First, her dress was not as flattering on her as she had envisaged it. It wrapped around her like it was trying to mummify her, giving barely her pores space to breathe. It should have been fine. It fit her when she wore it out a couple of weeks back, albeit not loosely, but it seemed as though any air between her and the dress had been suctioned out. It pulled up shorter than she’d have liked on her legs, revealing the duffled texture of her lower thighs as they brushed together against one another. And, being as pear-shaped as her evening was going, the dress heaved out to accommodate her prestigious hips and arse, wide and deep. Above that sat her stomach, leaning against the lining of her dress like she was leaning on the dirty wall. Her breasts were pushed up to the point where it was affecting her posture and her arms felt jumpered. How had she gotten to this size? What had she done to the universe to deserve this? It felt like only two years ago that she looked beautiful and curvy. It had been a tough old two years, that was for sure.
    And, to make matters worse, more creepy messages from her ex, who had refused to move on and let Beth go. On one hand, it was flattering that she could still have that effect on people, but the sheer clinginess of someone she was no longer seeing made her feel deeply uneasy and conspicuous as she stood outside. Messages, inappropriately flirtatious messages sent from an ex to a girl in a loving relationship; it all sounded like the sort of thing that the police investigation of a murdered young woman reveals. God, everything was the worst.
    And then it started raining. Now everything truly was the worst.
    So Beth trudged home, head slung low to protect her eyes from getting sore from the rainwater, but also as a consequence of her Eyeorian mood. Carrying her shoes in her hands, her bare feet on the cold, wet pavement, her dress soddening itself to her bulbous form. There was nothing for it, she ran across the road to Flavours Of India, the Bengali restaurant and takeaway. Standing in front of the door where there was shelter, she shivered as she scrolled through her phone’s contacts, looking for the local taxi firm.
    “Beth? Beth Tupuola?” was heard by her, and she jumped and turned in fear.
    “Who the fuc… oh, Bipin. You scared the piss out of me there” Beth said, her entire body shaking with cold and fear, to Rupa’s brother.
    “Oh, I am sorry girl. But I saw you coming from across the street. Come, sit down, let us get something for you to eat” Bipin said kindly, inviting her inside where it was lovely and warm.
    “Cheers Bipin. Been a bit distracted of late”
    “Oh relax Beth. God, you look soaked. Let my cousin get you a towel from the closet” he said kindly, before turning and barking aggressively in Bangla to what was presumably his cousin. From the back of the restaurant came a man with a towel, which Beth wrapped around herself. “And I know exactly what to get you. Chicken biriyani? Poppadoms? Garlic naans? Am I right?”
    “Yeah, that’s the one. That’s my usual. And, thanks Bipin” Beth said, smiling kindly.
    Beth waited while the wind and rain lashed on the sides of the quiet restaurant, with very few people entering and leaving. It was a Thursday, so it was perhaps predictable that it was quiet. Slowly warming up and lessening her shiver, a cold hand went into her handbag again and pulled out her phone. She flicked through and chose to ring her partner instead of a taxi. And here was the real reason that she had been in a bad mood. She was suffering from severe relationship troubles. It felt like all they did was argue these days. Sometimes the word ‘weight’ would be mentioned, but always would the arguments be full throttle and vitriolic. But Beth couldn’t hide forever. She clicked on the contact and sent a message, requesting to be picked up.
    “Here you go Beth. Chicken biriyani, poppadoms and garlic naans. I have no idea why you would eat naan bread with a biriyani but you do you” Bipin smiled as he served the steaming dish and sides.
    “Because it tastes nice. You do the best garlic naans, Bipin” she smiled as she tucked into it, her fork a shovel as she loaded it off the plate and then unloaded it into her mouth. The biriyani was surprisingly moist, the poppadoms were crisp, the naans tasted of oil and garlic. It wasn’t highbrow cuisine, but it served as comfort food to a girl who could do with some comfort. And she ate it with vigour of a starved animal.
    However, halfway through the meal, she heard the bell over the door ring to indicate somebody had walked through it.
    “Hey Beth, you text me for a taxi ride back?”
    “Hey, my lover, let me just finish this and I’ll be right with you” she replied, turning with a greasy smile to see her partner…
     
    A) Rupa
    Deon
    C) Ollie
    D) Klara
  22. Like
    swahilimonkfish got a reaction from ulvrik in Future Me Hates Me   
    This is the first chapter of an interactive story I'm doing on my DA page. There, people have been choosing which path they want to take at various crossroads, informing what type of story it is. I'm afraid you guys can't interact with it here because I can't edit stories a week later on Curvage to reveal the results. So I have to post it here after the results have been finalised. But chapter 2 has just been put up on there now, so you can interact with that installment
     
