by Snackgirl
[ This is a story which, when first posted anonymously to the Dimension's chat
board, attracted favorable comments for a week --- and then vanished from
view. The author later acknowledged her role, but then lost track of the
manuscript. It has been a pleasure to have had a role in retrieving and
editing it in its final form -- The Observer]
All my life I have taken great solace in eating. I have found that, from a
young age, I've had a great appreciation for the tastes of different foods,
and I derive a great deal of pleasure from both the tasting and the feeling of
being wonderfully full.
If I had had an easy life, I'm sure I would have been a 500+ pound woman right
now. But, unfortunately, my father died when I was young and my mother worked
hard to make ends meet. I helped in any way I could -- cleaning and doing
household chores, and, once I was old enough, working after school and on the
weekends. I was also a diligent student and often worked well into the wee
hours of the morning to maintain my 4.0 average. I rarely had the opportunity
then to indulge in my favorite pastime... enjoying good food.
My hard work paid off -- I received a scholarship to one of the best colleges
in the country. My scholarship included room and board for my freshman year.
Now I was really even busier than I had been in high school because I still
had a part-time job. Also the workload was, of course, quite a bit greater
than it had been. Still, I really took advantage of the university's
cafeterias. My "freshman 15" was a "freshman 50" -- but I had never been
happier.
Some weeks I rarely had the time to go back for seconds (or thirds or...), but
even then I made sure I enjoyed a solid three meals a day and never, never
missed dessert. And of course there was always time to nibble here and there.
Besides the financial burden of having to buy some new clothes, I was
surprised, as the year rolled by, at how truly comfortable I felt with my
extra weight.
But alas, when freshman year ended, so too did the gratis room and board. Once
I moved off-campus and had to pay my own way (my tuition was still covered,
thank God!), my mealtimes pared down to one a day, and my weight, too, slowly
began to pare down. By the time I graduated, three years later, I was down to
the lowest weight I could remember being at.
Two more years spent working my way through graduate school, and at last I had
my MBA, as well as a plum job in marketing/sales at one of the hottest high-
tech companies. At 5'4" I was barely 100 pounds.
I loved, and I really mean loved, my new job, my new company, my new life.
Compared to the lifestyle I had led up until then, I felt like I had a huge
amount of free time... I could easily work 60 hour weeks and still have most
of my evenings and weekends free! I rented a nice apartment (no more
roommates!) and filled the refrigerator. It took some time, but with practice
I was able to once again enjoy three meals a day.
One of the more pleasant surprises I discovered was just how well a successful
company will treat their employees. Food abounded at my company. I was giddy
with delight when I realized the amount of wining and dining I was expected to
do with customers. My eyes would bulge when I would see the leftover gourmet
lunches that would appear in the kitchen areas after meetings -- at least a
couple of times a week... I was in heaven!
Slowly but steadily, my waistline expanded. It was easy to keep myself
satiated. Frankly, I couldn't believe that all the folks at work weren't
growing fatter (as a matter of fact, quite a few were, as I came to realize
with distinct pleasure! But not as many as I would have thought). After six
months, I was 5'4" and a softer, happier, 130 pounds. I enjoyed shopping for
new clothes -- I had plenty of money so finances were not an issue.
I also received a promotion! My new job involved travelling to meet with many
of our most important customers -- and that was when I discovered the
benefits... perils? of business travel. My first long (3 week) trip, I ate
incessantly. Every morning I ordered a huge breakfast -- at least one
omelette, an order of pancakes, waffles, or french toast (always drenched in
butter and syrup), a basket of fresh baked danish, hash browns...
I usually lunched and suppered with customers and always had appetizer, main
course, and dessert. The customers, when male, marvelled at a young woman with
such a hearty appetite, and when female, usually gazed at my plates longingly
over their salads (dressing on the side). At night I usually raided the hotel
mini-bar, scarfing whatever delectables I could find... Toward the end of the
trip I was bursting out of my clothes.
I came back from dinner one night and practically ripped my skirt off when I
got in the hotel room to give my flesh room to expand. I laid on the bed,
panting with the effort, and looked at my belly, stuffed with food, rising up
toward the ceiling... and I began to stroke it with my fingertips, which
slowly reached down further and further...