    Chapter 1
     
    10th May 2017
     
     
    “I hate Yesterday me” Beth sighed, waking up and hearing the unmistakable breathing of a last night hook-up next to her. Deep, laboured breathing occasionally catching and landing in a snore. “Seriously, fuck Yesterday me”
    She looked around the room and realised it was worse than she thought. It wasn’t her room. She’d not brought a boy back. A boy had brought her back. And just look. Walls dotted with vintage WWII posters. I mean, just what? What kind of monster has Britain Needs You on their wall? Had she accidentally hooked-up with Nigel Farage? That would have been awkward.
    She turned around, gently so as not to disturb, and looked back to make sure it wasn’t some grey-haired, middle-aged xenophobe deep-sleeping next to her. Thankfully, the dark skin and shaved head implied otherwise. He actually looked handsome, or as handsome as somebody can look when their face is quick-sanding into their pillow and they sleep with their mouth open. She’d done surprisingly well.
    She slowly pulled herself up, pausing and wincing every time the sheets rustled. Eventually she found herself up, and began the hunt for her clothes. Standing naked, she felt self-conscious. Nudity in front of a stranger never felt good, even if the stranger is sleeping and even if the body was Instagrammably curvy. It hadn’t always been that way. Beth Tupuola had been bone thin when she had first left school and joined Rolls-Royce on one of their engineering apprenticeships, in a way that felt zeitgeisty at the time but was more just a consequence of her love of dancing. Now, as she put on her underwear that had been lying on the floor, she could not have looked more different. She had what the magazines would call ‘curves’, and what they would describe as ‘generous’. It was all euphemistic, condescending bollocks, but they would have been right in saying that Beth looked good. The wavy black hair from her dad’s Samoan ancestry, her mum’s wide eyes and a body that was all her own. Hips that swung out like they were designed for jeans, served with a complementary arse worthy of the peach emoji. She felt this sway against her flattering dark purple dress. Her stomach may not have clung to her abdominal muscles like they used to in her dancing days, but its softness belied its flatness. And this left her in a place where every mirror that she looked at told her compliments about her 139lb 5ft2 frame. No wonder Mr Snoring-WWII-Enthusiast was so dishy. It was all that she deserved.
    It wasn’t all that Ollie deserved though.
    Beth picked up her phone and tip-toed downstairs where she could call her best friend without waking Mr Snoring-WWII-Enthusiast up. Fortunately, she was in a two-story property. One of them old terraced properties you associate with, come to think of it, World War II. Oh god, had she really slept with somebody so creepily obsessed with that era that it affected the house he lived in?
    “Come on… please pick up Klara” Beth whispered to herself, bouncing on the spot with pent-up anxiety. Eventually she heard the ringing stop and the phone answer.
    “Oh my god Beth, last night was mental. Where did you even go?” Klara answered down the phone.
    “I have no idea Klar. Why did you let me drink last night? You know I can’t take my drink. And now I’ve...” and Beth lowered her tone to a whisper. “...woken up next to some rando”.
    “Male or female? Wait, it wasn’t the hot, black guy was it? No hair?” Klara asked, clearly remembering the night better than Beth could.
    “Yeah, that’s the one!”
    “Oh my god girl. You picked yourself up a hottie! Wait, aren’t you still dating that dippy hippy chap? Roland or something ridiculous?” Klara asked.
    “Yeah, Ronald. I’m… technically still with Ronald. But, like, is that bad that I cheated on him? Cos I weirdly don’t feel guilty so maybe it’s the universe telling me to pull myself together and ditch Ronald. I think so. And it would be rude not to do what the universe says. Like, the universe knows what’s up” Beth whispered into her phone.
    “Oh, but I liked Roland...”
    “Ronald” Beth corrected.
    “Whatever, I liked him. He was cute. And he had no brains, which was nice. Plus, he dotes on you like a puppy” Klara argued.
    “Yeah, he’s cute and adorable. But he was even cuter and more adorable 40lbs ago. Now he’s as soft in the body as he is in the head. He just doesn’t do anything. Last time I mentioned maybe we should go to the gym, he thought I was suggesting we have a threesome with someone called Jim” Beth said back, trying not to raise her voice and disturb the man upstairs.
    “Fine, dump him. I’ll have him. You know I like a lover with an appetite” Klara said, winding her friend up.
    “Fuck you Klara. How does your German arse stay so fucking scrawny when all you do is feed men until their stomach becomes a dick shield anyway? And, who even is this guy I hooked up with?” Beth raged as quietly as she could.
    “I don’t know, but when I was watching you to dance...”
    “You make that sound weirdly creepy”
    “He seemed seriously into you. And he was magazine hot. But you might want to get out of there if you want to get to work in time. You know Rupa has got to make cuts in the department and your attendance is patchy these days” Klara reminded. Ever since the Brexit vote the year before, Rolls-Royce had been looking to reduce their workforce.
    “Ahh fuck! I was hoping to get to dance practice before work. But Rupa loves me, she won’t mind if I’m late...”
    “Again?”
    “Rupa really loves me. I’m her absolute favourite. You know, we hang out sometimes after work you know. She really likes me. Her brother owns this nice Bengali restaurant, you know the one on Leadmore Street, opposite where that new nightclub – Marmaris – is? Yeah, we just go there and hang out and chat shit about you apprentices. She is so fun and naughty, and it’s so inspiring for a woman still in her 30s to run the whole department. She’d never fire me” Beth argued.
    “She might not have a choice, babe”
    “Maybe. Oh, I don’t know. I really need to go to dance though. If I don’t, they’ll probably kick me off the team. God, all these dilemmas, off the back of accidentally shagging a hottie. I’m so unlucky at times” Beth joked with feigned self-pity.
    “You make your own luck. You tell your own story. You shape its every detail. And nobody can decide anything on your behalf. Beth, is it?” a voice came from behind
    “Sorry, I gotta go, the hottie is awake and talking to me” Beth whispered down the phone before hanging up. She turned around and smiled as if she hadn’t been talking about him behind his back.
    “So, you think I’m a ‘hottie’ do you?” Mr Snoring-WWII-Enthusiast smiled at her charmingly.
    “You heard that?”
    “I heard all of it. The walls in these old properties are really thin. I bet Madge next door heard that, even without her hearing aid. My name, because by the sounds of it you do not remember, is Deon. I’m a graphic designer specialising in WWII memorabilia. And I did not know you had a boyfriend, or I would not have made a move on you. Now… do you want a ham and cheese toastie for breakfast?” Deon asked with effortless chill.
    “Well, least that explains the creepy WWII posters. I mean, I’d love to but… I’m vegetarian so that’s probably the universe saying that I should go...” Beth gulped.
    “Did you not hear what I said about you telling your own story? And besides, one cheese and ham toastie for breakfast isn’t going to send you off the rails, is it? Come on… stay. You have anywhere else you need to be?” he smiled.
     
    1) Beth agrees to stay and eat a cheese and ham toastie with Deon.
    2) Beth leaves for dance class instead.
    3) Beth heads straight to work to get there on time
     
     
     
    *-*-*-*-*-*-*
     
     
     
    10th May 2019
     
     
    “Future me is going to hate me for this” Beth smiled as she downed her shot. The talking to herself might have looked weird, but the loud, pulsing beats pumping its soundwaves through the sticky-floored dancefloor of Marmaris drowned out her words and most all else. “Seriously, fuck Future me!”
    She looked around the room and realised it was worse than she thought when it started listing like a rolling ship to one side. It wasn’t even 11pm and already her feet felt uneasy on the ground, despite the stickiness beneath theoretically ameliorating that. She saw the side-door where she could hang out with the vapers and the smokers, and breathe some fresh air to make things feel a little easier for her.
    It was harder than she hoped for, just getting there. She was uneasy on her heels at the best of times, and these were far sloshier times than the best of times. That, and the usual crowds filling the place with their waving arms and jabby elbows, all conspiring to stand between Beth and where she needed to go. Finally, she bundled past the last of them and reached the outdoor area where things just felt a bit better. The freshness of the mid-May air and the door closing behind her to dampen the sound of bass-vibrating dance music.
    “Ugh” Beth sighed, grateful for a wall to lean against as she pulled out her phone. Tonight had been a mistake, and she knew she was going to regret it in the morning. She was already teetering on regret as it was.
    First, her dress was not as flattering on her as she had envisaged it. It wrapped around her like it was trying to mummify her, giving barely her pores space to breathe. It should have been fine. It fit her when she wore it out a couple of weeks back, albeit not loosely, but it seemed as though any air between her and the dress had been suctioned out. It pulled up shorter than she’d have liked on her legs, revealing the duffled texture of her lower thighs as they brushed together against one another. And, being as pear-shaped as her evening was going, the dress heaved out to accommodate her prestigious hips and arse, wide and deep. Above that sat her stomach, leaning against the lining of her dress like she was leaning on the dirty wall. Her breasts were pushed up to the point where it was affecting her posture and her arms felt jumpered. How had she gotten to this size? What had she done to the universe to deserve this? It felt like only two years ago that she looked beautiful and curvy. It had been a tough old two years, that was for sure.
    And, to make matters worse, more creepy messages from her ex, who had refused to move on and let Beth go. On one hand, it was flattering that she could still have that effect on people, but the sheer clinginess of someone she was no longer seeing made her feel deeply uneasy and conspicuous as she stood outside. Messages, inappropriately flirtatious messages sent from an ex to a girl in a loving relationship; it all sounded like the sort of thing that the police investigation of a murdered young woman reveals. God, everything was the worst.
    And then it started raining. Now everything truly was the worst.
    So Beth trudged home, head slung low to protect her eyes from getting sore from the rainwater, but also as a consequence of her Eyeorian mood. Carrying her shoes in her hands, her bare feet on the cold, wet pavement, her dress soddening itself to her bulbous form. There was nothing for it, she ran across the road to Flavours Of India, the Bengali restaurant and takeaway. Standing in front of the door where there was shelter, she shivered as she scrolled through her phone’s contacts, looking for the local taxi firm.
    “Beth? Beth Tupuola?” was heard by her, and she jumped and turned in fear.
    “Who the fuc… oh, Bipin. You scared the piss out of me there” Beth said, her entire body shaking with cold and fear, to Rupa’s brother.
    “Oh, I am sorry girl. But I saw you coming from across the street. Come, sit down, let us get something for you to eat” Bipin said kindly, inviting her inside where it was lovely and warm.
    “Cheers Bipin. Been a bit distracted of late”
    “Oh relax Beth. God, you look soaked. Let my cousin get you a towel from the closet” he said kindly, before turning and barking aggressively in Bangla to what was presumably his cousin. From the back of the restaurant came a man with a towel, which Beth wrapped around herself. “And I know exactly what to get you. Chicken biriyani? Poppadoms? Garlic naans? Am I right?”
    “Yeah, that’s the one. That’s my usual. And, thanks Bipin” Beth said, smiling kindly.
    Beth waited while the wind and rain lashed on the sides of the quiet restaurant, with very few people entering and leaving. It was a Thursday, so it was perhaps predictable that it was quiet. Slowly warming up and lessening her shiver, a cold hand went into her handbag again and pulled out her phone. She flicked through and chose to ring her partner instead of a taxi. And here was the real reason that she had been in a bad mood. She was suffering from severe relationship troubles. It felt like all they did was argue these days. Sometimes the word ‘weight’ would be mentioned, but always would the arguments be full throttle and vitriolic. But Beth couldn’t hide forever. She clicked on the contact and sent a message, requesting to be picked up.
    “Here you go Beth. Chicken biriyani, poppadoms and garlic naans. I have no idea why you would eat naan bread with a biriyani but you do you” Bipin smiled as he served the steaming dish and sides.
    “Because it tastes nice. You do the best garlic naans, Bipin” she smiled as she tucked into it, her fork a shovel as she loaded it off the plate and then unloaded it into her mouth. The biriyani was surprisingly moist, the poppadoms were crisp, the naans tasted of oil and garlic. It wasn’t highbrow cuisine, but it served as comfort food to a girl who could do with some comfort. And she ate it with vigour of a starved animal.
    However, halfway through the meal, she heard the bell over the door ring to indicate somebody had walked through it.
    “Hey Beth, you text me for a taxi ride back?”
    “Hey, my lover, let me just finish this and I’ll be right with you” she replied, turning with a greasy smile to see her partner…
     
    A) Rupa
    Deon
    C) Ollie
    D) Klara
  23. Like
    swahilimonkfish got a reaction from berserker1 in Future Me Hates Me   
    This is the first chapter of an interactive story I'm doing on my DA page. There, people have been choosing which path they want to take at various crossroads, informing what type of story it is. I'm afraid you guys can't interact with it here because I can't edit stories a week later on Curvage to reveal the results. So I have to post it here after the results have been finalised. But chapter 2 has just been put up on there now, so you can interact with that installment
     
    Chapter 1
     
    10th May 2017
     
     
    “I hate Yesterday me” Beth sighed, waking up and hearing the unmistakable breathing of a last night hook-up next to her. Deep, laboured breathing occasionally catching and landing in a snore. “Seriously, fuck Yesterday me”
    She looked around the room and realised it was worse than she thought. It wasn’t her room. She’d not brought a boy back. A boy had brought her back. And just look. Walls dotted with vintage WWII posters. I mean, just what? What kind of monster has Britain Needs You on their wall? Had she accidentally hooked-up with Nigel Farage? That would have been awkward.
    She turned around, gently so as not to disturb, and looked back to make sure it wasn’t some grey-haired, middle-aged xenophobe deep-sleeping next to her. Thankfully, the dark skin and shaved head implied otherwise. He actually looked handsome, or as handsome as somebody can look when their face is quick-sanding into their pillow and they sleep with their mouth open. She’d done surprisingly well.
    She slowly pulled herself up, pausing and wincing every time the sheets rustled. Eventually she found herself up, and began the hunt for her clothes. Standing naked, she felt self-conscious. Nudity in front of a stranger never felt good, even if the stranger is sleeping and even if the body was Instagrammably curvy. It hadn’t always been that way. Beth Tupuola had been bone thin when she had first left school and joined Rolls-Royce on one of their engineering apprenticeships, in a way that felt zeitgeisty at the time but was more just a consequence of her love of dancing. Now, as she put on her underwear that had been lying on the floor, she could not have looked more different. She had what the magazines would call ‘curves’, and what they would describe as ‘generous’. It was all euphemistic, condescending bollocks, but they would have been right in saying that Beth looked good. The wavy black hair from her dad’s Samoan ancestry, her mum’s wide eyes and a body that was all her own. Hips that swung out like they were designed for jeans, served with a complementary arse worthy of the peach emoji. She felt this sway against her flattering dark purple dress. Her stomach may not have clung to her abdominal muscles like they used to in her dancing days, but its softness belied its flatness. And this left her in a place where every mirror that she looked at told her compliments about her 139lb 5ft2 frame. No wonder Mr Snoring-WWII-Enthusiast was so dishy. It was all that she deserved.
    It wasn’t all that Ollie deserved though.
    Beth picked up her phone and tip-toed downstairs where she could call her best friend without waking Mr Snoring-WWII-Enthusiast up. Fortunately, she was in a two-story property. One of them old terraced properties you associate with, come to think of it, World War II. Oh god, had she really slept with somebody so creepily obsessed with that era that it affected the house he lived in?
    “Come on… please pick up Klara” Beth whispered to herself, bouncing on the spot with pent-up anxiety. Eventually she heard the ringing stop and the phone answer.
    “Oh my god Beth, last night was mental. Where did you even go?” Klara answered down the phone.
    “I have no idea Klar. Why did you let me drink last night? You know I can’t take my drink. And now I’ve...” and Beth lowered her tone to a whisper. “...woken up next to some rando”.
    “Male or female? Wait, it wasn’t the hot, black guy was it? No hair?” Klara asked, clearly remembering the night better than Beth could.
    “Yeah, that’s the one!”
    “Oh my god girl. You picked yourself up a hottie! Wait, aren’t you still dating that dippy hippy chap? Roland or something ridiculous?” Klara asked.
    “Yeah, Ronald. I’m… technically still with Ronald. But, like, is that bad that I cheated on him? Cos I weirdly don’t feel guilty so maybe it’s the universe telling me to pull myself together and ditch Ronald. I think so. And it would be rude not to do what the universe says. Like, the universe knows what’s up” Beth whispered into her phone.
    “Oh, but I liked Roland...”
    “Ronald” Beth corrected.
    “Whatever, I liked him. He was cute. And he had no brains, which was nice. Plus, he dotes on you like a puppy” Klara argued.
    “Yeah, he’s cute and adorable. But he was even cuter and more adorable 40lbs ago. Now he’s as soft in the body as he is in the head. He just doesn’t do anything. Last time I mentioned maybe we should go to the gym, he thought I was suggesting we have a threesome with someone called Jim” Beth said back, trying not to raise her voice and disturb the man upstairs.
    “Fine, dump him. I’ll have him. You know I like a lover with an appetite” Klara said, winding her friend up.
    “Fuck you Klara. How does your German arse stay so fucking scrawny when all you do is feed men until their stomach becomes a dick shield anyway? And, who even is this guy I hooked up with?” Beth raged as quietly as she could.
    “I don’t know, but when I was watching you to dance...”
    “You make that sound weirdly creepy”
    “He seemed seriously into you. And he was magazine hot. But you might want to get out of there if you want to get to work in time. You know Rupa has got to make cuts in the department and your attendance is patchy these days” Klara reminded. Ever since the Brexit vote the year before, Rolls-Royce had been looking to reduce their workforce.
    “Ahh fuck! I was hoping to get to dance practice before work. But Rupa loves me, she won’t mind if I’m late...”
    “Again?”
    “Rupa really loves me. I’m her absolute favourite. You know, we hang out sometimes after work you know. She really likes me. Her brother owns this nice Bengali restaurant, you know the one on Leadmore Street, opposite where that new nightclub – Marmaris – is? Yeah, we just go there and hang out and chat shit about you apprentices. She is so fun and naughty, and it’s so inspiring for a woman still in her 30s to run the whole department. She’d never fire me” Beth argued.
    “She might not have a choice, babe”
    “Maybe. Oh, I don’t know. I really need to go to dance though. If I don’t, they’ll probably kick me off the team. God, all these dilemmas, off the back of accidentally shagging a hottie. I’m so unlucky at times” Beth joked with feigned self-pity.
    “You make your own luck. You tell your own story. You shape its every detail. And nobody can decide anything on your behalf. Beth, is it?” a voice came from behind
    “Sorry, I gotta go, the hottie is awake and talking to me” Beth whispered down the phone before hanging up. She turned around and smiled as if she hadn’t been talking about him behind his back.
    “So, you think I’m a ‘hottie’ do you?” Mr Snoring-WWII-Enthusiast smiled at her charmingly.
    “You heard that?”
    “I heard all of it. The walls in these old properties are really thin. I bet Madge next door heard that, even without her hearing aid. My name, because by the sounds of it you do not remember, is Deon. I’m a graphic designer specialising in WWII memorabilia. And I did not know you had a boyfriend, or I would not have made a move on you. Now… do you want a ham and cheese toastie for breakfast?” Deon asked with effortless chill.
    “Well, least that explains the creepy WWII posters. I mean, I’d love to but… I’m vegetarian so that’s probably the universe saying that I should go...” Beth gulped.
    “Did you not hear what I said about you telling your own story? And besides, one cheese and ham toastie for breakfast isn’t going to send you off the rails, is it? Come on… stay. You have anywhere else you need to be?” he smiled.
     