Until then I had thought I was frigid. Growing up, I never had any interest in
sex. I had had only a couple of boyfriends -- remember, I had little time for
anything other than work and school -- and well, sex, had left me feeling...
not much of anything. It was pleasant enough, but not earthshaking, by any
means. So when I found my fingers touching myself with more and more urgency
until I finally exploded in sheer waves of delight and I realized what had
prompted such feelings, well, my life all began to make sense.
I gained nearly 15 pounds that trip. And had to buy more clothes. Over the
next year, I travelled, on average, 50% of the time. My work was paying off
big, I got two big fat raises (sorry, couldn't resist!), and I was receiving
accolades from customers and upper management. As my salary and kudos grew,
so, too, did my body. Airline seats had been getting smaller and smaller.
Returning from one trip on which I had particularly indulged myself at fine
restaurants, I found that the my belly and the tray on the seat back in front
of me were competing for the same limited space. I literally could not put the
tray down flat -- I now weighed over 200 pounds, and my stomach was in the
way.
My first, natural, reaction was embarrassment -- I quickly put the tray up and
hoped that no one had seen. But then practicality set in... how was I going to
eat my airline meal (call me crazy, but I hate missing a free meal, even when
it's airline food!) if I couldn't get my tray down? So I sucked my belly in as
much as I could, put the tray down, then slowly exhaled, letting my belly
creep out over the tray a bit.
Were people watching that? -- well too bad, I thought. In fact, the whole
scene got me really turned on -- me being too fat to fit in the seat with the
tray down and all... When the flight attendant brought the meal and I began to
eat, reaching over my belly to get the food, I practically came I was so
excited!
But after I got home, practicality set in once again. Travelling was part of
my job. What would happen if (when!) I grew to fat to fit in the seats at all?
With or without the tray down! Coincidentally, later that week, the VP of
Sales called me into his office. He greeted me with a warm smile and motioned
me to sit down in the wide (thank goodness) armchair in front of his desk. I
was not sure what we were meeting about -- we had nothing scheduled.
He began to speak, but then stopped, looking a little... what? Embarrassed,
maybe? He was looking in my eyes, but avoiding looking at my... body! All of a
sudden, a wave of nervousness swept over me.
I began to fret.
Was the warm smile a fake to hide his real purpose? Sure, I had been doing a
great job, but maybe they were mad about how fat I'd gotten... had I abused
the per diem food compensation policy?
My mind went in a thousand different directions over the course of two
seconds... and I just blurted out for him to just tell me what he had on his
mind.
He grinned broadly... and warmly again!... when I said that. He seemed to find
it easier to talk... and said that everyone was thrilled with my work, that I
was invaluable to the company, that they wanted to keep me, and to keep me
happy... So he had decided to make an exception to the corporate policy and
let me fly first-class!
I was shocked -- and of course very happy!
It was my turn to stammer now, and thank him. He said he hoped I'd be
travelling more comfortably now, obviously referring to my size... and the way
he said it made me feel so at ease with him that I made a comment about how
I'd way more than doubled my weight since starting with the company.
In retrospect, I must have sensed an "FA" quality about him, because that
comment just opened him right up.
He said he was in total admiration of me... that he thought most people would
look better with some extra weight on them and that this society and culture
was crazy thinking that being skinny was a good thing...
As he was talking he saw me glance at the family pictures gracing the table
behind his desk... two kids, petite, perky, *thin*, blonde wife... He nodded
towards the picture of his wife -- I love Ally very much, but I realized early
in our relationship that she had totally bought into society's dictation that
people are supposed to be skinny. She works out all the time, eats like a
rabbit...
Hesighed, and subconsciously rubbed his own trim waistline
"I work out too," he commented as though he had been reading my mind. "It
just seems like the right thing to do, I guess; but I think about sometimes
just letting go and eating what I want to..." He drifted off, then focused
back on me -- "like you do!" he said. "You seem so comfortable with yourself.
I really admire you."
We chatted a little more, and as I was leaving his office he said he hoped I
would enjoy the roomier first-class seats... and that if they started becoming
too small to come back and talk to him and he'd see what he could do (said
with a wink and a very big grin on his part)...
That got me thinking... How fat would I be when (if?) I outgrew first-class
seats? 350 pounds? 400 pounds? I tried to imagine being that fat and having my
tremendous belly competing for space with the tray, my hips rolling over the
arms of the first-class seat... and I got so turned on I had to go to the
ladies room immediately and take care of my excitement....