    1) Beth agrees to stay and eat a cheese and ham toastie with Deon.
    2) Beth leaves for dance class instead.
    3) Beth heads straight to work to get there on time
     
     
     
    *-*-*-*-*-*-*
     
     
     
    10th May 2019
     
     
    “Future me is going to hate me for this” Beth smiled as she downed her shot. The talking to herself might have looked weird, but the loud, pulsing beats pumping its soundwaves through the sticky-floored dancefloor of Marmaris drowned out her words and most all else. “Seriously, fuck Future me!”
    She looked around the room and realised it was worse than she thought when it started listing like a rolling ship to one side. It wasn’t even 11pm and already her feet felt uneasy on the ground, despite the stickiness beneath theoretically ameliorating that. She saw the side-door where she could hang out with the vapers and the smokers, and breathe some fresh air to make things feel a little easier for her.
    It was harder than she hoped for, just getting there. She was uneasy on her heels at the best of times, and these were far sloshier times than the best of times. That, and the usual crowds filling the place with their waving arms and jabby elbows, all conspiring to stand between Beth and where she needed to go. Finally, she bundled past the last of them and reached the outdoor area where things just felt a bit better. The freshness of the mid-May air and the door closing behind her to dampen the sound of bass-vibrating dance music.
    “Ugh” Beth sighed, grateful for a wall to lean against as she pulled out her phone. Tonight had been a mistake, and she knew she was going to regret it in the morning. She was already teetering on regret as it was.
    First, her dress was not as flattering on her as she had envisaged it. It wrapped around her like it was trying to mummify her, giving barely her pores space to breathe. It should have been fine. It fit her when she wore it out a couple of weeks back, albeit not loosely, but it seemed as though any air between her and the dress had been suctioned out. It pulled up shorter than she’d have liked on her legs, revealing the duffled texture of her lower thighs as they brushed together against one another. And, being as pear-shaped as her evening was going, the dress heaved out to accommodate her prestigious hips and arse, wide and deep. Above that sat her stomach, leaning against the lining of her dress like she was leaning on the dirty wall. Her breasts were pushed up to the point where it was affecting her posture and her arms felt jumpered. How had she gotten to this size? What had she done to the universe to deserve this? It felt like only two years ago that she looked beautiful and curvy. It had been a tough old two years, that was for sure.
    And, to make matters worse, more creepy messages from her ex, who had refused to move on and let Beth go. On one hand, it was flattering that she could still have that effect on people, but the sheer clinginess of someone she was no longer seeing made her feel deeply uneasy and conspicuous as she stood outside. Messages, inappropriately flirtatious messages sent from an ex to a girl in a loving relationship; it all sounded like the sort of thing that the police investigation of a murdered young woman reveals. God, everything was the worst.
    And then it started raining. Now everything truly was the worst.
    So Beth trudged home, head slung low to protect her eyes from getting sore from the rainwater, but also as a consequence of her Eyeorian mood. Carrying her shoes in her hands, her bare feet on the cold, wet pavement, her dress soddening itself to her bulbous form. There was nothing for it, she ran across the road to Flavours Of India, the Bengali restaurant and takeaway. Standing in front of the door where there was shelter, she shivered as she scrolled through her phone’s contacts, looking for the local taxi firm.
    “Beth? Beth Tupuola?” was heard by her, and she jumped and turned in fear.
    “Who the fuc… oh, Bipin. You scared the piss out of me there” Beth said, her entire body shaking with cold and fear, to Rupa’s brother.
    “Oh, I am sorry girl. But I saw you coming from across the street. Come, sit down, let us get something for you to eat” Bipin said kindly, inviting her inside where it was lovely and warm.
    “Cheers Bipin. Been a bit distracted of late”
    “Oh relax Beth. God, you look soaked. Let my cousin get you a towel from the closet” he said kindly, before turning and barking aggressively in Bangla to what was presumably his cousin. From the back of the restaurant came a man with a towel, which Beth wrapped around herself. “And I know exactly what to get you. Chicken biriyani? Poppadoms? Garlic naans? Am I right?”
    “Yeah, that’s the one. That’s my usual. And, thanks Bipin” Beth said, smiling kindly.
    Beth waited while the wind and rain lashed on the sides of the quiet restaurant, with very few people entering and leaving. It was a Thursday, so it was perhaps predictable that it was quiet. Slowly warming up and lessening her shiver, a cold hand went into her handbag again and pulled out her phone. She flicked through and chose to ring her partner instead of a taxi. And here was the real reason that she had been in a bad mood. She was suffering from severe relationship troubles. It felt like all they did was argue these days. Sometimes the word ‘weight’ would be mentioned, but always would the arguments be full throttle and vitriolic. But Beth couldn’t hide forever. She clicked on the contact and sent a message, requesting to be picked up.
    “Here you go Beth. Chicken biriyani, poppadoms and garlic naans. I have no idea why you would eat naan bread with a biriyani but you do you” Bipin smiled as he served the steaming dish and sides.
    “Because it tastes nice. You do the best garlic naans, Bipin” she smiled as she tucked into it, her fork a shovel as she loaded it off the plate and then unloaded it into her mouth. The biriyani was surprisingly moist, the poppadoms were crisp, the naans tasted of oil and garlic. It wasn’t highbrow cuisine, but it served as comfort food to a girl who could do with some comfort. And she ate it with vigour of a starved animal.
    However, halfway through the meal, she heard the bell over the door ring to indicate somebody had walked through it.
    “Hey Beth, you text me for a taxi ride back?”
    “Hey, my lover, let me just finish this and I’ll be right with you” she replied, turning with a greasy smile to see her partner…
     
    A) Rupa
    Deon
    C) Ollie
    D) Klara
  24. Like
    swahilimonkfish got a reaction from ShrubberyLogistic in Bluebell's 2019   
    Just want to thank Dania201 for advice and guidance on this story and, in particular, this chapter. It's a bit longer than I would have liked, but it covers ground with much more insight than I could have mustered on my own - so thank you
     
    April 2020*** Part 2/2
     
     
     
    “Can I come in Bloob?” Martin said, with a gentle rap on the door.
    “No” came the muffled, teary reply from inside.
    “I’ve got rocky road...” Martin added, in an almost sing-song voice.
    He put his ear to the door and heard no second objection. He took that as an invitation to come in.
    He pulled the door open and saw his little girl, tucked under her duvet with streaky mascara down her cheeks and brown stains around her mouth.
    “Hey, Bloob” he said softly.
    She still said nothing, just glared at the window across her room with a crumpled face.
    “Look, I’ll just put this here. Ooo, are those KitKats? God, I haven’t had a KitKat in ages. Didn’t know they still made them” he said, noting the half-eaten packet of them by her bed, and their corresponding emptied wrappers scattered over the floor like calorific confetti.
    “Oh, lay off it dad. You expect me to believe that. And mum’s probably downstairs saying ‘I told you so’, isn’t she? I bet she said I’d be up here stuffing my fat… no, sorry, morbidly obese face” Bluebell sulked, still not making eye contact with her father.
    “Oh, she said nothing of the sort. Don’t worry. And do away with all that KitKat rubbish and treat yourself to a real snack. Remember rocky road? You used to love this stuff” Martin said, with a big grin on his face, waggling the container like he was trying to entice a puppy.
    “When I was 11, maybe” Bluebell grouched grumpily. Martin’s face wavered in its optimism, flickering at the corner of his lips. “But, better than KitKats I suppose”.
    Bluebell turned around and looked at her dad directly in the eyes. There was a tired apathy behind them, like they had just run out of juice. Like she just didn’t have the energy to be angry any more.
    She didn’t say anything, as she opened the packet and began eating. Neither of them said anything. They just sat next to each other, with Martin sat at the end of her bed, and stewed in the quiet, with Bluebell’s chewing and crunkling of the plastic container being the only noises made. Eventually, Martin moved, leaning down towards the floor and picking up a KitKat. A slight smile slipped across Bluebell’s face as he did it.
    “Shhh, don’t tell your mother” he said, smiling back as he opened them. He looked at them with a look of surprise. “Huh, they’re smaller than I remember.”
    “You really didn’t know that they still made KitKats, dad?” Bluebell finally said.
    “Honestly? Yeah, I did. Dunno why I said it, frankly. Not had one in so long though. Always remember them being a big deal, but these are just puny little things” Martin snickered to himself, holding up a waifish wafer as if to inspect its petty size. Bluebell went to open her mouth with a cheap ‘most chocolate bars feel small these days to me, too’ joke about her weight, but thought better of it, in her current mood and in the current climate. God, how long had she been making such jokes? How much had she normalised it? Instead, they just continued eating in silence.
    “Hey… do you have any smokes?” Martin asked.
    “Sure, ashtray’s on the windowsill” she pointed, and he grabbed it for both of them.
    “So then Blue, why are you so… blue?” Martin smiled at his own joke.
    “I mean, I know mum’s already told you so what’s the point?” Bluebell grumped with a handful of side-eye.
    “She may have mentioned something about it all being to do with some diet you agreed to do with her?” Martin exhaled calmly on his cigarette.
    “Did she now? We both agreed to it, did we? Sounds about right” Bluebell muttered.
    “So I take it that you didn’t?”
    “No I fuc… No I didn’t. She suggested it and it should have pissed me off. Treating me like I’m defective, like there’s something wrong with me...”
    “Oh, I’m sure she didn’t mean that Bloob...” Martin interrupted, defending his wife.
    “If she doesn’t think I’m broken, then why’s she trying to fix me? You know, I try. I really try to be a good person, positive person. Someone who makes a positive difference in the world. Who loves themselves and others. But treating me like that, it just… it knocks my confidence, y’know. Like, aren’t your parents supposed to love you unconditionally? So what does it say about me that I’m so fat that I breach even that?” Bluebell started her speech with a roar to her voice, but ended it with a tremulous quiver.
    “Hey, that’s not true. And you know that’s not true” Martin countered, a little curtly.
    “Do I?”
    “Yes. Yes you do. You know she loves you, and when she does stuff that annoys you, it’s not because she doesn’t care… it’s because she does” Martin explained, and Bluebell twitched at the thought of it. “Now tell me, why does your mum think you were involved in some diet pact when you say that you weren’t?”
    “Because… when she asked… I guess I didn’t say yes but I didn’t say no either. And she took that as a yes. Or whatever. And what was I supposed to do? I felt trapped into doing it. ‘Sorry, mum, for the confusing messages but I actually want to continue charting a path beyond morbid obesity’” Bluebell confessed, mocking herself with inflection on the last line.
    “But… didn’t you… don’t you want to diet?” Martin asked, curiously.
    “You too? Really?” Bluebell raged.
    “No. I… I didn’t mean it like that. I just thought that you wanted to. It’s how your mother told it anyway. That you were trying to lose some weight and she wanted to help you. Because she, deep-down, just wanted you to be happy. So, do you want to lose weight?”
    “No! God… yeah? Maybe? I dunno. I think so. Yeah, I do. No, I know I do. I do want to lose weight. I mean, is that shallow or superficial or whatever? Aren’t I supposed to be body positive enough to be okay with my build? Am I a hypocrite?” Bluebell wondered, discarding the now empty box of rocky road that she’d obliterated.
    “You made light work of them. I told you that they were your favourite” Martin smiled victoriously. “Hey, you want the rest of your KitKats back?”
    “Yeah, go on then. Shouldn’t but… I mean I need the calories like I need a whole in the head...”
    “Trepanning?”
    “What?”
    “Trepanning. It’s that thing they used to in early medical times, when they drilled a hole in your head to let the bad spirits out and… this isn’t relevant, is it?” Martin just couldn’t help himself with his history buffery at times. Bluebell didn’t mind, she was back on the KitKats. “And to answer your question, yeah.”
    “Yeah?”
    “Yes, you are a hypocrite”
    “Thanks for the pep talk dad” Bluebell said with a sneer and a healthy dollop of sarcasm.
    “You hold yourself to a different – a higher – standard than others. You’re allowed to be body-positive and thin; you’re allowed to be health-conscious and fat; you’re allowed to be you Bluebell, as long as who you are is good and kind and thoughtful. And it is. And you are. Don’t decide what you want to do based on what others think but what you think” her dad explained, looking sympathetically at his daughter.
    “Thanks dad. You always had the best advice. But… it’s easier said than done. I want to not give a fuck, sorry for swearing, about what other people think. But I can’t help it. I walk past someone, anyone, and I think ‘what if they remember what I used to look like?’. They’d look at me with disgust and horror, and wonder what on Earth I’ve done to myself. How could she let herself go like that. Or, what if they’ve never seen me before? Then the opposite happens and they just presume I’ve always been fat, just born a lost cause and a self-made one, and I want to shake those people and say ‘actually, it’s a really recent thing and just last year, I was thin and beautiful’” Bluebell said, blowing her nose on a tissue after she finished her diatribe.
    “So?”
    “So, I do want to lose weight. And… I tried. I did. I didn’t mean to hide the treats. It just spiralled. I lasted a week. Literally just one week! That was it. And then I was at work and I was tired and I thought, ‘who cares? nobody can see me, so it doesn’t count’. And then it happened again the next day, but nothing bad happened last time and it was only another one-off. And again and again. One-off after one-off, until the one-offs became the norm. I’d sneak the stuff home in my work handbag, and it would be some pathetic rebellion. And then, every time I’d get some alone time, I’d think about eating. Stuffing it in, sneakily, quickly, to avoid getting caught. It was so stupid. And it just got out of hand again. I began spending my day just thinking about the eating and the avoiding getting caught. If I put that much energy into dieting, I’d be Ariana Grande-sized by now...”
    “I have no idea who that is”
    “I know you don’t dad. But she’s basically Tinkerbell in bronzer. Anyway, it just happens. Mum is furious about how much I eat and honestly, she doesn’t know the half of it still. I use work’s bins mainly to get rid of the stuff. It’s a problem. I think I’m addicted to eating dad? Is that a thing? Cos I think I have it?” Bluebell started crying again.
    “No. It’s not… I mean, maybe, but you’re not addicted to eating. You’re just...”
    “Fat. I know. And more and more, that’s what people see when they look at me now. I know they do. And more and more, it’s affecting how I am. Even before the quarantine, I’d go out less, cos I just didn’t fancy the walk. The hassle of it. It just… and now I hoard chocolate like a diabetic squirrel. Like, the Mission Impossible levels of subterfuge because I can’t get enough Battenberg. It’s embarrassing. And now, I’m not only not lighter, I’m heavier. Another month, another half a stone. 259lbs. Cos that’s a sustainable rate(!)”
    “To be fair, Battenberg is good” her dad consoled.
    “Yeah, it is. But it’s the lying. I hate it. I hate it so much. And it scares me because I hate it so much and I do it still. Because I hate the thought of not eating more. I mean, how embarrassing is that. I must do, or I wouldn’t do it. I hate the lying, but not enough to stop. I don’t want to tell you because it’s embarrassing, but not enough to stop doing it. What the fuck is wrong with me dad? What kind of person is this deranged?” Bluebell heaved heavy tears into her duvet.
    “Hey, hey, hey. Don’t cry love. Look, I get it. I get it” Martin hugged her tightly, patting her on the back like he used to when she was a kid.
    “But that’s the thing. You don’t”
    “Oh child. You have no idea. I completely get what you’re talking about. I was exactly the same at your age”
    “N… no you weren’t. Y… were you?” Bluebell pulled back from him to frown with confusion.
    “Maybe not exactly the same, but how you described it sounded really familiar. I was the same when I started smoking”
    “So I am addicted to food? Is that what you’re saying?” Bluebell asked, defensively.
    “No. What I am saying is… I used to lie too. All the time. To my parents. Oh god, now I love your grandma and grandpa. And they were really laid-back parents. They were. Never raised their voice. Never got angry. But, despite that, I would lie to them about my smoking. I mean, it was around the time that smoking was treated as unacceptable. My parents’ – your grandparents’ - generation was different. They smoked because it was the norm. But ours were the first to know better. And yet I did it anyway. Literally behind the bike sheds at school. It wasn’t a cliché back then, it was just ‘cool’” Martin explained.
    “I didn’t know this. I didn’t know any of this” Bluebell said, perplexed.
    “No, well I… I don’t brag about it. I’m ashamed of it to be honest, still. But yeah, I’d lie to my lovely parents, hide it from them. Do all that spy stuff you were talking about. Oh, I thought I was Billy-big-bollocks for my deceit, but I look back and just wince. It wasn’t fear. They never would rage. Well, it was fear, but a different kind. Fear of letting them down. Fear of disappointing them. Fear of that look in their eyes when they realise and life just deflates out of them like a punctured football. So I did all the stuff you talked about. But the daft thing was, they knew. Ha, yeah, they know all along. Of course they knew, the stuff stinks. It’s not like eating, smoke gets on your clothes, your breath. They know and they didn’t tell me they knew. You know why? I didn’t know why at the time, but now I’m a parent, I do”
    “Why?”
    “Fear. Fear of me feeling like I was letting them down. Fear of me feeling like I was disappointing them. Fear of having to be stern and condemnatory when all they want to do is hug you. Your grandma still hasn’t mentioned it. We just never talk about it, still to this day. And I don’t want us to be like that. Secrets. Afraid of each other. So… I’m sorry Bloob. I’m sorry that you felt you had to be like that around us. That’s something we should feel guilty about, not you. Promise me Bloob
    , promise me that you’ll never feel like you have to keep secrets from us. Because it’s our job to ensure that you never do feel like that. Okay, pet?” Martin had a little tear in his eye too at this point.
    “I promise dad. I promise” Bluebell sniffled into the shoulder of his shirt, where her face was tearfully buried.
    “So, what do you want to do, Bluebell? What do you want to do?” her dad said, his face open and supporting.
    “I want to lose weight”
    “Are you sure? This is definitely what you want?”
    “Yes. I want to lose weight” Bluebell said, with more resolve this time.
    “Well, in that case, how about a different type of pact? Look, rather than have your salad-eating mum go calorie counting with you, that’s not what you need. You need somebody who can relate, somebody going through the same thing. So, Bloob, if you give up snacking… I’ll quit smoking” he said, hoping that the words would take.
    “Y...you’d give up smoking? To help me?” Bluebell seemed shocked.
    “It seems only fitting. Smoking is my equivalent of your snacking”
    “Then what’s my smoking? Cos I can’t give up both at the same time, I’d go crazy”
    “Hey, that’s fine. If I feel tempted, I’ll ask you to blow smoke towards me so I can just smell that lovely tobacco air. Plus you can have all my cigarettes” her dad reasoned. “And just stop snacking. Of course, if you do, it’s not a big deal. It would, if anything, be reassuring to me, as someone going through the same thing, to know that you can fall off and get back on again. No secrets, no lies and no snacking, and I’ll give up a habit I’ve had for nearly 35. Deal?” he stuck out a hand to shake.
    “Deal” and Bluebell shook hands with him.
    “And tell your mum I’m not an enabler” he said, with a smile.
    “You are such an enabler” Bluebell said, lighting another cigarette as a preventative measure against eating the remainder of her KitKats. “All you do is enable me”.
  25. Love
    swahilimonkfish got a reaction from ulvrik in Bluebell's 2019   
    Just want to thank Dania201 for advice and guidance on this story and, in particular, this chapter. It's a bit longer than I would have liked, but it covers ground with much more insight than I could have mustered on my own - so thank you
     
    April 2020*** Part 2/2
     
     
     
    “Can I come in Bloob?” Martin said, with a gentle rap on the door.
    “No” came the muffled, teary reply from inside.
    “I’ve got rocky road...” Martin added, in an almost sing-song voice.
    He put his ear to the door and heard no second objection. He took that as an invitation to come in.
    He pulled the door open and saw his little girl, tucked under her duvet with streaky mascara down her cheeks and brown stains around her mouth.
    “Hey, Bloob” he said softly.
    She still said nothing, just glared at the window across her room with a crumpled face.
    “Look, I’ll just put this here. Ooo, are those KitKats? God, I haven’t had a KitKat in ages. Didn’t know they still made them” he said, noting the half-eaten packet of them by her bed, and their corresponding emptied wrappers scattered over the floor like calorific confetti.
    “Oh, lay off it dad. You expect me to believe that. And mum’s probably downstairs saying ‘I told you so’, isn’t she? I bet she said I’d be up here stuffing my fat… no, sorry, morbidly obese face” Bluebell sulked, still not making eye contact with her father.
    “Oh, she said nothing of the sort. Don’t worry. And do away with all that KitKat rubbish and treat yourself to a real snack. Remember rocky road? You used to love this stuff” Martin said, with a big grin on his face, waggling the container like he was trying to entice a puppy.
    “When I was 11, maybe” Bluebell grouched grumpily. Martin’s face wavered in its optimism, flickering at the corner of his lips. “But, better than KitKats I suppose”.
    Bluebell turned around and looked at her dad directly in the eyes. There was a tired apathy behind them, like they had just run out of juice. Like she just didn’t have the energy to be angry any more.
    She didn’t say anything, as she opened the packet and began eating. Neither of them said anything. They just sat next to each other, with Martin sat at the end of her bed, and stewed in the quiet, with Bluebell’s chewing and crunkling of the plastic container being the only noises made. Eventually, Martin moved, leaning down towards the floor and picking up a KitKat. A slight smile slipped across Bluebell’s face as he did it.
    “Shhh, don’t tell your mother” he said, smiling back as he opened them. He looked at them with a look of surprise. “Huh, they’re smaller than I remember.”
    “You really didn’t know that they still made KitKats, dad?” Bluebell finally said.
    “Honestly? Yeah, I did. Dunno why I said it, frankly. Not had one in so long though. Always remember them being a big deal, but these are just puny little things” Martin snickered to himself, holding up a waifish wafer as if to inspect its petty size. Bluebell went to open her mouth with a cheap ‘most chocolate bars feel small these days to me, too’ joke about her weight, but thought better of it, in her current mood and in the current climate. God, how long had she been making such jokes? How much had she normalised it? Instead, they just continued eating in silence.
    “Hey… do you have any smokes?” Martin asked.
    “Sure, ashtray’s on the windowsill” she pointed, and he grabbed it for both of them.
    “So then Blue, why are you so… blue?” Martin smiled at his own joke.
    “I mean, I know mum’s already told you so what’s the point?” Bluebell grumped with a handful of side-eye.
    “She may have mentioned something about it all being to do with some diet you agreed to do with her?” Martin exhaled calmly on his cigarette.
    “Did she now? We both agreed to it, did we? Sounds about right” Bluebell muttered.
    “So I take it that you didn’t?”
    “No I fuc… No I didn’t. She suggested it and it should have pissed me off. Treating me like I’m defective, like there’s something wrong with me...”
    “Oh, I’m sure she didn’t mean that Bloob...” Martin interrupted, defending his wife.
    “If she doesn’t think I’m broken, then why’s she trying to fix me? You know, I try. I really try to be a good person, positive person. Someone who makes a positive difference in the world. Who loves themselves and others. But treating me like that, it just… it knocks my confidence, y’know. Like, aren’t your parents supposed to love you unconditionally? So what does it say about me that I’m so fat that I breach even that?” Bluebell started her speech with a roar to her voice, but ended it with a tremulous quiver.
    “Hey, that’s not true. And you know that’s not true” Martin countered, a little curtly.
    “Do I?”
    “Yes. Yes you do. You know she loves you, and when she does stuff that annoys you, it’s not because she doesn’t care… it’s because she does” Martin explained, and Bluebell twitched at the thought of it. “Now tell me, why does your mum think you were involved in some diet pact when you say that you weren’t?”
    “Because… when she asked… I guess I didn’t say yes but I didn’t say no either. And she took that as a yes. Or whatever. And what was I supposed to do? I felt trapped into doing it. ‘Sorry, mum, for the confusing messages but I actually want to continue charting a path beyond morbid obesity’” Bluebell confessed, mocking herself with inflection on the last line.
    “But… didn’t you… don’t you want to diet?” Martin asked, curiously.
    “You too? Really?” Bluebell raged.
    “No. I… I didn’t mean it like that. I just thought that you wanted to. It’s how your mother told it anyway. That you were trying to lose some weight and she wanted to help you. Because she, deep-down, just wanted you to be happy. So, do you want to lose weight?”
    “No! God… yeah? Maybe? I dunno. I think so. Yeah, I do. No, I know I do. I do want to lose weight. I mean, is that shallow or superficial or whatever? Aren’t I supposed to be body positive enough to be okay with my build? Am I a hypocrite?” Bluebell wondered, discarding the now empty box of rocky road that she’d obliterated.
    “You made light work of them. I told you that they were your favourite” Martin smiled victoriously. “Hey, you want the rest of your KitKats back?”
    “Yeah, go on then. Shouldn’t but… I mean I need the calories like I need a whole in the head...”
    “Trepanning?”
    “What?”
    “Trepanning. It’s that thing they used to in early medical times, when they drilled a hole in your head to let the bad spirits out and… this isn’t relevant, is it?” Martin just couldn’t help himself with his history buffery at times. Bluebell didn’t mind, she was back on the KitKats. “And to answer your question, yeah.”
    “Yeah?”
    “Yes, you are a hypocrite”
    “Thanks for the pep talk dad” Bluebell said with a sneer and a healthy dollop of sarcasm.
    “You hold yourself to a different – a higher – standard than others. You’re allowed to be body-positive and thin; you’re allowed to be health-conscious and fat; you’re allowed to be you Bluebell, as long as who you are is good and kind and thoughtful. And it is. And you are. Don’t decide what you want to do based on what others think but what you think” her dad explained, looking sympathetically at his daughter.
    “Thanks dad. You always had the best advice. But… it’s easier said than done. I want to not give a fuck, sorry for swearing, about what other people think. But I can’t help it. I walk past someone, anyone, and I think ‘what if they remember what I used to look like?’. They’d look at me with disgust and horror, and wonder what on Earth I’ve done to myself. How could she let herself go like that. Or, what if they’ve never seen me before? Then the opposite happens and they just presume I’ve always been fat, just born a lost cause and a self-made one, and I want to shake those people and say ‘actually, it’s a really recent thing and just last year, I was thin and beautiful’” Bluebell said, blowing her nose on a tissue after she finished her diatribe.
    “So?”
    “So, I do want to lose weight. And… I tried. I did. I didn’t mean to hide the treats. It just spiralled. I lasted a week. Literally just one week! That was it. And then I was at work and I was tired and I thought, ‘who cares? nobody can see me, so it doesn’t count’. And then it happened again the next day, but nothing bad happened last time and it was only another one-off. And again and again. One-off after one-off, until the one-offs became the norm. I’d sneak the stuff home in my work handbag, and it would be some pathetic rebellion. And then, every time I’d get some alone time, I’d think about eating. Stuffing it in, sneakily, quickly, to avoid getting caught. It was so stupid. And it just got out of hand again. I began spending my day just thinking about the eating and the avoiding getting caught. If I put that much energy into dieting, I’d be Ariana Grande-sized by now...”
    “I have no idea who that is”
    “I know you don’t dad. But she’s basically Tinkerbell in bronzer. Anyway, it just happens. Mum is furious about how much I eat and honestly, she doesn’t know the half of it still. I use work’s bins mainly to get rid of the stuff. It’s a problem. I think I’m addicted to eating dad? Is that a thing? Cos I think I have it?” Bluebell started crying again.
    “No. It’s not… I mean, maybe, but you’re not addicted to eating. You’re just...”
    “Fat. I know. And more and more, that’s what people see when they look at me now. I know they do. And more and more, it’s affecting how I am. Even before the quarantine, I’d go out less, cos I just didn’t fancy the walk. The hassle of it. It just… and now I hoard chocolate like a diabetic squirrel. Like, the Mission Impossible levels of subterfuge because I can’t get enough Battenberg. It’s embarrassing. And now, I’m not only not lighter, I’m heavier. Another month, another half a stone. 259lbs. Cos that’s a sustainable rate(!)”
    “To be fair, Battenberg is good” her dad consoled.
    “Yeah, it is. But it’s the lying. I hate it. I hate it so much. And it scares me because I hate it so much and I do it still. Because I hate the thought of not eating more. I mean, how embarrassing is that. I must do, or I wouldn’t do it. I hate the lying, but not enough to stop. I don’t want to tell you because it’s embarrassing, but not enough to stop doing it. What the fuck is wrong with me dad? What kind of person is this deranged?” Bluebell heaved heavy tears into her duvet.
    “Hey, hey, hey. Don’t cry love. Look, I get it. I get it” Martin hugged her tightly, patting her on the back like he used to when she was a kid.
    “But that’s the thing. You don’t”
    “Oh child. You have no idea. I completely get what you’re talking about. I was exactly the same at your age”
    “N… no you weren’t. Y… were you?” Bluebell pulled back from him to frown with confusion.
    “Maybe not exactly the same, but how you described it sounded really familiar. I was the same when I started smoking”
    “So I am addicted to food? Is that what you’re saying?” Bluebell asked, defensively.
    “No. What I am saying is… I used to lie too. All the time. To my parents. Oh god, now I love your grandma and grandpa. And they were really laid-back parents. They were. Never raised their voice. Never got angry. But, despite that, I would lie to them about my smoking. I mean, it was around the time that smoking was treated as unacceptable. My parents’ – your grandparents’ - generation was different. They smoked because it was the norm. But ours were the first to know better. And yet I did it anyway. Literally behind the bike sheds at school. It wasn’t a cliché back then, it was just ‘cool’” Martin explained.
    “I didn’t know this. I didn’t know any of this” Bluebell said, perplexed.
    “No, well I… I don’t brag about it. I’m ashamed of it to be honest, still. But yeah, I’d lie to my lovely parents, hide it from them. Do all that spy stuff you were talking about. Oh, I thought I was Billy-big-bollocks for my deceit, but I look back and just wince. It wasn’t fear. They never would rage. Well, it was fear, but a different kind. Fear of letting them down. Fear of disappointing them. Fear of that look in their eyes when they realise and life just deflates out of them like a punctured football. So I did all the stuff you talked about. But the daft thing was, they knew. Ha, yeah, they know all along. Of course they knew, the stuff stinks. It’s not like eating, smoke gets on your clothes, your breath. They know and they didn’t tell me they knew. You know why? I didn’t know why at the time, but now I’m a parent, I do”
    “Why?”
    “Fear. Fear of me feeling like I was letting them down. Fear of me feeling like I was disappointing them. Fear of having to be stern and condemnatory when all they want to do is hug you. Your grandma still hasn’t mentioned it. We just never talk about it, still to this day. And I don’t want us to be like that. Secrets. Afraid of each other. So… I’m sorry Bloob. I’m sorry that you felt you had to be like that around us. That’s something we should feel guilty about, not you. Promise me Bloob
    , promise me that you’ll never feel like you have to keep secrets from us. Because it’s our job to ensure that you never do feel like that. Okay, pet?” Martin had a little tear in his eye too at this point.
    “I promise dad. I promise” Bluebell sniffled into the shoulder of his shirt, where her face was tearfully buried.
    “So, what do you want to do, Bluebell? What do you want to do?” her dad said, his face open and supporting.
    “I want to lose weight”
    “Are you sure? This is definitely what you want?”
    “Yes. I want to lose weight” Bluebell said, with more resolve this time.
    “Well, in that case, how about a different type of pact? Look, rather than have your salad-eating mum go calorie counting with you, that’s not what you need. You need somebody who can relate, somebody going through the same thing. So, Bloob, if you give up snacking… I’ll quit smoking” he said, hoping that the words would take.
    “Y...you’d give up smoking? To help me?” Bluebell seemed shocked.
    “It seems only fitting. Smoking is my equivalent of your snacking”
    “Then what’s my smoking? Cos I can’t give up both at the same time, I’d go crazy”
    “Hey, that’s fine. If I feel tempted, I’ll ask you to blow smoke towards me so I can just smell that lovely tobacco air. Plus you can have all my cigarettes” her dad reasoned. “And just stop snacking. Of course, if you do, it’s not a big deal. It would, if anything, be reassuring to me, as someone going through the same thing, to know that you can fall off and get back on again. No secrets, no lies and no snacking, and I’ll give up a habit I’ve had for nearly 35. Deal?” he stuck out a hand to shake.
    “Deal” and Bluebell shook hands with him.
    “And tell your mum I’m not an enabler” he said, with a smile.
    “You are such an enabler” Bluebell said, lighting another cigarette as a preventative measure against eating the remainder of her KitKats. “All you do is enable me”.
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